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nameless-ken · 1 month

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Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: lots of angst (what's new lol) & cursing

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

Expressing feelings for someone is like navigating a minefield of emotions, each step filled with uncertainty and potential pitfalls. Why isn’t it easier to speak what’s inside our hearts instead of dancing around the truth until it’s too late?

Billy’s confession sent your mind into a tailspin, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat. Yet, when the moment came, your voice failed you, as if some invisible force clamped your mouth shut.

Now, after a week and a half of silent contemplation, you've come to understand the tangled mess of emotions that kept you mute. Billy has morphed into an essential part of your life, straddling the line between friend and something more. Despite your unspoken desires, you've settled into a comfortable routine. You’re fine with being friends or whatever this situationship is because you’ve come to know a truth to it all. Never give more than you are willing to lose.

“I’m not understanding this chapter at all,” Billy's voice interrupts your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. “You okay?”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in a whirlwind of worries. “This one does have some challenging plot points in it, but—”

“Can we stop with the bullshit?” Billy's tone is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “I know something’s been eating at you for like a week now.” He leans in, his eyes searching yours with intensity.

You pause, feeling the weight of his gaze, and finally, the floodgates open. “I’ve just been stressed lately,” you admit, meeting his eyes with a mix of relief and trepidation. “Between helping my dad with bills, failing two tests, and college applications looming, it’s been overwhelming.”

“You know you can always tell me what’s going on. If you need help, I’m always here.” He looks around quickly before sliding his hand across the table to grab yours, giving it a squeeze.

“I know and I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately.”

“You don’t have to apologize for the hard shit.” Billy reassures you, his smile softening the edges of his words.

But before the moment can linger, Tommy and Carol intrude upon your private bubble. Billy withdraws his hand quickly and you feel a pang of disappointment, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what lies between you.

“Ready?” Tommy speaks up as he stands next to Billy’s chair, Carol’s arms wrapped around him. “This party tonight is going to be so wicked.”

Billy nods, standing up with a forced smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“See you around freak.” Tommy remarks to you and Carol snickers as they start walking off.

“I’ll call you later.” Billy whispers once the pair is out of earshot.

“I’m working late again so I won’t be home.” You cross your arms with a clear annoyed look on your face. Billy understands that look and nods.

“See you tomorrow.” He mutters and leaves. You sigh heavily and gather your books, slinging the bag over your shoulder to head home and get ready for work.

The exhaustion weighs heavily on you tonight, exacerbated by the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. The dimly lit space is filled with the chatter of patrons, the clinking of silverware, and the occasional burst of laughter. The air is thick with the scent of sizzling food and brewed coffee, mingling with the faint aroma of cigarette smoke that lingers despite the no-smoking signs.

Amidst the crowd of diners, mostly comprised of older men, you navigate the maze of tables and booths, balancing trays laden with plates and cups. The ambiance is tainted by the persistent advances of these patrons, their leering gazes and suggestive remarks casting a shadow over your evening.

But amidst the chaos, there is Mary, a beacon of familiarity and comfort in the tumult of the restaurant. An older waitress with a kind smile and a knowing gaze, she always has your back. Having known your mother during her time at the restaurant, Mary often remarks on the striking resemblance between you and her.

Tonight, as you confide in Mary about Billy, she offers sage advice while handing you a plate and coffee cup to serve. The worn countertop serves as your refuge, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the dining area.

“Do you really think he loves me?” You ask Mary as she hands you a plate and coffee cup to serve.

“All I know from working so long around drunk men is that their sober thoughts really aren’t that much different from their wasted ones, especially when it comes to love,” Mary advises, her words carrying the weight of experience.

You place the plate and cup down for the customer at the countertop with a smile before turning back to Mary. “I'm at a loss for how to approach him. Billy's a complex guy, and I'm worried that if I lay my feelings out, it might push him away.”

“Darling, most men aren't angels after a few drinks.”

“Oh, he's not always like that when he's had a few. Just before that, he was in a heated argument. I couldn't even catch what set it off, but he was clearly riled up about something some guy said, and—”

“Sweetie, I have a feeling that guy's words were aimed at you.”

“What? No, nobody knows about us. I can't see how that could be related,” you respond, puzzled by Mary's interpretation of Billy's behavior.

“Are you sure about that?” Mary points behind you and you turn, finding Billy standing near the countertop with flowers in hand. You can’t help the instant smile that appears.

“I thought there was a raging party going on tonight?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as Billy leans against the counter toward you.

“They’re all the same,” Billy responds with a chuckle, mirroring your stance as he leans closer. “Plus, there’s this girl who I’d rather spend my night with.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, heat creeping onto your cheeks despite your best efforts to conceal it. The air between you crackles with anticipation, the din of the restaurant fading into the background as you share this intimate moment.

“These are for you,” He extends the droopy flowers. “I saw them on the way here and thought you’d like them.”

“Oh, I’ve never received flowers before,” You timidly grab the pink and yellow buds, placing them in one of your apron pockets. “Thank you. I don’t get off for another hour, if that’s okay.”

“I can wait.” Billy responds, pulling out a red stool at the counter and settling onto it. He reaches for the book you two have been reading together and flips it open.

You chuckle at the sight of him reading amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. “Now that’s a sight to see.”

Billy grins, looking up from the book as you pour him a cup of coffee. “If you tell anyone, you’re dead,” he jokes, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laugh at his playful threat, enjoying the easy banter between you. As you continue your work, the presence of Billy nearby fills you with a sense of comfort and contentment.

“Go ahead sweetheart. I can close up the rest tonight.” Mary insists, practically pushing you out from behind the counter.

“Thanks Mary.” You look out the window, seeing Billy resting against his car with a cigarette dangling between his lips. You untie your apron, hanging it on your designated hook. “See you tomorrow.” You wave to Mary and rush toward the door, flowers in hand as you make your way toward Billy.

“Now that’s a sight.” You hear Billy mumble as you get closer. You glance at your feet as you stop in front of him. “Ready?” He quirks a brow, flicking his cigarette to the ground, stomping it with his boot. You nod and he helps you in the passenger side before getting in on his side.

Late-night drives hold a special place in your heart, especially when Billy is by your side. The tranquility of the night seems to envelop him, stirring a gentle flutter in your chest.

As you both pull up outside your house, breaking the silence, Billy inquires about your college plans. "Where are you considering applying?" he asks.

"Still figuring it out. I'll likely end up accruing debt, so I'm researching to minimize it," you reply as you head inside, Billy trailing behind with more questions.

Perching on your bed, Billy continues his curiosity. "What about your field of study?"

"I'm drawn to photography, but practicality dictates otherwise for now," you explain, absentmindedly untangling your hair.

Billy compliments your talent. "Your photos are amazing. Anywhere would be lucky to have you."

Turning the tables, you ask about his plans. "And you, Billy?"

He leans back, contemplating. "College doesn't feel right for me. I'll probably go into a trade."

"You underestimate yourself," you reassure him before excusing yourself to change.

As you return, Billy's already made himself comfortable, his boots are already off and jacket slung over your desk chair. You catch him admiring your belongings, his hand lingering over a blanket atop a basket.

"I could crochet one for you if you're interested," you offer, catching Billy off guard as he startles slightly, withdrawing his hand from the blanket, now standing tall.

"You made that?" His eyebrows arch with curiosity.

"Yeah, my mom taught me how to crochet. She made this one for my birthday before she passed away," you explain, reaching for the blanket she crafted, the one you always sleep with, as you settle onto your bed.

"It seems complicated and time-consuming," Billy remarks, joining you on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"Not really, it's actually quite therapeutic," you reply.

"If you're ever in need of therapy, count me in for one," he quips, meeting your gaze.

You wonder if he senses the same charged atmosphere between you. His eyes draw you in like a magnet, his trademark smirk driving you wild every time he flashes it your way. His unruly curls framing his face perfectly, though never quite neat, drive you insane.

"Would you like to have dinner together tomorrow?" The question slips out unexpectedly, surprising even yourself, before you can second-guess whether it sounds like a date invitation.

"Sure, where should I meet you?" Billy responds, seemingly oblivious to any hidden implications in your question.

"How about here? I can cook something," you suggest, snuggling under your blanket, attempting to shield yourself from the awkwardness you feel.

"Sounds good to me," Billy agrees, his genuine smile lighting up his face. "You don't mind if I stay over tonight, right?"

"You're always welcome to stay."

With that, Billy slides under the blanket with you, and you don't resist the warmth that spreads through your body as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head finding its place against his chest.

"Goodnight, B," you murmur softly.

"Goodnight, little mouse," he replies, his lips curving into a smile against your head. You used to dislike that nickname, but now you've grown to love it. Just like him.

"Want to catch a movie tonight?" Robin suggests as you stroll together towards lunch.

"I can't, uh, I've got dinner plans," you reply, nudging open the cafeteria door, the cacophony of voices engulfing you.

"With who?" Robin probes as you join the line for food. Just then, Billy and his group pass by, your gaze lingering on him.

"Oh my god, you and Bi—" You quickly cover Robin's mouth, trying to hush her before she finishes his name.

"Shh! Not so loud," you whisper urgently.

"Ew! Have you kissed? No, wait, don't answer that!" Robin's eyes widen with excitement.

"Robin, seriously, it's not a big deal," you insist, leaning against the wall, stealing another glance at Billy. You see the way he plays with his food and the toothpick between his teeth, a habit he explained helps with his nicotine cravings during school. You even made sure to find flavored ones for him. He always keeps them in his jacket pocket. The memory brings a smile to your face.

"Um, it's a huge deal! You're going on a date with one of the most obnoxious guys in this school, whom, might I add, you confessed your love to, and he reciprocated, even though he conveniently seems to have forgotten, but that's beside the point. This is totally a date, and you know it," Robin insists.

"It's not a date," you protest, moving along the lunch line.

"It totally is," Robin persists, following you as you grab your lunch and head to your usual table, surrounded by fellow band members.

Your nerves start to jangle, the food suddenly less appetizing as you anticipate tonight. Your gaze drifts back to Billy, finding his eyes already on you. You offer him a small smile, which he returns. Tommy and Carol notice and start laughing like hyenas, causing you to turn away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Billy's irritation reaches its peak, prompting him to take an unexpected action. The cafeteria's ambient noise diminishes, and the occupants around your table fall into an uneasy silence. Confused, you glance around, only to pivot at the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near.

"Hey, Y/N. Are we still on for tonight?" His unexpected question leaves you dumbfounded, and you can only manage a nod. His sudden boldness astonishes you, quickening your heartbeat as he finally acknowledges you in public, breaking free from his usual concealment.

Leaning casually on the table beside you, he lowers his face to be level with yours, enveloping you both in a bubble of quiet amidst the hushed cafeteria.

"Great. I'll see you later, little mouse." With a wink and his trademark smirk, he ignites gasps from the surrounding girls as he saunters away, indifferent to the attention. You find yourself gazing after him, oblivious to the murmurs circulating the cafeteria.

Robin's tug on your arm snaps you out of your reverie. "Holy shit! It's definitely a date," her excitement mirroring your own astonishment.

You make an effort to tidy up as best you can, even though Billy has been over countless times and never seemed to mind the state of your home.

"Haven't seen this place so clean in a while," your dad remarks as he emerges from his room, already dressed for work.

"Just thought I'd spruce it up," you reply, wiping down the dining table, a piece of furniture seemingly frozen in time since your mom passed away.

"I'll be working late again," your dad mentions, tying his shoes as you turn to face him.

"Have you thought about Thanksgiving? Any word from Y/S/N?" you inquire, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the underlying sadness that always accompanies conversations with him.

"I'll have to put in longer hours that week. I'll give you some money for food," he responds, and you fight back tears that threaten to spill over, a familiar ache settling in your chest.

"Okay, no worries. Have a good night at work," you manage, turning away to hide the tear that betrays your composure. You wait for his acknowledgment, but only the sound of the front door closing signals his departure.

With a few hours to spare before Billy arrives, you retreat to your room, journal in hand, seeking solace in the pages.

Your relationship with your dad is a labyrinth of complexities, once filled with warmth and tenderness before your mom's passing stripped it away, leaving behind a void that seems impossible to bridge, especially during your teenage years.

You can't blame him or your absent sister, though the resentment lingers. The idea of leaving after graduation claws at your conscience, knowing it would only deepen your father’s sadness. No matter how many bad memories Hawkins has for you, this will always be home.

It’s where you were born and raised. It’s where your old house is with a huge driveway where your father taught you and your sister to ride bikes together. It’s where your mom would take you for ice cream after a bad day. It’s where your mom got sick, she spent most of her last days in the hospital. It’s where she’s buried up in East Hawkins, beside your grandparents. It’s where you saw your sister start to rebel and flee, to never return. It’s where you saw your father’s smile disappear completely. It’s where the quietness and loneliness grew inside you for the longest time.

Until you met Billy.

Billy has submerged himself so deep into your life now that every feeling is finally starting to rise to the top.

But it’s not the feeling of panic, it’s more of a relief. Every day or hour you spend with Billy, it feels like you’ve reached the top. He’s breathed a new life into you and you want to breathe that air for the rest of your life.

Closing your journal, you wipe away the tears, feeling a surge of intense emotions. With a few deep breaths, you compose yourself, stowing away your journal before returning to the kitchen. Amidst the flickering candlelight, you begin to cook, finding solace in the simple act to take your mind off of things.

You steal a glance at the clock on your wall for the third time, each passing minute feeling like a weight in the pit of your stomach.

With each tick, the realization settles in: Billy forgot.

Despite your anticipation for tonight, after his triumphant performance at school, he forgot.

Anger and heartache surge within you, compelling you to extinguish the candles and discard the food, the remnants of your dashed hopes and shattered expectations. You abandon the mess, retreating to your bed instead.

Curling up with your handmade blanket, tears stream down your cheeks as you gaze at the photograph of your mom on the bedside table.

"He didn't mean to, right? He's still good, isn't he?"

The next morning, you dial Robin for a ride to school, fully aware that you'd probably stay home if not for her.

"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. When I lay eyes on him, he's done for!" Robin declares, slamming her hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

You sit beside her in silence, avoiding dwelling further on Billy's absence. She parks in an empty spot, and you instinctively scan the area for his blue Camaro, finding none. A sigh of relief escapes you as you step out of the car and follow Robin into school.

"I always knew he was still the biggest jerk in Hawkins," Robin continues her tirade about Billy.

"Can we just try to forget about it today?" you interject as you navigate through the bustling main hallway.

"Fine, but I can't guarantee what'll happen when I see his face," Robin replies, her tone still seething with anger.

Though you want to agree with her, you remain silent as you reach your locker. "I'll be right back," Robin says, heading to her own locker.

As you gather your books, you overhear snickers behind you. Turning around, you're confronted by a group of unfamiliar girls giggling and casting glances in your direction.

“No wonder he slept with Heather.”

"Yeah, like she’d actually ever have a chance with him."

“Do you think she knows he was at the party last night?”

"Probably not, otherwise she wouldn't dare show her face around here today."

“How humiliating, being stood up by Billy Hargrove and not knowing he slept with Heather instead.”

The words sting, and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you. How could he do this to you?

You scan the surroundings, noticing the whispers of your name intertwined with Billy's and Heather's. The tightness in your chest and the shallowness of your breaths propel you outside, desperate to escape the humiliation suffocating you.

As you step into the open air, the familiar roar and screech of Billy's sports car pierce through, reigniting your panic. Frantically, you search for a hiding spot, cursing the town for its lack of concealment amidst the cornfields and vast open spaces.

Before you can flee, Billy rushes toward you, not caring who he bumps into on the way.

"Y/N! Damn it, I'm so sorry—" he begins, but you instinctively retreat, needing distance.

"Please don't," you interrupt, stepping away from him.

"Y/N, please, I feel terrible about last night. It was the worst and—" Billy attempts to explain, desperation coloring his voice.

“Apparently to everyone else, you had a great time last night.” you retort bitterly.

"What?" Billy's confusion is palpable as he tries to approach you, but you evade him once more.

"I guess you and Heather had a blast while I waited until 11," you accuse, moving to leave.

"Y/N, please, just let me explain," Billy implores, blocking your path and holding your shoulders. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, fixating on his shirt.

"I got into a huge fight with my dad, got pissed, and went to a party. I only meant to stay for a bit, but I guess I lost track of time," he confesses.

"And ended up with Heather," you interject sharply.

"Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. I don't even remember anything from last night. I'm so sorry," Billy pleads, his anguish evident.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you demand, your voice laced with hurt.

"Of course not. I just... I don't know. I'm just so sorry for not being there. I should've come to be with you after the fight with my dad," he admits, regret etched in his features.

"Yeah, you should've," you agree, turning away. Robin stands on the sidewalk, waiting for your signal to intervene.

“Y/N, what can I do? How can I make this better?” Billy pleas, watching you depart, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Time," you respond, glancing back at him, feeling a pang of sorrow at his tear-streaked face. "I need time."

Your voice wavers as you walk away, leaving Billy standing alone. Robin opens her arms for you, sensing your pain and tears beginning to fall.

"Asshole!" Robin shouts at Billy as she guides you back to her car.

Inside the car, you steal a glance at Billy, witnessing his anguish as he covers his face with his hands.

In that moment, you realize you've never simultaneously hated and loved someone as intensely as you do right now.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @ghostcastaway @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople @rosey96 @girlwifteef @miheartsedthings @empathyroad @notzoey @iletmytittiestitty-russ @the-ch0sen-on3

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whoistartaglia · 4 months

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delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac.

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes.

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back.

Simon’s already sprinting.

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition.

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask.

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest.

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door.

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others.

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed.

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth.

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room.

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater.

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you.

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight.

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there.

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all.

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing.

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you.

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse.

The Lieutenant grunts.

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should’ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults.

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again.

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent.

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly.

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.”

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really.

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few.

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

TAGS:

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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johnny en las almas

It feels like the man with the skull mask had just left when another person traipses in through the broken front door. He's not as sneaky as the big boy— the shattered glass of your windows crunching under his boots with each step. With each inhale, his breath is ragged and uneven, his teeth clattering together due to the biting cold of the rain pouring outside.

Peeking through the crack of the closet door, you watch the muscle-bound soldier with the mohawk moving cautiously through your home— first going left towards your bedroom, then right towards the bathroom.

"Picked up some tape." Scottish accent. Is he talking to himself?

A brief pause settled in the air, interrupted solely by the faint noise of him rummaging through the cupboard.

"If I have to wrap a gift?" He has a radio, then.

Following that, he falls silent, continuing his search for supplies when the plastic bucket you're sitting on unexpectedly caves in, causing a loud and startling noise. Shit. Shit shit shit—

"Out, palms flat on the floor, or I break yer neck." His voice is like steel— hard and cold, much unlike a few minutes before when he was bantering with whoever it was.

You push the door open with the crown of your head to keep your hands flat on the floor as you fearfully crawl out, craning your neck to look at him.

"Creepin' bloody jesus. Cannae be scarin' me like tha', coulda killed ye."

Perhaps it's the overwhelming stress of everything that has unfolded today— from the unexpected arrival of Americans to the uncertainty of becoming just another statistic that leads you to respond with an unwise touch of sarcasm.

"So sorry, friend. I'll be sure to let you know when I leave for work tomorrow, yeah?"

He surprisingly chuckles, wincing when his shoulders shake. "Aye, sorry, sorry," he extends a hand toward you. "Terrible hidin' spot, though."

With a single motion, he effortlessly raises you to your feet. "If you're friends with a bear-sized man that wears a skull mask, he told me the same thing."

As you glance downwards, brushing off the dust from your knees, you fail to notice the piercing gaze he directs towards you. "He came through here?"

"Mhm," you confirm. "Picked me up like a dog and threw me in this closet behind him. He saved my life, though."

Straightening, you glance up at him, only to finally notice the openly bleeding wound on his right arm. "May I?" you gesture at his injury.

His hesitance is obvious, the corner of his thin lips pulling downward and dark brows furrowing so you confess, "I'm a nurse. Well, was, until I came here. I swear to know what I'm doing. Come with me, I've-" but whatever you were about to say is smothered by his hand, fingers digging into your soft cheeks, and uses his other to place a finger over his mouth.

Silence.

He turns his head to the side; an unsettling stillness descending upon the two of you. Suddenly, he's roughly grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the bedroom, where he presses you firmly against the wall closest to the door.

He whispers harshly into your ear. "Do. not. move."

Trembling with fear, you instinctively curl up, shrinking into yourself as if trying to disappear from sight. Luckily, whoever they were left as fast as they came— merely using your home as a shortcut.

Mohawk man takes no chances, however, so you're effectively pinned under him for a considerable amount of time until he deems it completely safe.

The small grin he gives you after is apologetic. "Sorry."

You irritably soothe the ache on your cheeks. "It's alright. Can't wait to get out of this pisshole, though."

He's acquiescent after, letting you quickly clean and dress his wound. "I have no more bandages so this'll have to do." The sound of fabric being torn echoes in the bathroom. "Get seen for this injury as soon as you're able, otherwise you'll have a nasty infection on your hands."

He huffs out a small laugh. "Dinnae ye mean arm?"

Charming. "Your friend left through the back door. That's all I know."

"Aye. Thank ye." He quickly hops off the counter, jogs to the back door, and with one last glance at you, he disappears.

"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost says over comms.

"Outside...Gated alley."

#call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #cod #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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oopsdevil · 5 months

Text

COD + Tropes (pt. 2)

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + BLIND DATE

"i should be home right now" was the first thought simon had when he stepped foot into that fancy restaurant. the most dangerous man of the country, scared of a date.

in retrospect, he had it coming. he knew he shouldn't have let soap set him up with someone whose face he doesn't even know. and he is already sweating, feeling absolutely exposed without his mask and-

he saw you. and his mind went quiet. his only worry right now is how to be a worthy date for you. and yes, you must think he is an idiot for the way he keeps staring, but he can't help it. for once in his life he begs to whoever is listening: let this go right for me.

and someone must have heard him, because it was the best date of his life since you told him you would have preferred a more casual place. his heart skipped a beat when you mentioned you would cook for him on a second date.

now, he loves thinking about that first date, and how the second one turned into the best first kiss, and how the third one turned into you never leaving his bed again.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR

kyle was never a clumsy guy, so why does he keep tripping on his porch every time he sees his new neighbor? in his mind, you had to be flawed. something! you couldn't possibly be this perfect right? oh except he knows you are. he really tried to push his feelings, but you won his heart in a very simple way. his cat, peanut.

you should have seen his face the day he saw out the window and spotted his cat, comfortably sitting at your home. he came back later that night, but gaz kept it in his mind. and he started noticing it, the way you leave water for peanut in hot summer days and a window open to enter your room on rainy nights. and he just couldn't help it. after HOURS (yes, hours) of self pep talk, kyle knocked your door, offering a nice dinner and the chance to see peanut's own home.

peanut is delighted, specially because how years later, you brought to your shared place his new orange 'sibilings': bear and willow.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + LOVE CONFESSION

loud, funny, sarcastic, cheeky. that's soap. but johnny's face couldn't possibly get any more pink while looking at his best friend's sister. he has known you for years, spent dozens of holidays with you, shared hundreds of nights at clubs.

i mean, yeah, he felt like ripping his heart out when you brought your first boyfriend for thanksgiving. and he lied once or twice saying he was close to your house to give you a ride. and now... now maybe it's his age, everything he went through pushing him to chase after the only one who ever crosses his mind, and fuck- are your eyes brighter? he didn't think it was possible.

he thought about how to tell you in a million possible ways. and it came flying out of his mouth the second you told him you broke up with your man. you blushed and gave him a peck that stayed on his mind the rest of the night month.

"oh, me and him broke up last june actually-"

"go out with me"

KÖNIG + SECRET DATING

it was a very difficult mission: lots of planning, lots of packing, tracking, unloadings and-

this shouldn't be a problem. it has never been until now, but all he can think about are your lips while seeing you across the room. considering that you are a part of the 141, he barely ever sees you here, your relationship is exclusively civilian. so you both made a silent pact: no personal interact at work.

and it went well!... for like a day. and you really thought you could keep it a secret, but the way he looked at you and how bad you missed each other... you pushed it a little when you decided to let him sleep in your room.

now, it might be your dizzy head after making out all morning, but you forgot a very basic rule in the army; basically, no privacy. the fact that a superior could walk into your room at any giving moment is annoying, but at this point you were convinced the universe just hated you.

your lieutenant, the very overprotective man who took you under his wing, opened the door that very morning. ghost and könig looked at each other intensely for a long 10 seconds.

an hour, a black eye and a terrible lecture from price to simon later, könig still smiled. at least he didn't have to hide you anymore.

JOHN PRICE + LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP

you drive him crazy. he swears everything that comes out of your mouth makes his eyes roll. every petty comment, everytime you put him in his place, how you look at him during reports because you know you make him nervous. he hates when the rest sees the way he can't stand you, and why the fuck do they keep saying is sexual tension? because he gets closer to you when talking? that's purely for intimidation. in his defense, you hate him too! except he has no idea you blush the second he turns around, or how you defend him if another soldier questions his decisions.

feelings hit you both like a train a random night of spring. he heard crying in the hall, so soft he thought he was imagining it. he saw you and instinctively ran to you. in that situation, you just couldn't pretend anymore, you needed a minute to break about everyone and everything that has been pushing you to this moment. he wrapped his big arms around you, giving you the hug and body heat you both have been craving from each other. he internally promised himself to make it right, so his heart would never have to break again at the sight of your tears.

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ledgerserious8 · 2 months

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The Bat Is Sick | Bruce Wayne (Bale) & Reader

Warning : Don't copy my writing Don't steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing

Genre : Fluff Sickness

Summary : Your boyfriend Bruce is sick and he need you to come back..

Word count : 1.9k

The mission you had made you left Gotham city from two days and suddenly without Bruce knowing it because you made a deal with James Gordon to not tell him

You wanted to try something new because Bruce had always helping you and saving you by his batsuit and mask but you want to be a hero by your own character too

Not just batman sidekick

Alfred was worried about the high temperature of Bruce, Bruce can't help but keep sweating and trying to catch some breath

Alfred left his room and told all the maids about Bruce heath was sick and asking them to "take care of the master"

He was needing for you as his girlfriend to come and put all his pain off and he know you can take care of him too well

Alfred getting outside the Wayne manor and he noticed you walking in the streets as your costume and gloves covering by the snow and a little blood against your mouth

"Ma'am Y/n it's me alfred" - Alfred Called you as walking faster towards you

"Alfred what happened?" - You asked the butler worriedly as trying to enter the Wayne manor

"Master Bruce is getting sick ma'am. He needs you right now" - Alfred explained worriedly

Alfred looked towards Wayne manor then looked back at you as The whole mansion is lit up

"Please hurry up before it's getting worse" he added softly but sadly as looking at you like a father want to help his son

You nodded silently as smiling warmly and you started walking upstairs and forget to even wipe the blood from your mouth because all the matter now is Bruce..

You stopped in your steps and wiped the little blood, Bruce when he get sick he becomes so clingy like a little baby and he want to get all the love that his parents didn't give enough

Your hand knocked the door of his room gently and decided to wait

There's no response but just a huge sound of heavy breath coming from inside but A long and a loud breathing filled the room

You knocking again made the breathing sound stopped as you heard a sudden rustle sound coming from inside

"Come in" - he whispered tirelessly as lying on his big white bed and covers

You opened the door gently and smiled at him warmly but inside your heart you was so worried about him

Bruce's eyes widen as noticed you and without everything can say, that bat forget his sickness by running to you

Bruce wrapped his both strong arms around you so tight and don't want to let go

"I was about losing you" - Bruce whispered softly against your ear

"But you won't" - you replied softly as hugging his big strongly body back

Your presence took out all his pain away from him as He couldn't stop from hugging you tightly as tears filling his eyes was watching you.

He just couldn't help it from all the fear he felt within him

"I missed you so much love" - Bruce whispered softly as pulling you towards his chest gently and cupped your face

"I missed you so much my love" - he added again as kissing the top of your head

"I missed you too more than anything else" you confessed as smiling at him

There's not even a single energy left inside his body

A long sigh left through his mouth then he whispered - "I love you more then everything else"

You hugged him so tightly as The tears slowly dropping off from his eyes as he buried his face on your shoulder and just couldn't even move an inch

He was so tired from all the tension and the long stressful period he had during the last days

The warmth of your body made his whole pain disappear and just relaxed deeply inside your arms and He just can't stop feeling the presence of you breath next to his face

"You were out during last few days. I didn't know if you was okay or not" - The Black haired man whispered to you softly.

"I'm so sorry dear but I really was in mission and James didn't keep his promise" - You explained your side of the story calmly as meaning James told Bruce about your mission and didn't keep it secret

He was holding you hands within his hands now, His eyes kept looking at yours but his head just didn't make an angle up to see your face completely

"I know but I didn't have the right to be in peace without you by my side" he whispered in deep sadness and disappointed in his voice

You know that tone of his voice was because of you, you hide a big mission from your boyfriend that mission was so dangerous and could kill you

Just because you want to try something else and new

You cupped his face and His body starts trembling by you touch towards him again.

Your kisses on his face as apologizes made your presence warm inside his cold body

His hands were caressing your beautiful body gently as your lips continue kissing him on his lips and Your lips was everywhere on his face and he was enjoying every inch of it

"I can't bare your absence from my side love" - he whispered as your lips moves on his face towards his lips again.

Your arms touching his shoulders and your touch on his body was making his breath even heavier as your lips keep kissing his lips

All the pain and all the stress was going away as you kept on caressing his shoulders all over.

He was holding your arms tightly, pressing them tightly and holding it tight around him trying to make you touching him everywhere

"I love you" - he whispered lovingly but happily as you keep on kissing his lips gently like kissing a baby.

"I love you too" - You whispered back between the kiss softly, you can feel him started smiling

Your fingers walked through his hair was making him in a whole different level of happiness

The kissing on his lips was so gentle but passionately that he could spend hours just for this very second without getting bored

Your words towards him kept his heart pumping more and more and his breath heavier and hotter and you started kissing his neck and ear

"Promise me you won't go out from Wayne manor without telling me" - he whispered as he started on enjoying your kiss on his neck

"I promise" - You whispered against his ear making him melting by your voice

His body became soft from the kisses on his neck by your mouth

He tried to keep himself as a tough and strong man but your touch is making him melting into a soft orphan man like a baby

"Promise me you will never disappear from my life" - he asked you again as your hands was caressing the side of his body

The smell of your perfume was so sweet that he gets attracted towards it and wanted to keep you in his arms forever

"I promise on my life" - You replied calmly as stopped and looked into his eyes

It sounded very heavenly when you speak those words towards him

Every inch of his body was shaking by those words of commitment towards you, His heart was pounding very fast now and his chest is rising up and down rapidly

He pulled you head slightly towards him as if he is about to kiss you lips again but he stopped..

Instead he looked deeply into your eyes and asked you - "promise me you will be next to my side forever?"

"I promise, but now The bat is sick and I need to take care of him" - you explained teasingly as smirking charmingly

The words you was saying was getting inside his ears like waves hitting the shore

Your touch over his cheeks was making him feeling the warmness inside him as you keep on caressing his face gently

Your fingers was running through his hair gently and touching his ears slightly

"Take care of me as in how?" - he asked you playfully as he was looking into your eyes and smiling at you.

"Well I have my own ways" - You replied shortly but teasingly

"No, it's not that bad of a temperature" - he explained and his response was with a smiling face

"I'm feeling all fine and good love" - he kept on smiling as he keep on looking at you face.

The truth is he's feeling extremely bad and he is so tired but your touch over his body and face gave him strength and energy once again

Your presence was actually the best medicine for him.

"What you think I'm sick of?" - he asked you curiously and softly

You keep silent but your eyes give him that look who had a words saying "Bruce stop lying"

You was seeing through his weak lie, that's a fact because you knew him very well

He was looking at your eyes while you was giving him a worried look and asking him for the truth

He had a sick look on his face but didn't want to admit it, A long sigh left his mouth and as his face changed from a happy to a sick face

"Okay fine, I'm sick" - he whispered softly as his eyes lowered down to avoid eye contact with you.

"It's okay alfred told me but now let me take care of you" - you explained to him as sitting him on the edge of the bed

The fact that Alfred informed you about the status of his health made him feel little bit better inside

The smile on your face and the warmth of your body is the best thing that could happen to his stressed mind

No matter the amount of pain he feels inside, your touch is the medicine he needed

"How you gonna take care of me?" - he asked with soft voice while he was looking back to your eyes

"As I said I have my own ways" - you replied teasingly as smirking at him

For some unknown reason nobody know but the both of you as the way you was smiling was attracting him towards you

He know what your own ways are but he's waiting to see it happening so he decided to play dumb

He was watching you keep smiling while his eyes was searching all over her body while you was moving around him and getting on his lap

"So you going to take care of me or not?" - Bruce asked you in a playful and a teasing way as his eyes back at yours.

"Of course I will" - You whispered to him as your face was close to his

The way you was making him waiting is building up a lot of tension inside him

The close feeling and the fact that he can sense your breath made him even more attracted towards you as His whole body was craving for a touch

His mouth was also feeling hot from the closeness you was putting him within you.

His whole body is ready to explode with the tension that you're causing all over him

"I don't like waiting my love" - he whispered as he moved his face very close to yours

As soon you moved your lips to meet his, his whole body was shaking with the intensity of his desire towards you

He pulled your body towards him more and tried to hold on to you tightly as you took all his emotions by the kiss

He was enjoying the passion in you kiss and the affection he was getting from it was so intense

He never wanted the kiss to end as he kept on kissing you lips softly but so passionately

The touch of your lips on his lips was so soft that made him felt heaven itself inside his heart

All that stress and pain was melting away instantly as your lips keep touching his

The tension that was being built inside him, is now getting released as his lips is kissing yours.

He was enjoying every second of it while your kisses were going deeper and deeper than he expected

You will take a good care of him and he know it, you will always be ready when..

The Bat Is Sick

#actors #celebrities #christian bale x reader #bruce wayne christian bale #christian bale #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight rises #imagines #bruce wayne batman #Bruce Wayne bale #reader

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anantaru · 9 months

Text

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — you had once sworn to always love the 11th harbinger childe, no matter what circumstances you'd face together, to love and cherish him for all eternity, even the hidden side he couldn‘t hide any longer from you.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 2.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, foul legacy! childe, vampire! teeth, tw blood, blood sucking, monster[fu]cking, tw huge size difference, very messy, loads of filth, slight feral childe, cw two cocks, anal, double penetration

a beclouded, overcasting darkness torrents and deluges over your cold, moonless room. it's silent, as if trapped in a frozen lake and you exhale heavily through your nose and feel how your breathing stood motionless, cornered in a room.

"it's terrifying, isn't it?" you hear a whisper, "to see me like that, knowing love won't be enough to look past my situation." and a searing, razor edged bolt plunges over your body, which was only covered in a flimsy shirt, your thighs— quivering, without exaggeration petrified yet not out of fear as one might think.

turns out, what made it so terrifying were his next, chosen words;

"yet i love you."

and they felt as if crafted by the universe itself, meticulously chiseled in an edge of relief when childe, the eleventh harbinger, took a step towards you, until looming over the bed, whispering.

"and you love me, don't you?"

by the nature of what he kept expressing to you, the words he spelled out certainly held graven significance, you remember when childe admitted that he fell in love with you the very first time, remember when he said it out loud, kind, innocent, without any twisted torment.

but ajax wasn‘t himself now, or was he? is this who he really was all along? did you fall in love with .. him?

he was someone else, point blank, something. your find yourself being snapped back into reality when a warm tear crosses your cheeks, framing your face and you ask yourself, why am i crying?

even then, you secretly know the answer, you cannot keep yourself off him, you are desperately in love, you crave him, long for his silhouette and kisses, worship the eleventh harbinger entirely and if need be, undoubtedly you'd look past his true self.

granted, the situation was new, fresh and afloat, ajax never revealed you his true, foul legacy form or rather, what it did to him in the long run, a slow, agonizing death, melting away his lifespan— or how it made him perceive himself and what he became of it— bloodthirsty, uncontrollably raging with hunger, in dire pain.

childe lets himself fuse into the bedsheets at last, crawling into your bed, it's the middle of the night, a spine-chilling hour where he confessed the truth of his nature. notwithstanding the fact that he wanted to see how far he could go now, or if he should leave you out of his life completely.

when he hovered over your body, new courage materialized from the tip of his tongue, "do you want me to leave?" he takes off the giant mask, his skin right underneath growing dimmer, resembling a violet pigmentation, revealing his electro infused eyes, pointy ears, his sharp nails, delicately raising your vibrations with soft touches on your thighs.

you might regret this later on but you do not seem scared of him, somehow turning him speechless by your reaction, "no, please stay."

"you mean it?" he sighs, if that was true, then him being a monster was possibly the lesser of the two dangers. "i do." it's quite important to note that childe could barely fit in your bed, nor could he barely fit in between your legs for that matter, and you notice how energy imbued he actually was, his body twitching as if nervous, violet particles pervading off his skin, making you tremble.

"shh," childe looms his thumb over your bottom lip, "how cute." shaking his head and gazing deeply into your eyes, your face burns and without missing a beat, he slides his other hand under your knee, easing to your thigh and spreading you apart, so he could somewhat fit between your legs more sufficiently.

you were about to open your mouth to say something, but then felt childe's large thumb slip into your mouth, rendering over your warm, wet tongue. he presses down on the wet muscle and groans sharply into his chest when you moan, sealing your lips over the digit when he began to push it in and out of you.

your eyes close, and a smaller bump nestles itself between your legs, you feel it, knowing what it was. childe was hard, words cannot hold up to the warmth flushing your entire body when you flutter your lashes down south, a big tent nudging into your core.

a shiver goes up your spine when he pulls his wet finger out of your mouth, the string of saliva attached and breaking in two, hitting your chin. "let me get rid of this." he points out, accentuating the pain in his pants before he pulls them down, not entirely but so they'd rest right under his now, bare erection, his bulky thighs quilling over the leather material of his pants.

your mouth parts at the obscene sight, a bead of sweat trailing its way between your shoulder blades; not only one, but two fully erected cocks in display for your eyes and childe slowly traces the outline with the pad of a finger, hissing out, you can practically hear him grinning over you, almost discern the lewd dreams that probably played across his mind right this second while he mounted over you, casting a shadow down your figure with such ease.

"we'll start slow." his voice rumbles, "as usual." a smirk swaying from left to right, you feel your limbs sink into the mattress, your head hazy, but when he starts to pleasure himself in front of you, you bite your lip as you watch him, indulge in it, sneaky hand traveling down to take some tension off your stimulated pussy that was dizzily fluttering around nothing.

you whine out when you insert your middle finger into your hole and childe wipes away the bundled up saliva off your lips, taking a hold on your chin and lowering his body, "turn around for me." he whispers, looking down to watch you finger yourself ready for him— as if that would actually make the stretch somewhat easier to go by.

but you do as he commands, long since forgotten about the doubts buried in your mind, flipping yourself over and perking your butt up, so he could have the best view on your holes. he never used your different hole before, but childe wasn't unpracticed in taking the necessary steps in order for it to feel good. to try and test the limits of your body, he tapped your hole with his knuckle, pushing it past the tightness as it went in freely enough, and as he felt you loosen around it, he pushed it in and out, only distantly.

after all, he couldn't finger you properly, his nails were sharp and he'd rather dig them into your hips while he fucks roughly into you.

so before anything, he draws back and childe reached over to your nightstand and grabbed into the small drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube, whatever the case, he knew he was big, far greater than in his usual, human form and didn't want to hurt you while looking like this.

nonetheless, he could barely wait, he can feel his nervous breathing puffing against his sweaty chest while he opened the bottle, gushing a generous amount of the translucent liquid on his palm.

you bite your lip back and hide your face in the pillow when you hear it as you wiggle your toes, pretty much the only part of you that's movable when he forces you to lay still, all his weight on the bed, placed on your hips with nowhere else to go, fuck, you're so wet already it made your blood boil in your veins, you underestimated this thing. it's not even inside of you yet but you want to feel it already.

ajax spreads the moisture on his upper cock, wrapping his tip and girth with it, "there we go." as he plants one of his large palms against your lower back while the other guided his red, swollen erection towards your holes. his touch, addictive, and faithlessly wet, you felt as if your body was submerged underwater and shoved into itself, but when childe moves his erections against your holes, you whine as to signalize your desperation for him.

slow, gradual enough and bolstered with a deep tempo, your wet, aching pussy stretches around childe's cock, while his other member pokes at your other hole, for one, only leaving the tip in and out, watching your reactions closely. but with more lube, it ultimately had began to work, graciously shaping and forming itself into every fold and crevice of his girth.

before moving, he keeps himself settled, his cocks buzzing against your frayed nerves.

but your walls clung on him ever tight, like a set of skin-forming clothing, hand tailored and fitting like a vice. enveloped by your skin, childe could notice your pulse down there and you cry out his name when he thrusts into you at the same time, wrapping his giant hands around your entire hip area to lift you off the mattress, so he could use you as a cock sleeve, his own, sweet and pretty and wet fucking cock sleeve.

his cocks hit in and out of your holes at the same time, they're warm and splitting you apart, as if having a heart beat on their own which continuously shuddered and rippled around your entire figure, your skin burning from inside out, holes leaking with both childe's pre cum and your gooey slick. but the man sighs, a nagging pain finally lifted off his shoulders as he leans against your back with his entire weight, caging you in between the mattress and his strong, broad chest.

you expand your lungs, drawing in quick, hefty breaths as you moan into the smudged pillow under you, thoroughly messed up with tears of euphoria and your saliva which couldn't stop dribbling down your chin. cross eyed, while fucking yourself back into him, his rhythm was never more than slow and deep, it's perfect and whenever both cocks contracted into you entirely, you felt them press overtly against the gateways of your pleasure spots.

your hold on him was tight, both holes used and prickling with a fire like sensation, sensual drags of his cocks piercing you into oblivion, inflicting bliss on you which you never experienced to that extent. he's ruthless, head thrown back and smacking his hips into you, pheromones and filth invading the humane air of the warm room. it's so filthy, you are, or that's what crossed your mind, but fuck it feels good, more than a little, it's like crossing out every small detail on your to do list, tackling all the small places and filling them to the brim.

swiftly, you move your hand to reach back behind him, locking your digits into his soft locks when childe began to nibble and suck on your neck. at the sensation of his rough, skilled laps of his tongue, you hiss when his sharp, pointy teeth dig into the delicate skin, hard enough to draw out the blood he so desperately craved to taste. in a sense, it's as if it broadened his lifespan, vitalized his endurance and replenished his stamina, "aah—" you cry out into the pillow, almost ashamed by how good it feels, mustering enough strength to grab a fistful of his hair to drag him into you, closer, more sufficient, his hips still working wonders on both entrances.

you're soiling him entirely and you can feel how your gummy slick and his warm, thick cum ooze down your thighs as childe moans into your neck, repeatedly, sucking the warm blood out of you, snapping his cocks in and out and acting feral, your spine arched up, ass perked and lifted so he could pound perfectly and fuck into you.

voiceless cries with a dry throat, inarticulate whispers of his name, your mouth opens and closes soundlessly. you're gone, too gone, hypnotized by the pleasure he was bestowing on you.

this next thrust was especially lucky in your eyes, and you cough up a broken moan when he hits your spots just right. you're rolling your hips back against the intrusion, desperate, full of need, face fallen and a mess. it was hot and wet, you could sense the boiling coil in your stomach, how it wouldn't be long until you'd release around him, and so did childe, feel himself become undone soon.

"just a bit more.." he's breathless, the smacking sounds of your ass against his hips fueling his desire to make you cum together, to have you drenched and filled up with his seed, both holes stuffed full and ready to go for another round, that's a new dream he had been playing in his head on auto repeat right now.

"fuck—" you scream, "fuck, baby! so close—!" and suddenly taste the intrusion in your belly, it's so warm and heavy, spilling, prodding, consuming, mind numbing you, knowing full on well nothing more could ever satisfy you as good as he did. the thick spurts of cum gush into your stomach so heavily it almost hurts, there was so much of it you feared to explode.

yet you come undone the same time as he did, violently arching your back as he wraps his arms around your sticky chest, the brush over your stiff nipples making you whine and tremble. he lifts you off the bed to harshly fuck the last bit into you, he wants you to have it all, until his balls were properly emptied out and dried up, but your holes adequately jammed and crowded.

your used, vibration numbed nerves and muscles come back to life and you collapse back on the bed, you taste salt and sweat on your lips before turning around to face your lover sitting back, barely out of breath, unlike you.

ajax pleasingly hums to himself, "you're mine." pulling himself against you, "you're mine forever." before sealing your bodies as you blink up to him with large, glowing eyes. you try not to notice his smile too much, yet all his reactions weren't a surprise.

in the end, he had won you over, he thinks to himself, kneading the soreness off your body, splashing his large thigh between your wobbly legs, deciding to rub it against your core to catch a reactions, making you realize that he wasn't done yet.

beyond further questioning, it was the middle of the night.

#childe smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact childe smut #tw monsterfucking #tw blood #tw dark content #tw size difference #tw size kink

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fuckmyskywalker · 4 months

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❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 : 𝐑𝐞𝐝 - 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

— CW: 18+. Smut. Lingerie. Reader is a prostitute. Fingering. Use of the word whore (non as an insult). | Word count: 1.0k (not proofread!)

— a/n: Late again but what's new... I really liked this one. I'm actually proud of it.

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

The bed was more of a luxury or an accommodation. It was just a piece of furniture that took up space in the large room— except for the weekends, that is. The weekends were reserved for a simple routine, one he, unfortunately, grew strangely fond of— a necessity that translates into the odd comfort of normality that Darth Vader never expected to go through again.

He still wasn’t used to the feeling of the mattress sinking under his weight, and it was not like he could feel the soft duvets and covers with the thick armor that protected his body. But again, searching for that strange, comforting closeness, his hand traces the curve of your hip as you sit on his lap, straddling his big and cold thighs— boldly dressed in nothing else than dark red lingerie. The sight itself is provocative, he has to admit it. Vader traces a single finger up to your waist, his loud breathing seemingly relaxing at the touch.

“Where did you get this?” He asks calmly, his index finger reaching the center of your chest. The leather feels cold against your warm skin, but he knows that if he takes the glove off, the metallic limb will be frigid.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” You shrug. “Don’t be too curious about it.” The response is casual but it doesn’t hold a teasing undertone, you know better than to tease him. Vader lets it slide, it feels… nice when someone does something thinking about you.

He stays quiet for a while, simply exploring your body and tracing the memorized paths with the leather you learned to love. Sometimes you wonder how it ended up this way— it was supposed to be a job, a job that turned into a routine and a routine that concluded with a small dynamic of submission and surrender. It feels like ages have passed when he finally lowers the straps of the delicate lace bralette, dragging it down your chest and watching the way your breasts spill free. Vader is quick to cup them with his large hands, palms brushing over the erect buds; you gasp at the contact, arching your back towards him as a natural reaction. He adores how responsive you are, completely opposite to other miserable “high-class” prostitutes he had the misfortune to waste his money on… not you, he still thinks every credit has been— and will be— worth it.

He plays with your heaving chest, flicking your nipples and pinching them softly, dragging soft pants and moans from your wet lips. His eyes flicker from your chest to your face, admiring how it breaks with pleasure every now and then. You are oblivious to his staring, you have never seen him without his mask.

“Red suits you.”

These three words, which possibly mean nothing to Vader but to you feel like the most abnormal confession, send a shiver down your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin. He notices it, he notices it all. Nothing can go unseen by him. The sensual torture over your chest continues, slow and deliberate until the air is struggling to flow through your lungs. Vader waited four agonizing days for this, and he is taking his time to explore the body he not only paid for— but the body that brought that sense of humanity back to his twisted mind.

Finally, he trails lower, lifting your body with an arm wrapped around your waist to cup your clothed crotch, although “clothed” would be a generous word to describe the tiny red thong that covered the last decency you had left. Or whatever decency a whore can have. The heel of his palm rubs against your throbbing clit, making you squirm and buckle your hips. Vader shakes his head, a silent command that means “patience”, this man has anything but patience outside these four walls— but you can’t bring yourself to think about that; all you can focus on is the way his fingers push aside the skimpy panties, sliding a single digit in. The stretch pushes the air out of your lungs, it always does.

“Please” You whisper, perhaps a little too greedily for his taste. Vader clicks his tongue, and you can hear it, which both amazes you and excites you. Any sort of emotion that you can read either in little sounds, heavy breathing, or corporal language is enough communication. But, to your joy, he complies this time. His index finger thrusts in and out of your pussy parsimoniously, coating the dark leather with your slick, watching it glisten under the dim lights of his chambers.

Underneath that stern mask, amber-hooded eyes fixate on the sight. He could tell you were enjoying it, not faking it just like any other prostitute would for a lousy amount of credits— which brings a warm, forgotten feeling to his chest that expands like branches, reaching the spot that could be considered occupied by his heart. Adding a second finger, the leather feels no longer cold, the furnace that your body is converted into helps immensely.

Thrusting faster, your gummy walls tighten around his index and middle finger, gripping him like a vice. He can tell you are close by the way you wiggle and moan, each little sound growing in intensity in tandem with the push of those glorious, thick fingers. It doesn’t matter if there is flesh or metal underneath the damn leather, the only thing that occupies your brain is him.

“You can let go,” Vader exhales, this time focusing solely on your face. He wants to see it break, to mix in that expression that he couldn’t tell was pain or pleasure— heightened by the taboo of being used by the Lord Sith himself. You don’t want to disobey, or you couldn’t anyway. “Come for me.”

And you do— oh, you do. Your pussy spasm, coating him in another wave of generous slick. Darth Vader curls his fingers slightly, rubbing against that other spot that heightened your orgasm. Your hands, unable to find another spot to hold onto, land on his broad shoulders, scrunching the coarse fabric of his cape underneath your trembling hands. Leaning forward, your eyes shut close, brows furrowed as your forehead rests against his helmet in a surprising yet welcomed act of intimacy.

Red really suits you, just like black suits you.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023!#darth vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader #darth vader x reader smut #darth vader imagine #darth vader fic #darth vader fanfic #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x you

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dtrghost · 1 year

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closeness and proximity part.4

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, mega angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. violence, death (not simon or the mc), sad ghosty because yes. This is gonna be a longer one I think, lot's of gore, lots of torture, be wary of that, not for the faint hearted. Guys, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE GORE, PLEASE. Also, reminder that again, mc is not a good person, not at all, she's devoted to her job and will do ANYTHING to succeed, keep that in mind. Hey you get to see simon close to tears!!!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 3.5k

She awoke with a scowl, the vomit from last night leaving a vile taste on her tongue. She brushed her teeth, gargled mouth wash, and opted to skip out on breakfast.

As if her stomach could handle that after last night.

She hated herself for letting her teammate see her so weak, even going so far as to cry in front of him and confess feelings she couldn't comprehend herself. But now wasn't the time to dwell, she had a mission, and to carry it out she resorted to autopilot, her best friend for years.

Simon opened his eyes to the sound of her getting ready, the cocks of her gun as she checked it twice over to ensure nothing would go wrong when she needed it.

"Mornin' sunshine." He grunted out, his voice deep and raspy with sleep as he sluggishly stood up.

"Ghost." His eyes flickered to her, and the woman he knew was back. The cold, guarded version of her he'd managed to break through the night before had returned. He didn't press, knowing how important it was to get the job done right. He got ready himself as she stood by the cracked open door waiting for him patiently. He noticed how she kept her eyes cemented to the floor, not moving, rarely blinking, because if she looked at him, and he stared back with something that wasn't the look of a lieutenant or a soldier, she'd crack.

And she couldn't let that happen. Not now anyway.

Her ears tuned in to the sound of loud thuds hitting the floor. Her eyes flickered to the smoke entering the room shouts ringing out from another part of the house. She got a small whiff of the smell.

HCN, H2S, and PH3.

Knockdown gas.

They made eye contact, rushing to her bag and pulling out a gas mask, Simon following silently. The gas flooded the room, Y/N pressing her ear to the door, hearing nothing but silence in return. She waited for a moment before cracking open the door and taking a peek out, seeing the hallway flooded with the same smoke but no bodies.

"Couples hours before breakfast, most of em were still asleep." Simon told her quietly.

The one time these bloody fuckers decide to sleep in.

They made their way to the end of the hallway, checking the rooms along the way to see that they were empty. She looked around the corner, finding those very bodies on the floor, blood surrounding them as they trailed to the hallway on the other side of the kitchen. Her hand came up, halting him as she crouched down, pushing a metal ball from the back of her vest and into her palm.

"What's that?" He pressed, never having seen a device like that before.

"It's connected to my coms that picks up audio. Prototype from headquarters." His eyebrows shot up in surprise as she rolled it to the other hallway, and with a tap of her earpiece she could hear quiet voices from the other half of the house.

Clear. Alpha 0-5 move to the other side. Omega team will clear upstairs.

She took out her suppressed pistol instead, listening to the near silent thuds of footsteps going up the stairs.

"They're gonna come this way. I take them out, then we move to the front door."

"Copy that." She watched as two soldiers appeared from the other hallway. With two bullets to the head, one for each, she reloaded and approached the front door silently, taking a moment to grab her eavesdropper (what she calls it anyway) and move back to Simon. Gunshots rang out upstairs, Simon quick to grab her arm before she could clear the front for an exit.

"What about the rest of em?" He hated, no. Loathed, leaving teammates behind when he could do something to help. She stopped, sighing deeply. She had to make a choice, save the two of them, or risking the death of everyone trying to save the rest.

"They're out. By the time we get up there they'll be dead and we'll have to face the firing squad." She argued, disagreeing with the idea to play search and rescue.

"You don't know that." He shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'm not risking our lives. We have a mission to complete, and we can't do that if we have a bullet in our brains." They were both growing irritated. He thought she was being selfish for not wanting to even try to help her squad. She found him idiotic for not seeing that there wasn't a chance that they'd pull anyone out alive.

"I'm not leaving until we try." And he knew she wasn't leaving him on his own, she cared too much. He didn't mind using her feelings for him for his own gain in the moment. Right now he cared about his team, and when he moved to clear the house, she begrudgingly followed. They checked every body they came across for a pulse, finding none for the first few. It pissed her off in a variety of ways, the fact she was right and he wasn't letting up, and the fact that she didn't hear it sooner.

She blamed her herself. If she hadn't let herself deteriorate, she would've heard them come, she could've saved them. But she didn't, and she'd now have to remind herself of that every day for the rest of her life.

She moved to the front of him, taking initiative and peaking around the hallway. The gas had since cleared by the windows they opened, the traces left not being enough to knock anyone else out.

"Clear!" Ghost's heart sank. She was right. He heard her exhale slowly, her anger peaking as she waited for them all the walk out of the rooms and putting a bullet in their heads. All but two. She shot their hands, then their legs, moving through the hallway and yanking them both off the floor with one arm each.

"Sun-"

"Shut it Ghost. How the hell did you find us." He had never seen her so angry. Her tone was spiteful and full of hatred as she threw one his direction and directing her rage to the bigger guy.

"Fuck you." The man replied, smirking at her tauntingly. It was silent for a beat, and it would only get worse.

"Alright." With a quick movement his face smashed into her knee, letting his body drop as she began searching rooms with an order for Simon to keep an eye on them. She found rope, feeling the heaviness of it as she threw it on her shoulder and came back out.

"You can watch this time if you want. Maybe you can learn a few things." She grabbed the man by his vest and dragged him into the nearest room, Simon taking the other one with him.

"Put him in the chair and tie him up." She tossed some rope to him before tying her guy down to the bed. The chair the other one sat in was facing the bed, and there was this awful feeling that he couldn't shake. Everything told him to step outside, to not watch what she was going to do to them, but his need to know what she was truly capable of was just that much stronger.

"Kinky. I like it." He teased, though the sweat sliding down his temple was evidence enough that he was scared. She didn't reply, grabbing a knife, taking off her gear, and rolling up her sleeves.

"Call for evac." She ordered, waiting for him to finish with it before sitting next to him.

"Let's get started. How did you find us."

"I had a nice cup of tea with your mother before she-" He cried out in pain, squirming as she pressed her knife into his abdomen and cut a line down the middle. The ropes were too tight, too thick for him to rip off as he desperately pulled at them.

"This is how it's gonna work. Wrong answer, one organ he-" She jabbed her finger towards the guy sitting in the chair who had just been shouting at her to stop.

"Has to eat." Everyone's eyes blew out of the sockets at her words. She couldn't be serious, she was bluffing... right?

"You're full of shit." She snickered, burying the blade in his thigh, her eyes boring into his own.

"You just murdered my team. I promise you, the last thing I value this morning is morality. So, tell me what I want to know, or shit's gonna get ugly."

"Sunshine-" Simon's words never left the tip of his tongue. The glare that faced him was enough to cause him to step back and keep his mouth shut. He didn't move, didn't try to stop her.

"Let's continue shall we. How did you know that we were here."

"Go to hell-" She dug her knife back into him, and Ghost watched in fear as she cut out his spleen. No amount of hatred for the man was enough to get him to watch the process, he kept his eyes cemented to the floor, attempting to tune out his wails and cries. He watched her turn to the man in the chair who stared at her in terror as she held the bloody organ in her hands.

His hand grabbed her wrist.

"That's enough. We'll find a different-" Before he could finish she slammed his against the wall, her arm pressing hard against his trachea as the knife pointed inward to his jugular.

"Stay. Out. of my way. That's an order lieutenant." It was a reminder that she had operational command. She took notice of the betrayal, releasing him with a push against the wall. This is what she was, a monster, and part of her was glad he likely realized that by now so he'd stop trying. She didn't deserve his help, and it was better he put his time towards someone more worthy than someone like her. With one last look at him, she turned back to her victim.

"So, would you prefer i cut it into pieces for you? Or do you wanna be a champ and chew it yourself." Simon's stomach lurched, and it took everything in him not to leave the room, or to spill his dinner from the night before onto the floor.

"You should be thanking me, you're getting the breakfast my team didn't." The man from the bed sobbed and watched her cut a piece off, a second away from forcing it down his teammates throat before he broke.

"Alright I'll tell you!" He yelled, listening to her 'tch' and turn back to him, tossing his organ off to the side. She sat next to him on the bed, her eyes piercing into his soul.

"If you lie to me. I'll go for your dick next, and your buddy won't be the one eating it." The sheer horror in his eyes almost made her laugh, flipping the knife in her hands as she looked at him expectingly. Turns out he was a mole, hidden inside the operation and feeding intel back to his home country's base with the promise of a perfect life for himself, where he could live in a luxury that even some of the richest people couldn't buy.

She could understand if it were to save someone he loved, she might've spared him if that were the case. But for wealth, for greed, he was willing to murder, and she couldn't stand for that.

"He told you what you wanted to know!" The other man cried, watching as the life in his friend's eyes faded, the metal sinking into his heart.

"I'm doing you a favor. People like him, who trade lives for material wealth, are never good to keep around." She shrugged, pulling the knife out and leaving him there before moving back to him.

"Anything else you think I need to know? You're gonna die anyway." Her unbothered attitude made Ghost question whether she had feelings at all.

Was the person he met last night real? Was it a lie, a facade for some underlying goal he didn't know?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The man sobbed, still struggling against his restraints in a feeble attempt to escape the inevitable. Her hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze in false comfort.

"People like your buddy. Ever heard of the Тюлень project." His eyes met hers and she snickered at his confusion.

"It means seal in Russian. They'd kidnap elite soldiers, most happening to be navy seals to brainwash them and sell them to ally countries through an underground black market system. Now a number of things occurred during the process." She rose back up, twisting the knife in her hands as she thought back to that time with a smile that held nothing behind it.

"But I think the most memorable part was when they'd castrate the men and sterilize the women. No meds either, awake for the whole thing." Simon's head snapped up to her, both of them in shock and terror.

"ECT was one thing, but god that was a whole other experience. But the wounds healed up nicely so I guess I can't complain." The humor behind her words fell on deaf ears. They couldn't tell if they should've felt sympathy or fear.

"Well whatever. I'll put you out of your misery now." She pulled out her pistol and within a second he was dead, the both watching as his body went slack and his head fell forward.

"Evac should be arriving soon-"

"Is it true?" He interrupted, staring at her.

"No I lied to the poor guy about getting my organs ripped out so he'd pass on peacefully. Of course it's fucking true."

"Watch the fuckin' attitude Y/N."

"What the hell is your problem now. Someone shove a stick up your ass when I wasn't looking." The next thing she knew she was slammed against the wall, suddenly the one in front the knife as it pressed against her neck, just as she did to him before. She took his emotions in, seeing his rage, the hurt from her treachery. She strained to adjust her neck to a more comfortable position, smirking up at him. She felt the sharpness of the blade dig into her skin a bit, the warm crimson dripping down her neck as she flashed her jugular to him.

"Do it Simon. I won't stop you. I can see the dying urge somewhere in there." The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall. She was right, a part of him wanted to. The part that felt threatened by her previous actions, that didn't trust her for a second as she flipped from person to person, cold and warm in fleeting moments. She watched him lower his knife, getting in her face, their noses almost touching through their masks.

"You're a sick, selfish bastard. You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself, you kill for yourself, you hurt everyone you meet. And I don't want something like that on my team."

Something. Not someone. She wasn't even a person to him now.

"You'll be off Task Force 141 by the morning, you hear me?" She swallowed thickly, nodding, only for his arm to push farther into her throat causing her to choke.

"Words soldier." He spat, the anger gleaming in his eyes. He could see the small traces of hurt and guilt in her eyes. But she knew it was only a matter of time, She was unlovable, and she was foolish to think she could have something she wanted.

"I'll be off Task Force 141 in the morning. I'll call HQ myself." She forced out. He searched her gaze for falsehood before reluctantly releasing her, facing away as she gasped for air, hunching over and taking deep breaths. She couldn't deny his strength, and it was evident with her short coughing fit.

They were silent as she put back on her gear, and he knew that was the last time he'd ever see Y/N, the woman he met last night, likely forever. He watched as she picked up her gun, her eyes empty and nonchalant.

"We need to head to the landing zone. You ready?" She kept a light tone that surprised him a bit. With a curt nod she approached the door, only for it to be kicked in as she jumped back in shock. The uniforms matched the ones from the men she killed, so she began taking shots, Simon following. But as more filed in, they quickly lost, both of them ending up on the floor with knees on their backs, their hands being tied up.

They were forced to comply, being pushed and shoved to a helicopter waiting outside for them. They had been gagged and stripped of their gear, sitting on the hard floor with guns pointing at them. Ghost tried to meet her eyes, nudging her foot to look at him for a silent meeting to make a plan, until the barrel pointing at him was suddenly digging into his skull, ordering him to stop in Russian.

Then they began to shout, people standing with their guns up and ready as the radar with the control up front beeped, a red blinker appearing to be approaching them from the back.

Evac followed.

The helicopter door opened with a machine gun pointing at them, only for them to scream as she kicked their knee in, sending them out of the chopper. The duo couldn't speak, but a silent confirmation was given as they got themselves up, fighting with their hands behind their back as the evac helicopter appear just below them. With the door still open she made eye contact with Price, her head gesturing down.

The aircraft lowered enough for them to jump in, and she went back to help out Ghost who she pushed in front of her before two men looped their arms around her. She spit out her gag after leaning over with them and trying to shake them off with vigor, but she wasn't strong enough, not after the several blows her body had already taken.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Simon yelled out, having gotten the gag out of his mouth and seeing her restrained. She stepped back, causing him stutter for a moment in confusion as she told him to stop.

"I'm sorry." For everything, but she didn't have time for that last piece. Before he could help she jumped, her feet making hard contact with his chest, sending him out of danger and falling into evac who turned the chopper to let him fall in. She fell back onto the floor, her capturers' grips loosening and her head spinning as she crawled to the opening.

"We've got to get her out of there!" Simon yelled, only to be held back by Soap and Price. She felt hands wrap around her ankles before she looked back at her team.

"GO." She screamed as loudly as she could, knowing there was no way for her to get out alive either. John saw her for a moment, truly. He saw the girl he met 6 years ago. Her eyes were begging, pleading with him to save themselves, to save him, and leave her behind. He gave her nod, tearing his look away before wetness could pool in his eyes.

"No! Price! Don't you fucking dare!" His eyes burned involuntarily as he looked back at her, desperate to go back. Everything around him went quiet, slow, and he felt the air from his lung dissipate at her face. She smiled at him, a genuine smile.

It's gonna be okay. It told him.

The last person to look at him that way was his mother. When he was just a boy after he received a beating from his father. The look of care, reassurance, and tenderness she gave him as she cleaned the wounds on his body and face. That she'd save him, get him out of harm's way, and this time around, she did. He breathed heavily, every word he had said to her flooding back to his memory with guilt and regret.

Sick, selfish bastard. Those were his last words to her. The last thing he did was threaten her life and kick her off the team like trash. He almost threw up.

"Get us out of here!" Price shouted to the pilot who nodded, turning their aircraft around and heading back home. Simon struggled and yanked, but his body was weak for the beating he took in that house, and all he could do was watch as they parted for what may have been the last time.

Her breath was ragged and heavy as soldiers pulled her up by her arms, not nearly as gentle as they were the last time. The butt of their gun hit her face, and she felt her body sag, her eyes shutting as she lost consciousness. A part of her didn't mind too much, she got him out, she saved someone, finally. She did something right, something that wasn't for herself, and she let herself enjoy that as she slipped away.

She did it.

Yeaahhh. For reference HCN is hydrogen cyanide, H2S is hydrogen sulfide, and PH3 is phosphite (I'm not smart I googled knockdown gas). There's gonna be another part soon, because yes I'm excited. Anyway yeah. I hope you enjoyed this part!! The next part may be the second to last depending on what I come up with. If you wanna be part of the tag list let me know! Notes of any kind are appreciated and thank you for all of the support!!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod ghost #call of duty #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw price #cod price

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codfanficedits · 5 months

Text

Before the mask - Part 1

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2033 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Author has daddy issues and not the sexy kind, listening to masturbation.

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish? Anyway, I didn't have loving parents and I am projecting here.

Being in the military had it’s perks, you were free from your parents, you had worked hard enough, long enough to be rewarded with your own little quarters, and it wasn’t much, but it was yours, enough to retreat after a long day, a hard mission, it was yours.

The downsides? The walls were paper thin, you could hear your neighbour shitting after taco night, but eventually you got used to it. You were just really lucky the neighbour of your right side was Simon. The two of you had been working together for a while now, and it was safe to say that you had become friends.

On the other side of the wall was indeed Simon. Simon who had promised himself to never get attached again. He had escaped his childhood home, and he wanted to keep himself from getting hurt again.

That was until you came along, you with your soft smile, with your sparkling eyes, your beautiful hair. And if you were just beautiful, he could’ve fucked you and ghosted you afterwards, but no, no you were not only pretty, you were kind, thoughtful, smart and sure as hell feisty.

Feisty enough to bite back when needed, to stand up for yourself or others, but sweet enough to remember his favourite sweets, or his birthday, and he could feel himself falling for you.

He realised it at breakfast, he had been wanting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren’t there, and for the first time, it felt as if something, someone was missing. A small piece of his soul being ripped away from him and he had to pretend all day that it didn’t bother him, while his mind was flooding with his worries. He didn’t recall there being any missions, and surely you would’ve told him if you were to be on leave? Or worse, leave the army?

He could feel the tension leave his shoulders when he finally saw you again, a scowl on your face when you left the toilets. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t heard your alarm go off this morning, and the fact that you were the only cleaning toilets told him that you had overslept. With a silent chuckle he promised himself that he would wake you up every morning, to safe you from such horror.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to confess, he just simply didn’t know how to. Every time he wanted to, every time he wanted those words to leave his lips, you just had to look up at him with those sweet, sweet eyes and he couldn’t. His voice would leave him, and his courage was nowhere to be seen, so he just kept quiet, tried to keep you close by telling you stupid jokes, army humour as he called it.

To make matters worse, the walls were thin, too thin, he could hear you stir in your sleep, he could hear you on those lonely nights where your hand wandered underneath your blanket, and he would promise himself to not listen to it, to give you that privacy, but after the third time he couldn’t. He just had to listen to make sure that you weren’t calling out his name, because if you did, he would’ve come to the rescue.

But you didn’t, not once did his name leave your pretty lips, just soft moans and whiny whimpers. It was enough for him, enough to make his own fist twitch in a desperate need for you, his hips bucking up in an attempt to keep his bed from creaking too much, he couldn’t have you hear him listen to you.

And tonight would be no different, Simon had made himself comfortable in his bed, waiting for your little ritual to start, his eyebrow raising when he didn’t hear those sounds he was so familiar with. Instead your voice was a hushed whisper and he couldn’t make out what you were saying. It frustrated him, who were you talking to, and why?

His blood ran cold when he could hear the loud laughter of a man, he kicked off his blanket, putting on his grey sweatpants before he left his room. Fist knocking on your door while he tried to calm himself.

You weren’t his, and he had no right to be so possessive over you, but what were you thinking? Seeking out the solace of another man while he was right there?

He would, of course, pretend that it would be about safety, did you know how dangerous it was to bring a random stranger into the base? Did you even think about it.

He knocked again, more urgent. “Open the door.”

You opened the door, an apologetic smile on your face. Your eyes fixate on Simon and he can feel the anger fading away. You looked so sweet, so innocent.

You on the other hand, had no clue what he was thinking, you had been on a skype call with your family, and in all your joy you had forgotten to keep track of your volume level.

"Was I too loud?" You asked. "I'm sorry."

His look is stern, his fingers clenched into an almost white-knuckled grip. Yet there's something else lurking on the verge of those eyes, the beginnings of something...painful, an emptiness from the core of his identity.

"Don't apologize," he replies softly. His voice, too, is low and breathy. But there's a calmness there, the lack of which would've set you on edge. "Just...let me in."

"Yeah sure, sure." You said as a response to his request. You stepped to the side, to let him in. "I'm on a Skype call with my family. My dad laughs really hard. So you might have heard him"

An idea pops up in your head, you knew a thing or two about his backstory, about his childhood. And it always made you really sad that he never experienced the true love a family could give.

"Want to say hi?"

"Mhm," is his only initial response, but as he steps inside your room, he's greeted by your smile, your soft, almost angelic eyes. Those, for a moment, have him mesmerized. He almost forgets what he's doing here. Then he remembers, when you offer him a chance to meet the people who bring you joy.

"Sure." He steps deeper inside your room, but he doesn't leave the door open, closing it behind him, so the two of you are tucked away in your own little world Your eyes light up. "Oh they're going to be delighted to meet you." You had told your parents about him plenty of times, maybe it was the little crush you had, maybe it was just because you were a nice person, who would know?

You grab his hand, dragging him along to your bed, urging him to sit down, before you placed your laptop on your lap, making sure the both of you are on screen.

"Mom, dad, this is Simon!"

He's never had a family like this of his own, and he's both nervous and curious about how they'll react. His expression, then, is one of curiosity. He's seated beside you, his hands clenched against his thighs, the only thing resembling a weapon, an automatic coping mechanism to keep him safe, just as you set the laptop up. His eyes are locked on the screen, the image of your parents on the other side.

You’re a mix of your parents, that much he can tell, and it is fun to see little pieces of them in you. Your father is a more social person, he smiles wide at Simon. Your mother is more reserved, but the smile of your father caused your mother to smile too.

"Good to meet you boy!"

For a moment, he doesn't respond. His eyes are glued to the screen, but they travel back and forth between your parents. The sight of them smiling genuinely, of them together...it fills him with an ache in his chest. And before he knows it, he's fighting back a few tears. God damn it, now is not the time to get all emotional.

He smiles. "It's nice to meet you too," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him as your gaze softens, it is the first time you have seen him so vulnerable, so you give him a little pat on his knee, a little encouragement.

"So." Your father continues. "You've been keeping my girl safe?"

He looks down at your hand for a few seconds, at your gentle touch. That, more than anything, is what makes him crack. He reaches out to grasp your hand, squeezing it a little harder than would be expected.

"I have," he replies in a strained voice, as if fighting with himself. "But, if you don't mind me saying so, she keeps me safe."

The comment gets rewarded with a laughter from your father.

"Ah yes. Our girl has always been a feisty one." You know the shimmer in your father’s eyes way too well and you groan. You have heard this story way too many times before.

"One time, when she was a little toddler, in kindergarten, one of the other kids, a boy, tried to kiss her, and she beat him with a plastic bucket."

The ghost of a small smile appears on Simon's face, although it's quickly replaced by another pang of that ache in his chest. The image...it's almost like seeing you as a kid again, although he never had the chance.

"How many stitches did the boy need?" He teases.

Your father chuckles, and you roll your eyes. You can tell he'll be bringing this up again in a few years, if not sooner.

"None." You grumbled. "But I did bust his lip before they pulled me off."

Your mother chuckled too. "She was such a cute little girl, but such a temperament."

After that your mother gets up, and gets out of your view for a second.

You lean towards Simon a little closer. "If she shows you my baby pictures, I'll lose it." You whispered softly, making sure your parents couldn’t hear.

And sure enough your mother returns, with a large picture book, holding it up for the camera.

It shows a picture of you, no older than four, hair in two pigtails and a big smile on your face, holding a blue bucket. "Can you imagine?"

Your parents aren't the only ones laughing at this memory, as Simon is chuckling softly at the sight of a younger version of you. His eyes are fixed on the picture, the two pigtails, how pure and innocent...

...until you remind him that he's sharing this moment with your family, and not the one he was born into. So he pushes it aside for a moment, and focuses on you. "It's a nice picture," he says softly.

You feel a little bad, knowing his upbringing wasn't the best one, and you give his a little squeeze, an apology and reassuring gesture in one.

Your mother is unaware of his internal struggle, as she holds up a new page. Five year old you in a pink tutu. "She refused to wear anything else for six days." Her mother and father laugh.

Your eyes are gentle, as you squeeze his hand back. And that, it softens the blow of what's happening. Your parents, the memories they share with you, it's something he has never experienced. But sharing it with you, that makes it real enough.

His expression softens as he see the new page. The pink tutu, that smile...He’s almost jealous again.

"She looks so beautiful," He whisper. And his voice, it's filled with that same longing for love.

The gaze of your father softens, a proud smile on his face. "She is."

"I know she can take care of herself but.." her father gets cuts off by the sound of the doorbell. "Excuse me for a second." He said, as he got up.

Your mother closes the picture album. "You know Simon, next time you two are allowed on leave you should come with her."

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ghcstao3 · 8 months

Text

for @snootlestheangel — body swap

For a trained sniper, demolitions expert, and SAS soldier, it takes an embarrassingly long time for Soap to notice that something is wrong.

He climbs out of an empty bed (as per usual), drags his feet to the common room for some shitty coffee (again, as per usual), sits down, bleary-eyed, rethinks his decisions until he finally fully wakes up (as per usual!).

It’s not until Gaz wanders in and does a double-take upon seeing him that Soap begins to suspect… something.

The pinch in the other sergeant’s brow has Soap shifting nervously in his seat.

“You feelin’ alright, mate?” Gaz asks. He keeps his voice steady enough to hide whatever else he’s thinking.

But even still, Soap relaxes. He just grunts and returns to staring at his coffee, accepting Gaz’s question as a way of pointing out just how awful Soap is looking this morning in particular.

“…Right,” Gaz says slowly. Soap peers back up at him. “And what about the…?” He gestures vaguely to his own face.

Soap frowns. “What d’ye—“

Soap snaps his mouth shut. That’s not his voice.

Keeping his lips firmly sealed as he stands and swipes his styrofoam cup off the table, Soap (Soap?) leaves the room in a hurry. He doesn’t stop even when Gaz calls after him, not pausing until he’s safely locked behind the door of his room.

Ghost—at least, Soap presumes, hopes, prays it’s Ghost in Soap’s body—is already waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” Ghost remarks. It’s too odd, hearing his intonation from the wrong accent, the wrong voice, the wrong body.

“Well, so-rry.” Soap folds his—Ghost’s—arms across his chest. “You happen to know something, then?”

Ghost scowls. Soap takes that as a very clear no.

Soap sighs. “Then let’s figure it out together, aye?”

Ghost offers a reluctant nod. Soap supposes that’s good enough.

They mull over just about every possibility they can think of, between avoiding the unnecessary responsibilities, public spaces, and sneaking back to Ghost’s room to get a spare mask. They pore over recent missions, things that may have been said, done. But no pieces connect enough to create a reasonable enough picture.

The day ends, frustratingly, without answers. And with nothing else to try or think up, they resign to gradually falling asleep in Soap’s room, tangled together as was still normal enough.

Except for the fact that Soap is hardly used to being the little spoon. But alas.

A thought springs into Soap’s mind( before sleep is able to grab ahold of him.

“Ghost?”

A quite hum into the fabric of Soap’s shirt.

“I just… I wanted t’say something, before we find out whether this whole thing is permanent or not.”

“What’s’it?” Ghost mumbles.

Soap squeezes his eyes shut. Takes a deep breathe, reassured by the weight of an arm around him, even if it is technically his own.

“The thing we have—had? Have, between us,” Soap starts. “The sleeping together, whatever else. I never… I never wanted that to only be casual.”

There’s a long pause. Distantly, Soap’s ears ring, and when Ghost swallows it seems far too loud in the dark and quiet.

Then, in a mere whisper Ghost admits, “I never did either.”

That confession weighs heavy. But it’s a good presence, otherwise underlined by their current issue.

Soap nods to himself. “Awrite. Well, when we get this fixed—when, not if, because fuck if I’m gonna be stuck with your mug the rest of my life—what d’ye say we try something… real.”

Ghost’s breath is almost silent, the hitch in his throat nearly undetectable. He pulls Soap closer.

“I’d like that,” he says. “When.”

“When,” Soap agrees.

They fall asleep.

Soap wakes the next morning with his arms wrapped around a solid presence, bed warm and full. He breathes in Ghost’s scent, runs his fingers through blond curls.

“When,” Soap murmurs to himself. His own voice.

What a fuckin’ day.

#prompt #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing

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sturnioloshacker · 6 months

Text

truth or dare - a chris sturniolo short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended

summary: a game of truth or dare leads to a crush confession

the air was filled with laughter and exposed secrets as we all sat in a circle for game night. chris, matt, nick, madi, nate and i all decided to play a classic game of truth or dare. as the bottle spun, our nerves heightened and our deepest, darkest secrets were waiting to be revealed. the bottle slowed in speed, passing nick, passing madi and landing on me. crap.

“oh, y/n!” madi says in a sing-song voice.

“yeah?”

“will you tell the truth or shall i dare you to expose yourself?” she asks, as a mischievous grin spreads across her face.

i hesitated, glancing nervously at chris, who was sitting opposite me. i’ve had the biggest crush on chris since we first met at a movie premiere. nobody knows about this crush except for madi. i feel everyone’s eyes on me as they wait for me for my answer.

“dare," i finally said, trying to mask my anxiety.

madi's eyes gleamed with mischief. oh no, she better not!

“i dare you to tell us who your crush is."

the room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to me. i feel my cheeks flush and my body go numb. she really went there. my heart races as i feel the panic rush through my body like an adrenaline rush, and without a word, i stand and bolt from the room, leaving everyone else stunned.

“um. i think i messed up,” madi says, breaking the awkward silence.

“should someone go and see if she’s okay? i feel bad for her,” nate speaks up.

“i’ll go and check on her,” chris says, getting up from his spot and going to find me.

“and off the crush goes!”

“madi!” nick yells.

“i’m going to shut up now as i'm a terrible bestie.”

i hear a faint knock against the bathroom door. hearing chris’s voice, my heart skips a beat. how did he find me so fast? i quickly wipe my tears to hide the evidence that i was crying from embarrassment and open the door. chris comes in and notices my rosy cheeks and watery eyes.

“have you been crying?”

i nod in shame and hang my head low as i feel more tears threatening to spill. chris pulls me into his embrace, rubbing my back as i softly sob into his chest. he pulls away and takes me by the hand to lead me into his bedroom.

“so, um, madi kinda exposed you even more just before by saying that i’m your crush. is that true?”

“yeah. yeah it is. i just couldn’t say it in front of everyone, including you.”

“why? matt said his and nate said his. you know you can trust us, right?” chris smiled gently.

“i’m just scared that you don’t feel the same way and i didn’t want to say anything so i panicked because i didn’t think you’d like me the way i like you.”

chris held my hands and he looked right into my eyes. i feel his thumbs run along my hands, bringing me at ease. i watch as he leans in, his face coming within inches of mine. he closes the gap between us and i instantly feel fireworks go off in my stomach. the kiss is soft and passionate, like he’s been wanting to do this for so long. i smile into the kiss, slowly deepening it as i remove my hands from his and wrap them around his neck. i pull away and touch our foreheads together, the spark between us feeling so real.

“i like you, y/n, so much. i’ve had a crush on you for a while now too.”

“really?”

“really.”

i close the gap between us again, this time the kiss is more passionate and fiery, our tongues colliding as we fight for dominance. chris wins as he pushes me against the bathroom sink. the kiss is so addicting, it’s like a drug. i just can’t seem to stop myself. i feel chris’s hands slide down my waist and to my bum, giving it a slight squeeze, making me jump. our heated makeout session is interrupted for a loud screech.

“what’s this?! oh my god!” matt yells in excitement as he finds his brother and myself pressed up against each other.

the other three come rushing to find us up against one another, our hair all messed up and clothes wrinkled. cheers and screams sounded off as we all crushed into a big group hug.

“i’m not a terrible bestie anymore! from now on, you can call me madi the truth or dare matchmaker.”

we all laugh at madi’s comment before heading back downstairs to continue where we left off. sitting back in our original positions, we continue our game.

“so, y/n. i dare you to tell us who your crush is.”

“my crush is christopher owen sturniolo and i like him so much.” i proudly say with my chest.

i’m met with “awww” and “oooh” before we all burst into laughter. truth or dare continues into the night, from lap dances to kisses to exposing naughty secrets. i glance over at chris and we make eye contact. smiling, he gestures for me to come over to his side. i sneakily make my way over and he pats his lap. i slowly place myself in his lap and his arms immediately wrap around my waist, his head leaning on my shoulder. i spend the rest of the game in chris’s lap, kissing him and leaning against him.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets imagine #sturniolo triplets fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

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reina-writes · 3 months

Text

MINE Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Ghost x GN!Reader Warnings: Swearing, possessive Ghost, teasing, brat-taming(ish?), balaclava kisses and kissing. A/N: This is for Sky and galaxy full of shining little stars. Love you! <3

I was inspired to write this by Sky's TT videos. And yes, I have his permission to write and publish this. :)

Enjoy!

"Stop that." A mischievous smile lit up your face when you heard his familiar voice behind you. The club's bass thumped through the walls, setting the rhythm for the night. The beat was almost hypnotic, taking over you as you let your hips sway almost in seductive way, not caring about Ghost or his demand. But you could feel a pair of intense brown eyes staring at you, gaze so intense it almost burned your skin.

His gaze followed your every move, his jaw clenching under that skull-printed balaclava - a silent signal that your teasing was working its magic, just as you wanted. The music's tempting rhythm encouraged you to move more, your hips swaying in a way that left little to the imagination. Ghost's eyes tracked your every motion, a mixture of warning and raw desire in his gaze.

"Stop that," Ghost's voice rumbled again above the music, his eyes narrowing at your provocative ways. You chuckled, turning to face him with a teasing glint. The air between you crackled with anticipation as his blue eyes met yours.

"Or what?" you challenged, voice barely audible over the thumping bass. Ghost's expression darkened, a possessive edge taking over. He was not going to let you act like a brat in public. Actions have consequences, as he liked to remind you every time you were receiving punishment for being a brat.

The heat between you and Ghost instantly built up as he pulled you closer, the heat of his body searing through the thin fabric of your clothes.

"Or I might need to remind you who you fuckin' belong to, little star," he murmured into your ear. The intensity of his gaze fueled the fire inside. A shiver ran down your spine as his hands trailed slowly down to your hips.

"You're pushing your limits," he growled, your challenging gaze met with a sly grin. The club throbbed with energy, the loud bass and flashing lights surrounding you. Ghost's hands explored your body, with each touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Tension filled the air as he kissed you through the fabric of his balaclava. The thumping bass seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of your heartbeats as you grasped onto him. In that moment, everything else faded away.

Breaking the fabric-covered kiss Ghost's intense gaze locked onto yours, his eyes filled with a primal hunger. “You're mine, little star," Ghost grunted, his hot breath tickling your skin. His hands squeezed you closer to him, so you could feel exactly how he felt. The adrenaline was running through your veins.

A moment of silence lingered between you two.

"You drive me insane," he finally confessed, his voice a raspy whisper as he leaned his forehead against yours. A mischievous smile played on your lips as your fingertips traced a teasing pattern on Ghost's chest.

"Maybe that's my plan," you hummed, closing your eyes to savor the moment. The hypnotic music, flashing lights and the presence of others faded away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe. Ghost's grip on your hips tightened and you could hear him sigh. You moved your body against him, a small smile playing on your lips.

"You're playing with fire, little star," Ghost murmured, his lips briefly brushing against yours. A playful grin spread across your face. "Mm, but maybe I like to burn," you teased playfully, enjoying how he reacted to your touch and words. Ghost's eyes locked onto yours, amusement and hunger reflecting in their depths.

"Testing my patience here," he warned, though a subtle squint in his eyes giving away the smirk beneath the mask.

As the music shifted, Ghost spun you around and guided your movements. The tempo slowed and he pulled you even closer, the scent of his familiar cologne heightening the sensory experience of the moment.

"You know I can make you behave," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You met his challenge with a playful smirk. "But where's the fun in that?"

The chemistry between you and Ghost crackled like electricity and the dance floor lit up like a stage just for you two. His possessiveness and your playful attitude created a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist. The club's energy was mixed with pulsing music and flashing lights, creating an almost intoxicating atmosphere. Ghost's hold on you tightened and you couldn’t help it as you pulled his mask just enough to crash your lips against his. You could feel his body tensing before relaxing into the kiss, as you had successfully surprised him with it. The kiss held all the desire that had been that had been building since the first provocative sway of your hips.

His hand gripped your jaw as the kiss deepened, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your hands found their way to Ghost's chest, fingers dancing along the fabric of his jacked. Desire and hunger lingered in the air, leaving both of you breathless. Ghost's hands moved with purpose, exploring the curves of your body as if trying to memorize everything from you. Finally breaking the kiss Ghost's intense gaze locked onto yours. “You’re dangerous, little star,” he declared, the smoldering intensity reflecting in his eyes, leaving you captivated and craving more. "I thought you liked a little danger," you teased amused, his fingers trailing along the skin of your neck. "I do," Ghost admitted, as you leaned into his touch, the air heavy with anticipation. His hands moved lower, as a subtle reminder of the control he held over you.

"But you know, little star, I might need to take you home and remind you of who you belong to," Ghost's lips brushed against your ear as he whispered. A playful grin spread across your face. "And how do you plan on doing that?" you inquired, watching as he pulled his mask back on. He leaned in, fabric-covered lips grazing yours.

"Be a good little star," he smirked, "and I'll show you."

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley fic #cod x reader #cod x y/n #call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #callsignsky141 #reina writes #simon riley

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la-petite-lapin · 15 days

Text

Double the Love | Part Nine

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, swearing, mentions of nudity, mentions of sexually explicit content, OC has anxiety, communication, polyamory, M/M/F

A conversation and a confession

Simon doesn't say anything for a while. I sit next to him silently, waiting for the words I know are coming. Knowing that they're going to hurt.

I've accepted it. They're probably going to want to move out after this. God - how am I going to explain this to John...

"We thought you needed space today," Simon starts softly, his gentle tone soothing a part of me that I didn't know needed soothing. "We... I've messed up today. I should have shown you more affection. I shouldn't have let you doubt this."

I blink up at him, dazed and bewildered. He's going to have to spell this one out for me.

Like he's reading my mind, he explains, "We really like you, Tali. We didn't want to scare you away after how intense last night was." There's another beat of silence as he glances at Johnny, still fast asleep, and adds, "I think this a conversation that all of us need to be present for."

They like me.

The realisation sets in like a freight train. They really like me.

A giddy feeling somewhere between excitement and confusion creeps in, all but erasing the sadness I felt just moments ago. Simon looks at me, head cocked to one side like he can sense the heavy mix of emotions swirling around inside of me. There's a glimmer in his hazel eyes as he carefully watches my expression.

"Can we... can we wake him up now, please?" I know that it's selfish, but I need to know that this is resolved. I need to know that they both feel the same so that we can move on. So that I can think and plan and mentally prepare myself for what people are going to say.

Oh God.

What are John and Gaz going to think? The people I work with? I'd like to think that I don't really care about the opinions of others, but I do. Deep down, I do. Strangers can be judgemental and mean - especially where poly relationships are concerned. Shit, what about PDA? That's going to draw unwanted attention and...

"Hey, love." Simon gently squeezes my hand with his, scarred fingers surprisingly gentle against my much smaller ones. "Where did ya go?"

I swallow, suddenly aware of how dry my throat is, and how my knees are shaking. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About this. Us." When he squeezes my hand again, I carry on, shifting closer to him on the sofa until I'm tucked seamlessly against his side. "People are going to judge us."

There's a pause before Simon does something that surprises me. He barks out a laugh. A loud, gruff laugh that startles me for a second, almost making me jump.

I look up at him like he's gone mad, and he looks back at me, eyes twinkling with humour as he smirks. "You really think that's going to be what they focus on, princess? I walk around in public, 6'7, dressed in all black with a bloody mask on. Johnny's hardly a wallflower wither. You really think people will be rushing to judge the sweet, beautiful woman walking around beside them?"

Well, when he put it that way, I supposed they wouldn't.

"I mean, there's always going to be a chance that some people will, but fuck 'em. I've caught enough stares to last me more than a lifetime. 's like water off a duck's back." Some of the amusement leaves his tone, eyes solemn again for a moment as he adds, "But seriously, love, if they don't know us, then why should we bother what they think? It's something Johnny said to me when we first started going out. I used to get so fucking stressed out about people looking at us and whispering shit. Just wanted to rip their heads clean off their shoulders. But it's not our problem - it's theirs."

I nod slowly. It seems to simple when he says it like that. I know it won't be, but it gives me hope. Hope that - one day - I'll be as nonchalant about it as Simon is.

There's a grumbling sound from the other end of the sofa. One that draws both of our attention. "Wha's all this about problems and heads?"

Si and I look across at the same time, meeting a pair of heavy-lidded, confused bright blue eyes.

"...and so Tali thought we weren't interested, and that we were ignoring her," Si says, rounding off his summary-version of our conversation to a now wide-awake Johnny.

"Right," the Scotsman says, cradling a mug of black coffee like it's his firstborn. "Well, respectfully, tha's a bunch of shite." He turns to me with wide eyes, and I try not to look sheepish. "Ye know that now, right?"

I offer him a small smile. "Right," I repeat.

The three of us are still in the living room - myself tucked back into my armchair, and the two of them sitting on the sofa facing me. There are some important matters that need to be discussed, questions that need to be asked, and ground rules that need to be laid. Things that won't get done if I'm sitting next to either of them. It'd be all too easy to get lost in their eyes, snuggle up to their ridiculously toasty body heat and drag them back into their room for round three.

I need to stay focused for this.

"So, what does this make us?" I ask, hoping that I don't sound as nervous as I feel. I'm surprised that I'm not physically shaking.

Johnny shrugs, glancing from Si back to me again before saying, "Our girlfriend. Partner. Take yer pick," just as Simon says, "Whatever you want us to be."

"I think I'd like to be your girlfriend, if that's okay." When they voice their more than enthusiastic approval, I turn to my next question, a nervous smile forming on my lips. "What will you tell John and Kyle?"

Simon frowns at my obvious hesitance, the movement tugging at the scars around his mouth. "Captain Price we can leave you, if you're more comfortable that way. And Gaz... we can tell him we're together whenever you want. He's pretty open-minded."

I swallow thickly. "They're both coming over at the weekend."

There's a beat of silence before Johnny starts laughing. "Making plans with our friends without us already, lassie? We've only been together for half-an-hour."

My cheeks heat up and I fight the urge to get embarrassed. "John made then plans, not me."

Simon grins. "I think it's cute. It's good that you get along with Gaz; he's a nice lad."

We're getting side-tracked!

I clear my throat, all business once again. "There's something else that I need to tell you."

They both look at me, expressions holding varying degrees of concern and blind acceptance. They're looking at me like I hung the moon.

I know that it probably won't change the way that things are between the three of us, but I'm still nervous. Because - technically - I've been lying to them since we met.

They still don't know that I'm Alex's sister.

"Did Price ever tell you how he and I met?"

The question hangs in the air between us. I watch as it dawns on them: he never did. Regardless the pair stay silent, giving me the space to take a deep breath and continue on.

"We met over a year ago, when he came to inform me that my brother had died."

Simon's face turns a sickly greyish-white hue. "You- you never told me that he was military."

On the other side of the sofa, Johnny's expression darkens. "I didn't even know that ye had a brother." He pauses, eyes locking onto mine as he says, "But... if the Captain came to tell ye, tha' means... he was somethin' to do with our lot."

Si's head starts shaking before I can even get the next part of my confession out, like he knows exactly where this is all about to go. "My name - my full name - is Talia Keller. And my... my brother's name was Alex. Operations Officer Alex Keller."

Johnny lets out something between a groan and a choking noise. My heart is beating in my throat, palms clammy and chest too tight. Simon isn't even looking at me anymore; he's looking at the floor, the walls, the ceiling... anywhere but me.

"I... how? Alex never told us he had a sister." Simon sounds borderline frantic. I try not to let that statement hurt me; try to remind myself that it has no bearing on the love that my brother felt for me. Catching the look on my face, Simon adds a broken, "I didn't mean it like that."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he wanted me to walk over to him and tell him that it's all a lie. One big, sick joke. That I actually met John through a friend of a friend, or some other totally normal circumstance. Not via a death notification.

"Calm down, Si," Johnny says suddenly, his soft, placating tone cutting through the room. "Calm down and let our lass talk." Blue eyes lock onto mine, offering me endless reassurance. "Carry on, love."

I clear my throat, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at my sides as I will myself not to cry. "Our parents died when we were young, and Alex joined the army when I was still just a kid. He was all I had left after our grandmother passed. And - when he died - John came to the flat to tell me he was gone." I remember the crushing weight of the loneliness I felt in those days that followed, and it brings a weak, bitter smile to my lips. "But he didn't just tell me and go. He left his number and he made an effort to be there when I needed him. He pulled me into his life; kept reaching out even when I was too stubborn to see that I really needed him around."

Johnny frowns, and I can see the unshed tears shining in his eyes. "But... why didn't ye tell us, love?"

I shake my head, my own tears falling freely. "I don't know," I say, honestly meaning it. "I just... I don't know. Maybe I thought it would be easier? So that you wouldn't pity me for it?"

Before Johnny can reply, Simon is standing up - crossing the living room with long, precise strides. He scoops me up from the armchair, cradling me in his big, muscular arms. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck to hide myself away from the world, letting the tears pour out.

"We don't pity you, princess," Simon says, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. I can hear the sofa creaking softly as Johnny stands up. Can feel his fingers brushing through my hair. "Just wish you'd told us sooner, that's all."

I peel myself away from Simon long enough to manage two words before I'm burying my face back into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, lovie," Johnny coos. "There's nothin' to be sorry about."

Once we've all calmed down, Simon announces that it's time we all head off to bed. It's gone 11 and not only do I have work tomorrow but they have to nip across to the base for a meeting, so he has a point.

As Johnny and Simon rattle around the apartment, double-checking that they locked the front door when they came in earlier, and making sure all the windows are shut, I start to head off to my room. The room I sleep in alone.

"Um, where do ya think ye're going, lassie?" a voice calls out from the top of the hallway. I turn around to see Johnny standing there, his broad frame practically filling the space as he folds his arms across his massive chest.

I let out a quiet squeak. "Bed?"

Simon appears behind him, resting his chin on top of his boyfriend's - our boyfriend's - head. "Nice try. Get your arse into bed. I'm not in the mood to chase you tonight." With an adorable flash of vulnerability softening his battle-hardened features, he adds, "I want to cuddle."

Melting inside, I backtrack down the hallway and push their door open, hopping into what used to be my bed.

After a few minutes, I doze off, and when I open my eyes again, I'm bracketed on both sides by the warm, muscular bodies of my boyfriends. I try not to giggle like a teenage girl internally, but it does a lot to shake off the remaining sadness lingering from our conversation about Alex.

I roll over, accidentally slamming face-first into Simon's bare chest. Instead of whining about it, he grumbles, "Are you going to sleep like that?"

I blink, pulling away to glance down at myself. After I flopped down onto the mattress, I hadn't thought to take off my clothes. Or find myself anything suitable to sleep in.

"No?"

Simon chuckles indulgently, joined swiftly by Johnny - his rock-hard chest vibrating against my back.

"Jesus, lassie, just sleep naked like us. 's easier," the Scotsman says, drawing my attention to the fact that they are both indeed naked. "Saves us havin' to move wardrobes around."

I ignore him, kicking off my jeans before pulling my shirt off over my head. I lay still for a moment before something occurs to me - another question I forgot to ask earlier. A glaringly obvious one.

"What happens after Johnny's stitches have healed?"

Silence fills the room. It makes me wonder if it's something they've been wondering too.

Johnny speaks first. "Tha' depends, lassie. We'd have to ask Captain Price. An' it depends on ye, and want ye wanna do. But we'll both have to return to active duty."

Before I can ask what that looks like for them, Simon clarifies, "That means we'll be out on assignments more often." I don't think I'm imagining the heavy note of sadness that weighs heavy in his voice as he adds, "Sometimes we'll both be gone for weeks at a time, with no way of getting in touch with you."

As much as I hate it, I've already made my peace with that part. The bit that I don't get is the living situation. When they are here, I'd like to stay with them. I can live in the flat while they're away, but what about when they aren't? It's not fair on Winnie to have all four of us staying here, encroaching on her space. This apartment is just as much her home as it is mine.

"Do you two have a place together?" I ask, more out of curiosity than anything. I highly doubt it, since they ended up here with me in the first place.

Simon shakes his head. "We never saw a need for one. When we're in the country, we stay in the barracks with the other soldiers." A frown forms on his lips and I pull back a little further so I can comfortably cup his jaw. I smooth my thumb along the length of his cheekbone. "But I don't think that's a place that I'm happy with you being in."

I open my mouth to protest but Johnny's hand appears from behind me, swatting the air between us. "Can we talk about this in the mornin'? Some of us would like to sleep."

With a soft giggle, I roll over again and press a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose, then his forehead, and the cheek not pressed against the pillow. I settle my head into the gap underneath his chin, feeling the comfortable weight of Simon's arm come to drape over my waist and onto Johnny's. I can hear the sound of them kissing goodnight over my head, and it warms my heart even more than I thought I would.

Sandwiched between the two of them, I doze off again.

a/n: hi guys! I felt bad leaving you on a cliffhanger with that last one, so here's part 9 :) thank you so much to everyone for the kind words and support, both on posts and through messages, it does mean a lot 🧡 - lapetitelapin x

#cod #cod fanfic #ghoap x reader #fanfic #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #johnny x oc x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #ghost x oc x soap

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napakmahal · 4 months

Text

My Way Of Life (L.E.S pt. 2)

I would like to point out the I didn’t realize I should have written a part 2 L.E.S but here we go pookies

After getting walked in on by your not-boyfriends little brother, best friend and robot it was hard to think about what it is your life had come to. Where you and Tadashi dating? What if he didn’t want to date you? Maybe he just liked loving on you like you were his girlfriend but he didn’t want a girlfriend. It was possible, people did it all the time. The rest of the day you remained pretty silent, until you got home and decided to try and call him. Recap what had just happened.

He didn’t pick up, but no big deal you guys were friends so double calling wasn’t an issue. But he didn’t pick up that time either. That’s when the inevitable and desperate question popped into your head; Were you just meant to be a secret? Something to laugh off? No way- Tadashi was so sweet and honest there’s no way he would do that to you.

But was he more sweet than honest? Was he so sweet he didn’t want to hurt your feelings so he’d rather ghost you than pick up your FaceTimes? This very minor and awkward situation had you questioning all your years of friendship with him and your feelings about him.

——————————————————————————

Across town, in the small house above the closed Lucky Cat Café Tadashi had set off to do some damage control. Normally by then he’d be asleep or wishing you goodnight but not tonight. Tonight he’d been on a group FaceTime call with all his friends and his little brother listening sitting at the kitchen table next to him. All six of them having a striking conversation.

“Guys its not a big deal.” He rubbed his head his friends spin on 20 million questions.

“NOT A BIG DEAL?!” Gogo practically screeched through the phone while taking off her rice water face mask. “T, it is a big deal.”

While moisturizing his dreads Wasabi butt in, “I would like to add that I am indeed a victim.”

“As am I!” Hiro shouted. “Seriously, you disgust me!”

Tadashi gave his little brother the finger before retuning back to their conversation. “I mean, what do you want me to say?”

Honey Lemon looked up from painting her nails. Her blonde hair pushed up in a floppy bun. “Umm we want you to explain!”

“Dead-ass, man. Whatever happened to ‘nah y/n, she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just hanging out.’” Fred was sitting on his bed, holding his phone hovering above his face.

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend. We never talked about stuff like that. Just figured she was happy with what we were doing and I didn’t want to ruin that.” He reasoned. In his mind, bringing up the idea of a monogamous committed relationship to a girl he wasn’t even sure wanted to date him sounded like social suicide. For all he knew you could never have wanted a boyfriend to begin with!

Wasabi wrapped his hair up, “Do you want her to be your girlfriend?”

“W-well,” Tadashi was stuttering. Of course he wanted her to be his girlfriend. He’d nearly lost his mind planning their entire future in his head once the very first time she kissed his cheek.

On a particularly pathetic Valentines day a few years ago, Tadashi was wallowing in front of all his single friends. ‘I’ve been dating since I was 16, this is so depressing. Where is she?!’ And after he met you he was sure you were ‘she’.

But it was complicated. If he said it out loud, would he get his hopes up? Would she eventually find out and then never want to speak to him again? Questions, questions, questions.

“Okay fine!” He aggressively ran his fingers through his freshly washed black hair. “Yes, I want to be her boyfriend and take her out on dates and love her forever. Yes I do!”

The call and the room went dead with silence at the loud confession so dramatic you’d think he was getting proposed to. Until of course Hiro put on a disgusted face and nearly gagged. “Holy shit, ew!”

“You’re ew!” Tadashi snapped back. “What are you even doing up still, go to bed! Your brain has not yet fully developed and you need little boy sleep. Go!”

Hiro eventually did go upstair to their shared bedroom but the group was not done talking.

“Wait okay,” Honey popped. “After you guys got caught, did you talk about it at all?”

“After it happened she just laughed and went home.” He explained.

“Well did you call her?”

Tadashi shrugged, “No. She called me earlier but I was in the bathroom.”

Fred’s face contorted with curiosity. “Did you call her back?”

“No, I called you guys first.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

“T, THAT’S SO BAD!”

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT?”

“I’M NOT THE BRIGHTEST BULB IN THE BOX BUT EVEN I KNOW BETTER”

They’d bombarded him with loud expressions of anger and disbelief. I mean how could he? You called him twice- not once-twice. And he still didn’t call you back. How could someone as smart as him make such a stupid decision?

“T, are you on drugs?” Gogo asked aggresivly. “Like genuinly.”

“No, Go. I’m not on drugs.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “Because your logic sounds like someone who’se been smoking a little too much jazz cabbage.”

Damn. Had he really fucked up that badly? The truth is, Tadashi didn’t call you back because he was scared of why you were trying to call him. But the more he thought about that the more he realized Gogo was right. Had he tripped and gotten poked with a used needle on the streets? This didn’t even feel like something he would do. Whenever you and him had to talk to each other you’d just go out and say it. And he’s the one who made sure you’d never keep things from each other.

He felt like such a moron. All his brain cells full of knowledge on how to combined chemical structures, and apply the laws of physics in all situations were proving to be completely and utterly USELESS!

Later that night once the call had ended and the whole house was quiet, Tadashi decided to send you a text. It being so late he hadn’t really expected you to answer and yet you did.

T: Hey, sorry about today. I know it was super awkward.

Y: It’s cool, don’t worry about it.

T: I feel really shitty about today so how about I take you out. Tomorrow, will you let me buy you dinner?

Y: As long as you let me buy you dessert

Finally, something the both of you could feel good at. For Tadashi it was nice to know you didn’t hate his guts and never want to see his face ever again. And for you, it was nice that he reached out first letting you know that he did not cast you aside once you’d been found out.

Before he went to bed that night, Tadashi looked at his wrapped finger and smiled at it.

——————————————————————————

This was turning out to be torture. The dinner plans you two had made the night before that had once made you feel good about the whole situation were now the very same plans that had you staring into your glass of lemon water like your life depended on it.

Tadashi wanted to throw up- no he was going to throw up. You two had been seated for nearly 5 minutes and nobody said anything. But you looked so pretty. To him you were always pretty but something about the whole situation made him feel like singing you a Frank Sinatra song. But it’s not like this was a date…right? Nope- just two friends having dinner. That’s it.

You couldn’t do this anymore. It was like all the air was just sucked out of the room. You needed to talk about what happened but how could you? In public? With people around and where the waiter could just come in to check up on you. You wanted to go home, but you wanted Tadashi to come home with you. You just weren’t sure if he wanted to.

“So how was your day?” He managed to squeeze out without puking.

You quickly replied. “Good.”

“Oh that’s good.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

To you, his seasick face made you think you were disgusting him. Like he’d only offered to buy you dinner out of obligation. ‘Sorry I chewed on your face in front of brother and best friend, here let me take you out to dinner so I don’t feel bad about never speaking to you again.’ But even to your insecurities that sounded ridiculous, so you decided to test the waters.

“Are you okay?” You leaned over and touched his hand. “You look sick.”

Once you’d touched his hand it felt like you’d shot ice cold water into his veins. Shocked, but maybe it was a good shocked. If you were touching him you still mut have cared or tolerated him in one way or another.

“I’m fine, it’s just…awkward.” He honestly communicated.

You couldn’t argue with that. This was beyond awkward. In fact if you looked up the word awkward in the dictionary you’d probably find a snapshot of this dinner.

“Bad awkward or good awkward?”

Shit, what answer did you want him to give?

“Uhh I’m not sure. What do you think?” Smooth T, reeaall smooth.

You ran your finger against the rim of your water glass. “Bad, I mean we haven’t really been talking this whole time.”

“Yeah this is weird.” He admitted. You guys were always talking. About everything and anything.

“Unless,” Damnit y/n just rip the band aid off. “You don’t want to talk to me.”

Tadashi felt his stomach gurgle. Oh no. “What? Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”

“Well, you didn’t call me back yesterday and when I got here you barely looked at me.”

All incredibly valid points. God he was such an idiot. Grown ass man, acting the way he was acting.

“I’m so sorry, love. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.” He plopped his head in his hands adn that was when you’d finally had enough of this game of kiddie tug-of-war. If you didn’t ask it now, you’d never ask it later.

“Tadashi,” You placed your elbows on the table and looked directly at him. “Do you not like me?”

In the amount of time it took you to ask that question Tadashi had gone from wanting to puke, to wanting to cry. He scooted his chair over to yours and grabbed both of your hands. “What are you talking about? Y/n, of course I like you.”

“But you wouldn’t even call me? The second I officially stopped being a secret you didn’t want to talk to me. What was I supposed to think?”

“I didn’t call you because I thought you didn’t want to hear from me. Not because I don’t like you.” He confessed. “I thought you were only calling to get rid of me, so I called my friends back and asked them what to do about it. Please baby, I am so sorry I made you feel that way.”

You didn’t say anything after that confession. In fact you didn’t need to. You just placed your forehead onto his and rubbed your nose against his. Your waiter had walked by trying to collect your guys’s orders but hastily walked away when she noticed you were having quite the moment. The anxiety you had about having such a deep conversation like the one you just did in public had suddenly just disappeared.

“You know,” You whispered. “Sometimes I feel like I hate everyone in the world but you.”

“That’s not healthy.” He whispered back.

You laughed in each others faces for what felt like forever in the middle of the restaurant before deciding to leave without ordering anything. You two weren’t all that hungry. But as soon as you walked outside, Tadashi’s body betrayed him and he puked in a trashcan on the side of the street.

“Oh my god are you okay?” You rubbed his back while he retched.

With his hand held over his mouth he admitted, “I’m so sorry it’s not you, hun. I’ve just been holding that in for the past twenty minutes.”

And yes, that very same night Tadashi did ask-beg- to be your boyfriend. You obviously said yes. And obviously, Hiro was going to stuff his bed with different shaped pillows to make it look like he wasn’t spending the night at your place.

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #hiro hamada #tadashi hamada #bh6 x reader #disney #fanfic #hiro hamada x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #napakmahal #frank sinatra #L.E.S

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ghoulystay · 9 months

Text

A mission of confession.

A König and Y/N story.

Smut.

18 and over readers.

Mature themes.

Female reader.

Some romance.

"I can't do this, I need you." You blurted out loud.

You and König were on a job, a very important and dangerous mission. The two of you were the most skilled for these kinds of dangerous jobs. The two of you were appointed to assassinate a high-risk, dangerous individual. Every single time you were partnered with König something in you awakened, it felt like a fire that couldn't be put out. You had incredibly and utterly fell head over heels for that man. Everything he did was a massive turn-on for you. Did he realize it? Maybe. Who knows! Because every time he was around you or with you, he was all business, he was always serious and quiet. It only turned you on even more. You enjoyed how mysterious this man was. You and König had been on this mission for about a few months now, and the mission was at its peak of being over. He had discovered this abandoned shack where he had decided for the two of you to rest up for the next day. It was always a stressful and tiring job, but being close to König made it so much worth it.

That night.

The whole day, you were contemplating whether or not to finally confess your true feelings to König. Should you? You kept going over it and over it in your mind.

König was on the outside of the shack, keeping a look out. You look at him from inside through the small window, and you decide to go outside to him. Step by step, you begin feeling the nerves hit you, but it's now or never, and can you really live with not telling him forever? You approach him slowly. He faces you but doesn't say anything. (Awkward) You break the silence. "König, um, sir, I need to speak with you." At first nothing, but then he says okay and motions to head inside where you follow.

Once inside.

He stands at a distance from you. You break the awkward silence in the air first. "Um, I've been really wanting to tell you, or I mean confess something to you." He says nothing if there's anything you learned about König was his intensity. He could make you feel weak with just his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. You continued on. "Look König, I.. have feelings for you... not just in innocent terms but romantically.." The air felt so thick. His silence was killing you, which made you super nervous. He finally spoke. "Since when?" He asked. You're surprised by his question. For a second, you thought he was going to brush it off and return to his post outside. "Since the very first day I seen you, König." He goes silent again, then you notice him approach you. Now inches from each other. "That makes two of us, Engel." He closes the gap between you as he picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist. He pins you against the wall. "May I?" You ask, with your hand on his mask hinting, if you can remove it. "Do it." He demands. You throw his mask on the floor, König kisses you, the kiss is desperate, and full of hunger. Tongues in each other's mouths, he breaks the kiss, looking at you. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks. (How sweet of him.) You giggle. "Of course, I want nothing more." With that, he gently puts you down on the sleeping bag. He strips you from your clothes as he does the same afterward. His body is so toned and muscular that you would think he was made by the gods. His dick was perfect, and just as you imagined. He gets on top of you, spreading your legs before entering inside you he kisses you. "Beg for it." He demands. You're taken aback, but enjoy it so much. "Fuck me, please." That's all it takes for him to be inside of you, you moan loudly. He thrusts hard, the rhythm fast, taking your breath away. His grunts, with each thrust, turn you on more and more. He pulls out, and you look confused but say nothing. "Turn around, Engel." Without hesitation, you're on all fours. He enters you from behind. You let out a moan. He feels so good, König grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it back. His thrusts are dirty and hard. "Cum for me, baby, scream..my name." He says. You bite your bottom lip. You've never had anyone fuck you so good before. Heavy grunts, moans, and slapping noises fill the inside of the shack. You don't want it to end. He slaps your ass, and you gasp, but tell him again. You feel your climax approaching. "Oh... König..i'm gonna..cu..m." You're breathing escalating. You moan louder and louder. He mumbles words in German as his thrusts get deeper and faster. "Tell me your mine, my Schatz." He says. As he's close to climaxing inside you. You moan so loud that you scream the words. "I'M YOURS!!!" And just like that, you both climax together.

Afterward.

You were both laying in each other's arms. You rest your head on his chest. There was a thought going through your mind now. "Did he really mean to be his? Or was that just in the moment? You had to know. You raised your head up to look at him, and by your surprise, he's still awake. "Whats on your mind?" König asked. As if he read your mind. You take a breath. "So.. what does this make us?" He chuckles. "You're mine, y/n, unless you don't want to be." You could kind of see the sadness in his eyes after he finished that last sentence. "Yes, I would love to be your girl, König." You give him a peck on the lips. He looked relieved and happy. You lay your head back on his chest, and he kisses the top of your head as he lets a breath of relief out. "My, Engel." He says. You feel so lucky. You and König drift off to sleep. Tomorrow is another busy and hectic day, but this time will be different. You and König are more than working partners. You are partners. Lovers. Soul mates. He is your protector and the love of your life.

The End.

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