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krypticcafe · 1 year

Note

Reader/ Y/n coming back to base covered in blood and tortured while 141 + Alejandro had no idea where reader was since they left in the morning.

Reader is "the little sibling/adopted child that we must protect all cause" to the boys

Love your writing so much ❤️

As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x 141 + alejandro

warning(s): canon-typical violence, language, drugs and drugging, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, no use of y/n, no beta read

a/n: Hope you don't mind that I decided to put this all in one long fic, kinda struggled with the writing direction with this since I had to rewrite it multiple times and I had to cut it short so I'll probably make a part two?

synopsis: it's going to take a lot more than simple torture to keep you from going back to the 141.

Part Two is now up!

"I'll be back before they know it."

Those were the last words you thought to yourself before you hopped off the helicopter. You and a team of other capable members of SpecGru and the Los Vaqueros had left before the crack of dawn for a joint operation and anticipated coming back by the afternoon if things went smoothly. And of course, they didn't.

No, you couldn't be afforded such a luxury as seen by how you were overwhelmed in battle. You wish you could've said you did your best, but god dammit you should've checked before entering that building, thinking you could lure the enemy away from the rest of your team. Compared to the hours you spent strapped to a chair with nothing but fluorescent light and a buzzing in your ears to compliment the throbbing pain in your head, you started to prefer the option of joining the rest of your teammates becoming target practice instead.

It didn't help either that the people who caught you were sick bastards. You could deal with the punches, a kick to the crotch, the hair pulling, cigar smoke, the blades, and having your body slammed around the place. It was nothing compared to practice with the 141 and prior missions you had with them. But when the metal cart of syringes came out, you knew you were beyond fucked, even when you had a swollen eye, a busted lip, broken ribs, open cuts, and burns. They took it a step further and injected experimental drugs you were supposed to investigate, homemade concoctions as they lovingly called them.

By pure shitty luck, you only escaped because one of them was stupid enough to clean up after offering you a glass of water when you woke up after passing out, dropping and shattering it in front of you, and not bothering to clean up. When your guard left to go take a piss break, you threw yourself to the floor and tried to squirm your way to the glass, using a shard to cut through your ropes. Once your guard came back, you pretended to still be bounded to your seat, coaxing him to come closer as if you wanted to confess something, and slit his throat. From there, it was easy now that you had a gun.

Or at least it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the adrenaline of finally being able to move, but the drugs hadn't fully kicked in until now. Your whole world seemed to sway, or maybe it was just you. You couldn't tell, all that mattered was that you could fight. Based on the layout of the building you were in, you were still in the same area as you were before. It took more bullets than you would've liked to admit to take down the guards that were in your way, but how was it your fault when the only two thoughts in your head were 'Where the fuck is my stuff' and 'God I'm gonna puke'.

Whoever kidnapped you really didn't think things through. Security was tight on the second floor but the bottom floor just had a single guy in the kitchen messing with a bag of crackers. You aimed your gun at him and click!

Click!

Clickclickclick!

Shit.

Well that caught his attention. You ducked down right when he reached for his gun, tossing your empty one to the side now that you'd be doing this the hard way. Waiting with bated breath, you took your window of opportunity, lunging when he had to reload. You took him by such surprise that he fumbled to put in another magazine and that allowed you to knock the weapon from his hands and tackle him to the ground. The both of you struggled on the hardwood floors for what felt like hours, but it was only a minute at most. Even in your feverish, dizzy, survival-instincts-only state, you overpowered him and stabbed him with his own knife.

Towering over the body, you gasped for breath, feeling your lungs struggling to expand and contract if you didn't force yourself to focus on the task. Great, now you're sweaty, weak, bloody, and out of breath. Based on how your hands started trembling, your symptoms were getting worse. Pacing around the area, you found your bag on a couch and fished around for the radio, yelling out your callsign before the rest of them would discover why their friends were suddenly so silent over comms.

"Sending coordinates, get a chopper over to exfil ASAP. And a damn medic."

The 141 were back from their own mission when they had heard the news of your distress call. Ghost was on the verge of strangling one of men that was on the team with you if they didn't add the fact that you made a reckless move for the sake of the team. Ghost could agree that it was something that only you would do despite his constant arguing with you and his protectiveness over you. He'd keep an eye out for you from the shadows both on base and in the field, be the one to challenge you to push your limits during your sparring matches, make sure you were well-trained so you could protect yourself. And yet you would instead protect the 141's asses countless times.

Ghost was brooding in the helicopter, well, more like sulking after a mission with you and Soap. During the crossfire, he wasn't able to keep an eye out for his flank and see the grenade flying for him. In a desperate move, you shoved him out of the blast range with all your strength, landing you with a couple burns and injuries, but nothing fatal. You knew he was going to get moody afterwards, giving a knowing glance to Soap before turning back to Ghost and nudging his leg with your boot.

"Hey, L.T, you were in the British S.A.S, right?"

"..."

"Just answer the question! C'mon Ghost, for me? Pleaaaase?"

"Affirmative."

"So back then, if you were to get bathroom duty, would they call you a Loo-tenant?"

"... negative. Was promoted after joining the 141." He turned his head away, and despite his blunt, by-the-book response, you knew he was smirking under that mask of his, especially with how Johnny and you were both snickering your asses off.

"Ghost?"

Simon snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Soap, visibly concerned for the masked man but reading him all at the same time. Years of working together helped Soap get over the boundary of Ghost's silence and stoicism, and Ghost wasn't the only one looking out for you after all.

"You alright, L.T?"

"Solid, just need a talk with Price."

"I know what you're thinkin', and as much as I'd love to shove it to the bastards, they're going to need us when they come back. Price will come up with something, we just hafta wait 'til then." For once, Soap was the voice of reason and Ghost couldn't argue with his point.

"He's right, you know." Price stood a few feet away from the two in the hall, "Kid's capable of themselves but they're going to need a shoulder to lean on when they get here. Maybe a couple stitches, too."

Price hoped it was only going to be a few stitches. Though he knew it probably wasn't the case. Alongside Roach and Gaz, he had trained you for these situations, ensuring it would never happen and it never did thanks to his mentorship. He saw you as one of his own and ensured that you'd be able to fight tooth and nail so that it would never end up like this. But now that it has, he could only wonder what could've been done to you for you to get captured.

He didn't want to wonder.

"Bloody hell, what did they do to you?" Gaz muttered, watching as you stepped down the ramp with a soldier aiding at your side. There was an attempt to bandage you up on the way, though it only seemed to be temporary since your bandages were already stained with blood and some of it oozed out. Even the bandages around your head didn't stop the crimson liquid from spilling down the side of your face. The soldier passed you to Gaz, immediately urging that your injuries be tended to.

"Something's wrong, look." Roach helped support your other side to allow Gaz to examine you.

With a closer look, Gaz found that your pupils were disturbingly dilated, eyes glazed over in a way that made you almost look dead. You were muttering and mumbling nonsense under your breath, something about the mission and wanting to go home.

Gaz swallowed an anxious breath and nodded, "We'll get you home soon, buddy. Roach, help me take off their gear."

As soon as the other man began unclipping your vest from your body, it seemed something had pulled a trigger in you.

"No... no you're not- don't fucking touch me-!" You slurred, weakly tearing yourself from the hands of your friends. It surprised Gaz that you had the energy to punch his chest with that much force, but it broke his heart all at the same time. Roach guessed that you were so out of it that you could barely comprehend your surroundings, hell, you probably thought you were still in captivity. It hurt to imagine your perspective, and how vulnerable you felt, thinking they were your enemies.

"What's going on here?" Price's voice rose over all the noise as people tried to calm you down, Soap and Ghost following behind him along with Alejandro, who joined them with no hesitance after hearing what happened.

Roach approached them, "I don't know, the Sergent just came back like this, like they're in some kind of haze."

"They're drugged, at least, I think. I took a look at them and they don't even look like they recognize us," Gaz struggled to keep you from falling but you were insistent on getting away from him, from everyone. Thankfully, Ghost had come up from behind you without being noticed and locked you in a hold. You tried to flail even more, but with your weakened state and Ghost's strength, all you could do was yell with sloppy words for him to let go of you. It hurt them all to hear you yowl and yelp like an animal in pain, but they knew that you'd only hurt yourself more if Ghost didn't keep you like this. He forced himself to ignore your cries and clenched his jaw, focusing on keeping his temper and how he was going to let it out when given a chance.

"Steamin' Jesus, Price, I thought this was a cartel recon mission?" Soap seethed at the thought of what might've happened. Torture was one thing, but it was this whole new level of "fucked-up" that had him wanting to snap and tear at the throats of your tormentors.

"It was," Alejandro spoke up, "There was talk of a new drug on the market, released even though it was 'incomplete'. Nobody know that it was more dangerous than it was supposed to be, nobody outside of them." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Cartels being reckless was nothing new to him, it was something he had seen time and time again. But it was the lack of awareness, the blatant disregard for safety and society, and how they betrayed their own people that made him livid. As a leader, he emphasized his loyalty and dedication to his soldiers, which was why he considered those who worked for and with him to be friends or even family, like you. So to him, if someone had messed with you, they were messing with him and his army as well.

Price glanced in the direction of you and Ghost for a moment, watching you finally begin to calm down from tiring yourself out. His gaze softened after you finally went limp, but still breathing, and he felt a pang of disappointment in himself for the briefest of moments. Maybe if he had known you'd leave so early in the day, he could've better prepared you. Maybe he should've assigned one of the others to join you so you wouldn't be in this predicament. But he didn't know. He didn't expect things would go this far south. None of them did.

"We'll finish the job first and then," Price took one last look as you were taken away on a stretcher, unconscious but writhing with a pained expression.

"We give them hell."

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ourautumn86 · 7 months

Text

puppy love

dad’s bf shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt2

synopsis: you’ve liked your dad’s best friend for a very long time. the time has come when you can finally have her.

cw;; +18 content! minors dni!! (i’ll hunt you down), shane is 34, reader is 18 in the first part of the fic, alcohol and drug consumption (coke and weed) (don’t do this guys!!!!), fighting, reader being mean, TENSIONNNN, puking, kissing, tattoos, piercings, teasing, praising, degradation, voyeurism (kinda), oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling…

you’ve had this silly little crush on your dad’s best friend since you were a teenager.

how could you not? she was beautiful, and successful and so fucking hot… she was unique. you’ve never met anyone quite like shane mccutcheon. so free.

it was innocent at first. you’d always want to spend time with her. she was the person you looked up to after all. she taught you how to skate from a a very early age. she always cut your hair when you’d need a fresh cut, and dyed it even though when she knew your dad would give her hell for it just because you wanted to (she would say sorry, but she wasn’t). she gave you your first tattoo when you turned 16 in a place where your father wouldn’t see. a hummingbird, just like hers. “my birthday present for you, kid” she had said. you could still remember the feeling of her fingertips on your thighs and waist as she tattooed your hipbone. you had tried so hard to not blush and squirm, her touch electrifying.

you could feel butterflies every time your friends would ask you about her in recess, well-known looks being shared when you’d blush. and your knees would go weak when you’d see her at the entrance of your high-school after class, waiting for you leaning against her car with her charming smile. “hey kid.” she’d mess up your hair with one of her ringed hands, hugging you close to her chest. you’d push her away, acting pissed off, when in reality all you wanted was to hug her closer and bury your face in the crook of her neck. she always smelled so nice…

but you couldn’t keep her too close ‘cause then you’d notice the hickeys on her neck, and all those butterflies would die.

your father had you at a very early age, having to raise you all by himself since your mother decided to run away and leave you. and shane had been there since the first second that she had met your father, along with the whole group, helping him push through.

so when you realized that what you felt for her was more than something platonic… your whole world came crashing down on your shoulders.

eighteen and in love with a woman twice your age… so you slowly started to drift away. you’d act busy. you’d started going out frequently, doing drugs, drinking alcohol… getting wasted and sleeping with a bunch of girls to try and forget her.

of course, she’d always find you.

“oh my god…” you groaned, turning around to face your friend with wobbly legs and your heart on your throat. “shane’s here.” you had just left the club, completely drunk out of your mind and with hickeys all over your chest and neck. you couldn’t let her see you like this. you didn’t want to see her.

“what? where?” your friend inquired and you pointed with your eyes to the side and to your back. “fuck. what do we do?”

“don’t let her see me. please, lucile.”

“okay, let’s…” but then she ducked her head, eyes shot open. “oh shit. shit. shit. she saw me.”

“fuck!” you whispered, and at the same time you heard shane’s voice coming from behind you, calling out for you. you tried to ignore her, tried to act as if she wasn’t you who she was looking for, but she wouldn’t give up.

“hey! i’m talking to you!” your whole world started spinning when you felt her hand on your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her. “do you have any idea how worried your dad is? we’ve been looking like crazy for you.” her voice sounded harsh, and she looked pissed. it was when she noticed that you weren’t looking at her, but instead hiding your eyes that she took your face with her free hand, making you face her. “fuck… you’re high?” your eyes were reddish and half lided, pupils dilated. your makeup ruined, gloss smushed. she looked at your clothes, completely out of place, bruises on your skin. “let’s go.” she grabbed onto your wrist to pull you along, but you fought her. she growled your name, slowly.

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m having fun.” you slurred, taking a swing of the bottle of alcohol on your hand. your vision was blurry, and your heart was beating too loud. “hey!” you whined when she took it from you and threw it aside, making the glass break. you whistled at her pissed off look. “somebody needs to have a little bit of fun…” you muttered.

“you’ve had enough, i’m taking you home.” her voice was stern, green eyes angry.

“you’re not my dad.” you said, and she smirked.

“yeah. thank god i’m not, ‘cause if he saw you like this, he’d kill you. move.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t be a brat with me. i’m not putting up with that shit. car, now.” she ordered, and you finally moved, walking towards her car.

you hadn’t shared a word on the whole way and you frowned when she kept going straight instead of taking a turn when the street of your neighborhood came to your view. she noticed. “i’m taking you to my house. can’t let your father see you like this.” your stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with her on her beautiful house. you could still remember how soft her bed was, how everything smelled of her. it was making you nervous. you didn’t want to be alone with her. not when she looked this good and you were this drunk and high.

she parked right outside, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. you followed her up the stairs and inside her home, groaning when she turned the lights on and it hit your eyes.

“fuck.”

“what did you take?” she inquired and you giggled.

“what did i not take?” she crossed her arms over her chest and you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know. some weed. cocaine…” she rose one of her hands to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“jesus christ. why the fuck would you do that! are you insane?”

“oh, don’t act as if you hadn’t done it before… we all know shane heart breaker mccutcheon’s reputation.” you scoffed, and she squinted at you.

“and now you want to follow my steps?”

“maybe i do.” you shrugged.

“you’re acting stupid.” she sighed.

“and you’re acting fucking annoying.” you retorted, grabbing at the sides of your head when it throbbed. “ugh you’re making my head hurt.” your legs wobbled and if it weren’t for shane grabbing you, you’d have probably fell onto the floor.

“woah. are you okay?” you shook your head.

“i think… i’m going to…” you clasped your mouth shut with one of your hands and shane’s eyes quickly shot open before she was hurriedly guiding you to the toilet. you fell on your knees, puking your guts out. she grabbed your hair on a make-shift ponytail to make sure that it wouldn’t get dirty. she rubbed your back with her free hand.

“it’s okay, let it go. that’s it.” you groaned, feeling your stomach hurt. you didn’t want her to touch you, not on this state, but at the same time, you just wanted to lean on her touch and forget about everything.

“sorry.” you apologized, not really sure about what, maybe everything. she hushed you.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, okay? let it all out.” after a couple of minutes, you felt your dizziness subside, although you were still pretty high. “stay here, alright? i’m gonna go for some clothes you can change into.” you nodded, resting against the cold wall as you took deep breaths.

“fuck.”

you were cringing at the thought of shane seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess, just when she came back to the bathroom with some clothes on her hands.

“come on. let’s get you up.” she offered you her help to get up, hands on your hips to stabilize you as you took off your heels. “do you need help with-“ you shook your head.

“i’m fine.”

“are you sure?”

“shane. i’m fine.” you repeated, harshly, and she nodded. she wanted to understand. if you were acting like this it had to be due to something.

“alright… i’ll… i’ll be outside if you need me.” she nodded, and left the bathroom.

you sighed, leaning on the counter. you looked at the pile of clothes she had left you, and you took them. they were soft, and just as you imagined, they smelled like her.

you pulled over your head your dress, feeling the cold of the bathroom slide into your bones. your skin rose in goosebumps when you slid her shirt on, feeling caged in her and at the same time so free… you were surrounded by shane. and you were ashamed of yourself. you were supposed to be getting over her, not thinking about how much you liked having her on you. you were deep in thought when she knocked on the door. you had already pulled up your legs the shorts she had lent you.

“you okay in there?” she inquired through the other side, and you opened up for her.

“do you have some makeup remover i could use?” you inquired her, shying away from her green deep eyes.

“oh, yeah.” she passed through you, pulling it from the drawers of the sink along with some cotton wipes.

“thank you.” you muttered when she handed it to you.

“no problem.”

there was this… awkward tension in between the two of you. shane didn’t know what to say. she had noticed how lately you’d gone off the rails, but she didn’t really know why. it was your last year of high school. maybe you were just trying to have fun before college…? she was just worried about you.

you took off your makeup, and she stood there with you, cautious in case you felt like getting sick again.

you were still pretty high, although the dizziness of the alcohol had disappeared once you’d gotten it out of your system. suddenly, you felt this knot in your throat. shit. not now.

“hey… are you…? what’s wrong?” you shook your head, wiping away the first tear that fell from your eyes.

“nothing.” you muttered, but she wasn’t having it.

“come on, something must be going on for you to be like this. talk to me, sweetheart.” she pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back as you hid on the crook of her neck. “hm?” she took your face in between her hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“i love you.” you said, and she smiled.

“i love you too, kid.” you shook your head, interrupting her, your hands surrounding her wrists.

“i love you, shane.” she frowned, eyes shooting open in shock when she felt your lips on hers. your eyes were squeezed shut, heart beating harshly against your ribs. it was just a mere touch, two seconds of contact before she was softly pushing you away, breath fanning over your lips. your forehead collided with her chest. “i’m sorry.” you muttered, and shane hugged you, rubbing your back in soft circles. oh, sweet thoughtful shane.

“why don’t we get you in bed, hm?” she inquired, tenderly. she didn’t think too much of it. you were drunk, high and sad. this had all been a slip. a mistake. she had surely had many before. you nodded, and let her guide you to her bedroom. she always let you use her bed when you’d sleep over, using the sofa instead or sometimes sleeping with you when you were younger and would get scared.

“shane?” you inquired her as she made her way to the door.

“yeah?”

“do you think maybe…you could stay?”

she stood silent for a couple of seconds.

“yeah, sure.” she answered, and you moved to make some space for her. she laid on her back, and looked at you. “come here.” you got closer, and leaned on her chest, right above her heart, where you could hear her heartbeat. her hand laced on your hair, rubbing your scalp and brushing it for you to relax —something she has always done since you were little and helped you sleep—. you had to bite down on your lip and swallow your tears.

“good night, shane.” you whispered.

“good night, kid.” she answered.

the next morning. you were gone. and shane didn’t see you again.

4 years later…

“there’s my baby girl fresh out of college!!!” you chuckled at your dad’s excitement. you thanked the taxi driver who waved goodbye and started the car to drive away. “oh god, you’ve gotten so big!” you rolled your eyes, hugging him back as he squeezed you against his chest.

“dad… you saw me a couple of months ago!” you laughed and he grunted.

“kids grow so fast…” he sighed, shaking his head and you copied him, rolling your eyes. “come on! let’s get you inside!” he took your suitcase, pulling from it.

four years had passed since the last time you’d stepped on your city, even your house. that night after telling shane you’d loved her, you’d taken the offer one of your friends had given you to work for her during the summer in NY and left LA, later on having enrolled on the local college to continue your education. it was your dad who would come visit you on the holidays, since you’d promised yourself not to come back after you’d finally finished your degree to… disconnect. you needed change. needed to find yourself. and in reality, all of it was a simple excuse. you just needed to get away from shane. you couldn’t look her in the eyes after that night, couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and you hadn’t kissed her. couldn’t ignore the way your whole body had filled with euphoria and your stomach had blown up in butterflies.

so you ran. and did everything in your power to forget all about it. you had made new friends, met new people, dated, broke up, fucked, partied… you’d lived a brand new life away from her. and somehow…, it still felt like something was missing.

“dad… what’s all of this?” you inquired at the amount of snacks and beers decorating the isle of your kitchen. he guiltily smiled and you rose your eyebrows.

“i may of may have not invited some people to throw you a… comeback party?” you groaned.

“dad!”

“i know! but you know your aunt alice! she’s missed you so much… and angelica wouldn’t stop asking for you to bette and tina. so i thought that a little gathering wouldn’t kill anybody…” you sighed. “we’re just happy to have you back home, baby.”

you felt the itch. the need to ask about her. to say her name out loud after all this years. but you fought it.

“you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ve missed them too.” he hugged you again.

“why don’t you take a shower and get ready, hm? i’ll bring your luggage up your room for you. they’ll get here in an hour or so.” you nodded.

“okay. thanks dad.”

shane had been shocked to hear the drastic decision you’ve made in moving to new york. you’d packed and left the same day without even saying goodbye. she had tried calling you, of course she had. at least to try and get to know how you were doing over there in that immense city. but it’d always go straight to voice mail. your dad would tell her that it’s because you were real busy with school and your work. so she’d given you space. she had enough knowing through your father that you were alright. though she missed you. you were important for her. she adored you.

the years passed by quicker than she thought. she had taken over a couple of hair salons that now had her name, and sold her photography to great prices, giving her the chance to move to a better apartment. she hadn’t noticed the change that this years supposed for you ‘till she finally got to see you again, four years later.

you weren’t the same little teenager girl she once knew. you had grown up into this beautiful woman with radiant smile and vibrant eyes. you’d gotten a couple more tattoos, she could perfectly see the tramp stamp peeking from your low rise jeans, and outline the bars on your nipples though your tight top. jesus christ. when the hell had you gotten those?

you were wearing a beautiful lip gloss that made your lips pop, and black eyeshadow and waterline in your eyes. your nails were done in a deep shade of red, yet short.

shane had to take a deep breath when you finally noticed her, walking into your house as you took a beer from the kitchen. your dad and the group was outside by the pool, getting ready to eat some meat fresh out from the grill.

she looked good. why did she look so fucking good? and why was your heart going this crazy? for god’s sake, it had been four years already. you were sure you’d finally gotten it under control, but one look at her and those stupid butterflies were back, along with the memory of her soft lips and electrifying touch.

“well if it isn’t new york’s sweetheart…” she said as she finally reached you a smirk on her lips as she leaned on the isle, to what you scoffed. “it’s nice to see you, kid.” her voice was low, and silky. you wanted to groan. she sounded better than you remembered. but instead, you rolled your eyes, leaning on the other side of the isle to get closer.

“i’m not a kid anymore, shane.”

“yeah, i can see that.” she chuckled, eyes training on your body, eyeing you up and down when you turned around and asked:

“want a beer?”

“please.” you opened the fridge once again, bending over to get them from the last shelf, giving her the perfect view of your tattoo and ass. it read: heaven. “thanks.” she said when you handed it to her.

“no problem.” the two of you took a swing form the bottles, fresh beer spilling down your throat. somehow it didn’t help with how hot you were feeling.

“so tell me. how has new york treated you?” she inquired and you shrugged.

“it was alright. kinda busy with college.”

“oh yeah… as if college were everything you’ve been up to, huh?” she teased you, and you chuckled.

“what do you want to know, shane?” you squinted your eyes. “that the parties are amazing there? that the girls are hot?” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s more like it…” she drank again. there was this easy-going atmosphere in between the two of you. you liked it. you thought it would be harsher to face her. but she was shane. how could it be? she always made you feel safe. “see you’ve gotten more tattoos…” her eyes eyes your arms, where some of them stood. “i like them.”

“oh, yeah. have this friend back in the city that would do them for free if she could practice on me.” you laughed, showing them to her. she took your arm, soft fingertips drawing over their lines .

“well, she’s got talent, i’d give you that.” she whistled.

“yeah. taught me how to stick and poke and everything.” you laughed at her shocked expression.

“no fucking way… you tattoo?” you nodded.

“yeah, so if you ever want a new one just hit me up, i still owe you one.”

“true. the hummingbird. how’s it holding?” you pulled down your pants and panties to show it to her, soft skin in display. “might need a little ink.” she hummed, and you pushed your pants back to their spot. you might need something else.

shane tried to ignore the little speck of ink that she saw more towards your center when you pulled your pants down, but it left her with curiosity running through her veins.

you stared at each other, green eyes on yours for a couple of long seconds before she looked away, beer on hand. she couldn’t.

“where’s your dad?” she inquired, and you sighed.

“she’s out by the pool, getting the grill ready.” she nodded.

“see you later?” you nodded, and saw her go outside, being welcomed by her friends.

well… you were fucked.

summer in LA was hot. really hot. and shane prancing around your house with one of her wife beaters and tight jeans wasn’t of much help. you could see her arms bulge as she helped your dad put up a new relaxing space on your garden, where he’ll build a wooden ceiling and put up a few couches for you to relax by the pool.

you were currently taking a swim, small black bikini accentuating your perfect body. it was hard to say shane was having a great time.

“hey kid. enjoying the pool?” she inquired, wiping the sweat off her forehead. it was already almost night, the sunset already had been engulfed by the ocean.

you looked up at her, resting against the edge, cleavage on full and exposure.

“really. the water is so refreshing…” you smiled.

“shane!” your father called out for her. “i’m going out to buy some bear. want anything?” he inquired.

“marlboro reds?”

“got it.” she thanked him as he took his keys and left through the main door, leaving the two of you alone. you bit down on your lip at the thought of it.

“hey shane?” you muttered.

“yeah?”

“can i tell you something?”

“anything.” she nodded.

“bend over.” you whispered, and she followed, kneeling on one knee by the pool so she could get closer to you, and just as you were about to part your lips, your wet fingers gripped on her shirt, pulling her inside the pool. she was gasping for air as she came back up to the surface, wiping the water out of her face as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “oh god! you should have seen your face!!!”

“oh yeah? you think this is funny?” she chuckled, pointing at her wet clothes. the white wife beater let her nipples show now. you tried not to state too much.

“totally.” you nodded, taking a step back when she step closer.

“com’here.” she ordered, waving her hand.

“nah, i’m cool here.” you laughed, and shrieked when she jumped at you. “no!!”

“oh, so now the princess is begging for mercy, huh?” you sputtered as her fingers tickled you, grabbing at your sides. “how’s that? who’s laughing now, hm?” she muttered as you begged her to stop, trying to get rid of her hold. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” she left you breathless when she finally decided to let you go, although you two were close, your back against the wall of the pool.

you looked at her, and chuckled slightly at the messy state of her hair, which now stood completely drenched hiding her eyes and getting all over her face.

“what?”

“your hair. is… wait. let me.” your soft fingertips made contact with the skin of her face, pushing away the strands and behind her ear.

“thanks.” she muttered.

“you’re welcome.” you two stared at each other, realizing just how close you were. your eyes drifted to her chest, which rose and lowered in deep breaths, her perky nipples hard against the white of her tank top.

she stared at you. at your long eyelashes, flushed cheeks due to the lack of air and laughter and your glossy plump lips. somehow you two just ended closer, the hands that had tickled you still on your hips, burning your skin. your eyes met, and after a couple of seconds she looked away, clearing your throat and letting go of you, leaving you freezing.

“fuck. now i’m completely drenched.” she looked at her clothes.

“you could borrow some of mine.” you shrugged, and she scoffed. “what? i’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, shane. or do you want to get your leather seats wet?”

“fuck no.” her nose wrinkled up, and you chuckled.

“just what i thought.” you muttered, swimming towards the stairs and dipping your hair underneath the water one more time before getting out the pool. shane tried really hard to not stare at the perfect view of your ass. your dad would kill her. your dad will kill her. why was she even staring at you this way? for gods sake she had seen you grow up…

you turned around, and she quickly looked you in the eyes. “you coming or not.”

oh for sure.

“yeah.” she said before following after you.

“are you sure you know how to do this shit?” she inquired for like the eleventh time, and you rolled your eyes. “hey, i just want to make sure you don’t fuck it up, alright? i’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”

“shane, i’m positive. you’re not the first person i tattoo, alright?” you promised, getting the needles and ink ready.

“cool. cool.” she nodded, laying on your bed. your room stood frozen in your teenage years, full of books and pictures and posters. you even had your favorite music records (at least the ones you’ve had to leave behind for college). it gave you this nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t shake off your bones. your father was out with some of his friends, and you and shane had ended up meeting up to tattoo each other. “but-“ she tried and sit back up, but you pushed her down, pointing one of your fingers at her.

“shut the fuck up.” you ordered, and she rose her hands.

“okay.”

she was going for a simple design. a scorpion on her forearm. you’d done some before, so it would be easy. you’d also made a stencil for her, so you would be fine.

you prepped and disinfected everything, putting on your gloves. “okay. where do you exactly want it?” you inquired her, and she pointed at the place where she thought would look best and you nodded, placing the stencil there to let her see if she’d like it.

“yeah, i like it.” you nodded once again.

“alright. then i guess we’re ready. it won’t take a lot, if it hurts too much just let me know and we’ll take a break.” she scoffed.

“who do you think i am?” she sassily inquired and you rolled your eyes.

“hope you choke on your words, mccutcheon.” you shook your head, taking her arm and leaning over to start tattooing her.

“huh, you wish.” she smirked, taking a glimpse of your cleavage. she breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. come on shane. focus.

those fucking nipple piercings… shit. no. don’t think about that.

you noticed her silence and you decided to check up on her.

“you alright?”

“hm?” she seemed distracted. how couldn’t she be? “oh yeah. don’t worry.” of course it wasn’t like she were thinking about your tits. absolutely not. “so… had any girlfriends in new york?” yeah, let’s change the subject.

you sighed and shrugged. “i mean… not really. messed up around but never got serious, you know what i mean?” she smirked, surprised.

“do tell…” you chuckled, playfully hitting her on the arm.

“what about you?” you inquired, trying to not sound so interested. although you were. you truly were.

“could say the same. you know me.” you nodded, and hid your excitement. so she was single.

she stared at you as you worked. fuck. you were so beautiful. new york had changed you so much. you had always been, but now, there was this… something about you she couldn’t put her finger on. she just knew she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you. and that was no good.

“okay. i’m done.” you smiled, wiping over the tattoo to stare at the end result.

“now that’s amazing.” she whistled, taking a look at it. it hadn’t hurt at all.

“told you…” you muttered and she scoffed.

“oh i’m sorry for being scared, you’re the first kid i let near me with a needle.” you rolled your eyes. there was that nickname again. kid.

did she really still looked at you like one?

she noticed your silence.

“hey. you okay?” you pushed away her touch, nodding.

“yeah, i’m fine.” no you were not. what the hell did you have to do for shane to look at you? would it always be like this? will you always be running after her? “so… you up for retouching my tattoo?” you asked and she nodded.

“yeah, sure. could i borrow your gun, though? i’m not that good at stick and poke.” you gave it to her, along with some ink, gloves and new needles.

you got up from your seat, unbuckling your pants. shane tried to not look at you as you pushed them down your thighs, leaving you in a pretty lace pair of panties. her eyes continuously drifted from you to the tattoo gun as you sat on your bed, legs spread as she sat in front of you. there was no comfortable way she could tattoo you in your room, and having her in between your legs, leaning over and so close to your barely clothed center somehow felt more intimate than the first time around. she looked at you as her fingertips made contact with the skin of your hip bone, carefully pulling your panties down just the slightest to disinfect the zone. your cheeks were burning up when her soft low voice caught your attention. “you ready?” you nodded. “alright. if you need me to stop just say the word.” and then there was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and that burning feeling of the needle breaking your skin. you hissed. you knew it was a sensitive spot, but you always forgot how sensitive.

you thanked god the tattoo was small, ‘cause you couldn’t really look at shane too much without thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. she looked so good in between your legs, hair falling messily in her eyes, tongue sticking out and glossing her lips in concentration. the things you’ve thought about that tongue, the nights you’ve imagined her in this same exact position but with less clothing. this was turning you on. it shouldn’t be turning you on.

“fuck.” you groaned. and she looked at you.

“you’re doing good, just hold on a little bit more for me, alright?” you almost moaned. fuck. and now she was praising you. one particular harsh swipe of the needle almost had you gripping her hair. you could feel her breathing against your skin.

this was all too much.

“shane…” you sighed, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily due to the pain.

“i know baby, i know. i’m halfway there.”

you tried to hold in the need to move, but it hurt, and you were getting horny. there wasn’t much you could do. at one particular point, she had to harshly grip your hip with her free hand, pushing you against the duvet. “don’t move.” she ordered, and you bit down on your lip. holy fuck. this looked so much like those dreams you’d have about her…

you could feel your pussy throbbing.

shane was trying her best to keep her composure. but jesus christ, you were writhing under her, letting out this little pained sounds and you were just in a pair of panties and a tank top. it was making it hard for her. you were making it hard for her.

the room was sticky with tension. she could see the peeking of your pubic hair since she had pulled your underwear down, and your skin was so soft…

focus. focus. focus.

but then…

fuck. you were wet. you were soaked.

her green eyes met the wet patch forming on your panties, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. hell, she even forgot the fact that you were her best friend’s daughter.

you perked up at the feeling of her stoping with the tattoo.

“shane?” you called out for her, and then you were letting out this sound in between a moan and a gasp when you felt her fingers pushing in between your lips and over the cloth, slowly, teasingly. “oh fuck. what are you doing?” you gasped in a whisper, your hips rutting against her touch. she smirked.

“me? i’m not doing anything.” she looked at you, and slowly leaned closer to you, leaving this soft peck on your thigh. you shuddered. “tell me to stop…” she whispered. it was more like a begging. she needed you to tell her that this was wrong. that she shouldn’t be touching you right now. that it was a really stupid idea. she was your dad’s best friend. and yet…

“i can’t…” your hand laced on her hair when she started softly kissing your skin, lip in between your teeth. you wanted her. you’ve wanted her for so long… “please…”

you whimpered when her fingers bumped against your throbbing and sensitive clit, your hips bucking against her touch. “what’s this, hm?” your cheeks were beet red, thighs trembling under her green stare. “tell me baby, this all for me?” she inquired, leaving a wet kiss on your thigh and you nodded, muttering a ‘yes’ that had her short of breath.

your back arched when she kissed you on top of your panties, her tongue licking the arousal that dampened the lace. at the same time, her hands grabbed at the seam of your panties, slowly pulling them down your hips and thighs. that’s when she finally caught a glimpse of that tattoo that she had barely seen the day of your party. it was above your mound. and it said: ‘lucky you’.

shane smirked, chuckling. “lucky me…” your cheeks reddened, but all shyness and embarrassment disappeared when her fingers dipped in between your drooling folds, connected by strings of your arousal. shane felt her mouth watering. “such a pretty pussy.” you felt so exposed, but at the same time you just wanted to open up your legs for her, let her see every little crevice of you.

you let out this pornographic sweet moan when her tongue draw a long fat strip from your entrance to your clit, softly suckling on it and making your thighs squeeze her head, what made her groan and bury her face deeper into your pussy.

“fuck…” you cried out, your hands meeting her short messy dark hair, tugging at it. why did it felt so good?

she pushed your legs over her shoulders, her warm hands on your thighs as she sucked on your clit, sticking her tongue out for you to ride her face when you’d hump against her. that was until you felt one finger prodding against your hole, easily pushing inside your tight and warm walls due to how wet you were. “that’s it. open up for me, doll.” she hummed when you whimpered, starting to thrust it in and out of you, your arousal thick and white on her knuckles as you thrusted yourself on her finger and mouth.“taste so good…” she couldn’t get enough, eating you like a starved woman.

“shane.” you whined when she added her ring finger, stretching you out. and how could she resist when you sounded so sweet moaning her name? she just wanted to get more of those sounds out of you, make you cum over and over again until the only thing you could remember was her name.

she groaned. “look at you, fuck. so fucking pretty. what would your dad think, hm? her little girl letting his best friend fuck her like this.” you moaned, pulling from her hair. “oh you liked that, huh? like the idea of your daddy catching me with my tongue on your cunt, baby?�� you blushed, embarrassed to like the idea of it, the adrenaline rushing through your veins making the pleasure enhance. her fingers constantly hitting your g spot had you so close to the edge… “of course you do…” she smirked, sucking on your clit. you cried out her name, your hips pushing against her mouth. “you close, princess?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “cum for me, baby. cum on my face. i’ll clean it all up for you.” she muttered, licking at your folds before latching onto your clit. your back arched. that encouragement being all you needed to fall apart, thighs shaking as your high hit you like a tidal wave with a high pitched moan. she groaned at the taste of your white creamy cum on her tongue, lapping at it in need, the wet sounds of her tongue pushing into you and licking in between your lips filling your room. she kept finger-fucking you to help you ride off your orgasm, sucking at your clit to extend it.

you swore you could see stars on your room’s ceiling, thighs shaking and breathing ragged. it had been the best orgasm of your life.

shane finished cleaning you up, swallowing every last bit of your cum before pulling her fingers out of you and pushing them inside your mouth. her green eyes met yours as you cleaned them for her. and you could just think about the fact that you had just fucked your dad’s best friend.

and how much you wanted to do it again…

a/n; 😶‍🌫️

#shane mccutcheon smut #l word shane #shane l word #shane mccutcheon #shane smut #shane mccutcheon x you #shane fluff #shane mccutcheon x reader #shane x reader #shane angst #shane mccutcheon fluff #shane mccutcheon x fem! reader #the l word fan fiction #the l word smut #the l word x reader #the l word

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imbored1201 · 4 months

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Hi. I like your writings. Can I request a Mama Alexia Putellas x Teen! Reader? Where the reader escapes with her girlfriend to a party. Alexia will be very angry. And they will have a big talk. And the next day a painful conversation awaits the reader ( reader is hangover )

Drunken Mess

Alexia Putellas x platonic teen reader

A/N: Motherly Alexia is my most fav thing to write

Warnings: Throwing up, mentions of drug test

Word Count: 1,541

It was 2 a.m., and Alexia was awake; she was tired, pissed, and worried. She had searched for you everywhere on the street for an hour when she noticed you weren't there.

When she woke up, she had an odd feeling in her stomach. She checked around the house to make sure there was no one there, then went to your room to check on you. To say she was surprised when she saw you weren't there wouldn't be true.

You were always sneaky and a huge troublemaker, always getting into altercations on the pitch, and sometimes she got calls from your teachers about you not keeping up with your work.

————

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life. It wasn't the first time you snuck out. Your girlfriend always waited for you outside in her car. She knew a lot of people at school and always got invited to parties.

Something you didn't considering you did online classes. You've never drank or smoked like the other kids. Even your girlfriend never drank or smoked since she was the one that had to get you back home in one piece. She was terrified of Alexia.

When she saw you drinking, she was shocked, even going around telling off people who she thought pressured you to do it.

She kept an eye on you and did tell you to cool it with the drinks; you, of course, did not listen to her. Continuing to drink more.

"Okay, that's enough," your girlfriend said as she took the drink from you and dragged you out of the party. "Inside," she said, opening the passenger door for you.

Your arms were crossed, you were mad that she dragged you out of the party. "Let me see your phone." You gave it to her, and she opened it. "What are you doing?" You questioned, "Calling Alexia" "No!" You yelled, snatching it back.

"Call her," your girlfriend said sternly, you shook your head. "She'll kill me." "I need someone to make sure you choke on your vomit tonight." You stubbornly shook your head and glared at her.

"No," you said again, making her groan and park at a gas station. "Stay here; I'm going to get you a water" "Yes ma'am," you saluted, and leaned your head against the windows.

————

"Come on you drunk," your girlfriend had to drag you out of the car. You didn't want to go through the front door; you knew you would most likely get caught. With the help of your girlfriend, you always climbed back through your open window.

She thought that was too dangerous with the state you were in. "You have to come clean to her." You shook your head and tried pushing her away to run off. She tightened her grip. "HELP!" You yelled now.

She panicked and quickly put her hand over your mouth. "Now I want you to get caught by Alexia," she muttered. You rolled your eyes and gave up.

————

"Shit," you cursed as your girlfriend helped you inside the place. Alexia was sitting on a recliner that was in the corner of the room.

Her eyebrows raised as she looked at your girlfriend. Your girlfriend quickly set you down on the couch and looked at Alexia.

"I—she's drunk; I just came to drop her off." Alexia nodded and looked at you. "Thank you," she told your girlfriend, who just gave you a kiss on the cheek and practically ran out of the apartment. You didn't understand why she was so scared of Alexia.

You were laid out on the couch. "Aw, she left," you mumbled, turning to get more comfortable. Alexia wanted to yell at you, but she knew you wouldn't even remember it. She just walked up to you and made you sit up. She had a disappointed look on her face.

"Alexia I didn't mean to." Your words were slurred, and Alexia could smell the alcohol. She was ready to just ditch you at Ingrid's and Mapi's.

"I can't fucking believe this; this is why I don't want kids; I already have to deal with a big one who doesn't think." Alexia ranted to herself, holding her head as she went to the kitchen to get you water. "I'm not yours!" You yelled, earning you a slipper thrown at your head. You grabbed it and giggled.

"Drink," she simply said, snatching back her slipper and handing you the drink. "You're angry," you mumbled. Alexia looked at you like you were an idiot. "I wonder why," she sarcastically said.

Once you finished your drink, you looked at her and smiled. "I missed you," you said cutely, hugging her. Alexia hugged you back and helped you up. "You're sleeping with me tonight."

"Sleepover!" You cheered and went to the kitchen to get snacks. "No. Your going straight to sleep, no sleepover activities, and no snacks," you huffed and glared at her. "Your no fun." When you tried walking back to her, you tripped. On nothing.

"Oops," you said as you knocked down her mug that was filled with coffee. Alexia didn't even know what to do anymore. She was in between making you sleep on the couch, sending you to someone else's, and even calling your girlfriend to come back to take you again.

"Bed, and brush your teeth," she sternly said, dragging you out of the kitchen. You were quick to comply, and bolted to her room. You were able to successfully brush your teeth, and once your head hit those pillows, you were out.

————

Once Alexia finished cleaning and ranting to Ingrid and Mapi, she went to bed. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw you were already asleep.

Ingrid advised she'd let you settle a little bit first when you woke up before Alexia let you have it; after all, it was going to be your first hangover, that's what she was assuming at least.

————

When you woke up, you felt nauseous. You groaned and moved around to get more comfortable. "Alexia," you called out, and sighed in frustration when she didn't listen.

"Alexia," you whined again, rubbing your eyes as you got up and went to find her, trying to distract yourself from the feeling of throwing up. You found her sitting at the table. "Alexia, my head really hurts," her eyes narrowed. "I wonder why," and then there was a silent awkwardness as she got you food.

"Eat," she told you, breaking the silence. "I can't," you said in a whisper. You were waiting for the scolding, and the fact she hadn't started yet was scaring you more.

"Eat; you'll feel better. Then I'll give you medicine for the hangover." You nodded, taking a bite of your pancakes. You ate slowly and tried to ignore her stare. You sighed, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," you told her, and she just stared blankly at you.

"You know, you always get mad at me for treating you like a child, then you pull stunts like this." You simply nodded, not wanting to piss Alexia off more. "And I can tell it wasn't the first time you snuck out, and I know it isn't going to be your last." Alexia sighed and shook her head.

"I talked to Jonatan; you're going to do a drug test, and you're not playing these two upcoming games" "Bu-" she glared at you.

"Do not speak. You're getting off easy here. You know how much legal trouble you can be in over this. You're 16, you've made it so far already, and you're just going to throw it all away if you keep this up."

You didn't say anything. Just stared at your food in shame. You betrayed Alexia's trust, all because you couldn't control yourself.

"I swear I've never done drugs; yesterday was my first time drinking. I'm sorry, Ale." Alexia didn’t say anything; she just stood up to get you medicine.

————

You talked to your girlfriend, who also gave you a scolding. It's official to say that you two probably won't be going to parties for a long time. Your stomach was starting to hurt more, and your headache got worse.

You know you messed up, but you definitely learned your lesson now that you were on the floor with your head in the toilet as you threw up. Alexia was trying to help by holding back your hair.

You cried as she helped you up and helped you clean up. "I'm sorry," she shushed you as she hugged you tightly. "I know, Bebita, I know."

The rest of the day consisted of you curled up in her arms, occasionally crying because of your upset stomach while she tried to soothe you. Alexia knew she had to be strict with you, but she couldn't handle seeing you in pain. Plus, she knew Marta, Irene, and Lucy would probably yell at you way worse.

————

Thankfully for her, the drug test came out negative. She was still on your ass more than ever now, always checking on you at random points at night. Your poor girlfriend got a bad rep and practically got banned from the apartment, but Alexia eventually got over it and let her come around again.

#woso x reader #woso #barcelona femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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miserycanary · 1 month

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PLEASE PAINT OVER MY BRUISES ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: pairing: early 30s!Ghost & 20s!reader (can be read as platonic)

synopsis: Ghost as your refuge from your abusive father

tags: angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, hurt/comfort

| The first meeting was a coincidence.

Shivering from the midnight breeze, you huddled your flimsy sweater close with one hand out to hold your cigarette. One inhale of nicotine got you throwing your head back, forgetting the situation back home that led you to wander the streets at midnight. Busy peering up at the stars in the sky, you didn't notice someone's presence there until you felt your cigarette pulled from your lips and stomped on the ground.

"Dude! Not cool. That was my last," you angrily mumbled, squatting down to see if you could still use it. "Leave it." The voice took you by surprise, tilting your head up to see a hunk of a man, carrying some beers, looking down on you. You took notice of the calloused hand gripping the paper bag, meaning he was probably a lot older than you. Say early 30s? "Easy for you to say," a retort you throw at him. "I don't have money to buy more—" "then don't buy more," he plainly states, looking at you. Standing up, you finally noticed the mask on his face. With a roll of your eyes, you flip him off, grumbling under your breath, “fucking weirdo”.

| The second time was fate's joke.

Groaning and yelling, you kick an empty soda can, cursing out your good-for-nothing father. You ran your fingers through your hair, tears slipping on the corner of your eyes as every part of your body ached in pain. Sniffles turn to sobs, muttering about ending it all as everything seemed to never go your way. The oversized shirt barely concealed the bruises, recent and old, making you wince. “Fuck, I hate this shit,” your eyes got hazy, breathing almost cut short. With minimal effort, you sit by the store’s wall to steady yourself. Face buried in your arms, you— once again— don’t notice his presence.

The first time Ghost met you, he thought you were another rebellious teenager trying to act cool. You didn’t have a job, so he assumed you were a student. When he got home from that first meeting, he could only sigh and hope you’d gone back to your parents. Imagine his surprise when he sees you again, huddling by the store, sobbing. He was not one to manage emotions, so he thought of leaving you alone when a sudden gust of wind caught his attention. Blowing the flimsy fabric on your body, Ghost could see the marks on your body; marks he was too familiar with. Without hesitation, he walked over, pulled you up, and led you to his car. You didn’t even protest. How far gone are you to not even try to fight to live?

The silence on the way to his house was uncomfortable, with your occasional sniffles which turned to hiccups. His eyes glanced at you from the side. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches at the back to grab one bottle of water from his bag and hands it to you. “It’s not drugged,” he tried to joke. “I wouldn’t mind if it was,” you mumbled, silencing Ghost from awkwardness. At the end of the night, you found refuge. You were offered a place to stay, some food, clothes, and.. peace and safety. You found something rare that you never want to let go of.

| The rest are blessings.

Opening up to Ghost was relatively easy. Was it because you guys shared the same experience? Was it because he was the first to ask? All you know was you had him now. You would always come to his house when you needed to escape, and he never seemed to push. But the day you finally told him was a time you’d love to keep but forget.

Coming to the place that seemed to be hell on Earth, you were immediately greeted by a chokehold, pressed against the wall. “Fucking brat. What took you so long? Are you out there spreading legs for people, bitch? The apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree. Your bitch mother was also a whore” ‘Ah, it smells like liquor. He’s drunk again’ you thought, eyes drained of life. Next thing you felt was yourself slumping down on the floor with an ache on your face. ‘This motherfucker really punched me’ “If you ever think of following that bitch’s footsteps and leaving me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Sighing, you pull your legs closer to your chest while your father repeatedly stomps his foot on your legs, then your back. He eventually got tired, leaving after spitting on your face. It took everything in you to force yourself to stand and make your way to your room.

Dread immediately poured in when you noticed every drawer was pulled. “No, no, no, no, no'' you sobbed, rushing to look at the place where you hid your safety money. Feeling nothing, you started to cry, rushing out the door and ignoring the yells from your father. You didn’t know where you were going. Using the only 10 dollars you had left, you took a cab to the only place you know is heaven on Earth.

As soon as the cab pulls up to the familiar house, you storm out of the vehicle. You rush to the door, opening it using a spare key and yelling his name.

“SIMON,” you cried. Footsteps thundered and you see his figure pop up from the kitchen, eyes widening as he takes in your state. It was like all the weight on your shoulders was lifted, your knees buckled. Before you could collapse on the floor, Simon was already by your side.

One arm holding you by your knees and another across your shoulder, he carries to the living room. Sitting down and letting you embrace him from his lap. His warmth calmed you down, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Holding on his shoulders, begging him to keep you safe with tears staining his shirt. He shakes his leg, softly cradling you closer to his chest. “I’m here, I’m here. I won’t let you go, okay?” he mutters, turning your head to him and placing a firm kiss on your forehead. “I will keep you safe. This is the last time you’ll be in pain. I’ll protect you from whatever scares you,” he sighs, wiping away your tears as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulders.

You look at him with a broken smile and profound peace, like he's a savior— a god. For the first time in years, you let yourself succumb to sleep without any worries for your safety.

Maybe this is indeed heaven. You would love that— to be in Simon's safe embrace forever, away from the horrors of the world.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: my first ask by anonymous. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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mrshesh · 9 months

Text

"for... me?" - modern warfare 2 x reader

overview: mw2 men reacting to you giving them a friendship bracelet

pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic & platonic

genre: fluff

a/n: my first mw2 headcanons... i'm nervous about this. i will be eternally grateful if you leave your thoughts and criticisms in the comments, reblogs, or in messages. with that being said; enjoy.

x simon "ghost" riley

Simon is a sweet guy deep down. He appreciates you deeply, and he’d never hurt you intentionally, so you don’t know why you’re so nervous as you’re standing outside his door, your hands concealed behind your back as if you’re hiding an illegal drug.

When you hesitantly open the door to his room, you get greeted by Simon’s cold gaze, which immediately softens when he sees you.

He quickly sees the worry on your face, making his heart ache against his will. He cares about you so much. His mind always races when he sees you upset, his fight or flight response kicks in when you’re hurt, and his face always heats up when you’re smiling. You know this - yet you’re so nervous.

He stands up from his bed, reaching you to open the door further as you step back. He grimaces at the sight of you being so distressed - what could you possibly have done to be so concerned?

“What’s wrong?” He immediately asks, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees the small droplets of sweat on your forehead.

“Nothing’s wrong, Simon. You always assume the worst of me.” You roll your eyes jokingly, feeling calmer when he pinches his nose bridge in annoyance. It’s such a Simon thing to do, instantly making you giggle.

“Well, you’re sweating like a fuckin’ madman. What’s wrong?” He repeats his question, waiting for your response to determine his approach. He is so tense, worried that you have gotten yourself into something. (Although he would never admit that.)

“Give me your wrist.” You say after you take a deep breath, making his eyes narrow in confusion. Still, he extends his arm for you, his other hand resting comfortably on his hip as he observes your every move.

When you reveal your masterpieces, his gaze goes from suspicious to surprised in a heartbeat, his lips slightly parting behind his mask.

You’re holding a friendship bracelet - a black, gray, and white candy-striped yarn bracelet in your hands. Simon quickly takes notice of the bracelet on your wrist because it is identical to the one on your shaky palms. His brown eyes turn to yours, and you swear you can see a faint smile on his face.

“I’m assuming that one’s for me, yeah?” He chuckles, taking the bracelet from your hands to look closer at it. It sure is beautiful - it has some imperfections, which only makes it more precious in his eyes.

He puts it on calmly, twisting his wrist to look at it again when it’s on. His gaze turns to you, one of his eyebrows cocking up at your horrified expression.

“You are that fucking nervous over a bracelet?” He chuckles, his hand finding your head on instinct, patting you gently. “I like it, so you can stop shitting yourself, love.”

He secretly loves it.

When Soap notices that you and Simon are matching, his heart swells up with pride, but he tries to hide the ego boost he got. He feels special, knowing that he is the one matching with you.

He’s experienced so much loss in his life, but he promises himself that he will never lose you nor that bracelet the second you give it to him.

He wouldn’t match bracelets with anybody else.

x john "soap" mactavish

Johnny has suggested getting matching jewelry before! He’s big on showing you how much he cares about you, and he thinks it would be a perfect way to show his appreciation for you.

So you know that he’s going to be ecstatic when you show him that you’ve not only gotten matching jewelry for the two of you, but you’ve made it yourself!

You approach him when he’s sparring, his body covered in sweat and red patches from where he got hit, yet he’s still smiling and running towards you the second he sees you.

The Scotsman instantly notices that you’re hiding your hands behind your back, which sparks his interest enough to try to look at what you’re covering in them.

“What’re you hiding, bonnie?” He asks with a laddish grin, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He can’t help but snicker when you smile at his curiosity, a huge weight seemingly lifting off your shoulders.

“Can I see your wrist?” “My wrist?” He quickly repeats, seeming a bit dumbfounded. Still, he complies, extending his arm for you to grab while his breathing slows down.

You don’t waste any time, immediately tying his baby blue, royal blue, and navy Chevron bracelet on for him.

He initially looks baffled until he realizes you’re wearing an identical bracelet on your wrist.

Johnny’s face lights up, bringing his wrist closer to his face to inspect the carefully made bracelet, the different colors of yarn complimenting each other perfectly.

“Do you like it?” “I love it!” He quickly exclaims before he picks you up, hugging you close to him as he spins you around, erupting a hearty laugh from you.

“I’m never taking this off, m’eudail.”

And he’s telling the truth!

You will never catch that man without that bracelet on his wrist.

He shows it off to everybody, forcing you to hold your wrist next to his for proof. 😭

If anybody accidentally tugs at it or touches it without permission, he will yell at them. His go-to phrase is: "Hands off, eejit." He's just so dreamy. 😍😭

x kyle "gaz" garrick

Kyle is a sucker for you. He loves it when you think of him, take the initiative to be with him, and do thoughtful things for him - you’re pretty much his favorite person, so he adores it when you do anything nice for his sake.

So you know he will never turn down matching friendship bracelets!

You are playing UNO with Kyle when you finally get the courage to show him the bracelets you’ve made for the two of you. He noticed that your mind was somewhere else the second you two started talking, and his suspicions got confirmed when you eventually put all of your cards down, looking into Kyle’s eyes like you were guilty of a war crime.

“Can I give you something?” You ask, clearing your throat and smiling nervously at him. “Yeah, why not?” He nods in agreement, putting his cards aside to see what has gotten you so worked up. He hates seeing you so tense, but he can’t deny that it’s sparking his interest.

“Let me see your wrist.” You extend your hand, signaling him to place his wrist on your palm.

“Alright.” He utters, placing his wrist on your hand, his eyes alternating between looking at your face and his arm. (I just know his face looks like this 🤨)

His judgemental look soon gets replaced with a look of pure adoration the second he sees the ocean wave bracelet you tied on his wrist, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire.

“You made these?” He asks after a comfortable silence, his heart throbbing at the thought of you sitting and weaving that yarn between your fingers for hours to create this for him. “Yeah. Do you like them?”

“I love them. You might have to teach me how to make these.”

After that, he quickly grabs his cards again, insisting on finishing the UNO game...

But this time, it’s him whose mind is somewhere else.

He shows it to Price the second the game is over.

Every time he sees you, he goes, “Nice bracelet.” as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

He has picked up the habit of checking his wrist regularly to see if the bracelet is still there.

x john price

John is a strict sweetheart. You know deep down his intentions are pure, but sometimes you think his mouth could use some soap. His words and criticisms are not for the faint-hearted, sometimes hitting you deeper than any bullet ever could, which is why you are terrified to give him the bracelet you’ve made for him.

You don’t want him to think your gift is superficial since you put a lot of thought and care into making them. You can understand why your tribute may seem cursory, but you hope John won’t think your hard work is shallow.

Still, you take a deep breath and knock on his office door, squeezing the matching bracelets in your balled-up fist as your anxiety levels catapult.

“Come in.” John gives you the green light to enter, which you do hesitantly, clearly looking worried.

John immediately readies himself for the worst when he sees you sit down on the chair in front of his desk, reading your expression like a book. Why do you look so anxious?

“What’s wrong?” He sighs, contemplating what approach he should take to speak to you. What you say next, however, he does not expect.

“I have a gift for you.” You give him a nervous smile, only to be met by silence. You’re waiting for him to say something, your heartbeat’s pace increasing. You don’t feel like being a victim of his harsh words today.

“A gift?” His curious look gives you the courage to place the bracelets on his desk, letting him look at them for as long as he needs. He takes the bigger one, bringing it closer to his face, getting a better look. The bracelet has a zig-zag pattern, the yarn being different shades of purple. It has some design errors here and there, but that only makes it all the more human.

“Did you make these?” He puts it on, looking at it closely as it perfectly fits his wrist. You grab your bracelet, quickly sliding it on before you nod, your skin glistening in sweat.

“Very impressive, soldier. I like it.” He smiles, making you exhale in relief. He likes it. Sweet.

“Why purple, if I may ask?” “Thought I’d bring some color into your boring life.” “...”

He loves it. He always laughs when he remembers your look of terror when you gave him the bracelet.

He discreetly shows it off and then acts surprised when somebody points it out.

He takes it off when he has missions. He doesn’t want it to wear out too quickly and encourages you to do the same.

And no, he doesn’t find it superficial at all. <3

x alejandro vargas

Alejandro has a huge soft spot for you. He’s very open with that fact, so you aren’t too nervous when you present him with the matching bracelets you’ve made for the two of you, but you still feel slightly worried. What if he simply dislikes them?

When you get assigned a mission with Alejandro, you don’t wait! You bring your bracelets with you, keeping them safe and hidden in your pocket until you finally see him again.

He’s the first to walk up to you, kissing the back of your hand to exchange greetings. “It’s nice to see you again, cariño.” He greets, his eyebrow cocking up upon noticing how jittery you are.

“I have something for you.” You tilt your head to the side, looking pleased with yourself. “Really? What have you got for me, corazón?” He can feel his excitement reach the roof. His aura radiates curiosity, making you feel more self-assured and breezy.

Your hand reaches into your pocket, taking hold of both the bracelets inside.

Your confidence skyrockets when you notice his expression change, his heart’s speed increasing when he sees the sage green spiral staircase bracelets in your hand.

“I made these for us. Cute, right?” You smirk when he takes them from your hand, looking at them with such intensity your worry almost spikes up again.

“They’re beautiful, amor.” He says when he finally looks up at you with a grin, his whole body feeling warmer in flattery. His change of expression and body language makes all your worries about this seem insignificant. You can tell that he loves them.

He insists on tying yours on for you. He won’t take no for an answer.

He stares at them for a few minutes when they’re on, feeling his ego skyrocket.

He shows it off to everyone, to the point where Rudy’s getting sick of him. 💀

He has never loved an object more than that bracelet.

If you gift him another one, he will 100% wife you up, no joke.

x könig

König’s a ruthless Colonel. He’s strict and calculated, and he doesn’t let shit slide. But he’s so uncharacteristically soft when he’s around you.

His anxiety-prone heart is so fragile when it comes to you, so whenever he gets confirmation and comfort knowing that you still care about and love him, it only fuels his desire to keep going, to treat you better, and be there for you.

And a friendship bracelet is an excellent reminder. :)

You step into the armory, watching König polish his sniper carefully as he softly hums to himself. He only notices you when you knock on the wall next to you, alerting him that you’re present.

“Hey.” He utters, wiping the lens of his sniper as his blue eyes lock on your frame, his attention shifting to your hands, or lack thereof. You’re hiding them behind your back, endeavoring to conceal something from the Austrian. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I was wondering if I could give you something.” You step closer to König, your mischievous grin leaving him curious, wanting to poke for more information.

“Sure, what is it?” He cautiously puts his sniper away, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes find yours.

“Give me your hand.” You extend one of your hands, clutching his wrist to reveal the bracelets you’ve been keeping out of sight behind your back. König’s eyes widen at the bracelets in your hand, cautiously leaning closer to your hand to get a better look at the yarn armbands.

His expression softens as his focus shifts to you, making you raise an eyebrow at him wonderingly. “So? What do you think?” “They’re beautiful, liebling! Are they for us?” He asks, not wanting to assume that you’ve made one for him. However, his worries get swept away when you snicker and tie on his bracelet for him, allowing him to get a closer look at it. It’s a five-strand braid, the color palette being very military-esque with different shades of green. It compliments his skin and uniform well, recognizing that you’ve put more care into this than anybody has for him.

He quickly stands up from his seat, wrapping his arms around your frame like a security blanket, making you melt in his grasp. You can hear his smile in his words, and you know right then and there that you made the right decision in gifting him this. “Thank you. I will cherish it forever and ever.”

He never takes it off.

He constantly stares at them when you socialize with him. Work-related reasons or not - he can’t keep his eyes off them, a light blush covering his cheeks as he stutters out his words, making him especially grateful for his mask.

He has gotten into the habit of hugging his wrist while he sleeps, keeping the bracelet close to his body to protect it from harm.

He kisses it at least once a day. <3

2K notes · View notes

callofdudes · 8 months

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Best idea

Y/n had to go MIA/KIA to keep the 141 safe, once Simon founds out angry cause he mourned for his best friend only to find out their alive and in hiding, demanded platonic cuddles as their “punishment”

Ok, I'm gonna get the brain juices running for this one. Another one based off a story my bestie @itsscromp and I did. But I changed it up. Hope you enjoy, it's longer than I anticipated it being.

Also, I should have fully expected the repercussions of letting you guys vote Egg as a callsign... but I'ma still use it.

Where did you go??

Summary: They thought you were gone, dead. Turns out you were under their noses and a call away the whole time.

Cw: Angst. Nothing much else.

Your mission had gone... Well for lack of a better word it went to shit. Whole thing blew up. An ambush, a bomb, it would be a long road to explain what all in all happened but it did, and now you were paying for it. It had gotten so bad they couldn't pull you from the junction you were stuck in.

You were supposed to be infiltrating an old base which had become home to a drug ring. But no one happened to mention the mines you'd step on and fuck up your leg with. Or the live wire that alerted the whole base after said mine went off.

So now this entire base was up in arms, you have a broken leg and probably other damage. You were lucky your leg hadn't been blown off.

And to be quite frank, these men were extremely dangerous which meant your fuck up was astronomical. The second they found you you were probably going to die.

So you commed into Price, telling him your situation.

"Alright Egg, I'm going to go in on foot and bring you back to the helicopter just hang tight soldier."

"Yes sir." You lay down, catching your breath and willing yourself not to look at your leg because if it felt bad it probably looked bad too.

Not twenty minutes later Price was approaching your form, bending down to check on you. "You broken??"

"Yeah I'm pretty sure... I don't want to look though."

Price nodded, tucking his gun away and grabbed your arms. "Alright, up we go," he hauled you up into his arms, hefting you over his shoulder and going back the way he came. Just... A little quicker this time since things were looking good for the oppositions infantry.

Price brought you back to the helicopter where you were bandaged up. The mission could have been better planned so they didn't end up sending another team out.

Price had the team drop you off near some loading stations far off the location of the base.

"What... Are we doing here??"

Price got out of the helicopter and checked your leg before pulling you out with him. "I can't bring you back to base. It's a security risk if I do..."

You frowned. "What do you mean?? Where am I going then??"

"There's a secure underground safehouse that will keep you hidden. It's got the provisions you need and the people you need. They'll keep quiet and keep you safe. For now, for however long, I need you to lay low."

You opened your mouth to protest but then shut it again. "I understand. Will I get to see the others..?"

"No, you are not to contact them in any way at all. Until I contact you, you are to remain on the downlow."

Your head falls slightly, but you nod. "Alright, I can do that."

Price nodded and patted your shoulder. He picked you up and helped you into the truck waiting for you. "They'll take care of you. I'll contact you as soon as it's safe. If I do not contact you do not contact us. Got it?"

You nod once again, taking the instructions to heart. You wouldn't be able to contact Ghost, Soap or Gaz. You wouldn't be able to contact anyone. But you knew this was for the best.

So with a last goodbye Price closed the door to the truck and the soldier in the driver's seat drove down the empty road out of the landing space.

"How long will we be gone??"

"Until we get the word from Captain Price. Don't worry. It'll be kept under wraps..."

...

Price returned to the base, taking a deep breath and having had time to figure everything out. He immediately called the others into a meeting.

Considering you and Price weren't supposed to be back for the rest of the day, or even two days or more the meeting was seen as urgent.

Ghost was there first, the sergeants following his trail as they came into the office. "Price... What are you doing back?" Ghost asked sternly, hands clasped tightly as if ready for action at a moments notice.

"Relax... There won't be any fighting. I need you all to sit."

Soap threw Gaz a concerned look as they sat. "Where is y/n, are they still out there??"

Price straightened his posture. He didn't exactly want to lie to his own men, but he'd done worse and he knew this was completely for the best.

"The mission didn't go well as soon as we went in."

Ghost frowned. "Didn't go well?? These drug traders could be connected to Shepherd's on power, how did it wrong??"

"Ghost, relax." Price replied firmly. "I realize that we didn't think this over as well as we should have... Their base was much more protected than we originally thought so Egg went in blind."

"So what happened? Did you pull them??" Ghost was growing more agitated the longer they sat there.

"They commed in about an exploded mine and... We couldn't find them."

The room grew quiet. Soap and Gaz shared concerned looks as Gaz spoke up. "Did you do a full search? We're they hidden in the dirt or something and you missed??"

Price shook his head. "Too risky to go on foot and search. We didn't know how many more mines were out there." Only a small white lie, but a lie nonetheless.

Ghost squared in his chair. "Then we need to go find them. What are we sitting here for just waiting-!"

"Ghost, if they are safe they'll comm in. For now I can't risk sending men in there with the base on high alert and their supposed boss on speed dial. So for now we sit down and we wait to see if Egg comes back with anything."

Ghost was boiling up underneath. Feelings of rage that Price couldn't have waiting a little longer. Worry because they left you out there probably still alive... And fear. Because what if you weren't alive.

"I won't make any calls on it now, but this is where we are at so remain patient. I'm doing what I can to sort this out." Price had to rewire this plan to keep all of his men safe. All of his soldiers, including you.

"Dismissed."

The air was tense when everyone left. The idea you were out there alone, still alive and possibly if not injured and with no help. It scared them all.

Gaz was the first to try and get in contact with you. But any of his efforts were proving ineffective.

Soap just had to wait it out. To hope they could find you or you could find them in time.

Ghost... Ghost didn't know what to think. He knew you were capable. He knew if you were alive then you'd comm in. Once you were safe he knew you would make contact. You could protect yourself... He had to believe you would be ok.

That mentality lasted right up until a week later when Price called everyone back in to pronounce you MIA. Stamped on a card to your file and just like that, they truly had zero traces of you.

They were devastated. A week and no turn of anything from you. This is when Simon started to call your phone. Leaving you text messages.

He couldn't sleep because all his thoughts and dreams were of you. Hoping you were ok and alive. That hope was dying, waking up in cold sweats on nights he could close his eyes for even a moment.

Clutching his beating heart while his body rattled with panic, phone pressed to his ear only to hear your voice over the same simple voice mail as ever.

He couldn't be without you. You were a crucial part of his life. Of his mission. He couldn't just abandon that connection. You had to be alive.

Price cut communication with the safe house you were being taken care of. Unless it was an emergency Price knew not of your condition, only that you were safe. He too was worried, bouncing around through meetings and talking with Laswell and this and that and the other thing.

Trying to figure out what to do now that they needed a new plan and how long they could wait to re-infiltrate.

Simon had started leaving you voicemails, not knowing if he'd ever hear your voice again.

"Hey, this is Y/n, I'm currently busy but please try to leave a message so I can get back to you!"

Simon laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as he held the phone to his ear.

"Y/n.... If you can hear me you gotta respond. Please, I don't know if you'll ever hear these again but if you're somewhere out there I know you're alive. Anything, please, I..." He closed his eyes, thinking back to the last time he saw you. Taking off in that helicopter, a pat on the shoulder and a good luck...

"I miss you. And I'm not giving up on you. I'm not." He wouldn't cry... He wouldn't cry. He would not cry.

"I'm going to come find you. I know somewhere you're still alive. Even if their torturing you I promise I won't leave you out there to die you hear me."

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, curling up on his bed. "I know you hear me...." He choked out. "I know you can hear me...." He stares at the phone. "Please Y/n.... Please, anything..."

He stared at the phone, waiting like you would magically pick up and reassure him even for a second that you were ok and alive and even if you weren't thriving you were still breathing.

But no...

The voicemail lasted for over an hour. Simon laid there, staring at him phone, unable to bring himself to hang up again.

His thumb hovered over the phone. He wanted to say one last thing... He opened his mouth, but he hesitated. His eyes downcast and one last tear rolled down his cheek as he ended the call once again. Only to face another restless night of no sleep.

By the eighth month mark you were pronounced KIA.

Simon had pretty much known by that point. He'd lost his best friend but he had been in denial until Price told them. They couldn't find a trace of you. No body, no tags, no clothes, no weapon. You had simply... Vanished.

Simon continues to mourn all while you were still being held up in that underground safehouse. Sitting on the small rickety bed, watching the higher ranked soldiers also staying watch at the safehouse talk in the other room.

It was beyond difficult. No contact with outside, you ate, slept, the others tended to your leg and occasionally sparred with you to help you back on your feet.

You missed your team. Your friends. Your family.

You listened to every single voicemail Simon sent. You couldn't reply. Couldn't text him back or even pick up the phone for a second to let him know you were ok.

You remained radio silent.

Even as you'd lay awake at night with your phone replaying the voicemail, listening to the recorded lapse of Simon's breathing while he stared at the phone with an empty, sorrowful expression from the other side.

You missed him so much. You wanted to see them again. But you couldn't. Not yet. Would you ever get to see them again?? They couldn't leave you down here forever.

There was a brief knock on your door as one of the sergeants nodded to you. "Food is ready, new supply just came in."

You nod, pausing the voicemail. "Thanks... I'll be out in a minute."

You sighed, turning off your phone and tucking it away, praying that you'd see them soon.

...

Simon had lost you. Didn't even get a chance to protect you. It had gotten to the point where his lack of sleep would lead to seeing figures of you disappear down hallways. In a spark of hope and joy he'd rush to find you only to find nothing...

On the off days he'd run into a recruit or a sergeant wandering the halls. As soon as they would turn around though... The illusion would shatter.

His own mind was killing him from the inside. Sending you hundred and hundreds of text messages. Every morning and night, rants about his day and what he was feeling. If he was going to pour everything out like you'd ever see it he did it now.

Knowing you'd never pick that phone up again, knowing you'd never look him in the eyes again. Knowing he'd never hear your voice or feel your touch or know your comfort ever again.

This drove him further and further into the spiral. Price had never seen Simon beat up the punching bag so much he bled all over it. He'd never seen Simon get snappy and angry I'm split decisions like he did.

He'd never seen Simon grow so desperate and over protective of Johnny and Kyle. Because Simon's new fear was he'd lose them just like he lost you...

This went on for the next three months after that. Nearly a year since you'd died and they were back out on that minefield. A proper plan, a new way in, a new goal.

Simon was desperate to tear that base apart and even find a trace of your body. Even just a piece of your clothing or your signature engraved gun hanging in their armory somewhere.

But in the end he was left with no more questions answered than when he first entered that meeting room eleven months ago.

Simon had followed the trail to the last thread. The main office of that base. Pulling open every drawer and every cabinet.

"Lt stop you're making a mess-!"

"There's got to be a file or something here! There fucking has to be!"

"Ghost stop we found the information we needed. We have the shipments contained the base is clear what could you be looking for??" Gaz asked, trying to understand what had gotten Ghost in such a frenzy.

"A kill list or an interrogation chart. Anything."

"For what Simon!?"

"For Y/n!!" Simon snapped at them both. Breathing heavy as he finishes emptying every drawer in that office.

Price stood silently in the doorway. Enough time had passed. He wouldn't put them through this anymore.

"Come on lads... I think it's time I show you something."

Their attention turned on to him. Simon was almost vibrating with rage and anxiety. He just wanted any knowledge of what happened. He knew you were dead but his soul was restless without knowing. He needed to know...

They left, Price piled them in the helicopter and the ride back was silent. Simon stared at his hands the whole time. Soap fidgeted, knee bouncing and chewing his lip anxiously.

Gaz picked at the loose strap of his gun, also attempting to distract himself from the elephant in the room.

When the helicopter landed they weren't on base. They landed on the small helipad you had been brought to some some before. Price got out, motioning the other three to follow.

"Where are we Price??" Soap looked around, not recognizing the place.

"You'll know soon enough." Price brought them to a truck, talking with the officer in charge of the station before climbing in the driver's seat.

The sergeants got comfy in the back and Simon slipped into the passenger seat. His eyes remained fixed on the passenger window, watching the open land pass by and the fields of undisturbed flowers and wildlife.

What if he had found you here? May you would have liked that better. Surrounded by the flowers and the soft blowing breeze instead of wherever your body lay, ashes or not.

He turned away, fixing his eyes to the dashboard to try and distract himself.

The ride was quiet once again. Lasting about an hour and a half before Price stopped, parking the vehicle outside a small outpost of sorts. It wasn't build very high off the ground and was concealed by trees and wildlife.

"A safehouse. Why cannae we jus' go home??" Soap asked as he jumped out of the vehicle with the others.

"I'd prefer we made a stop here." Price said, leading them to the entrance where surpisingly a soldier was there to bring them in.

"Occupied? Now there's something new." Gaz whispered to Soap.

Simon didn't understand why they were even making this stupid trip. He wanted to go back to base. He wanted to hide once again like he always did.

"Captain Price, welcome back." The soldier shook Price's hand and walked them further inside.

"Sergeant! Their here for you!" The soldier called out, walking to one of the small rooms where you were. Where you spent most of your time.

You looked up. Who was here for you?? Your eyes widened. Them, your team! It had to be them they were back!

You pushed off your bed, leaning into your good leg and moved faster than you had in almost a year. Turning the corner and there they were. Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle. All of them.

But.... This wasn't the hopeful reunion you'd pictured in your head over and over again. No one moved. The thought of Simon rushing the hug you didn't come true as he didn't move.

Price walked over, embracing you. "Good to see you again sergeant." You hugged him tightly, so good to be held by him, embraced by Price again. You'd missed him so much.

Johnny was the second one to snap out of it, running over and wrapping his arms around you tightly. "What the hell is wrong with you doing this! You had us all sick and worried and heartbroken!!"

"It wasn't my plan... I'm sorry." You hugged Johnny back. "I'm so sorry Soap, I'm so sorry." Johnny couldn't stop his tears, not wanting to let go in fear you'd slip away again.

Gaz followed, hugging you tighter than you'd ever felt him do before. You'd never seen Gaz openly cry but he was balling, sobbing as he hugged you tightly.

"We thought you were dead, captain told us you were dead!"

"I had to do it to protect them... To protect all of us." Price knew this would probably take a bit for them all to come to terms and forgive him for, but it had to be done.

When the others were done cooing and coddling over you, there was just Simon left.

He felt alone. He felt cold and separated. He felt like he wasn't a part of the same bubble as the others... He watched them embrace and kiss and love on you... You. It was you.

You turned to him, but Simon didn't move. He didn't know if he could. He felt so consumed by his darkness and his grief it didn't allow him to step into the light.

He'd consumed himself so much if he touched you he felt he might burn. That you fall like sand from his fingertips and the illusion would shatter...

"Simon...." You whisper, stepping toward him, causing Simon to step back.

You could see the fear in his eyes. The lack of trust, the amount of hurt, the pain he must have went through to have one of his lifelines ripped away and then thrust back into his life suddenly like it was fine.

"I'm... I'm sorry Simon I didn't mean to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail you sent. I knew every text that went through. But I...."

"You could have told me you were fine! You could have told me you were ok!! Bullshit that you couldn't!! Bullshit!!" Simon thundered.

You remained silent. Simon glared at Price. This was his fault. You'd been taken away without warning. He could have kept it a secret he could have carried that knowledge and not been out through a years worth of fire from hell!

Simon threw his gun to the ground, not even carrying as he left again.

"Lieutenant! Simon!" Price called after him as Simon left the safehouse.

You placed your hand on Price's chest. "Don't... It's ok. Let me help him."

Price looked down. But he nodded.

You left the safehouse, finding Simon around the corner huddled up, shaky hands trying to light a cigarette to get his nerves to calm down and his mind to clear up.

"You hid from me." He cursed, acting like he was seconds from spitting your name into the dirt and squashing it. But you knew. You knew inside he was hurting more than anyone else on the team.

You knelt beside him, gently taking the lighter from his hands. "I never meant to hurt you. If I didn't have strict orders from Price I would have contact you right away."

"Why couldn't he have at least told us you were ok. That you were alive."

"I... I don't know Simon, you'll have to ask Price about that one. But I promise I never meant to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail, I didn't give up. I can see the pain it caused you."

You moved closer, slipping into his arms and hugging him tightly. The second you wrapped your arms around him. He felt your weight, your warmth, your heart pounding in your chest against his own.

Simon finally looked at you, tears spilling down his cheeks. He was shattered. So hurt from losing you.

"You fuckin' abandoned me!!"

"I didn't abandon you Simon. You know I would have picked up and came running back even if my leg was missing."

He knew it was true. But he was so... So angry and torn and upset. He wanted to scream and fight and he felt so small and helpless.

The real you.

Not some illusion passing corners or drifting through his peripherals. The you he could touch and hold and protect.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, never letting go of you even once. He didn't stop those tears as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"I'm here Simon. I'm not leaving again ok? I'm right here."

He remained silent, crying as he held onto you. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. It felt like hours passed. It felt like time slowed. What felt like two hours was twenty minutes when he finally pulled away enough to look at your face.

To see the light in your glimmering eyes, to see every feature of your face that made you, you.

His sergeant. His teammate. His family.

You smiled softly, gently pulling up his mask off his head to cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb gently over the dimple in his cheek you've seen when he shows you his smile.

"Smudged your paint a little bit," You whisper. "Let's get that fixed." You gently brush your finger over his face, feeling him start to relax at that familiar and missed touch as you fix the paint around his eyes.

"There we go. How can I help Simon. What will help make this better?"

Simon tried to flick away the rest of his tears, huffing softly. "Cuddles. And you are not allowed to say no after what you put me through. This is your punishment for making me go through that shit!"

You chuckle. "Oh, cuddles with Simon, scary. I'll pay the fine, I'll do all the punishment time of cuddles you request. Sound good?"

Simon nods his head.

"Ok, well how about we go inside now? I could use some cuddles too."

You were about to get up when Simon hugged you again. "I'm glad you're ok..."

You smiled softly, kissing the top of his head. "I am too Simon." You help his mask back on and the two of you head inside.

Simon would let out his feelings to Price sometime later when his head felt less foggy. For now, he was content to crash on the rickety old safehouse bed and koala cling to you till kingdom come.

Nuzzling up and holding you tightly, not letting you go for even a itty bitty millisecond.

And you were fine with that. You were glad you could be back with your family. Simon was glad to welcome you back. You'd be serving a lot of cuddle prison time. A strenuous task, but one all too rewarding.

Running your hand down the back of his head, scratching his back to help him relax and set himself at ease.

All he needed was to koala crush your soul into his soul, and then he'd be ok. Slowly, his eyes started to close after the exhaustion of the mission, but he fought to keep them open.

"I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise, I won't be going anywhere." You whisper to him.

"You promise?"

"I double swear it. I won't leave. I'll be right here."

He snuggled you impossibly closer and let his eyes close. He let his mind rest. His heart soak in you and heal. Slowly you could help mend what has fallen apart.

And cuddles were never a bad place to start...

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #captain john price x reader #platonic x reader #cod modern warfare

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lvrcpid · 4 months

Text

pyramids. - F.S

based on : pyramids by frank ocean.

pairing : farleigh start x nb!reader

warnings : drug usage. swearing. slight ooc farleigh. sexual references. kinda short but i’ll be making a part 2.

notes : oh i am SO BACK. 😛 also i love this movie sm.

you always knew you’d end up in college. just at least not at oxford. you always read about the school over the years and it seemed too prim and proper for your liking. a true bore of you will. so when you found yourself in the middle of the campus, hearing the commotion of the students around you, you thought to yourself. “what the fuck did i get myself into?”

your parents were well off, upper middle class even. so when you received a letter inviting you to attend oxford, your family forced you to apply and attend the university. you finally said your goodbyes and finally unpacked. the room had a slight chill and was a bit dreary, even further confirming your suspicions. this school was like purgatory.

the days turned weeks at oxford truly changed your perspective of the entire school. the party life was insane, that’s where you were right now. a party. the music blasted in your ears as the room reeked with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and weed from here and there. you weren’t exactly sober yourself, having a few drinks you were given by an acquaintance you made over the few weeks.

you held the beer in your hand, walking and slightly pushing people in your way. “excuse me” you mumbled less than pleased at the sight of people completely ignoring your presence. you made one final shove before someone, a boy, swung his head around, cigarette in mouth and said. “are you fucking kidding me?” you weren’t looking where you were going, more so not even paying attention to your drink. when you looked up, the stranger in front of you had beer dripping from his back. “oh shit- man i’m sorry” you said slightly embarrassed, trying to use your jacket to pat the area dry.

“stop just- stop.” you picked up on the fact the stranger was american. it wasn’t foreign to see americans at oxford, you’ve just never actually heard their accents before. “i really am sorry. i wasn’t looking where i was going.” you said, still apologetic and remorseful, still a bit because of the alcohol in your system. “oh whatever it’ll dry- hey i’ve seen you around. you’re that super quiet kid in my literature class. i’m farleigh.” he said, raising his eyebrows in a cocky way and taking a cigarette from his pack. he leaned the pack towards you, offering you one, to which you reject. you want to at least try to live to see 50.

“suit yourself.” he says, looking down at your beer. “i could kill you for messing up my shirt..but i’ll let it slide this time. so, what’s your name mystery person?” he looks down at you. the boy was freakishly tall and now that you’re getting a good look at him. you do recognize his face from your literary class. “y/n.” you said, finishing off your beer. farleigh gave you a look that rocked your world, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the depths of the night.

from that moment, you and farleigh hit it off. he was a party animal, a wild child and it made your heart race. every moment with farleigh was an adventure. you soon realized farleigh was into hard drugs. what drugs you may ask? cocaine. but that just made the ride even wilder. although the friendship was platonic, you and farleigh always found yourselves entangled in dances only lovers would dream of. sneaking away from class to make out on his bed or even sneaking touches and glances, enough to make the strongest weak in the knees. farleigh was a passionate person, it made your body jelly and your blood run ice cold, but only in secret. to him, you were his secret sin.

one night , weeks after you and farleigh came together. he decides to open up to you. about his mother, his struggles and even his home, saltburn. you were curious about this place. so curious to the point farleigh had to silence you with a kiss. it was late at night and the campus was silent, only the sounds of the wind and trees in the background. “how about this..if you want to…only if you want.-“ he said, on the spur, in the heat of the moment;

“how about you visit saltburn for the summer?”

part 2 - monster.

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start #saltburn imagine #saltburn ff #farleigh catton #oliver x farleigh #farleigh saltburn #felix catton x reader #archie madekwe #saltburn smut #saltburn 2023

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weird-dorky-little-d · 2 years

Text

In 1789 they even booked a private room for their secular date.

#the sandman #the sandman 1x06 #morpheus x hob #morpheus #hob #hob gadling #1789 #6th june 1789 #neil geiman #so gay #platonic shit is my drug #the dream and the immortal #dreamling

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

Note

what about…

yandere ghost dad with reader who’s going on a bad path?

like hanging around delinquents, smoking and drinking at a young age or even doing drugs

i have a feeling he’d lock them up and throw away the key 😭

— Yandere Dad-Ghost with his gn kid, going down the ‘bad path’

Warnings: yandere behavior, everything Platonic, talks about smoking, drugs (and pot), alcohol, and isolation.

A/N: How do y’all come up with these good ideas?? I loved doing this, enjoy bby <3!

Simon would be worried about you, first and foremost. But also extremely disappointed; the dangerous stunts you do, especially with the wrong type of people, make his paranoia 10 times worse.

When he had caught you smoking, either weed or tobacco, he was angry; instantly grabbing it from your hands, throwing it to the floor as he snapped at you. He had made a promise to himself — ensuring that you'd never turn into anything bad. And now, seeing you waste your teenage years with drinking alcohol, and potential drugs makes his stomach sick.

Despite it being your first, or multiple times of doing your ‘rebel shit’, Simon is taking your health, and safety seriously; strictly warning you for the first and last time with a look of sheer disappointment and anger: “I don’t want to see that shit again– y’know the rules of this house. D’ya understand me? Repeat it back.”

Simon thought you’d understand. You were a kid, still experiencing life. Finding who you are. You’ll be fine, as long as you follow his rules. But, when on a lazy Saturday, getting a call from 911 past midnight — saying you were arrested, obviously intoxicated, and smelling like weed? His impatience snapped like a rubber-band.

In the end, yes, your beloved father would lock the key and throw it out; keeping you isolated in the house, with just him, where he can watch you. You can be mad at him, throw things at him. Hell, even say you hate him. But at the end of the day, it’s for your protection.

Everything in the house is extra supervised — your internet, and screen-time is watched 24/7. Life360 is added onto your phone. The door to your room is removed, and covered with a thick blanket. The bathroom breaks are irritating, because if you’re in there for more than 10 minutes, he’s knocking and demanding to be let in.

And let’s not forget where he turns you to online schooling within a day or so. Making sure to get rid of those sick friends of yours, but you’ll never know what happens to them because the contact with them is cut.

Make no mistake, Simon doesn’t like taking your free-will, he wants you to act and be like a teenager. And it is something he didn’t get to do when he was younger.

But… he loves you, and if it’s what he has to do, then so be it.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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mockerycrow · 6 months

Note

Congrats on 4k! Saw the post I was wondering if you could do a platonic fanfic? So with Dad!John Price + teen!reader with the prompt “I just wanted to be like you” with reader tell price that they’re thinking about join the military and with price being like “absolutely NOT.”

Take your time if needed!

-🫠

DIFFERENT PATH (Dad!Price x Teen!GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; Dark thoughts, angst, price is a good dad but he needs to control his tempter, you butt heads and you’re both stubborn asses.]

YOU HAVE BEEN uncharacteristically quiet at the dinner table, John notes in his head. You’re a bit closed in on yourself as you actually eat your food instead of talk your head off like usual. He notes the way you keep your eyes lowered, your shoulders hunched; alarm bells are going off in his head because he isn’t sure if something happened, because you aren’t telling him anything.

You have been like this since school—you’re usually eager to hang around John since he’s usually away off somewhere in a different country, leaving you with a family friend for a couple of weeks or months at a time. This time? You came home, gave John a quick hug, a quiet “hi”, and you were in your room until he called you for dinner. He did not bother you once you shut your door—if you need space, he wasn’t going to deprive you of that. John knows he needed his space after coming home from school when he was younger.

“So,” John hums, a green bean in his mouth. He quickly chews, swallows, and takes a sip of his ice water before continuing. “How was school?” There’s a moment where your eyes actually flicker to him for the first time all night before they flicker back down to your plate, moving your food around with a fork; you shrug. John let’s out a sigh and tilts his head. “Words, kiddo.”

“It was fine.” You respond, your tone neutral. John notices the way you aren’t eating much, every few minutes is a few bites. You’re either scarfing it down, or you don’t eat it at all because you can’t stop talking. “Fine?” He questions, wiping his mouth with his napkin. You nod in response, knowing he’s trying to pry more information out of you. “Can I go to my room?” You ask, your jaw tight.

John pauses for a moment, a knot in his stomach forming. “Yes, you can.” He responds after hesitating for a few seconds. A heavy sigh leaves him as he watches you spring into action, grabbing your plate and bringing it to the kitchen before jogging up the stairs to where your room is. John knew this would eventually happen, something running across in his path of parenting where you wouldn’t want to tell him about something.

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve taped your mouth shut about something, but as you’ve grown to be more independent—you’ve been very independent as he’s been away a lot—he fears the worst. John just hopes you would trust him enough to tell him about something bad happening; even if you were involved and there was drugs or something else, he wants you to trust him. John wants you to know that no matter what, he would love you. Nothing would change that.

“Goddammit.” John mutters, cleaning up the table, grabbing his now empty plate and dirty dishes. He brings them to the kitchen and washes off his plate before sticking it in the dish washer with the utensils, spotting your barely touched food. John puts his hands on the counter and leans against them, slipping back into thought once more. Maybe it was time to talk to you about how he would still love you, even if you were involved in some bad shit? Is that the correct move?

John hates it—being on his own as a father. Your mother has never really been in the picture and you’ve luckily never taken an interest in knowing her, so he’s ruled the possibility of your mother coming back into contact. John doesn’t want to think about the other possibilities; the other stuff that could suggest a reason for this clammy reaction.

No, he decides, if you need something, you will come to him unless he deems it necessary to properly intervene. John puts plastic wrap over your plate and puts it on a shelf in the fridge before he retreats to his office. He keeps his door cracked for you in case you decide to change your mind—he knows something is up—and he grabs a book, sitting down in his office chair. John blinks at the book in his hands before flipping open to where he left his bookmark.

You come downstairs an hour or two after dinner was served. John was only half processing his book, rereading the same sentence at least four different times when you knock on the cracked door. John blinks and looks up from his book, quickly putting the bookmark between the pages and shutting the cover. “Come in.”You open the door with a nervous look, your hands fidgeting. The cat quickly runs into the office with a soft “mrr” as you walk closer to his desk. John holds his breath for a moment as you approach. “What’s goin’ on, kiddo?” John asks softly.

You sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk with your hands in your lap. You glance at his face a couple of times before you groan and rub your face. You look back at him, your eyebrows furrowed. “Look, I know we talked about this before, but..” You trail off for a moment, looking to him for some sort of guidance. John gestures for you to continue with, “We’ve talked about a lot of things, love. Go on.”

You press your lips together before you utter something that makes John’s heart drop. “I was approached by a recruiter in P.E. class today.” John shakes his head quickly. “Absolutely not.” He says harshly, crossing his arms. “You already know my answer, I’m not signing anything.” You groan loudly and lean back in your chair. “Come on, Dad! This is truly what I want to do in life, I—“

“It’s a hard NO. Do you hear me?” John hisses, looking at you. It’s almost like he’s speaking to one of his men when they messed up. “You do not want to be in my line of work. You have no bloody idea what actually goes on.” You and your dad have had this kind of conversation before; back when you were fourteen. John had just assumed you were just getting more attached to him—since you were twelve, he’s been able to go on leave to be with you more often than he had been able to before. John just assumed it was sudden attachment due to the (family friendly) stories he had shared.

But no, even two years later, you’re still insistent on what you want to do. “Dad, please, just listen t’me—“

“My answer is and always will be no. You have no fuckin’ idea what happens out there, kid. It’s nothin’ like the games I’ve gotten you, you hear me? It’s nothin’ like the shows or the movies you begged me to buy you!” John snaps, his tone borderline vicious. You flinch at his tone, your heart dropping to your stomach. Your avert your eyes; John has never spoken to you like that before. You try to hold back the tears, but your gut is tight, throat burning as well as your eyes.

“I just..” You mumble. “I just wanted to be like you, Dad.”

John blinks, your shaky tone bringing him out of his protective rage. Guilt swirls in his chest, dripping down to his gut and settling uneasily. “Fuck, I—“ He stutters for a moment before taking in a breath in to gain his composure. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never meant to snap at you like that, that’s completely on me.” John says with a much gentler tone than before, guilt lacing every word. Your gaze sticks to his desk instead of his face as you shrug, your eyes burning.

“That’s not okay for me to do, kiddos I just..” John lets out a heavy sigh. “You know I’ve been in the military my entire life; it’s not pretty. It’s not like the films you see, alright? I’ve seen.. many, many men and women be torn apart by bullets, blown up by explosives—hell, you know the nasty scar on my left side? I walked into an explosive rigged room when you were three years old, darlin’.”

That causes you to pick up your head and look at him with wide eyes, the tears brimming your eyelids. You blink, a tear quickly falling down your cheek. John has a guilty yet solemn expression, his eyebrows furrowed together; likes yours do when you’re also upset or thinking too hard about something. “Nearly cost me my life, kid. Nearly cost you your dad.” John says the last part quieter. He watches the way your eyes dart around as you process this information, your lips parting after a moment.

“Look.. I..” You trail off for a moment, your fingers licking at the seams of your pants. “I still.. I still want to, I just..” You pause. “I don’t see myself doing anything else, dad.”John closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. “You still have a year or two, I just.. I can’t sign anything for you, kid. If you die, I just—“

“—whAt if you die, dad?? You just admitted to me a risk you took and you’re still in the military despite having a kid!” You suddenly burst, your voice breaking. John blinks at you in surprise before folding his hands together in his lap, leaning back in his office chair with a quiet squeak of the bolts. “Why is it so different if I went in??”

John looks at you, at your passion and your frustration. “Because you haven’t been tainted by this life, love. You’ll never look at anything the same.” You give him a hard stare, the sadness turning into anger. “And if I said I’m ready for that?” A beat passes. “I’m not signing anythin’. But once you’re a legal adult, I can’t stop you.” You press your lips together; that’s one of the many things you and your father have in common. You’re both incredibly stubborn and won’t back down, and maybe you both bend and break the rules a bit. “I can wait.”

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freak-accident419 · 1 month

Text

You Can’t Spell ‘FWB’ without ‘Friend’

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: Ever since the night before, you and Derek had become best friends with benefits. Bored at a fancy rich person party, you two decide to hook up again. However, when you’re inexplicably taken out of the mood, you two decide to do something else for the night: hang out like the best friends you were.

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: 18+ content, MDNI, (graphic descriptions of) sex (awkward), cursing, mentions of drugs, (best) friends with benefits, platonic (but you can interpret it as potentially romantic), short read, reader and Derek are just best pals that fuck, slightly ooc Derek, reader is rich/famous like Derek, attempt to hook up in the bathroom at a party (end up hanging out instead), smoking, drinking, Star Wars references, very chaotic

(A/n: Dedicating this to my wifey @xcherryerim 🫶 your post awaiting this fic meant a lot to me :3)

Holy fuck, you wanted to gouge your eyes out.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, staring at the crowd of old, wealthy hags, sipping the drink briefly out of boredom.

You were at yet another fancy party in some rich person’s mansion, accompanied by your best friend Derek, the son of President Jessica Danforth and CEO of Danforth Enterprises. You had been good friends with him for a very long time, the two of you always stirring up trouble whenever together.

You stare down at the deep scarlet of your drink, intensely zoning out as you thought about the night before. A pair of hands caressing the skin on your thighs, legs tightening around hips, wrists held above your head, and loud, sultry moans and sounds filling the room.

And then you snapped out of it as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked up to see exactly him—Derek.

“This party is ass,” you grumble to him, taking a sip from your drink.

“I know,” he replies, sipping his. “Any luck with finding investors?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have people doing that for me,” you scoff.

“Right,” he nods.

“Any luck with convincing some poor girl to invest in crypto?” You ask, looking at him as you raise an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he answers with a sigh, but a smile was plastered on his face.

You chuckled at his reply. “Hah. I’m not surprised. Crypto is fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Hm, you already did. What, once isn’t enough for you?” you retort quickly, sneering.

Derek’s eyes widened in response, frantically looking around to see if anyone heard you, then whispered, “Would—Would you be quiet?” He stressed under his breath. “Don’t say that fucking shit out loud, what if somebody heard?”

Last night didn’t really mean to happen. Like the close friends you were, you hung out with Derek at his mansion as you regularly do. However, one thing led to another because of a bottle of pinot noir and the unfortunate appearance of a sex scene in a movie you two watched together. Accordingly, you woke up sore the next morning. You two had established that it was just hooking up, no strings attached—but nobody could know about your arrangement. Not your friends, not your co-workers, and especially not Derek’s mother. While he was known for being promiscuous, the press couldn’t find out that Derek had hooked up with you, not only a good friend of Derek, but someone who was well known in the media due to their wealth.

You roll your eyes carelessly as flashes from last night began to cloud your mind. His fast breaths, his body, his skilled hands. Yet you shook it off easily. “Oh, come on, Derek, these old, ancient fucks can’t hear shit.” An old woman looked at you in disapproval after hearing you swear, walking away from you. “Okay, well, she heard that, but nobody’s gonna know! Don’t get your fuckin’ Louis Vuitton boxers in a twist.”

“They’re not—” he huffs in annoyance. You weren’t taking this seriously, which ultimately frustrated him; your carelessness reminded him too much of himself. “Y/n, who knows what’ll happen if anyone finds out? Like, you know I have to keep my fucking reputation up, and you do too. I don’t think there’s anything Wallace could do if the press found out we hooked up.”

You pause briefly until a smirk creeps up onto your lips in realization. “You regret it, don’t you?”

“No, of course I don’t regret it,” he answers immediately. Not regretting it was clearly an understatement. He really enjoyed last night, every second, every feeling. So he was slightly confused as to why you even doubted him. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just—” you stutter out, “I woke up and you were gone, you know.” You mutter as you took out a cigarette, placing it into your mouth and lighting it.

His mouth went dry and he pursed his lips promptly. “I had to be at Danforth Enterprises,” he says, watching you exhale the smoke from your cigarette.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve sent me a text or written a note,” you shrug. “Like, it’s your house, dude. I was supposed to be the one leaving the morning after, not you.”

“Right, sorry,” he says simply. “Force of habit.” —It was true; he had an infamous history of one-night stands.

“Plus, I’m your best friend,” you reason. “I don’t want this to, like, ruin everything we had. Like, you’re still my buddy to me.”

He looked at you with a slightly amused grin. “Hey, nothing’s gonna change between us, alright? As you said, you’re my best friend, and it’s always gonna stay that way.” You chuckled, offering him a smile as you heard his response. He could be sentimental whenever he wanted. “Look, the day our friendship will ever change is the day I’ll shut down UDG and Nine Star. Which is basically, like, fucking never. Don’t worry about it.” Even as he said the last sentence, this could be interpreted in two different ways. The first one is that he’d never be in some sort of greater relationship with you, likewise his reluctance to stop scamming. The second one, however, implies that if he ever got into something serious with you, a moral obligation will arise, forcing him to shut down his unethical phishing companies just for you. Right. That sounded ridiculous. It was definitely not the latter.

The two of you both took a sip of your drink in unison.

“But, like,” he began, swirling his glass of wine in his hand engagingly, “Is this gonna be, like, a regular thing?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously after taking a sip of your own. “Like, hooking up?” He nods. “I mean… Whatever happens, happens.”

“Uhh, how do you mean?”

“Like, if it was a one-time thing, so be it. But if it’s gonna become regular, then also so be it,” you took a drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t really matter. We can just, like, do whatever we want. Nothing has to be all predetermined. If we feel like fucking, then we’ll fuck. If not, then great, another day of walking normally.”

“Right,” he says.

You were bored.

So fucking bored.

You dressed all fancy for nothing, you feel. You were obligated to go the same reason Derek had: your wealthy, famous status. But it was so underwhelming and useless, even. As long as you made an appearance, then that should’ve been enough for everybody.

You put out your cigarette and finish your wine, nearly chugging it.

“Hey,” you tap on Derek’s shoulder, making him turn around to look at you after he had been gazing at a potential crypto girl. “Wanna do a quickie in this rich loser’s bathroom?”

He raises an eyebrow in interest.

***

You were held up against the wall of the bathroom, legs wrapped around Derek’s hips as his hands held you by your thighs, pounding his cock in and out of you at a fairly quick pace. Your hands held onto his arms and your chin rested on his shoulder tiredly as the occasional skin slapping against skin sound echoed in the room, hearing Derek grunt with almost every thrust.

You felt slightly uncomfortable and awkward. Like, you weren’t really aroused. It felt… dry? You didn’t know what you meant by that, but the friction was just… unsatisfying. He was grazing your walls in a way that just made it feel like burning, increasing your discomfort. But at least he looked like he was enjoying this. Good for him, you guessed.

This never happened before, so it was sort of… really weird to you, to say the least.

To be honest, you were kind of bored. Like, really bored. How the hell were you still bored? You temporarily escaped an old rich people party to have rigorous sex in their bathroom with your best friend, but you were still bored.

“Shit…” you mutter, disgruntled, as he moved consistently inside you, the burning sensation catching up with you. “What the fuck? Why does—ow—Why the fuck is this hurting?”

Derek pulls his head away from your shoulder and looks at you in concern, his dick still inside of you. “Are you okay? Should I go slower?” He offers, raising an eyebrow as he searched for hesitance in your eyes, then looking you up and down.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” you nodded. “It’s whatever, just—just keep going,” you dismiss in a low murmur. As he starts again at a slower pace, you still had an uncomfortable expression on your face. He was moving his hips but all you felt was mere irritation.

“Okay, what—what the hell?” You groan as you still felt shitty, resulting in Derek stopping his thrusts.

“What’s the issue? Am I still going fast? Should I slow down more?”

“Yeah, uh, probably, yeah,” you say as your head goes back on his shoulder. He proceeds with his movements, his cock sliding in at an even slower pace, stretching your walls more intricately.

“Is this—is this better?” He asks as he moves patiently, steadily moving in and out of your body.

And it wasn’t even a minute in before you would interrupt again.

“Umm… Actually I,” you begin, sighing, “I’m just—I don’t know, I’m not feeling it.”

Derek slides out, still holding you up against the wall by your thighs and raises an eyebrow, looking into your eyes. “Seriously?”

You nod simply.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks, unsure if it was something on his part.

“I don’t know, I’m just not really feeling it,” you reply awkwardly.

“Weren’t you the one who brought it up—”

“I’m not feeling it anymore, dude, I’m sorry!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He puts you down as you put your clothing back on. As you slip your underwear back on, you look at him standing by the same spot by the wall. “Are you still hard?” You ask, raising an eyebrow insightfully.

“Yup,” he shrugs shamelessly.

You sort of felt bad, since you were the one who had the idea of fucking in the bathroom in the first place, making him all riled up.

You sigh softly and you two look at each other in silence. You let out a quiet huff.

“Want me to jerk you off?”

Soon after his release, he put his boxers and pants on leisurely. You were in front of the mirror, trying to fix your hair and clothing, ensuring that you didn’t just come back from a sexual experience in the bathroom.

“Dude, look at how much expensive perfume these jagoffs own,” you chuckle amusedly, looking down at the bathroom sink counter. On the surface were several perfumes of Armani, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana, as well as a few lotions.

“Hey, don’t—don’t touch those, Y/n.” Too late. You sprayed him with one.

You two grimaced at the scent.

“Well shit, I didn’t even know what I expected,” you cough severely, waving your hand around your nose as you despised the shitty perfume’s smell.

“I told you not to touch them, idiot,” he huffs, buckling his belt as he scowled at the odor.

“Don’t be a dickwad, you totally would’ve been curious enough to try them too,” you scoff, looking through the cabinets of the bathroom mirror and sinks. “Hey, look,” you smirk, throwing a small object at him that you had found.

He caught it involuntarily with his hands and inspected the item: it was a bottle of Viagra. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and laughed softly. “I am not surprised that these old fucks can’t get it on,” he threw it back at you and you shelved it back in its original place.

You watch him take a hit from his vape and you sigh from boredom. You didn’t want to be in this bathroom any longer, but you definitely didn’t want to be out in the party either.

“Dude, I’m bored,” you whine as he handed you his vape pen.

“‘Sup Bored, I am Derek,” he muttered sarcastically, under his breath. You rolled your eyes and handed him back his vape once you were done with it.

“Can you—can you not?” you mumble exasperatedly in response as he just raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, making his way towards the door, “We’re getting out of here, you can ride with me.”

“Hold on,” you interject quickly. “We should—I mean—I should probably wait a few minutes after you leave the bathroom to get out. You know, so no one will suspect us if we were to, like, walk out of the bathroom together.”

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, you have a point,” he nods.

You had to be careful from now on, realizing that just through the mere plan of leaving the bathroom alternately. This meant you had to be more delicate and thoughtful with every action and word that came from you—and Derek’s—to keep this messy secret.

***

You were laid on the bed beside Derek, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding an ice cream cone as the bright colors of the TV in front of you nearly blinded your eyes. Your arm was propped up behind Derek’s head in order to play with his hair, feeling the soft curls brushing your palm and fingertips. The two of you looked intensely at the screen as you ate your ice cream in one hand, which was graciously prepared by Derek’s personal chef.

“Dude, Jar Jar Binks was definitely a Sith Lord,” you blurt in a low mutter. Derek turns his head and looks at you in befuddlement.

“What? No. Y/n, no, no, no, do not get started on this again—”

“I’m just saying, dude, that whole ‘goofy idiot’ appearance was hiding the fact that he was a powerful Sith Lord!” You exclaim passionately. “Have you seen his fighting style?”

“Yes, I’ve seen his fighting style, and it looks as if he’s chugged twenty fuckin’ martinis, then atrociously became crossfaded through several, reckless bong rips,” he replied straightforwardly.

You pause briefly as you realized. “Derek, I swear, if that was a reference to that one hangover I had back in December, I swear fucking to god—”

He met you with silence.

You nearly whisper, “Was it?”

The smirk that rose onto his lips told you everything, and you playfully smacked the top of his head since your hand was already there before, tangled in his hair. “Ow,” he muttered, yet his smirk never ceasing. “Look, all I’m saying is that I respect you for that. You are, like, the craziest person I know in the best fucking way possible.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” you mumble, fighting the inevitable curl of your lips that formed a flattered, soft grin. “Okay, anyways, all I’m saying, is that not only was it a tactic to trick his opponents, but he could’ve also been using the force! And how many times has he avoided death?”

“Okay, Y/n, that’s enough, lay off the grass,” he jokes, letting out a low snicker. “How is Jar Jar even relevant? We—we aren’t even watching the prequels, isn’t this The Empire Strikes Back?”

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re watching Return of the Jedi,” you say confidently.

“No, this is—this is definitely Empire Strikes Back,” he refutes, then pauses. “Did we seriously forget?”

“Well, there’s a billion of movies in this franchise, so we’re bound to mix up its titles. Hm, well, it can’t be The Empire Strikes Back, because Return of the Jedi is the one with that sexy Leia outfit,” you reason, shrugging. Derek raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, you know what, this isn’t even the point, the point is, that Jar Jar is relevant because it’s fuckin’ Star Wars!”

“Whatever,” Derek rolls his eyes with an amused grin that swiftly transitioned into a mischievous smirk. “You look like Jar Jar,” he mumbles.

You let out a playful, offended gasp. “Oh yeah? You look like Jabba the Hut.”

His head turned directly towards you and let out a exaggerated gasp as well. “Fuck you, you look like Yoda!”

“And you look like that fucking gremlin-looking piece of shit that’s Jabba’s pet!”

“Yeah, well, you look like—”

This continued a little longer until the both of you got too tired, unable to think of any more ugly Star Wars characters to compare each other to—which then resulted in a peaceful truce.

Your fingers proceeded to play with Derek’s curls as you took a bite of your ice cream, then letting your head rest on his shoulder. With this action, however, you suddenly thought about the night before and how things had led up to that event.

“Hey, are there any sex scenes in this?” You ask quietly, feeling his short strands of hair tangle loosely around your fingers.

He scoffs with a slight grin. “It’s a fucking Star Wars movie.”

You two burst out laughing. “Right, right, that’s—you have a point,” you giggle, catching your breath. “Oh, thank god, then.”

“Why? Are you that against having a repeat of last night?” He accuses, attempting to sound more playful, rather than the genuine concern that he felt.

“No, it’s just—” You struggled to think about how you wanted to word it. “I really like this. You know? I’m too tired, I’m very comfy, I…” You nuzzled further into his neck as your head rested on his shoulder. “This is nice. I like this.”

He smiles warmly to himself. “I like this too.”

The rest of the night was quite tame. You finished your ice cream before you finished the movie. Except, you didn’t really finish the movie entirely, because you two fell asleep in each other’s arms in the middle of it. Yet seen through your easy laughter and smiles, you were reassured indubitably: nothing was ever going to change between the two of you.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth smut #the beekeeper #the beekeeper movie #the beekeeper fanfic #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #josh futturman x reader #clapton davis x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 1 year

Text

All I Wanted - Part 1

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence

Part 2

A/N: this is like my first fanfic in a while, and first on tumblr (yay!) any tips and tricks would be so helpful!

this also plans to be a series but posting might and will be inconsistent, thank you in advance!

You always had a difficult life. Being abused by your parents up until you ran away at 13. After you ran away, you got in with the wrong type of people, promises of hope and money, food and validation was all they needed to say to get you hooked in their business of organised crime. Some good came out of it however, they gave you a home and how to defend yourself. They taught you how to shoot a gun and the best place to make someone bleed. They taught you nothing else mattered except them, they became your new family.

You were 15 when you were tasked with transporting a couple crates of weaponry and drugs. The organisation you joined knew you well enough and practically raised you to be the strongest you were. So one cargo ship to Amsterdam later, you find yourself in a rotting, metal warehouse, wearing pink apparel, pink puffy skirt and a white hello-kitty shirt. A baby pink cardigan is draped over your shoulders and over-the-knee white knitted socks. A chrome covered knife strapped to your thigh.

“Zus, how much for it all?” he stood across from you, a cigarette lit between his lips taking a long drag as you assessed his question. His black, slicked back hair elongated his face and the three piece suit almost made this deal professional.

“How much are you offering?” was all you said as a small smile graced your lips, ‘the higher the offer, the better’ you remember being told before you left. They weren’t the best weapons but they were definitely worth at least a couple K.

“25”

a grimace, “80”

a growl, “40”

a hum, “55”

“65. Final offer,” his teeth were bared, almost like he was sweating already.

A sinister, sweet smile stretched across your face, “Wonderful, and how are you wanting to transfer that?” out of seemingly nowhere you pulled out a notepad and pen, writing down the bank details before you gave him a pointed look, “You have one week to transfer the money, or I will have your head.”

His face paled, almost embarrassingly so. For how innocent you appeared to be, you knew how to handle yourself in these situations. You turned to walk away, the sound of baby pink mary janes clacking against the concrete as you bounced towards the rusted metal doors, sliding them open as you looked back at the man one final time, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” and leaving.

You were good at your job. It was easy, for the most part. Gather intel, pass forward that intel. Transfer somewhat illegal items from one holder to another. So it comes to you as a bit of a surprise when you exit through the dusty doors when a bullet wizzes past your face, luckily just missing you. Swiftly pulling out the hand-gun out your waistband and shooting in their direction. You wish you had your sniper, but it was left in the hotel room you managed to stay at.

As you shot in the direction of the fire, you failed to notice someone sneaking out behind you, kicking your knees in. Dirt caked your socks as the grip on your gun became loose. Acting as quick as possible, you flipped onto your back, retching the knife from its holster. Before you could act, black invaded your vision as you felt pain shoot from your head. Shit.

White light invaded your vision, a grumbled swear leaving your dry lips at the pounding in your head. "Jesus Christ," your wrists hurt, rubbed raw by the shitty metal handcuffs they strapped you in, "Whose bedroom did you get these out of? Couldn't even afford good quality cuffs?" fell out of your mouth before you could think to stop it. No one reacted.

It was a van, you could tell that much. The interior white with small wooden benches lining it. Two men sat on either side of you whilst the other two sat across. From what you could make out, another pair sat at the front, driving to this unknown destination.

Maybe you should have been more scared. More begging for them not to hurt you. Four big, burly military men could definitely kill you much easier than you kill them.

They studied you like you studied them. The one on your left was most likely the oldest, a fisherman's hat upon his head and mutton chops-moustache combo was the dead give away. He had his eyes closed and arms crossed across his chest, legs spread wide.

You couldn't make out the one on your right quite as well. A black balaclava with painted white skeletal teeth paired well with the upper half of the skull mask he wore. He seemed to be in a similar position as grandpa, although he had an ankle resting on his knee instead, head tilted back against the cool metal of the van.

The two across from you seemed younger. One had a darker complexion, his eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression. He was smaller than the rest but no doubtfully as strong.

Lastly was the man with a mohawk. His eyes bore into you the most, not so angry and more trying to figure out who you were. Breaking you apart and putting you back together with his eyes. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. His face morphed into one of slight surprise before rolling his eyes and looking towards the front.

It was quiet. The hum from the light ticking like a clock in your ear. Trying to gauge where you were and how much time had passed, your foot started tapping on the floor.

"Stop," A gruff voice said suddenly making you jump before mumbling a sorry at the skull-faced man. It was quiet again. It numbed your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Gravel sounded under the tires before voices outside sounded, signalling your arrival.

The doors pulled open, sunlight shining in. As mohawk and shorty left, skully pulled your arm to tug you along out with him, a short yelp escaping past your lips at the action.

You tripped over your feet, pins and needles shooting up your legs from sitting for so long. "Can you be gentle?" you spoke as you found your footing, "Please?" it was tacked on at the end for at least the tiniest bit of sympathy.

Skully looked down at you as he continued to drag you towards what you hoped was a five-star hotel with bed and breakfast. At least your death would be a quick one.

The halls blurred together until you were sitting in a leather chair in someone's office, back to the door, although you felt the looming presence of the men behind you. Mutters were heard outside before the door clicked opened, footsteps and a click again.

Gramps stood in front of you, leaning over the dark stained oak table. He had a file in his hand, putting it on the desk before sliding it over to you. "What do you know of El Sin Nombre?" it wasn't as much of a question than you'd like but an order for information.

Your mouth was so dry it felt like you swallowed cotton. As much as you wished to answer him, you look at him with furrowed brows and a confused expression. It took you a couple minutes before words formed in your throat, "Who?".

He didn't enjoy that answer. One of his hands slapping on the desk as he seethed, repeating the question again as if that would change your answer.

"I don't know who that is! I can't help you," you felt that burning sensation under your eyes as you desperately tried to convey your emotions. Tears meant weakness, and that's the one thing you didn't want to show to your captors right now.

Pairs of eyes hammered into your head. You felt like a child again, staring down at your toes being told off for not doing the dishes or not being quick enough to grab a beer. You braced for the hits, the punches to your ribs as you made promises that fell on the deaf ears of your mother and father.

"Price," A voice sounded behind you, soft and comforting. An accent coated the words that flowed through the air you didn't pick up on. The more time passed the more your eyes stung, tears slipping past your defences. Shoulders shaking as you try to curl into yourself, strings of "I don't know" and "I'm sorry" being nothing more than mumbles.

The room grew cold and quiet as you sobbed. Footsteps couldn't be heard over your own cries, so when an arm wrapped around your shoulders, you jolted. Expecting this is where you get hit. Bracing for the impact and sting they usually brought with them.

Instead, the arm pulled you into their chest, hugging you close and stroking your hair, along with shushing you softly. It only made you sob harder. When was the last time someone hugged you like this? Sure, you got the occasional pat on the back for a job well done, but never an embrace like this.

Time passed through your fingers like sand, not knowing how long you sat there for before you calmed down. The arms didn't pull away until you did, cringing at the wet patch you left on the man's shirt. Speaking of, you looked up to see mohawk looking down at you, eyes soft and an equally soft smile. "Y're alright now lass?" his accent leaked into the words, a curt nod allowing him to pull away and stand up again.

A heavy sigh sounded above you as you dragged your eyes up to meet who you presumed was this 'Price' figure. "What’s your name?"

Gears turned over the question in your head, thinking of an answer. Technically, you lost your name when you left home, gaining a couple new names at the gang.

Your silence was taken for an answer. "What are you doing in Amsterdam?" this you could answer.

"A business exchange. I'm just the messenger, I don't know any of the customers - I promise! - I just get the money and dip. I promise I can't help you-" you were hyperventilating at this point.

"It's alright sweetheart, deep breaths, calm down for me, yeah?" Price's voice was gentle now, seemingly not wanting the same thing to happen.

"Can you tell us where you're from? Who you work for?" He asked once he saw you calm down.

"Uhm- I'm from England. And I don't really work for them but I'm a doberman. They're some organisation that took me in," you weren't really interested in going into full depths of your life with these complete strangers.

Although, you felt the gazes lift off you and onto Price, his own eyes looking back at his men, a million silent conversations happening right above your head. Price inhaled sharply before he asked his last question, "How old are?"

"15." The air knocked out of his lungs.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty fanfic #x reader

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