#simon is whipped; confirmed !! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lethalchiralium · 5 months

Text

“Out out out out out- Come here, you-“

His dog took off from the front porch, Soap snapping angrily at him for snatching a some chicken bones from the basket Simon just brought in. He watched his Collie prance along the yard, jaw settled on the biggest bone he found.

“The wife’s not gonna like that.” Simon muttered as he joined his husband on the porch, holding their daughter with one hand - letting her face the farm with a cute face of delight. She cooed, little hands opening and closing as she watched her dog go nuts in the grass.

Soap frowned, knowing if he tried to retrieve the bone he’d lose a hand, but if he didn’t retrieve the bone he’d lose his head. He wasn’t keen on their wife being angry at him, she had a nice day training her horses and counting the sheep; no need to piss her off. “She’s got bone broth to make.”

“She does.” Simon confirmed, hiking the little baby up on his chest to keep her close to his face. “Babe’s getting hungry.”

“Looks it too.” Soap glanced to his side, spying his daughter beginning to chew on his husband’s finger. “Gotta get that damn bone.”

He chuckled a little. “Shadow!” The black Collie instantly turned his head towards Simon, who pulled his hand from his daughter’s mouth to point to his foot. “Here.”

Soap rolled his eyes, turning and grabbing his baby as the mutt ran and laid down at Simon’s feet. He kissed his daughter’s blonde hair, keeping her dress nice and flat as he moved back into the cabin. The fire was low in the fireplace, Simon’s knives left abandoned on the table beside the now out of reach basket of chicken bones. He’s got an awake baby in his hands, he knows she’s getting hungry by her little grunts and coos that she is going to be pissed soon. Simon walked in and to the basket, tossing the wiped clean bone into it before placing it higher on a bookshelf.

“Miss Claire,” Soap cooed to his baby, her little face looked up to him with a toothless grin. “Mum’ll be home soon. Ye'r nae gonnae starve.”

“You still goin’ with Laswell to town tomorrow?” Simon commented, hand gently patting Shadow before he opened a drawer, grabbing the silverware he had made years ago. “We need more grain for the-“

“Horses, I know.” He sighed, looking over to the blond as he set the table for three. Soap settled in his chair, letting his baby gnaw on his finger. “Ya sure ya dinnae wanna come?”

Simon chuckled a little. “Got Claire to watch. Mum’s gonna want to bathe the babe and the dog tomorrow, she needs hands.”

“More hands make less work.”

“Especially with the damn dog.” A pause, Soap didn’t even have to look to know Simon was staring down their shepherd dog. “Yes you, ya mutt. Go outside and wait for Mum.”

There was the scratching of the dog’s claws as he bounded back outside, barking happily as you walked in, hands dragging down your dirtied dress with a smile. Claire cooed in Soap’s grasp, Simon’s hand gently brushed through his husband’s hair. The dog followed you as you closed the front door, then to your dirt dusted husbands. A kiss to both their lips, then one to the blonde hair of your baby.

“Did ya want me to cook?” Simon murmured as Soap pressed kisses to your cheek, you pulled away from him and your daughter to stretch your arms above your head.

“You’d set the cabin on fire.”

“She’s right, Si-“

“Shut up.”

“Simon, baby, get my dress.” You turned your back, he instantly began to loosen your corset upon your request. “Just wanna feed the baby and go to bed.”

“Gotta eat, love.” Soap’s hand settled on your leg, big smile on his face. “At least you do.”

You nodded, gazing at your happy baby in his lap. “I’ll feed ‘er after Simon burns the house down.” Simon tugged on the strings of your corset, making you wobble on your feet. You whipped your head around to see him smirk. “Don’t be trouble, Simon, it doesn’t end well.”

“‘Course it doesn’t.” He glanced up to you before he pulled your dress down your front - you gasped, Soap suddenly stood to take your baby away. “Trouble is what made that little one, Little Bird.” You were spun around, callused hands picked you up and brought you the few feet to the massive bed in the adjacent room - Simon placed you in the middle of the bed, yanking off your dress and leaving you in your chemise and stockings. Yet, he didn’t pursue what he usually would - instead, he kissed your lips and smiled. “I’ll make dinner. Rest.”

Soap instantly appeared, bouncing around little Claire in her dress that once matched yours. He smirked, gazing at your shocked expression. “Dinna worry, we’ll ravage ya when the babe’s asleep.”

#montana moonshine series #montana moonshine #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #johnny soap mactavish x f!reader

591 notes · View notes

ceilidho · 10 months

Text

forced throuple (soap/ghost/reader)

i've been ruminating on this idea for awhile, that basically after the Alone campaign and after getting out of Las Almas, Ghost more or less decided that Soap is his person. sort of like his pack. and it's only obvious that anyone Soap considers family would also get lumped into his pack as well.

Ghost doesn't keep very many people close - even those that he considers close (Price, Gaz, Roach, etc), he keeps at something of a distance. this is exemplified by the way he still clings to the possibility of betrayal (like telling Soap that "people you trust can hurt you the most"), but after Las Almas, I think something flips in him.

There's a switch that's been off for years, maybe even close to a decade, and it flips back online when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes and it twists something in his chest. I don't think he would've even had something like that before, definitely not during his youth when he was still overcoming his childhood trauma and certainly not after everything that lead up to Simon becoming Ghost.

I don't even think Ghost would be particularly upset if Soap came back from leave one day with a girlfriend; he trusts Soap's judgment completely. And once he sees her for himself, pretty as pie tucked under his sergeant's arm (all small and doe eyed, smart as a whip when she opens her mouth), all that does is confirm his assumption.

It takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost's brain to file her under "mine", slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn't that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny.

Soap would be distinctly uncomfortable at first. There's a fine line between having Ghost's undivided attention (and oh, he eats it up at first, struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy for being Ghost's favourite and abject curiosity/horror) and having Ghost's....complete....undivided....attention.

Like Soap just wants to parade his new girlfriend around (she's sweet but snippy, everything he's ever wanted in a partner) in front of his colleagues, but then Ghost gropes her ass in front of everyone on base (because by then, Ghost has already started to think of the two of them as 'his' in his head) and Soap just stares, mouth dry, absolutely humiliated but no idea what to do (he's just thinking over and over again, "Do I tell him to stop, what do I DO??")

Because Ghost is his buddy, his best friend, his CO - Soap trusts Ghost implicitly, would put his whole life in his hands and know that Ghost would keep him safe.

So he doesn't get it at first? Maybe he thinks Ghost is actually interested in his girlfriend and it wrecks him because Soap can see himself really falling for this girl, but Ghost is also like - he's a part of him. He probably briefly does consider just letting Ghost have her, conceding defeat.

Ghost would correct that assumption soooo quick. There isn't a version of him that wants someone who doesn't also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they've been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Soap wants - he almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny's thoughts into his.

Like Soap genuinely likes having all of Ghost's attention on him because he's a bit of an attention whore but it's a bit different when his LT is holding his head down into his girlfriend's pussy and telling him exactly how to rub his tongue over her clit.

Worse because Ghost's hand curls around his cock when he guides him through it, slick with lube. Almost too tight at first, clearly mimicking the way Simon likes to jerk himself off, even though Johnny prefers a slightly looser grip, a little slower, more indulgent.

Worse still when Ghost positions Soap over her, big hands on his hips and Soap has never felt like he had narrow hips until this very second. Lube drizzled over the furl of his entrance and his head spinning, staring down into his girlfriend's eyes as she watches the two of them wide eyed, still so anxious and it makes him want to sooth her, coo down at her that he's got her and everything's going to be just fine, but that thought is snipped right out of him when Simon lines himself up and presses in and his vision just goes white.

This whooollleeeee au is basically "when a bigger, stronger guy hits on ur gf but it's ok bc he also wants to plow u (her boyfriend)"

#cod x reader #soap x reader #soap mctavish #ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #ceil writing #ghost/soap/reader

662 notes · View notes

undeadcannibal · 11 months

Note

Hey thought of some cute and funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz and Price teaching their s/o on how to make a “proper cup of tea.”

Summary: Ghost, Gaz, and Price show their S/O how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Ghost, Gaz, Price

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I hope I didn’t botch this one. OTL Hopefully y’all enjoy ‘em! ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost―

Depression was a bitch. Even the simplest things like making food for yourself turned into arduous tasks. Much like today. You were trying to get something - anything, really - into your system just so you didn't feel even worse later on.

Grabbing a mug, you filled it with tap water and set it aside on the counter so you could rummage around through your selection of teas. While you were browsing, you could hear Ghost entering the kitchen thanks his heavy booted footfall, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder.

"Hey, hon."

Ghost nodded silently as he strode over so he could place a kiss to the top of your head.

"Doin' alright, love?"

Pursing your lips, you hesitated responding before eventually shaking your head. "Not really, no. Having one of those days, I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "Nothin' to be sorry for."

Looking over towards the counter, he gestured to it silently with a jut of his head. "Making a cuppa?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I was looking through the teas just now."

"What'd you settle on?"

"Mm," You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe some Earl Grey?"

You watched Ghost squint his eyes down at you, causing you to laugh softly. "What? Don't tell me..."

Ghost's chest puffed up as he took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly as he nodded his head eventually. "No offense, love, but I know when you're not feeling well you tend to throw things into the microwave more."

"I'm 'fraid I can't let you do that. Let me take care of it. I'll make one for myself, too."

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you nodded your head in agreement anyway.

"Fine, fine." Snorting softly, you'd also comment. "Brits and their tea." Shaking your head for good measure.

Reaching around, Ghost delivered a light pinch to your backside, pleased with himself once he saw you jump and yelp in response. Smacking your smaller fists against his hard chest. "Watch your mouth, brat."

Afterwards, he walked away so he could grab the kettle he brought over just because he preferred it over other methods.

"Here," After he filled the kettle with water, he placed it on the stove top to heat up. "I'll teach you how to make proper tea."

Feeling a little better with Simon's company and attention, you couldn't help but nod and smile at him. "Yes Chef~"

Gaz―

"What tea did you wanna brew again?" Kyle asked as he picked out cups for each of you; his was a royal blue with a union jack on it, yours was molded after a black cat with the tail curled up for the handle.

"Oolong, please."

He nodded and took the loose leaf tea bag out, choosing his own shortly after while you took care of putting water into the kettle, setting it aside for it to boil. While you waited for the water to heat up, you walked over to him, pressing yourself into his back as your arms wrapped him up in a loose hug.

"Doin' alright, dove?"

"Mhm." You nodded against him only to jump shortly afterward when you heard the kettle going off, causing him to laugh at you.

Reluctantly pulling away, you'd reach over to take off the kettle from the heat. Readying it to pour straight into your mug before Kyle called out to you.

"Wait!"

Your eyes widened as you halted in mid-air, whipping your head to look at Gaz like he was a mad man. "What? What's wrong?" You asked in a concerned tone, shaking your head at him.

"You're brewing Oolog tea, right?" He waited for you to nod in confirmation before carrying on. "You've gotta let the water cool for a bit before adding it in. Over-boiled water will make the taste turn a bit off. Also," As he rummaged around in the drawer for something, he'd pull out a thermometer shortly after, smirking at you cheekily. "You've gotta let it brew for two to three minutes."

Staring at him with a deadpan expression, you couldn't help but sigh.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Kyle shook his head. " 'Fraid not, love. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

"It's just tea!" You exclaimed with a chuckle. "I doubt the difference in taste is that noticeable."

"We'll see about that." He'd reply as he took the liberty of checking the temperature of the water.

You ended up just letting him do whatever he wanted so he didn't fuss over how you made tea.

After the two of you were done, you didn't really taste much of a difference than how you'd normally make it, but for his sake, you acted as if it was the best damn cup of tea you'd ever had. Taking pleasure in seeing him light up with pride at his success.

Price―

"How do you take your tea, sweetheart?"

You were currently making breakfast for the two of you while he tended to the tea. In the time you'd spent together, you'd learned that when he wasn't busy with work, he tended to prefer having tea over coffee when he could.

"Um," Scrambling the eggs in the pan, you hesitated in answering. "I guess sweet is fine?"

"Just... sweet?" John asked, turning to look at you with an amused expression on his face.

Meeting him with a glance of your own, you squinted your eyes at him as if daring him to say something. "Yeah? Don't tell me you prefer unsweetened tea." You teased.

John shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Leaning back against the counter. "No, no. Not sure how they do things in the States, but we've a few ways to make a cuppa here."

"For example," He continued, gesturing vaguely towards the empty cups waiting on the counter top. "The kind I prefer has a bit of milk to it, few bits o' sugar as well."

"Oooh," You laughed softly, stirring the eggs in the pain as you joked with him. "My apologies, Gordon Ramsay, apparently I forgot to brush up on my tea knowledge."

Huffing, he'd glance off to the side with a disbelieving shake of his head. "The nerve of this one..." He mumbled to himself with a smile.

"I'm just saying," He'd begin, pushing himself off the counter so he could step over to stand in front of you. Towering over you with the height difference between the two of you. "Your poor taste buds deserve better, dear."

"Pfft, get out of here!" You laughed, waving at his face with your free hand. Before your hand fell to your side, he captured your wrist in a gentle hold, pulling it towards his face so he could kiss the back of your hand. The rough scrape of his facial hair coaxing a shiver to course up your spine.

"Never~" He spoke against your hand before he began to kiss his way up your arm. Stopping once he was close enough to you he could whisper just loud enough for you to hear. "Let me make you a right cuppa?"

How could you ever say no to that?

#call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #opened mail #anonymous #requests #my writing

549 notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 8 months

Note

Mission gone wrong ?

Where reader and ghost are stuck in Oymyakon during winter,freezing in the snow waiting for backup?

ahhhh anon! thank you so much for this request!! i love the idea so much (like cmon who wouldn’t want to be stuck w simon in a cabin)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: After the mission goes completely south, you and Ghost are left trudging through the wintery landscape of Oymyakon. When you finally arrive in the comfort of a secluded cabin, you two try to make light of the situation.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"Just a little bit further," Ghost encouraged as you trudged through the meter-high snow. His voice echoed across the frozen landscape. As far as the eye could see, there were sparse trees coated in a heavy blanket of snow and ice. Getting away from the guns and snowmobiles was half the battle but now you were making the expedition to this fabled safe house. Out of all the missions you had with him, of course, this one had to go to absolute shit. "That's what you said 30 minutes ago," you mumbled, following in his large footprints. You had lost feeling in your lower extremities and you wondered how he could continue. With every step, you could feel pins and needles shoot through your sore body. Your breath felt harsh on your knitted balaclava and you secretly envied the many layers of fabric and silicone of Ghost's infamous mask. "If you quit complaining, it'll make the journey quicker," he said and you could tell the bastard had a smirk on his face. "God I hate Oymyakon."

Eventually, you could see a small cabin on the edge of your vision. "A mirage in the cold desert," you could hear Ghost joke and you picked up the pace. "Price did say this was isolated," you said through your chattering teeth, finally seeing the full picture of the home in arm's reach. You gripped the cold padlock in your gloved fingers and inputted the memorized set of coded numbers. Ghost shoved the iced-over door and gave way into the darkened, freezing cabin. "Home sweet home," you joked half-heartedly as you checked the bare-bones setup. Safe houses were all the same, only having the most simple of necessities and furnishings. As Ghost rummaged for a life-saving space heater, you looked through the cabinets to see if there were any food or hand warmers. The metal handle felt frigid on your fingertips and you saw two sizable mugs at home on the empty shelf.

"How romantic," Ghost said behind you and you jumped at the sudden baritone of his voice, "You gonna make us some tea?" You rolled your eyes at his typical British humor. "Maybe, if you got that space heater working," you replied and he gestured exaggeratedly to the small glowing machine that lit up the living room. "Speaks for itself," he smirked and you rolled your eyes before brushing past him to warm yourself. You took off your frozen boots and shook out your socks and jacket before you were left in your thermals under your gear. You could hear Ghost rummaging around in the adjacent bedroom before returning with two blankets. "No clothes but I do have these," he said and held up the flannel blankets. You nodded and he added his outerwear and gear next to yours.

As you sat wrapped in your blankets, you watched the snowfall and wind whip through the air. "If we weren't stuck here, this would actually be nice," you smiled as you stretched out your fingers in front of the space heater. "I got a cabin up in the Isle of Sky," he mentioned, "if we make it out of here, remind me to take you there." You beamed up at him and nodded eagerly at the offer. "That's in Scotland, right?" you asked and he let out a small grunt in confirmation. "This isn't some boy's cabin you and Soap share, right?" you questioned and he chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. "Fuckin' hell, I'd never," he swore, "just something I bought with a Lieutenant's salary." You thought for a moment before responding to his initial offer. "Well then, is that an offer for a romantic getaway, Lt?" you questioned and he quickly looked away from you. Despite the dim lighting of the room, you could see the subtle hint of pink on his ears. "Depends, hopefully evac gets here before we freeze to death." You shared a dry laugh as you continued to look out the window.

Before you knew it, the sun had set over the horizon and your body began to shut down from the day's events. You tried to suppress your yawn in your blanketed arm but Ghost noticed your small action. "You should sleep, there's one bed in the room over there," he gestured as you laughed softly. "Only one bed?" you smirked and you could almost hear his eye roll. "Not the time," he mumbled before he moved his hand in dismissal, "I'll keep the first watch." You got up slowly and dragged the blanket behind you. You reached the doorway and turned to him, wishing him a quiet goodnight. As you settled into the warm sheets, you turned to face the doorway and smiled as you saw Ghost perched over the small heater. If there was anything that was motivating you to survive, it was the potential to spend a weekend in a snowy cabin with Simon and no threat of danger.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #mw2 #izzie is writing

291 notes · View notes

ineylesian · 9 months

Note

hey!!!

I was wondering, how would Ghost react to the reader scolding him?? like, something happens that disrupts the mission and it's his fault and the reader scolds him, not aggressively, but still I would like to know Ghost's reaction

Also, the idea that he and the reader have a romantic relationship but he's still a bit strict :)

(I used the translator to write all this!! sorry if there are any translation errors, English is not my native language :D)

WALK AWAY FROM THE SUN

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X READER

— AO3 | MASTERLIST | EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 3k

— WARNINGS | canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of weapons, arguments, mentions of trauma.

— SUMMARY | you often meet ghost at his shortcomings, but nothing serious as this has yet to happen.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | tysm for the request 🫶🫶 i wanted to expand on this just a lil but made sure to keep the original prompt, i hope you enjoy!! hope the scolding isn’t too strict :)

Ghost thinks he’s having trouble breathing.

He doesn’t know if it’s because of the worry sanctioning in his chest, or the bullet lodged in his ribs. It takes a few seconds, he breathes, and a slightly ragged puff of air crawls its way back up his esophagus. Shallow wounds never hurt him, but ones that fester in the mind nearly paint his vision black.

It was a bad mission, destined to go wrong the moment Price laid out the plan. Too many HVTs to secure in such a dangerous zone, touched down in a land similar to post scorched earth. Calls of concern were dismissed by Shepherd, this mission was too important to let go, and they were to complete it, no matter the cost.

Nevertheless, things went south, fast. Nearly an entire squad of foot soldiers dead in under one hour, and only 2 out of 4 targets eliminated. It wasn’t long before Price called in evac, the mission’s end along with it. There was always time again to try again. Until the screaming started, and Ghost was nowhere to be found.

It was capture or kill, and it was certain no one was getting captured at this rate. You’d seen it all, the look he gave Price as he was getting into contact with Shepherd, and the miniscule shake of his head as he tightened his gear. The screams were yours, are you out of your fucking mind?-- hair whipping against the wind as you watched him disappear into the flames, yelling for the pilot to touch down.

Any sane soldier would have shaken their head and waved to confirm exfil, but this was nothing near normal. The 141’s purpose isn’t sanity, it’s loyalty. Price wasn’t going to allow himself to lose more than one soldier, and it was apparent that you were leaving with or without his permission. He strapped a tracker to your vest before you jumped.

Ghost wasn’t expecting to get shot. Maybe the adrenaline kicked in too early, or maybe the opportunity was just too good. The last two HVTs right in his line of sight, running through the open, unarmed.

Or so he thought.

He sits slouched against a wall, the hand clamped over the bullet’s entryway growing progressively more damp as the minutes pass. He should’ve expected someone with a target on their back to run around with a gun, anything lethal, even, especially after watching his friend’s jugular fly from his neck. Pointed a gun and blindly shot. A rookie mistake that put him and his whole squad at risk because of some halfhearted words Shepherd hammered into his head.

He believes in no matter completely. Maybe that’s where he comes short.

Frankly, Ghost isn’t even worried about the lingering pain in his abdomen, or the fact that the last target escaped. He’s worried about the person coming to find him. Something in the back of his head grows into a throbbing pain in the frontal lobe and he closes his eyes, hoping it’s not you that’s coming.

Who could he be kidding? Of course you were going to come for him. You always did, and always will. It’s a danger that follows when you happen to love someone you run into the frontlines with. Something that was going to get one of you killed one day, purely because he knows he’d do the exact same thing.

Ghost curses under his breath. You’re just like him sometimes, blindsided and hard headed as they come.

Falling debris and the thud of boots join the rasp that serves as his breathing. You’re here, and it looks bad, worse than he expected. Your eyebrows are knit tightly together, and he can see the dribble of blood that rolls down your chin due to how hard you bite your gums. Your skin is laced with sweat, and you’re panting, hard.

He’s only been bleeding out for three minutes. With you here, it feels like an eternity, and the grasps of something much worse than death are holding time still. When he finally shifts his lips to speak, you shove a cloth against his ribcage, hard. All that comes out is a strangled grunt, and he falls silent. No one renders him as speechless as you do.

He hasn’t felt so small since his father. It’s deserving, every last bit of it. He let go of himself and you still came to save him. He should be feeling nothing short of gratitude, yet he only feels as though someone dragged him into the undertow and left him to drown there. The way you refuse to meet his eyes strikes harder than any other bullet, and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do.

All he can feel is the fear that you have instilled in him, and his consciousness slips before he can think of anything else.

—

Forgiveness is a hard thing to earn. In the 141, it seems more rational to die than seek it.

Ghost doesn’t consider death. He’s considered nothing, not since a bullet put him into a coma for a week. In that time, he dreamt of choppy waters and black riptides. The slosh of imaginary waves greeted him more times than your voice did.

He only remembers it once. You asked one of the nurses how he was doing. When she said he’d wake up, you left.

You don’t wait up on people, Ghost knows that. No part of him holds the expectation that you would’ve cared just a little more and stuck around. You knew he’d live, and that was the end of it. You walk away from the sun when it burns you.

When it comes to the battlefield, you’re cold as ice and follow rational orders to a tee. You keep your head on straight until you don’t, because taking care of others feels better than sprinkling soil over an empty grave. The way you think is profound yet humanity never fails to escape you, it’s what dragged you to him, stone-eyed and indifferent on the surface.

People around him always say it’s impossible to get attached in the military. He almost believes them, but he thinks of you and all else fades. Like a moth to a flame, he knows you’d follow his trail into hysteria. He knows it frustrates you, habits such as those are hard to shake. You’ve spent too much time by his side to quit. Couldn’t shake you even if he wanted to.

It reminds him of three years ago, with you curled up beside him in the depths of Syrian mountains. You’d offered him some bourbon for the pain– he’d been stabbed in the leg, covering up with the excuse that it’d help with the cold. You knew how to tempt him, just one drink turning into the whole bottle empty at your feet. Only you could make him succumb to something like that, listening to you ramble on about how careless he was to get stabbed, hours of it, the coziness of you and the blankets drilling static into his head.

Ghost could hold his alcohol better than you. Barely felt a buzz from the drinks in his system. But this.. your head lightly bobbing against his shoulder, haphazardly checking on his bandage before kissing the exposed skin beside it. You were right, his whole body was on fire, so enamored with you, the feeling of home creeping along his skin in short, fatigued breaths.

He vaguely remembers when you turned to your side, hands hot on his pulse and sinking underneath. Everywhere, you were everywhere. You had taken him by storm and the buzz of the bourbon heightened his senses to a point where it was nearly unbearable. It took every fiber of his willpower to listen, straining against the irrevocable hold you had placed on him, fighting to restrain himself.

Amidst the haze, you asked him if he would do something for you. In that state, Ghost thinks he would’ve tried to overthrow the entire planet if you wanted him to. Instead, you uttered something short of ten words, and he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life when he answered.

“Promise me you’ll look out for yourself, Simon.”

Your inquiry seemed small, fragile, and simple to be compliant with in the moment. He shuns himself for failing to remind you of who you were, what you were fighting for, and that looking out for yourself is a restraint only some can hope to afford. It’s a luxury that separates people who want to save the world from those who do.

“Alright, then.”

Drunk or not, he made a promise. Broke it just as easily. He resists the urge to bash his head against the wall as consciousness returns to him, opting to thank the nurse with a few words scribbled on a napkin before disappearing.

As much as he wants to scrub the sickening scent of antiseptic and illness from his skin, Ghost can’t bring himself to visit your room right now. He knows you’ll check the infirmary soon– despite what you say he knows you stop by, even if it’s for a second, yet he opts to leave base regardless if you come to find him or not. He’d rather speak to you when you’re on those terms. Guessing by the freshly washed sweatshirt that sits zipped up to his neck, you probably don’t want him dead.

He’ll cut his losses there.

—

The early hours of the morning creep along the skyline, spilling over the roads below. You walk, dismissing the dull ache in your feet from miles of dug up sidewalk and the scorching ground you had run across some days ago. It’s not long before the breeze picks up the scent of saltwater, light ripples rock calmly against marsh and you sigh.

You knew he’d be here. Always came when tragedy struck and life wasn’t fair. It reminds you of a homage after nights of terror in Urzikstan, peaceful, and nothing else. Somewhere you go when you can’t quite reach the ocean.

Ghost sits with his back to the sun, perched against a dock overlooking the water. Your legs come to a stop, and you stand still, wondering if this was all a mistake. Maybe you should just turn around while you can, run to the safety of a home that only carries a lingering scent of him. Here, the breeze makes you nauseous.

Everything here is riddled with sorrow and buried in tears. The cycle repeats, you think you deserve to cry.

You take a look to the sky and the clouds point you offshore. Saline winds pull you farther and it’s too late to reconsider leaving when your foot creaks against the dock. Ghost catches you in his peripheral, approaching slowly, the distance polarizing. It feels like glass is lodged in your feet. The gap waged feels something like No Man’s Land.

Ghost sits on the edge, one leg hanging over the water while the other sits folded at the knee. You lean against a support beam across from him, one glance and you think you might choke. Flashing rays dawn over the baclava settled over his face, drawing light to the skin bridged above his nose. Eyebags crawl and tear at paint ridden skin, blond eyelashes fluttering against smudged black, over the one part of him that feels normal. Nothing else does.

He stares ahead, umber hues washing over ripples cast by fish in waiting. You feel like you do everytime you come here, except sadness is held back by frustration, boiling underneath your skin and rising to the surface. Moments pass, the breeze dies down and beckons for you to speak.

“You broke your promise.” Pressure settles within your chest. Hurt floods the atmosphere and Ghost’s eyes leave the water. He thinks, you lie in wait, arms crossed defensively over your chest.

“You can’t rely on intoxicated words.”

It’s fair, yet completely unfair at the same time. You know it was an unreasonable thing to ask, came straight from the alcoholic worry that seethed in your mind. Normal people don’t make promises they know they won’t be able to keep. People that care too much ask of them.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

Ghost says nothing. You know he wanted to keep that promise. Held it over his heart for three years, let it slip under his sleeve as all other things do. Something that happens when war is all you know. He knew you, too, but warfare is different from anything else. You understand that.

The smell of antiseptic reeks off of him, the sun licks at black paint and chips crumble. He’s nonchalant on the surface like always, but you know him. Underneath blood stains the hole in his abdomen that put him here. He leans toward it as if pain has become him.

He’s always been like this, body hungry for violence, mind begging for reconciliation. It’s how his mind is wired, shutting doors on people makes them want to close it in another’s face. You learned to coincide with it, but there’s still a line. The fact he crossed it so easily sparks the worry within and you fight the tears that push against your sockets.

Anger resides and reels back in, lapping at the shore and bringing you to your knees. You fear you’ll lose him that way.

It’s all you think about.

“What made you think that was a good idea?” You bark, grasping his chin to face you head on. “You think putting yourself in danger is no big deal, don’t you? Worried everyone sick because of a stupid HVT.”

He sees right through you. Worried me sick, he hears it as he would an echo. It’s a profession of worry, he knows you worry because you love him.

“We all have to make sacrifices.” His response is a dull front, you hear the guilt laced within. “You know that.”

You do. Things stay strict on the battlefield and remain that way. Until it’s him. When there’s Ghost, there’s always Simon. You learned to make that exception because you understood that. Ghost is not afraid to die. Simon is.

“What good are you to anyone if you throw yourself in the line of fire?” You spit, pointer finger snapping to hover above his wound.. “There’s no guarantee that someone will always be able to save you when things go wrong. You know that.”

He knows that, and he knows you.

You know there’s a darkness that lingers within him. It’s inevitable. Something that festers, building up until it’s strong enough to lash out. It’s selfish, cares and waits for no one. A walking death sentence that hangs over his head no matter the value he places in his life. It chases him in his dreams, trails a dark shadow over his head that turns him into the person he fears he’d become. Adapted him so the only thing he feels when he pulls the trigger is recoil.

“We win together, and we fail together, Simon. It’s not your responsibility to change that.”

He hates that side of his head that made him think otherwise. Hates himself more when he makes you worry.

Old habits die hard. It’s not easy to take, the way he knows those parts of him linger. You know when it comes, the front he manages with surgical precision shatters and he breaks down into hysteria because it’s too much for one person to handle.

Regardless, he tries. You love him for that. He loves you because you walked into his life and it gained purpose.

All that’s good in his life comes from you. The first nights in his life he felt welcomed to sleep because you were in bed beside him. Days fly by and he changes. You change with him. The small room he occupies at base doesn’t seem so lifeless anymore because you’re always in it.

He damns the way you smile at him, infectious, a snapshot memory he keeps in his thoughts. Thoughts that draw a compass in his mind that routes home to you.

Every part of him feels selfish for making you feel this way. It tears through him as a knife does and his nerves flay from the heat.

“I’m sorry, lovie.” It feels like he’s suffocating, drawing on the tears that slide down your face and drip onto your hands. He takes dampened skin and holds onto it as if he’ll lose you forever if he lets go. “‘M so sorry that I made you worry. Bastardish thing to do.”

His accent is heavy, dripping with resent and pleading for composure. It’s everything and nothing all at once. Your tears stain his hands and he feels like he always does when things go wrong. Except, it’s always you who quells him in the midst of nightmares. His mind races at the stutter of your breath, hands fumbling to push stray hairs out of your eyes.

“I love you, so much. Wouldn’t ever wanna make you worry, yeah?”

Silence passes for a minute. Seagulls chirp and water sloshes against eroded rocks.

Your eyes peek out from his hands, slotting your arm between his, reaching up. You tug and his mask bunches up at the nose, fingers smoothing over the surface of his skin, warm, grasping for affection. You yearn for his touch and he gives it to you without question.

Ghost tastes of gunpowder and the bask of the sun. It reminds you of home, slightly chapped, never wanting more than what he can give. He’s gentle, canines gently poking against your lips, perfectly still. You sigh inwardly at the feeling, reveling in all that he is until you can breathe no longer.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Your chest heaves, breath leveling with a rough scoff. His eyes crinkle like they do when he notices you packed extra eye black for him. Mouth parted, a ghost of a smile curving at his lips.

“I know, can’t seem to get myself sorted.”

There’s an underlying meaning to it. Passes through like the wind that cards through your hair. Guilt rides the waves, but you don’t want to cry anymore.

You just want to heal. Ghost understands that more than anyone else.

#arqhms #🐚 arqhmssummer23 #call of duty modern warfare #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader

306 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 5 months

Text

I didn’t know that it could be easy

When the wonderful @sentient-trash sent me this beautiful steddie art I knew I needed to write something for it. So why not fix the heartbreak I caused with this ficlet here? Thank you again, Simon, I love your art so much 💜💜

"It has to be perfect, Wayne. Do you hear me? Perfect."

Eddie knows he's overthinking this, obsessing over things that probably won't matter in the end, like the color of the tablecloth or whether the scented candles smell like cinnamon or vanilla. It's just...this is Steve and he needs this to be perfect because Steve deserves nothing less. Eddie almost screwed up this thing between them once, and he's been terrified of doing it again ever since.

It's a miracle and a half that they've made it this far. Their third Christmas as a couple, living together in their cozy apartment with their cat Garfield and their dog Bowie. That they made it to the point where Eddie has a ring hidden between his Dnd dice set, waiting to be placed on Steve's hand if he wants it.

God, what if he doesn't want it?

Because four years ago, Eddie had foolishly pined for Steve. Worst of all, he’d done so after pushing the other man away himself after a drunken night together early in their friendship slash roommateship. At the time, he'd thought his feelings had been one-sided, telling himself he'd done it so he wouldn't lose Steve completely. Eddie had never been the kind of guy you would choose to be with after a quick tumble in the sheets, so why would someone as sweet and funny and gorgeous as Steve?

As he discusses his plans for the evening with his uncle, so goddamn determined to make it the perfect Christmas for his boyfriend, he thinks back to their fight that had almost ended it all. Steve had been with someone else after Eddie had made it clear that their night together had been a drunken mistake and that he wanted them to be friends. Eddie had been dying inside, even as he tried to be happy for Steve. Things had come to a head when Eddie had come home and found Steve and his boyfriend Sam making out on the couch. He had reacted badly and Steve had followed Eddie to his room and confronted him about his behavior.

God, he can still see Steve's face, the tears forming in Steve's eyes as he told Eddie that he couldn't do it anymore, watching Eddie disappear before his eyes. Telling him that he fucking missed him. Steve's boyfriend had interrupted their fight before anything else could be said, and Eddie had left their apartment to wander aimlessly through the night.

"Don't forget the pecan pie, it's his favorite. And the banana ice cream. Yeah, I know I hate banana everything, but it's his guilty pleasure. I made some toffee and caramel beans to put in it and some chocolate topping and whipped cream to go with it, so - I don't know why you’re laughing at me, but I don't have time for this, he'll be back from walking Bowie any minute and I still have to put the presents under the tree. Just. Will you help me make this the best Christmas he'll ever remember? Please?"

He's an anxious mess, and he knows his uncle can tell, because instead of teasing him further, he just confirms in a warm and gruff voice that he will help Eddie make this the best Christmas for his boy. They end the call and Eddie rushes into their shared office and recreation room. It is actually Steve's old room from when they were roommates instead of boyfriends. Nowadays it's used as a guest room when one of their friends or his uncle sleeps over, and as a storage room for all the stuff they don't want lying around the apartment taking up space.

It's also where they keep the Christmas presents.

Eddie carefully carries them over to their Christmas tree and places them underneath it. All except one, which he puts in his pocket. Playing with the simple gold band in his pocket, Eddie couldn't help but think back to that night over three years ago.

He had snuck into their dark apartment, assuming that Steve was staying at Sam's to avoid Eddie. He had decided to tell Steve the truth about his feelings during his long walk, rehearsing what he would say, playing out a hundred different scenarios. Still, he hadn't been prepared to find Steve lying on Eddie's bed, apparently asleep while waiting for him, with Eddie's favorite hoodie clutched to his chest.

The sight had hit him hard, making his breath catch in his lungs and his heart stutter in his chest. He had just stood there for what seemed like hours, watching Steve's sleeping form on his bed. Steve had looked worried, even in his sleep, a slight crease between his eyebrows and the hand holding his sweater had been clenched into a tight fist. His whole body was hunched up as tight as it could be, his knees pressed against his chest as if protecting himself from the cold and empty room. That was what finally made Eddie move.

He went back into the living room and grabbed the afghan off the couch before making his way over to Steve. But as he placed the blanket over the sleeping form, Steve had stirred.

"Eddie?" He had mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep.

Unable to help himself, Eddie had knelt by his side and started to stroke his hair. "Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep, Stevie. We'll talk in the morning, 'kay?"

But when he had tried to get up, he had been stopped by Steve's hand on his arm, his eyes searching Eddie's with surprising clarity. "Stay. Please."

Maybe it was the late hour or the emotional exhaustion. Maybe it was because Eddie had no fight left in him to deny himself or Steve what they both obviously wanted. Maybe it was just the way Steve had looked at him, the memory of the tears in those eyes still clear in Eddie's mind. Whatever it was, Eddie had just slipped out of his jeans before crawling onto the bed right behind Steve, pushing the sheets out from under them to pull them over their heads. With their bodies pressed together and Steve in his arms, they had both fallen asleep.

The next morning they'd woken up late, still tangled under Eddie's blanket. Everything had been warm and hazy, perfect really. When he felt Eddie stir behind him, Steve had rolled over in his arms and they had just looked at each other for a long moment before Eddie had broken the silence between them.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I don't even know where to begin to tell you how sorry I am."

Steve had just taken his hand, his thumb caressing the back of it in small circles, and it had given Eddie the courage to go on.

He told Steve all the things he had been too afraid to say before.

They had talked for a long time. Steve telling him how much he had wanted Eddie that night, drunk or sober, that he had liked him for a while and had hoped they would get together afterwards. But then Eddie had called it a mistake and asked Steve to be friends. So he'd tried, but he'd never gotten over Eddie. Sam had known that Steve was nursing a broken heart when they got together, and after seeing how Eddie had reacted to their relationship and how it had gutted Steve to see Eddie pull away, he had put two and two together. He wished Steve good luck, but said he couldn't wait for Steve to get over someone who clearly wanted him back.

"I fucked up bad, huh?" Eddie had asked with a pained smile, looking at their intertwined hands between them. He couldn't believe that Steve was still here, holding him close and lifting their joined hands to his lips to plant a soft kiss on the back of Eddie's.

"Kind of. But I think we can fix this."

"And how do you suggest we do that, oh wise one?" Eddie had asked, hope blossoming in his chest at the warmth of Steve's smile.

Pulling Eddie impossibly close, Steve whispered against his lips, "Would you just kiss me, you idiot?"

Eddie had never been happier to be called an idiot, as it led to them exchanging soft kisses that soon became more heated, tongues sliding against each other to take each other's moans right out of their mouths.

When they finally stumbled into their kitchen, it was late noon, but that didn't stop them from making breakfast together before spending the day lounging on their couch, exchanging kisses and soft whispers of how happy they were to finally be here.

That day, Eddie had vowed to work hard to never let something so precious slip through his fingers again.

Since then, they'd adopted a grumpy orange-and-white cat with one eye and a mutt, moved Steve's stuff into Eddie's room ("Because that's where we finally got our shit together, Eds"), and Wayne had all but adopted Steve into the Munson family. Robin, Steve's best friend, had taken a little longer to warm up to Eddie because she had a front row seat to Steve's heartbreak thanks to Eddie being an idiot. But she had come around, as had Steve's little brother Dustin, who was away at college, a fact Steve didn't take too well. So Eddie had invited Dustin and his mother, as well as Robin, without telling Steve, hoping it would be the perfect surprise for him.

As if his thoughts had summoned them, the doorbell rang, alerting Eddie to the arrival of his guests. Opening the door with a flourish, he found Dustin and his mother standing there, along with two large suitcases.

"The Hendersons! Welcome to our humble abode, please come in." Eddie greets them cheerfully before leading them into the warm and cozy apartment.

He gets them settled in their guest room and is about to make them both some hot cocoa when the doorbell rings again, this time revealing Robin and his uncle, who happen to have arrived at the same time. They also gather in the kitchen, with Wayne taking over the cocoa duties. They all shove more presents into his arms, which he dutifully places under the tree as well. And in a wider circle around it, because holy shit, that's a lot of presents.

The only thing missing is Steve, who takes their dog for long walks whenever he has the time and hasn't been back yet.

Wayne is in the middle of telling a rather embarrassing story from Eddie's childhood, which the man himself tries to stop, but to no avail, when he is saved by the sound of a key turning in the lock of their front door. Eddie mimes for everyone to be quiet as he makes his way to the door as quickly as possible.

"Stevie, light of my life, you're back!" Eddie calls out in excitement as soon as the door opens to reveal his boyfriend and their dog.

Steve, on his knees letting Bowie off the leash, looks up at Eddie with suspicion. "What have you done now?"

"I'm wounded, Steven. Wounded! Why do you accuse me of some unknown crime before you even give me a kiss?"

Steve grabs Eddie by the collar of his Christmas sweater and pulls him in for a kiss, smiling so hard it can hardly be called that. "Because you get extra loud and dramatic when you're trying to hide something. So what have you been doing?"

"A special Christmas surprise, honey." Mrs. Henderson speaks up, making Steve whip his head around to face her.

"Claudia?" And then his eyes land on the other guests gathered in their kitchen. "Dustin? Robin? What...why? How? I thought you had to spend Christmas with your parents, Robs?"

"That was all Eddie. He arranged for all of us to come here and spend the evening with you. I have to leave later to drive over to my parents, but not for another four hours or so."

After hearing Robin's words, Steve slowly turns back to Eddie, and this time the tears in his eyes are from happiness, not heartbreak.

"Eddie," is all he says before he slams into him, his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his face nestled in his favorite spot just above Eddie's collarbone. "I love you." Steve whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

"I love you too, Stevie," Eddie whispers back, right into Steve's ear, the words meant just for him.

After that, they all gather around the improvised dining table Wayne had set up. It is a simple construction with another table the same height as their kitchen table, so they could push them together and decorate them with a large tablecloth to make it look like one. They eat the roast Steve had prepared, everyone praising his cooking skills, making him blush and his eyes glow with pride.

For dessert they have pecan pie, much to Steve's delight. "Eddie insisted it had to be pecan," Wayne reveals, earning Eddie a wet kiss on the cheek from Steve.

"You're spoiling me, Eds."

"It's not spoiling when you deserve it. Besides, the pie is for everyone, it just happens to be your favorite." Eddie deflects, suddenly self-conscious. Maybe he'd overdone it, just a little, in his quest for the perfect night. But what is it they say? In for a penny and all that. "I might have something just for you, though."

Before Steve has a chance to say anything to that, Eddie is already up from the table to get the ice cream from the kitchen. By the time he comes out with it, everyone has stuffed themselves with the pie, leaving none for Eddie. Putting the ice cream in front of Steve, he complains loudly about it. "That's how you thank me, I see. Scoundrels, all of you."

A plate with a large slice of pie is placed in front of him. "I saved you a slice, baby."

Eddie presses both hands to his heart and pretends to melt. "Aw, you do love me."

Instead of answering, Steve just kisses him before looking down at the bowl in front of him. "What's that?"

"Banana ice cream with toffee and caramel beans, topped with whipped cream and chocolate sauce."

Steve plunges the spoon into the creation and takes a big bite, letting out a moan that's downright pornographic. "Oh God, please marry me."

Across from them, Wayne nearly chokes on his coffee at Steve's words, and Eddie gives him a warning glare. Wayne is the only one in on Eddie's plan, which Eddie begins to regret. But he needed someone to organize some things, especially the custom-made rings.

After dinner, everyone gathers around the tree, including Garfield and Bowie. Garfield is sitting on Claudia's lap, having taken an instant liking to her, while Bowie is sleeping at Wayne's feet. As usual when their little family gets together, the gift exchange is a cheerful and chaotic affair. Eddie gets new guitar strings from Robin, a new set of custom-made Dnd dice from Dustin and Claudia, and Garfield slippers from Wayne, as well as a can of motor oil with the promise to change Eddie's oil together next weekend. Steve's gift, however, was the most treasured: two tickets to a Metallica concert right here in Chicago.

Throughout the night, Wayne had been taking pictures of everything, claiming that they would be glad to have some memories later on. So when all of the presents have been handed out, he leads Steve and Eddie over to the tree for a picture.

"We need Garfield and Bowie here, too, if it's a family photo," Steve exclaims, his cheeks rosy from equal parts eggnog and joy. "Come here, Bowie. Good boy." Bowie, who is just as much of a sucker for Steve as Eddie is, promptly follows. Eddie knows that Garfield would not be so easily persuaded, so he walks over to Claudia, plucks him from her lap, and places him at Steve's feet.

What Steve doesn't know is that this is all part of Eddie's plan. The two pose in front of the tree with Bowie between them and Garfield weaving between Steve's legs. Just as Wayne's about to take the picture, Eddie turns to Steve and, seemingly outta nowhere, grabs a Santa's hat and puts it on Steve's head. "There you go, now you look all dressed up for the occasion."

"How...where did you hide that?"

"Pulled it out of my ass. You better check to see if I have any more Christmas stuff stashed there later, big boy."

Eddie can't know it yet, but he hopes Wayne captured the exact moment Steve's face scrunched up in surprised laughter. But even if he hadn't, Eddie hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from it anyway, as he memorized every single detail of that very moment.

As his laughter subsides, Steve opens his eyes again to look over at Eddie, only to find him kneeling with his hand outstretched and something small on his palm. A simple golden ring.

"Oh my God."

More than one gasp of surprise could be heard from those around, but the only person whose reaction matters to Eddie is Steve. Who looks at Eddie with big, shining eyes and an open mouth, completely taken by surprise.

"Steve, I have rehearsed this a million times and I still do not have the words to tell you what you mean to me. What our life together means to me. I love you so much it scares me, because surely people aren't supposed to feel that much, but I do. And I want to be scared every single day for the rest of my life because it means I get to love you. I get to cherish you and laugh with you and take care of our furry kids together, and Steve, sweetheart, I want to marry you and promise you forever. And I can't wait for nothing to change, because the life we have is already perfect. And if that didn't make any sense to you, I'm really sorry. The most important thing is that I love you. So, Steve Harrington, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

Steve has tears streaming down his cheeks, but he’s smiling. In fact, he’s smiling so big it has to hurt, and when he kisses him, all Eddie can taste is happiness and love. After that, Steve peppers his whole face with kisses, each one pressing another "Yes" into his skin.

Their love story might not have begun like a perfect fairy tale, and Eddie had no idea if it would end like one. But the middle? It was pretty damn perfect, if you asked him.

#steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #my writing #for the record: here it already is the 25th so this entry is for the 25th day prompt of steddiemas

132 notes · View notes

callsign-bunnie · 1 year

Note

Can you possibly write a story where someone said something derogatory to Omega! Soap and Ghost thought he would have to step in and defend Soap's honor, only to be blown away by Soap absolutely annihilating the ass hat? I can pay you in the form of 3 pennies and a bag of Doritos ❤

No payment necessary, but I will start taking offers of undying loyalty if you have to offer anything!

Johnny made Ghost so fucking anxious. He didn't exactly flaunt being an omega, and he certainly didn't have to hide it, Ghost wouldn't ask that, but... God, it just made Ghost anxious.

Ghost knew what could happen to omegas and anytime Soap was out, Ghost had about a million worries and fears running through his mind. Maybe it'd lent to Ghost constantly trying to be around him, but Soap had made it clear he was pretty happy about it, so he didn't feel too bad.

Even now, he felt anxious as he watched Soap look over his phone, probably trying to confirm that their uber was coming. Ghost hated dealing with those things, so he generally just let Soap do that shit.

"Hey, princess!"

Ghost almost didn't pick up that it was aimed at Soap. He only would have because Soap's head whipped up, immediately. He watched Soap look around and then his eyes were narrowing at something in the distance.

Ghost straightened up, immediately, and turned to look, seeing someone was coming over. His scent said alpha, but the way he sauntered and the smug look on his face said bitch.

"Fuck off." Soap muttered. His patience had already been thin that day, Ghost knew. Ghost went to step closer to Soap, but the alpha made it there, first.

"Oh, come on baby, don't be like that." The alpha groaned. "You know, I bet I can make your night~"

Ghost decided to just nip this in the bud. It was late, no one would see, and he didn't want Johnny's night getting ruined over this, since he already wasn't having a great day. He rolled his shoulders, making himself as large as he could, but then he was backing up as he watched Soap just grab the alpha and slam him into a wall nearby.

"I said 'Fuck. Off.'" Soap was practically growling, his arm across the Alpha's shoulders, pushing him down so he had to crouch slightly, and giving Soap the perfect angle to get in his face. "Most people mean things when they say them."

The alpha stared at him, wide eyed, and he appeared to struggle for a moment. Soap didn't even acknowledge it, just staring deep into their eyes.

Finally, once they stopped struggling, Soap let go. "Now, what do we say?" Soap crossed his arms at the alpha.

"Fuck you, bitch-"

Ghost again went to step forward, but again Soap had beaten him to it, punching the alpha in the stomach and then shoving him down. "Wrong answer."

At that moment, a car pulled up to the curb, and Soap just turned to Ghost and smiled. "Finally!" He shook his head. "Come on, Simon. I'm tired."

"Yes, sir." Ghost grinned under his mask, barely giving the alpha a glance as he followed Soap into the car. "Hey, Johnny," he joked, "if I call you princess, will I get the same results?"

"Don't push your luck, Lt."

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #alpha!ghost #omega!soap #queue for dinner again hunny?

268 notes · View notes

peakotp · 10 days

Text

Felice is a very good cook and an even better friend.

(Snapshot 4 from a post-finale alternate universe in which Wilhelm never got out of the car. Today's prompt from @youngroyals-events : cooking/baking.)

Read at AO3 or below the cut.

“Shouldn’t these be… foaming up or something?” Wilhelm has never whipped egg whites before, but he’s watched cooking shows and he’s sure it shouldn’t take this long.

Felice walks over to take a look.

“You made sure the bowl was totally clean?”

Wilhelm nods.

“And the beaters too?”

“I used the ones you handed me.”

“Right, so those aren’t the problem. And you didn’t get any yolk in there, did you?”

“I separated the eggs like you told me.”

Felice peers into the bowl holding the leftover yolks.

“A bunch of these are broken, Wille. Did they break when you were separating the eggs?”

“Maybe a couple, but hardly any got into the whites.”

Felice sighs. “Does hardly any mean some? Because any yolk in there fucks up the whites.”

Wilhelm grimaces. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Felice examines the whites again. “Yeah, these are trash. Start over and try not to Hulk smash the eggs this time. Zero yolks — zero. And wash the bowl and beaters first or the traces will get you.”

Wilhelm’s second attempt at whipping egg whites is more successful, and he watches as Felice deftly folds them into the chocolate mixture.

“And now we get to eat it?

“No, now it goes in the refrigerator for two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Stop pouting, Wilhelm. And we’re not done, anyway. We still need to make the cookies.”

Wilhelm knows better than to protest. Felice is scary in the kitchen, and she puts up with a lot from him. Being her sous-chef whenever she gets the urge to bake hardly puts a dent in what he owes her.

At least the cookie recipe turns out to be simpler. Or, maybe Felice wisely assigns him only simple tasks this time.

“What are these, anyway?”

“Alfajores.”

Felice must see the question in his eyes. “Yes, Sara sent me the recipe.”

Felice and Sara keeping in touch isn’t news, it’s just an awkward subject. It’s hard to ask how Sara’s doing without also asking how Simon’s doing, and it’s hard to ask how Simon’s doing without thinking about Simon, and thinking about Simon… Well, if the point of today was to restore some balance to their friendship, round five thousand of blubbering to Felice about Simon isn’t going to help. Except Wilhelm really does want to ask, because Felice is his only option for Simon updates. They haven’t spoken since leaving Hillerska and both Erikssons remain gone from social media. Or maybe Sara isn’t gone but she’s blocked him like Ayub and Rosh did; Wilhelm is too embarrassed to check. Wilhelm wouldn’t even have confirmation the Erikssons have left Bjarstad if not for Felice.

“I… didn’t know she baked.” A safe enough response.

“She doesn’t, it’s her grandmother’s recipe. Linda made them when I visited and they’re amazing.”

Felice’s summer adventures with Sara are another awkward subject. Wilhelm’s never asked whether Simon tagged along for any of their roadtrips, and whether he and Felice ever discussed the breakup. Whether he and Felice keep in touch and she just doesn’t mention it to spare his feelings.

“Wille, just ask,” Felice sighs, accurately interpreting his silence.

“I just… I don’t even know what to ask. Have you talked to him?”

“Not since I was there. But I have asked Sara about him. He’s doing fine, Wille. She says they both like their new school.”

“The press is leaving him alone?”

“According to Sara, yes.”

“And the students at their new school aren’t… being weird to him?”

“I don’t really know. Sara hasn’t mentioned anything. Do you want me to ask?”

Wilhelm shrugs uneasily, nodding finally. There isn’t anything he could do about it, but he thinks he’d still rather know.

“You could ask him, you know.”

“No, I can’t.”

Wilhelm and Felice have gone round and round that debate. It’s one of the rare times he thinks she just doesn’t understand. He cannot talk to Simon because he has absolutely nothing new to say to Simon. Everything he felt that June morning, he feels now. If it wasn’t enough then, it won’t be enough now. They said their goodbyes and he needs to leave it at that.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can find out from Sara. Now, can I trust you with a rolling pin?”

Felice is a very good cook and an even better friend.

Note: My plans for yesterday’s prompt wouldn’t cooperate, so I skipped. And then this one flowed, so I went with it. Learning not to fuck up egg whites is a canon event all aspiring cooks must experience. And “Stop pouting, Wilhelm” was a joy to write.

#willemonth2024 #young royals #wilmon #yr ficlet #crown prince wilhelm #felice ehrencrona

21 notes · View notes

it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

Text

Again (Ghost x F!Reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5(wip!)

Summary: Luck had saved you from death, and now it's going to throw you back into the life that you've left behind. Call you and Simon pessimistic, but you both don't think this is going to end well.

Warnings: Just a reminder that reader's CODE NAME is Dahila, reader is wearing a dress, ooc Soap? actually im pretty sure ghost is ooc in this whole series to (idk let me know), Simon is mean to Soap, mentions of wedding dances, falling backwards, vulgarities, injuries and passing out, mention of burning, a guy that can't accept a no, mention of sexual tension.

Word count: <3.7k

Inspired by: Robbers - The 1975

"There'll be a riot, cause I know you."

Author's note: ah yes, when i don't know how to describe something or get a block, what do it do? switch perspectives!

this is terrible im sorry i really tried!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

Soap thinks he has had enough surprises today.

It was one thing to see his LT rage at nothing. It was another thing to see his LT handle his weapons so clumsily.

But this? This takes the fucking cake.

The moment he took aim at the target's head, Ghost had decked him so hard that he was sure something had broken.

He's wearing a bulletproof vest. Do you know hard you must punch to break a bone in that thing?!

"What the FUCK, LT?", Soap exclaims.

But Ghost wasn't paying attention to him, currently engaged in a staring competition with the target.

"Dahila." Ghost whispered. He's turned to face the target, but even without looking at the tall man's face- or rather, eyes, Soap is aware that he's seeing a new side of his LT he's not sure he's supposed to.

The target - perhaps he should refer to her as Dahila now, doesn't respond. She's been chained to the chair, and Soap would have felt sorry for her had she not been his target.

"L…T?"

"Dahila, why," Ghost's voice trembles. "Why are you here?"

Soap's never heard his LT speak so softly before.

Dahila's mouth opens, but no words come out. Her face pales as she clenches her fists. She looks like she's seen a ghost.

Ok. There's clearly some history between these two, Soap realises. Tired of being ignored, he slowly picks himself up, wincing when his vest digs into his bruised chest.

"What's going on, LT?" Soap asks cautiously.

The tension was so thick it was making Soap uncomfortable. And he's a Special Ops soldier. He's dealt with worse situations without batting an eye.

Suddenly, Ghost whips around to face him, the softness in his tone now replaced with fury.

"Did you know?" Ghost fumes, stomping towards him. "Did you know the target was her?"

"The name of the target was on the file!" Soap shoots back, backing away from the angry man. "LT! What's going on?"

More enemies might come any moment now. They have to finish the job, free the guy upstairs, and leave.

Picking up the gun, Soap prepares to take aim.

"Put the gun down."

"Ghost, we gotta finish this and run."

"I said put the BLOODY GUN DOWN!"

A whimper comes from behind Ghost, cutting the argument short. In an instant, both men look back at the bound woman.

"Simon." she sobs. Her shoulders drop in what seems like relief.

"Leave us."

"What?"

"Go. Please…go," Simon sighs, shaking his head. "I'll explain everything later."

Saying 'please'? His LT was pretty much begging him to leave.

His proud, commanding LT was begging.

Running a hand through his mohawk, Soap lets out a frustrated grunt and turns to leave the basement.

Seriously. That was enough surprises for the whole damn year, and it's only January.

He didn't know.

He just clicked the confirm button the moment the job was offered. All he knew was that it was a kill mission. He had been so caught up in misery that he had forgotten to check the file about the target.

He was becoming careless.

He had accepted a job to kill her.

He had accepted a job to kill his Dahila.

A lot is going through his head right now. Shame, shock, confusion - but Simon being Simon, decides to go with the one he's most familiar with.

Anger.

But really, it's actually concern in a bad disguise. Not that Simon will admit that.

("Now, number two!" she continued, holding up two fingers. "Never, under any circumstance, attempt to access the server after you retire from service.")

Why the fuck did she do that? She knew what was coming. If anyone else had accepted the job, she'd be long dead.

She'd be gone, and he wouldn't even know.

She'd be gone, and he'll be the only one carrying their shared memories.

"What on earth were you thinking?!" Simon shouts, turning to face her. "If anyone else had been sent, you'd be dead!"

She lets out a shocked yelp, flinching at the loud sound. This stops Simon in his tracks, any anger he feels disappearing in an instant.

She's scared

She's scared of him.

And who wouldn't be? If you a were kill-on-sight target of the world's finest soldiers, you'd be wary of anybody and everybody.

Even the person you had just admitted your love for.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

"I-god, no- I," Simon lets out a defeated sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you, love. Never."

She doesn't look too convinced, teary eyes eyeing him warily.

The distrust stings, and he wants to disappear, to punish himself for scaring her, to cut his arms off to prove that he would never hurt her, but he brushes it aside.

Getting her out of here safe was his only priority right now.

Everything else is inconsequential.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

Even his own feelings.

Composing himself, he takes a deep breath. Placing his weapons onto the floor, he raises his hands, showing her that he's unarmed now.

"I'm just going to get these chains off," Simon's voice now gentler as he takes slow steps towards her. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

She doesn't take her eyes off him as he approaches her and bends down to inspect the chain.

A while ago, if anyone had told Simon that he'd have her undivided attention, he would have been over the moon.

But not like this. And Simon swears that once he gets her to safety, he's going to hunt down the motherfucker that-

No, now's not the time for this, Simon chides himself. He can deal with these feelings later. Right now, feelings will only get in the way of his judgement.

And he is NOT risking losing her over a stupid, emotionally fueled decision.

The chains are a mess, some looping through each other, others locked together using padlocks. Simon doesn't think he's going to be able to break her out of it without the proper tools. Which, of course, they didn't bring. They weren't expecting to save the target.

Which reminds him that he still has Soap to deal with. He's going to need to convince Soap to let her live. How's he going to do that?

For a split second, the idea of killing Soap and escaping with her seemed really appealing, but he quickly dismisses the thought.

He did promise Soap that'd he explain everything. He'll table the idea of killing Soap for now.

The sergeant should be upstairs, freeing the prisoner he said he found.

Standing back up, Simon walks back over to his weapons, grabbing his pistol from the pile. He hears her chair shift noisily, trying to get away from him, and he makes the mistake of turning around too fast in an attempt to reassure her quickly.

"No! Hey, wait- I'm not going to-"

But then the chair tilts back a little too much-

The pain doesn't come.

Instead, you feel the chair jerk forward. Something has stopped you from falling all the way.

Opening your eyes, the first and only thing you see is a white skull mask.

Simon.

He's so close.

He has an arm around the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your waist. His other hand holds your head, supporting your neck. His face is right above yours. And oh, his eyes-

("Ok, a hand on my waist," you had instructed, guiding Simon's hand. "And your other hand…goes…here!"

"Love, what are you doing?"

"Ok, I'm gonna lie back now!"

"Wait-"

Ignoring his protests, you lean back, and Simon scrambles to support you.

"Ok! Now lower me more!"

"What?"

"Lower me! Like in the video!"

"What video?!"

"Like those dancers in the ballrooms! Lower me!"

You were trying to get Simon to do a dip with you. After watching a video of a couple's wedding dance, you wanted to try it.

"Lower me!"

"I don't know how!")

His eyes gaze into yours with an emotion that you can't quite name. But it feels so warm, so calming, so much so that you forget that he's actually here to kill you.

For a moment, time stands still. The space around you changes into something more familiar, more like home.

It's just you and Simon again in the living room, trying to copy that couple's wedding dance.

("Ok, bend forward…yes! I think we're doing it! Are we doing it, Si!?"

"Love, if the neighbours hear what you just said, they'd think-"

"Si!")

But it's all over too soon. Simon looks away and leans back, pulling you upright.

"Are you alright?"

You nod your head.

"I… just wanted to give you this," Simon says, picking up the pistol and handing it to you. "I need to head up for a bit to talk to the other guy."

You cautiously take the pistol. Despite not knowing how to use it, the weight feels comforting in your hand.

"Just so you feel more at ease," Simon continues. "I know you're scared and probably don't trust me, but…I'm not going to hurt you."

With that, he turns around and leaves the basement, trusting you not to shoot him in the back.

The moment you're alone, you slump into your chair, dropping the pistol into your lap.

What the fuck is happening?

Simon is here!

Simon. Is. Fucking. Here.

To kill you! To rescue you.

You should be dead now! But you're not! Whee!

Why is he here?!

After two whole years of nothing, why is he here?

Conflicting emotions pop around your brain, and you feel like your head is about to burst. You press your hands over your eyes, hoping that the pressure will relieve the tension in your head.

You feel something cold press against your face. Your engagement ring.

Max.

Oh god, you forgot about Max.

Simon finds Soap on the third floor of the building, in a small room that reeks of gasoline.

He soon finds out why. In the center of the room, passed out and tied to a pole, is a man whose jeans are soaked with the liquid.

They were going to burn the poor lad, Simon thinks, watching Soap cut the last rope.

But then, Simon realises that he's seen the man before.

(He was wearing a slick black suit, eyes glowing as he looked up at the gorgeous lady he was kneeling for. He had a ring box in one hand and the other over his heart.)

It's him.

The fiancé.

Simon has to fight the urge to pull out his lighter and-

"So, gonna tell me what's up, LT?" Soap huffs, interrupting Simon's murderous thoughts.

Good question, Johnny. What is happening?

Oh, the love of my life - who I left two years ago to go on THAT mission- is actually the agent we've been sent to kill. And lying on the floor over there, like a pathetic dog, is her new fiancé. My heart is in shambles just thinking about them together. That's why I was acting so strange earlier! Now, we can't kill her. If you try, I'll burn you together with him.

That sounds about right. Now, all he needs to do is rearrange some words and voilà! An explanation that Soap would hopefully accept.

"We can't kill her," Simon replies, unable to look the frowning sergeant in the eye. "She's…my recommendation for 141's intelligent agent spot."

Ah yes, lie to make it sound more convincing! Great job, Simon! Instead of being honest with your best friend, who you know for a fact would hear you out and help, lie! Not today, emotional vulnerability!

"I'm sorry, what?"

"She's," Simon takes a deep breath. He's in for it now. He can't take this back. "She's my recommendation for the intelligence agent spot."

"You can't be serious, LT!" Soap scoffs in disbeilef. "She violated server access rules! She's selling information!"

"We don't know if she's done that-"

"She's a kill-on-sight target!"

"Soap, I know it looks bad, but-"

A faint jingling, followed by a heavy dragging sound, interrupts the two men from arguing further.

Simon immediately lifts a finger to his lips, gesturing to Soap to prepare for a fight. Nicking a pistol from Soap's thigh holster, Simon approached the doorway as quietly as he could manage before making a sharp turn into the hallway and seeing-

Your legs really hurt.

And so do your arms, but at least they aren't bleeding. Much.

The way the chains secured you to the chair looked complicated, but you quickly realised that there were only two parts to this whole puzzle after bending and twisting around weirdly in the chair.

One: A set of chains secured your ankles together. Not so much so that your legs stuck together, but enough to make walking a no-go. However, you couldn't tell what was linking these chains shut from where you were looking.

Two: Another set of chains secured each leg to the chair legs. The chain that was doing so looped into the chains around your ankles and linked itself shut using padlocks.

Since your hands were freed, nothing was stopping you from standing up. So, your next issue was getting rid of the chair. That was easy because all you had to do was…stand up and pull the chair upwards, past the chains.

That was anti-climactic.

Throwing the chair aside, you look down to get a better look at the chains securing your ankles. After shifting around and trying not to fall over, you find the two ends were linked by a padlock with a 3-digit code.

You tried easing your feet out of the chains, but they were bound too tight. There was no way to get these off. Not unless you were willing to try passcode combinations from 001-999.

But you have to get out of here. To get to Max. You can't let those two hurt him.

So the next best alternative was to crawl which was what you were currently doing. Well, more of dragging yourself, really.

Using your arms, you managed to drag yourself to the basement ladder. And by the sheer force of will and jumping, climbed the ladder and escaped the basement.

You could hear voices coming from above. Following the voices, you painstakingly drag yourself up the stairs, each 'step' becoming more painful as bruises, cuts and scratches begin to mark your arms and legs.

All in the name of love, right? You need to save Max. Your fiancé. The love of your life.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

It was a small building, so it didn't take you much time to reach the third floor, where you managed to locate the room where the two men supposedly were.

Dragging yourself as fast as you can, you're finally a step away from the entrance when a foot nearly steps on your fingers.

Yelping in surprise, you find yourself staring up at the barrel of a gun before it is quickly retracted.

"Dahila!?"

Simon looks into the room, signalling something before kneeling next to you.

"Are you alright? How did you-"

"Don't touch him," You reach a hand into your dress pocket, pulling out Simon's pistol. "Where is he?"

"Easy love, put-"

"Don't 'Love' me! Where is he?" You demand, pointing the pistol at Simon. Your arms are shaky, and you're pretty sure he could disarm you and snap your neck in a second, but you stand your ground. Or rather, lie on your ground.

"Put it down, lass." Someone warns. It's the mohawk guy from before. He's come out of the room and has a rifle aimed at you.

"Ok, both of you! Enough!" Simon orders, shifting to block you from the rifle. "Guns down! Now, Soap!"

Soap reluctantly obliges, eyes glaring at yours. Simon then turns to you, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Lo- Dahila, if you're asking about the other gent we found, he's in here," He motions to the room. "He's fine."

Simon shifts back slowly, allowing you space to move in front of the door. Lowering your gun, you drag yourself to the entrance and look in. There he was. But he wasn't moving.

"What did you do to him?" you yelled, turning to Simon. "You said that he was fine!"

"He's just passed out. Was like that when he found him." Simon replies, pointing a thumb at Soap behind him. Soap just shrugs, supporting what Simon said.

The gasoline was pungent and stung as it made contact with your wounds, but you press on, dragging yourself closer to Max.

"Max," you whisper, cupping his face gently. You shift to kneel beside him as you check him for injuries. His breath was steady, and he didn't seem to have any visible injuries, to your relief. "Oh, Max…I'm so sorry."

Your eyes begin to water again. This was all your fault. What was supposed to be a happy holiday has turned into a nightmare. Ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and now you're going to die.

"He has nothing to do with this," your voice quivers as tears begin to fall. "It was all me. Kill me and leave him alone."

Even though you had assumed they would save Max, thinking of him as a prisoner of your captors, that wasn't a guarantee. In the end, Max's life is still at the mercy of others. It's just a matter of who.

And that's why you did all this, right? To give Max a fighting chance at surviving this whole shitshow. Under Samuel, it was undeniable that he'd be killed. But the Special Ops may give him a chance.

So, you beg.

"Please, kill me if you must," you're sobbing again as you hold Max's hand. "Please, spare his life. He's just a banker, he's just a civilian- he's innocent, plea-"

"We're not killing either of you folks," Soap interrupts, sighing as he looks away from your crying figure. "We're just gonna bring him back to the base for observation."

Relief blooms in your chest, and you drop Max's hand. He's going to live. He's going to be fine. They'll protect him back at their base.

"And as for you," Soap continues. "We'll be taking you back there as well. To see the boss man."

Huh?

"Yes," Simon adds. "You're my recommendation for our intelligence agent spot, remember? You're going to need to speak with the Captain first."

What?

Simon's giving you a weird look. He's giving you that look. No, not THAT kind of look.

(This sucks. You want to leave.

But you can't really leave your own shop.

"So, Miss Flower," the man in an ugly green suit smiles. "How about we go in the back and…play amongst the flowers?"

Ugh. This is the fourth time this week he's tried to flirt with you. He really can't take a no for an answer.

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Oh, come on! I know you want it," He starts to lean in, invading your personal space. "I'll buy all the flowers we trample over."

"Love? Everything ok?"

A familiar, soothing voice sounds from behind you, and you stiffen as a hand snakes around your waist. You feel a warmth right next to your face as someone leans over your shoulder.

You turn your head, and there he was.

Simon.

He's so close.

He gives you a weird look.

Play along.

You nod.

"O-oh! Nothing honey! Just chatting with a customer here!" You stammer. But it's enough to convince the man. He mutters a rushed goodbye, as he storms out of the shop.

Immediately, the two of you separate.

"I'm so sorry, I just thought that-" Simon mutters, his hand doing a poor job of hiding his flushed face.

"No! No, it's fine," you cut him off. You're pretty sure your face is as red or even more so than his. "Thank you for dealing with…that."

It's so hot. It's cold outside, but it still feels so hot. The air has a spark to it. It feels like at any moment, the spark will set something aflame. And you kind of want to burn. Together with Simon.

You later learn that that is called sexual tension.

That very week, you and Simon start dating.)

He's asking me to play along.

You don't know what the fuck Simon has up his sleeve, but you nod, wiping your tears while you're at it.

"This is going to be hell to explain to the Captain, Ghost."

"He'll understand."

"How is he going to overturn a kill-on-sight order?"

"He'll figure it out."

"The higher up are going to hang us for this."

"Nah, they won't."

The duo bicker amongst themselves as they approach the two of you.

"Get the bloke. I'll carry her out after checking her wounds."

"Got it."

Soap picks up Max in a fireman carry and walks out the door. You wait until he is out of earshot before whispering to Simon, who now kneels beside you, inspecting your cuts.

"What the fuck, Simon?"

"It was the only thing I could think of to convince Soap not to shoot you."

"I left that life a long time ago!"

"If you want to live, this is the only way."

He's right. And you hate him for it.

There's silence as he tends to your wounds. What do you say to the man who broke your heart two years ago, and then saved your life? Do you curse him out? Scream at him for leaving you so coldly?

("Because I love you, Simon!")

Or you could just pretend that you didn't just confess your love for him on what you thought was your deathbed.

Yeah, that works.

There's too much happening. Too many conflicting emotions. You can't speak. Maybe it's better that you don't.

But whatever it is, the only thing you know for sure is that you're going to be returning to a life you thought you left behind for good.

You'll be working with Special Ops again.

You'll be sworn to secrecy again.

You'll be working with Simon.

Again.

This is going to be an emotional disaster.

Join the Taglist!

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tangents

66 notes · View notes

chibishortdeath · 5 months

Note

Fuck it, Simon Belmont, because why not you basically themed your blog after him

You don’t have any specific numbers, so I’m just answering every question >:3c mwahahaha—

1. “Why do you like this character”:

A lot of reasons!!! First off, most of his games are super fun and some of my favorite platformers just in general. I replay CV1, Simon’s Quest, and SCV4 most often cause they’re a real joy to play! I also absolutely LOVE Simon’s story, I’ve considered making comics about it if I could ever get out of recent art block whoops, even though I’ve seen many people say he doesn’t have one (´TωT｀). His designs are really cool, he’s got great music in his games, there’s just a lot to love and I’ll explain more in detail in other questions.

2. “Favorite canon thing?”

I really like the concept that he looks up to Christopher as this legendary hero and then ends up considered the same kind of legendary hero by Juste and others after him. It’s pretty ironic, kinda bittersweet, especially after being hated for so long. Castlevania loves its cycles like that. Also just Simon’s Quest in general, I love that game.

3. “Least favorite canon thing?”

Ooo that’s very hard. There’s kinda a lot of things about him that aren’t explained or confirmed, especially personality wise, but I kinda like that in a way cause it leaves room for interpretation and whatnot. Idk hmmm. I’m gonna go with Grimoire of Souls in general. I had some hopes for it, but it ended up being kinda lame. A lot of the characterization was weird and don’t even start me on things like the Cursed Whip theory being in there 💀. So I just choose to ignore it and not consider it canon.

4. “If you could put this character in another media, what would it be?”

I have thought about drawing him as if he was a character in other series for ages lol. I’ve already drawn him as a Pokémon trainer, I’ve thought about drawing Castlevania and Soul Eater crossovers before, and I tried drawing him in the style of Resident Evil 1 but could not get the art style down. Idk put him in Fortnite or something that’d be funny we already got Solid Snake so Konami has been in talks with them I guess X,,,,,,,,,,D

5. “What’s the first song that comes to mind when you think of them?”

Probably either Simon’s Theme (of course lol) or Bloody Tears, but I do wanna mention that I have a YouTube playlist of songs I wanna make Simon animations with eventually (alas animation is HARD).

6. “What’s something you have in common with the character?”

Mostly negative things unfortunately d(;w; ). Like self comparison, doubt in my own abilities, trouble making and keeping friends, etc etc. Although a lot of these are based on assumptions and interpretations, as a lot of him usually is. Simon does have a really similar hair color to me on the NES box art tho so that’s cool.

7. “What’s something the fandom does with this character that you like?”

There’s a lot of really nice art of him!!! Usually portraits, but sometimes there’s other doodles and whatnot too :3. Cool fan redesigns too! I also have seen a lot of neat headcanons, a lot of which I’ve adopted. I also appreciate the Captain N reunion stuff for the most part, it’s pretty wholesome.

8. “What’s something the fandom does with this character that you don’t like?”

I’ve seen a lot of comics, especially around when Smash Bros Ultimate came out, that were really… weird. I think all of them could kinda be boiled down to “old = bad” in the way that the artists probably just found out he was from the 1600s and then decided to make him the Boomer to Richter’s Gen Z for whatever reason (ya know despite Richter being from the 1700s but anyway). Simon would either be the jerk in the situation and/or the butt of the joke. I don’t think that Simon would have any issue with any of the female characters’ outfits let alone start harassing them for it. I saw some comics that made fun of him for not speaking very much in some genuinely disgusting ways too. Like making him not able to read or practically just the generic caveman stereotype. Especially in cases where the artist would depict other silent NES protagonists really nicely after making Simon out to be a complete idiot and asshole. There was also the trend of making him generally be all “oh no witchcraft!!!!!!!!!! What sin!!!!!!! The horror!!!!!!!!” about like anything and everything. I guess a lot of this comes from Smash Bros fans not usually being fans of Castlevania, but I’ve seen it in the Castlevania fandom too just less frequently. There’s also the “Simon has no story” thing oof. I’ve seen people tell people to skip his games or play fan games instead before :(

9. “Could you be roommates with this character?”

Realistically, no, my room is too small for another person :(. If that wasn’t an issue, then yeah probably :).

10. “Could you be best friends with this character?”

I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO—

11. “Would you date this character?”

No, he’s probably married, generally feels more like a bestie, and I’m aroace lol

12. “What headcanon do you have for this character?”

Too many oh my god. I think he probably makes things. That’s a very vague sentence lol, but think like armor, knives, general woodworking, all his necklaces and headbands and stuff, etc. He generally seems like he keeps to himself and lives mostly alone, so I can see him doing all that by himself. He keeps some bones and teeth of things he hunts most of the time. A lot of people have him as the most super Christian of the family, but I see him as like Christian but really not organized or strict about it, if that makes sense? I’ve seen someone else describe the Belmonts as like “Christopagan” before and yeah I think that fits. Idk why but I have consistently drawn him with his cross necklace in his mouth sometimes. I headcanon him as semiverbal (I think that’s the correct term for it, basically like inbetween speaking and nonspeaking). I like to think he’s like really average height for the 1600s cause he’s about as tall as other townspeople and skeletons and stuff. Which is funny cause that’d make him like 5’5-5’7 ish and that’s kinda short in modern day lol. And I guess that makes his 8bit sprite being used all the time make more sense XD. I have way more, I didn’t even get into Simon’s Quest related ones, but I don’t wanna make this too long aaaaaaaaaaaa

13. “What’s an emoticon that reminds you of the character or you think they’d use a lot?”

Ok this is funny cause I actually do have one for this and it’s got context. It’s the “:3”. So I was watching a bunch of people’s playthroughs one night cause I was bored and ran into a channel with a toooooon of speedruns of maps from Harmony of Despair. Whenever they’d get to a boss battle they’d use the typing feature just to go “hi” with a different cutesy emoticon every time, but when they got to Dracula they specifically went for the “hi :3” and then went “oh no :(“ when Dracula started attacking and now that’s the way I think he’d text I guess.

14. “Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character”

How does one properly explain how much this guy slays in one aesthetic term—

15. “What’s your favorite ship for this character?”

Oooooo, in canon probably like his wife (Selena) and/or the Mysterious Woman (who could be the same character depending on what theories you go by), but outside of that Simon Belmont x Getsu Fuma and I can’t even explain exactly why, but it’s pretty cute.

16. “What’s your least favorite ship for this character?”

Any BelmontXBelmont shipping ugh, it’s unfortunately really common on some places… also the whole Lucas or Pit or whatever other child character thing the smash bros fandom had ugh. I guess I also just don’t see the appeal of shipping any of the Belmonts with Dracula.

17. “What’s a ship you don’t hate but it’s not your favorite?”

I’ve also seen people ship him with Solid Snake, Palutena, or Bayonetta before. Ummm he doesn’t really have a lot of other characters he’s shipped with tbh. Idk I saw someone ship him with one of the priests from Simon’s Quest once.

18. “Relationship in canon you admire?”

Unfortunately he doesn’t really talk to people enough in game to form canon relationships 😔

19. “Relationship in canon you don’t like?”

I don’t even know if I can answer this one for the same reasons as the above 💀💀💀. I guess the townspeople hating the hell out of him, but I don’t hate that cause it’s kinda integral to the plot???? Yeah idk lol

20. “What character is the ideal best friend for this character?”

Simon and Shanoa would get along a lot I think. Sara too. Hmmmm… I think he and Alucard would probably also be good friends. Christopher too for many reasons. Simon just really needs friends my poor dude is out here in Dracula’s Castle and the Romanian countryside after being cursed alone like this poor guy :’(

21. “If you’re a fic writer, what’s your favorite thing to do when writing this character? What’s something you don’t like?”

I have not written much at all, however what small comics I have done I looooove to make sure to sprinkle in whatever symbols he has in the games into it. He has a lot of cool things ranging from like rose thorns to The Hanged Man card and a lot of them end up meaning things like martyrdom and whatnot idk I made a post about it a while ago :3. I also like specifically Simon’s Quest speculation stuff, like what if scenarios for the vague, left open spots of it. If it’s not something super angsty or lore heavy, it’s usually just wholesome character interactions or doodling him being comforted by Christopher or Trevor cause I was sad or something lol. As far as things I don’t like writing uh idk that’s hard, maybe just any kind of filler scenes cause I’m not very good at those oof. Dialogue is hard too 💀💀💀

22. “If you’re a fic reader, what’s something you like/don’t like to see in fics?”

I’ve mentioned a lot of things I don’t like seeing in uh question 8, but things I do like is when people really try to go full horror with him. I’ve seen some Simon’s Quest fics (sadly there’s very few :’3) that really try to get that same feeling of anxiousness and dread the game does and I love that honestly. It’s a really dark story in the series! I also saw one that went psychological horror with it with him kinda losing himself a little at night it’s just ough it’s cool :D! Simon is a horror protagonist! Make him afraid!!!

23. “Favorite picture of this character?”

Again, too many!!! X3

24. “What other character from another fandom reminds you of them?”

Not from fandoms I am in (yet, hopefully I’ll get into these), but Ragnvaldr from Fear and Hunger I’ve heard is just directly inspired by him and Alfred from Bloodborne also, to me, seems heavily inspired by him. The whole Vilebloods section seems very Castlevania inspired tbh. From other fandoms I’m in, that’s hard to say, there’s not really any I don’t think.

25. “What was your first impression of this character, is it the same as now?”

Well I got into Castlevania through Smash Bros and at first was completely indifferent about him, he was just kinda fun to play as. Then Richter got me to play SotN and actually get into the series more. I had no idea I had SotN on XBOX360 for a long time, but that made it pretty easy to start playing. And now I am absolutely hooked and Simon is my favorite character so uh yeah X3.

26. “Freebie!”

I guess I just say anything? Ok, I am currently half trying to cosplay Simon’s Simon’s Quest design rn! I have like everything but the armor, but I’ll have to wait a while to be able to get materials for it oof. But yeah :). Hopefully that works out.

Ok yeah that’s pretty dang long wow, but yeah, thanks for the ask!!!! I am happy to rant about Simon anytime :3

#castlevania #castlevania games #text post #simon belmont #asks #ask game #yay! Simon :3 #I feel like I could probably go on even longer with other questions but uh yeah #more reason to do more of these ask things they’re fun :)#incoherent rambling #idk if I should put a cut somewhere in this cause WOW that is LONG jesus #hmmmmmmmmmmmmm idk #I should post some of the Simon and Fuma art I have sometime when I’m not feeling weirdly self conscious about it—

9 notes · View notes

ksplay88terdepan · 2 months

Text

FROM THE AMEX STADIUM - Brighton's maiden Europa League campaign ended valiantly as they beat Roma on the south coast but exited the competition at the last 16 stage after a 4-1 defeat on aggregate.

The Seagulls had moments of momentum and Danny Welbeck got the home fans believing when he thundered one in from distance.

However, the hosts were unable to set up a grandstand finish as Roma protected their first leg advantage well enough to confirm their place in the quarter-finals, with the draw set to take place on Friday.

In their first ever home European knockout game, Brighton were faced with a four-goal deficit to overturn having limped to defeat in Italy's capital last week. Their haste in possession was notable early on, forcing Mile Svilar into an early stop before Welbeck lifted Lewis Dunk's nod across goal over the bar.

A tense opening relaxed somewhat when Gianluca Mancini clattered into Julio Enciso for the game's first booking, though the visitors offered their hosts a scare when Sardar Azmoun collected a loose pass and fired just wide with Bart Verbruggen beaten all ends up.

Nice play down the right saw Pascal Gross collect the ball with a good opening to shoot, but the German's piercing drive arrowed past the post before Azmoun improvised with a bicycle kick at the other end, only for the assistant referee to put his flag up for an earlier infringement.

A few more yellows cards were dished out before Brighton finally opened their account across the tie with a brilliant strike from distance.

Pervis Estupinan wriggled his way down the left before finding Welbeck on the edge of the box. The striker whipped an arching effort well beyond Svilar's reach into the far corner, breathing fresh life into the Albion crowd as the home side found a quarter of the goals required to restore parity.

However, three unanswered strikes were still required in the second period at the AMEX, with no English side ever previously managing to progress from a European tie having suffered defeat by four goals or more in the first leg.

The lively Enciso's last contribution before being hooked saw him tip-toe his way towards the area, though he eventually dragged his effort wide.

Roberto De Zerbi made four Albion substitutions before the hour mark and was so nearly rewarded with a second, but Simon Adingra directed his header straight at the sprawling Svilar when nailed on to score. Moments before, Leonardo Spinazzola had embarked on a mazy run which ended when he smashed the outside the post.

By the 75th minute, Brighton were only a goal ahead on then night with three needed to draw them level. Chances still arrived but De Zerbi's side couldn't finish them off, with Jan Paul van Hecke heading over with two opportunities.

Brighton's efforts ultimately weren't enough, having left themselves with too much to do after the heavy first leg defeat as their maiden voyage in Europe came to an end, though not without creating a raft of memories for Seagulls supporters who have never seen their side soar so high.

Instead, it's Roma who will await Friday's draw, with the likes of Liverpool, Bayer Leverkusen, Benfica and AC Milan among their potential opponents in the quarter-finals.

GK: Bart Verbruggen - 6/10 - Had little shot-stopping to do and always looked to get the game moving quickly.

RB: Tariq Lamptey - 7/10 - Floored Azmoun to pick up a booking. Bright and breezy running up and down the right.

CB: Jan Paul van Hecke - 7/10 - Showed good recovery pace tracking back to deal with Roma's counters and got forward himself, though couldn't direct any headed efforts on goal.

CB: Lewis Dunk - 7/10 - A stout performance in defence, doing little wrong while spraying passes.

LB: Pervis Estupinan - 7/10 - A constant outlet on the left and picked up an assist for Welbeck's thwack from distance. Some bickering with Pellegrini saw him booked.

CM: Pascal Gross - 6/10 - Summoned up cute turns here and there, but the end product was just lacking.

CM: Billy Gilmour - 6/10 - Patrolled midfield with endless energy and kept the ball moving quickly.

RW: Simon Adingra - 6/10 - Less threatening than Enciso in the first half but still had pretty moments on the ball, aided by Lamptey's willing running.

AM: Adam Lallana - 6/10 - Linked sequences together with his neat footwork, though occasionally slowed the pace when a decisive touch was needed. Had to hit the back of the net with his header which Svilar saved.

LW: Julio Enciso - 6/10 - Constantly put Celik on the back foot, looking dangerous both on the outside and when cutting infield. Brought off early in the second half.

ST: Danny Welbeck - 8/10 - Surged forward and linked up beautifully with Estupinan before reducing the deficit with an awesome strike from distance. Had other chances to shoot but didn't pull the trigger at the right time.

SUB: Ansu Fati (53' for Enciso) - 6/10 - Squared up his opposite player out wide but, like most other Albion players, the end product wouldn't arrive.

SUB: Facundo Buonanotte (53' for Lallana) - 6/10 - Showed some industry but couldn't produce a telling contribution.

SUB: Evan Ferguson (59' for Lamptey) - 5/10 - The ball just kept bouncing out of the Irishman's reach during his half-hour cameo.

SUB: Igor Julio (59' for Estupinan) - 6/10 - Was solid after his introduction.

SUB: Carlos Baleba (85' for Gilmour) - N/A Subs not used: Adam Webster, Benicio Baker-Boaitey, Cameron Peupion, Jakub Moder, Jason Steele, Joel Veltman, Thomas McGill.

Roberto De Zerbi - 7/10 - No less animated on the touchline even with the tie almost over at the halfway stage. Oversaw a victory on the night but it wasn't enough to keep the European dream going.

GK: Mile Svilar - 8/10 - Booked for time-wasting in the first half. Well positioned to make an unbelievable stop to deny Adingra's header. Was calm all night to ensure no silly mistakes cost his team.

RB: Zeki Celik - 6/10 - Looked a little ropy when trying to deal with Enciso.

CB: Gianluca Mancini - 6/10 - Smashed into Enciso early on for a booking. Led a committed defence and ensured his side did enough on away soil to book a place in Friday's draw.

CB: Evan N'Dicka - 6/10 - Stopped play restarting which saw him yellow carded. Like Mancini, was resilient enough in getting the job done.

LB: Leonardo Spinazzola - 7/10 - Enterprising run forward ended with the Italy full-back hitting the outside of the woodwork. Otherwise, it was a more restrained but nonetheless efficient performance.

CM: Edoardo Bove - 6/10 - Constantly stuck his foot in and broke up play during an agricultural outing, though it wasn't always enough to halt Brighton's attacks.

CM: Bryan Cristante - 6/10 - Held the fort in central midfield well enough, though he couldn't get a grip on the game passing-wise.

CM: Lorenzo Pellegrini - 6/10 - A scuffle with Estupinan saw him booked. Busted out some classy moments on the ball here and there.

RW: Tommaso Baldanzi - 5/10 - Put in a decent shift which allowed stars like Paulo Dybala to get some rest.

ST: Sardar Azmoun - 6/10 - Had a clever overhead flick ruled out. Showed decent bursts of pace on occasion without making a huge impression.

LW: Nicola Zalewski - 6/10 - Reduced to brief moments on the counter and dog work in defence.

SUB: Diego Llorente (73' for Zalewski) - 6/10 - Brought on to stiffen up Roma's defence and made sure they didn't concede a second.

SUB: Houssem Aouar (83' for Baldanzi) - N/A SUB: Joao Costa (90' for Azmoun) - N/A Subs not used: Angelino, Stephan El Shaarawy, Leandro Paredes, Niccolo Pisilli, Paulo Dybala, Pietro Boer, Riccardo Pagano, Rick Karsdorp, Rui Patricio.

Daniele De Rossi - 6/10 - Made sure his side didn't shut up shop completely and, while defeated on the night, a 4-1 aggregate success was more than enough for De Rossi's outfit.

0 notes

scentkarate9 · 2 years

Text

The Basic Principles Of blush - Amazon.com

The 22 Best Blushes to Give Your Cheeks an Extra Pop for Beginners

Rocque and Other Stories, Natalie's pink bonnet blushed in the early sunlight [] (intransitive,) To look with the eye, cast a glimpse. See also [modify] Etymology 2 [edit] Unknown; confirmed in the late 15th century. ( Source ) The cumulative noun for a group of young boys. A blush of young boys. 1962, Bette Davis, The Lonely Life: An Autobiography, New York City: Putnam, Chapter 3, p.

Mary Kay Chromafusion® Blush - Rosy Nude - Mary Kay

2001, Jamie O'Neill, At Swim, Two Young Boys, London: Simon & Schuster UK, 2002, p. 322, He had featured his own blush of young boys. All afternoon they had actually shimmered upon the yards. This is most likely a fanciful expression and has actually never ever remained in typical usage. References [modify] The 1986 Oxford Referral Dictionary, Appendix, cites The Book of St Albans, circa 1486, attributed to Juliana Berners, in which "a Blusshe of boyes" appears in an extensive list of cumulative nouns.

19 Best Cream Blushes of 2021 for an Impossibly Glowy Complexion - Allure

Highlight Contour And Blush For Different Female Face Shape Stock Illustration - Download Image Now - iStock

Pronunciation [modify] m (plural) (makeup utilized to redden the cheeks) 1999, Anna Gavalda, "The Opel Touch", in Je voudrais que quelqu'un m' attende quelque part: C'est mon petit boulot, ma tune, mes clopes, mes expressos, mes vires nocturnes, ma lingerie fine, mon Guerlain, mes folies de blush, mes livres de poche, mon cinoche.( please include an English translation of this quote) Portuguese [modify] Etymology [modify] Unadapted borrowing from.

What Does Cruelty Free & Vegan Pigmented Blush - Mented Cosmetics Do?

Blush might refer to: Film and tv [edit] Characters [edit] See likewise [modify] Blusher, a group of mushroom species Topics referred to by the very same term.

Recreate Kylie's soft matte flush of color.

Over the years, we've changed and contributed to our offerings, but our mission has actually stayed the same: to assist you discover products and services that fit your distinct charm lifestyle. We make every effort to create a casual and friendly experience for all of our Blush Beauties, whether we're assisting Minneapolis bride-to-bes and their wedding party prepare on their wedding day, giving busy women an additional boost of confidence with low-maintenance lash extensions, or bringing a much-needed sense of relaxation with our medspa services.

The Best Strategy To Use For Blush Boutiques

Instilled with papaya extract, this whipped blush provides you a healthy and natural-looking finish that's non-cakey and lasts throughout the day. The lightweight, fade-resistant formula boosts cheeks with a buildable flush of color that feels refreshing on skin. Plus, it can also be endured your eyelids. Squeeze. Dab. Radiance. Gently squeeze a little dot onto fingertips and dab onto cheeks.

Suggestion: This multi-use blush can likewise be applied to your eyelids.

#Cosmikology #Makeup #Blush #Cosmetics

1 note · View note

thaliasthunder · 3 years

Text

this confirmation means we're gonna get at least 6 hours straight of wille being absolutely whipped for simon so hell yeah

#this is what it feels to win #yr2 #netflix #willmon #edvin ryding #wille x simon #omar rudberg #wilhelm x simon #simon x wille #simon x wilhelm #young royals #young royals 2

596 notes · View notes

luxekook · 4 years

Text

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation.

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

#bts #btswritingcafe #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts au #college yoongi #yoongi imagine

5K notes · View notes

callsign-bunnie · 1 year

Note

MURDER MURDER MURDER MURDER KIDNAPPING AND MURDER GIMME GIMME GIMME

(I'm very normal about slasher party can we please have more pls pls pls pls)

I'm not doing anymore after this part. (Unless I get enough asks, then I may be persuaded or someone gives me a compelling idea.)

Rodolfo hugged himself as Soap came into the motel room and dropped the food he’d bought on the bed. They’d been in this particular motel for a couple months. “What did you get?”

“Just some freezer meals.” Soap shrugged and sat on the bed. “I found a kitchenette a couple towns over. Might switch to that one.”

Rodolfo nodded a bit and got up, going to microwave the meals. It was a bit of a silent agreement between them. Soap was working so they could afford the motel room and Rodolfo was taking care of it since he couldn’t work.

“How was your shift?”

“Exhausting. It’s still disorienting getting used to Mark as a name.” Soap mumbled and laid back on the bed. “But… We’re surviving so I guess it’s okay.”

Rodolfo nodded in agreement. No one had really asked questions about why two omegas were checking into a hotel and seemed to be hiding. Well, the possibilities were kind of endless, weren’t they?

Rodolfo had checked the news, he’d seen that they’d been declared missing persons. He’d wanted to call and explain that wasn’t the case, but Soap had said no and told him that it might lead… Them to them.

Them, being Alejandro and Simon. They’d figured out the second was Simon Riley shortly after managing to get away. Rodolfo winced as he was stabbing the plastic on the second freezer meal, getting a headache.

“Let’s go.”

Rodolfo looked across the jeep at Soap and then looked to his right as he saw movement in his peripheral. He could see another alpha was crossing around the jeep to get to Soap.

Soap met Rodolfo’s eye and then they both seemed to have the same idea because Rodolfo watched Soap yank open the door of the jeep and slam it into the alpha as he came around, right as Rodolfo jerked forward and then whipped around, kicking his leg out and connecting with Alejandro’s stomach. He reached behind himself as Alejandro stumbled back and grabbed the door handle, barely managing to get it open as Alejandro lunged forward.

Rodolfo tried to climb into it, crying out as his ankle was grabbed. He moved around to his back, hearing the other door slam and then Soap was grabbing him, trying to yank him into the car.

Rodolfo kicked at Alejandro’s hands until he managed to get him to let go and then he jerked forward as Soap started to drive, yanking the door closed. They peeled out of the parking lot and Soap got onto the road, his breath heaving.

“What do we do??” Soap asked. “Do we go back to the campus or?”

“Is the tank full?” Rodolfo asked, though he was already leaning forward and confirming that it was almost full. “Just fucking drive, Soap, don’t fucking stop until we are far fucking away from here.”

“Got it.” Soap nodded, grasping the steering wheel tightly. “Where will we go?”

“Any-fucking-where but here. Just… we’ll figure that out, later.” Rodolfo took deep breaths, trying not to let himself panic because if he panicked, he’d pass out and they couldn’t handle that. “Just… anywhere but here.”

“Got it.”

Rodolfo held his head, his vision feeling a little fuzzy. Fuck.

“Rudy?” Soap was over, immediately, making Rodolfo look at him. “Are you okay?”

Rodolfo blinked away the fuzz in his sight and then tried to smile, nodding. “I… I wish we could get my medication again…” He mumbled.

“I’m working on it.” Soap shook his head. “This alpha at my work, he said he can get his hands on any prescription medication, but… he doesn’t quite trust me enough, so I’m working on it. Okay?”

Rodolfo frowned but nodded. “Yeah, okay…” He tried, again, to smile, and then he went to turn around and work on the food, but instead, Soap nudged him to the bed. Rodolfo didn’t really want to argue with him over it, since his head was hurting bad enough, so he just headed that direction and climbed into the bed, listening to Soap microwave their food as he laid down. “This is exhausting… I wish we could go home.”

“Me too, trust me.” Soap sighed and then he was bringing Rodolfo over his food.

Rodolfo sat back up, sighing and then taking food and starting to eat. “Maybe they gave up?”

“I really doubt that.” Soap made a face and sat across from him on the bed. “They don’t seem like the type.”

Rodolfo wasn’t sure he disagreed, looking down at his food for a moment. “It’s not fair… Why us?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Soap winced. “But, they’re not going to get us, I promise. I won’t let them.”

Rodolfo hesitated before sighing and nodding, continuing to eat. “I trust you, Soap.”

“Good.” Soap nudged him.

Rodolfo teared up as he looked around, recognizing the hallway. No, no, not again… He couldn’t be here, again…

The doors swung open and he shook his head, sobbing. “Please… I escaped, I left…” Rodolfo pleaded, watching the alpha stalk forward and then crouch in front of him. “Please…”

“Silly Rudy…” The alpha murmured, trailing a knife down the side of Rodolfo’s face. He could feel it break the skin and he tried not to sob harder. “You’ll never escape me…”

Rodolfo hunched over as the knife was plunged into his stomach and he screamed, gagging on the sound of it. But he didn’t stop, he just kept screaming and screaming

and screaming

and-

“Rudy! Rudy calm down!” Soap was shaking him, looking down at him.

Rodolfo blinked open his eyes and looked around before relaxing and calming. “Sorry… I…” He touched his head and relaxed back into the bed. “Are you back from work already?”

“Yes.” Soap nodded a bit and sighed. “I… I figured out how to get your medication, but you’re not going to be happy…”

“Oh no…” Rodolfo sat up a bit.

Soap winced. “He… He wants us to come to this thing with him and a couple friends. There should be a couple other omegas there, too. It’s just at this old warehouse.”

Rodolfo did not trust that. “Soap…”

“It’s just for a few moments so we can get your medication! He said he’ll even bring it out to the car.” Soap shook his head. “Rudy, you need your medication and he’s managed to get his hands on it and… We’ll just go by and we won’t even get out of the car.”

Rodolfo hesitated. Well, he supposed it should be no problem if they weren’t getting out of the car… “Alright.” He nodded and relaxed. It would be really nice to have his medication. To not be dealing with his head feeling so heavy all of the time.

Rodolfo got up and went to the little bathroom that was in the motel room, running himself a bath. He got in once it was ran and pulled his knees up to his chest, not surprised when Soap came in and sat on the sink. “How long do you think we’ll have to run before it’s over?”

“I… I don’t know.” Soap sighed, leaning his head back against the mirror. “I… don’t think it’ll ever be over.”

Rodolfo looked down, Soap’s words hitting him square in the chest. “Oh…” He mumbled and rubbed at his chest before looking away and laying his head on his knees. “What if we went to the police?”

“They won’t do anything, I don’t think.” Soap snorted. “They are historically useless.”

Rodolfo knew Soap had a point. Soap was known around campus as promiscuous and Rodolfo was hispanic. The cops might help them, but… probably not. “I just want this nightmare to be over…” Rodolfo mumbled. “I would like to go back to school.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but me too.” Soap snorted. “I actually fucking miss the place.”

Rodolfo dipped his fingers into the water and swirled them around before sighing and closing his eyes. “When are we going to move on?”

“Let’s give it another month and then we will.”

“Okay..”

Rodolfo took a deep breath as he went around the grocery store. Soap was working a double so Rodolfo was having to do the very minimal amount of shopping that they do. They didn’t need too much, just things like shampoo and some food.

He made a frustrated sound at seeing the shampoo they used was on the top shelf. Oh, this was irritating. He went on tip toe, trying to reach and having to jump slightly. Even still, he was struggling since the bottle was pushed back a bit.

Someone came up and reached up, grabbing the bottle and getting it down. Rodolfo melted at the scent of alpha, leather and olive oil, hitting him. “Th-Thanks…” He mumbled, accepting the bottle and looking up at them before jerking back and hitting the shelf. Alejandro…

No. They stared at him with concern. A male alpha, but he had facial hair and glasses. And his actual hair was a bit longer. Facial hair was used, lightly, it was more of a light scruff. “Are you alright?” Considerably less of an accent, too.

“Y-Yeah… You just looked like someone.” Rodolfo mumbled and looked away, putting the shampoo in the basket. “Thanks…”

“Of course. Didn’t like watching an omega struggle.” He chuckled.

Rodolfo blushed dark, now shy. He bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t understand why the top shelf has to be so high…”

“Me either. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying having shelves so low, too.” He nudged the bottom shelf with his foot. “I’m Daniel, by the way.”

“Oh… I’m Rodolfo.” Rodolfo smiled a bit and nodded. “I um… I should go. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Daniel shook his head. “It was nice to meet you, Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo waved and then turned and left, getting the rest of the things he needed before quickly leaving. He started to walk to the motel, a little annoyed since it was a close to thirty minute walk. “Hey! Hey!” Rodolfo frowned and turned around, seeing Daniel was coming up to him.

“Oh…” Well, that was a bit odd.

“Are you walking?” Daniel asked as he got closer.

Rodolfo frowned. “Uh… Yeah. My friend has the car…”

“Oh. Well, I could drive you.” Daniel smiled at him.

Rodolfo only frowned more. This felt… off. He didn’t like the sound of this. “No thank you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t like the idea of such a pretty omega walking home, alone.” Daniel shook his head. “It’s a bit dangerous around here.”

No, this was definitely off. “Well, I walked here.” He joked, trying to seem lighthearted. “I like walking, I’ll be okay.” He went to walk away, yelping and jerking his arm away when it was grabbed.

“Woah,” Daniel frowned. “Hey, I’m just- Look, I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t at least make sure you got home safely.”

Rodolfo paused and then softened, now kind of feeling bad. “Oh… I… Okay… You can drive me home…”

Daniel relaxed and nodded. “Good, thank you.” He gestured for Rodolfo to follow and so Rodolfo did, following him to a black car. He got in when Daniel unlocked his door and hugged his bags to his chest. Then, Daniel also got in and Rodolfo told him the name of the motel he was staying at.

He blushed when he noticed Daniel kept glancing at him and he leaned into the door, biting the inside of his cheek. He really hoped Daniel wouldn’t try anything. He was not interested in… anything. He just wanted to go home.

It was a quick drive and Daniel parked in the motel. “There.” He smiled and then unlocked the doors.

Rodolfo gathered up his bags and then got out of the car, leaning down to thank him for the ride, before going to leave. “Wait-”

Rodolfo tensed and turned to look at Daniel. “You look familiar.” Daniel murmured and Rodolfo froze, immediately. Fuck, oh no.

Daniel narrowed his eyes and then he was getting out of the car and coming over. “You’re from the news…”

“News?” Rodolfo laughed, nervously. “I don’t think so. I’m not that interesting, though that sounds amazing.”

“No, you- You were definitely on the news.” Daniel shook his head. “Or… you look really similar to someone who was. Whatever. Could I… get your number?”

Rodolfo blinked and then cringed back. “I… I uh… No.”

“Oh.” Daniel looked disappointed and then nodded. “That’s alright.”

Rodolfo relaxed. “Bye.” He turned and went up to the door of his motel, getting out the keys. Or… trying to, because he couldn’t quite seem to get his hands to work right. He took deep breaths and wrapped his hand around the keys.

Someone approached behind him and Rodolfo tensed. He turned around, about to tell Daniel to fuck off or he’d call the cops, but he was surprised that no one was there, in fact seeing that Daniel’s car was running. It was too far of a distance for Rodolfo to see in it but… Well, he doubted someone like Daniel would leave their car running.

So, he just shook his head, turning around and unlocking the door, finally, and going in, setting his bags on the table by the door and locking it before starting to put them away.

“Hey, let’s go.” Soap nodded, sighing. “I don’t want to be late, in case he changes his mind.”

Rodolfo looked up from where he’d been laying down and watching tv and frowned before nodding, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed and standing. He’d told Soap all about Daniel and Soap had been pretty pissed that Daniel had the nerve to pull that.

He stopped and pulled his shoes and then a jacket on, since it was getting cold, and he went over to where Soap was standing by the door, hugging himself as Soap unlocked the door and then they went out before Soap was locking the door, again.

Rodolfo followed Soap down the stairs to the parking lot, frowning when he saw Daniel’s car was still there, though it was turned off, now. He… didn’t like that, admittedly. He didn’t say as such to Soap, though, not wanting to freak him out.

Instead, he just stuck close to Soap, following him to the jeep and getting in. Then, Soap was getting in and driving. It wasn’t a particularly long drive, quiet and mostly uneventful.

Rodolfo scratched his arms, looking around as Soap parked. “I have a bad feeling about this…” Rodolfo mumbled.

“Trust me, I don’t have a great one, either, but we need your medication.” Soap leaned back in his seat, getting out his phone and texting him. If Rodolfo was assuming, that is.

“What’s his name?”

“Uh, Sean, I think.” Soap sighed and shook his head. “He’s kind of a douchebag, but I can verify that he does manage to get his hands on the medication.”

Rodolfo winced but nodded and then reluctantly settled back into his own seat. “What if we… What if after this, we left and went somewhere along the coast?”

“I like that.” Soap nodded and smiled. “I like that, a lot. Find a little beach motel. I’ll get another job.”

“Yeah…” Rodolfo relaxed and looked at Soap, biting his lip. “We could stay there for a while. It’d be winter, but I don’t mind the coast during the winter. It’s actually kind of pretty, if I’m honest.”

“Yeah.” Soap nodded and leaned his head back. “I was… actually thinking of trying to find some way to get our hands on fake identities and just fully disappear. Try our hardest to live a new life. I don’t think they’d find us, then.”

Rodolfo hoped they wouldn’t. He couldn’t keep running and he was terrified of them catching up to them. “Yeah… I think it’d work.” He bit the inside of his cheek and then looked out the window. “Shouldn’t he have come out by now?”

Soap winced. “Maybe.”

Rodolfo glanced at Soap, seeing he was also nervously looking out the window. “Stay here.” Soap sighed and got out.

“Soap- Soap-” Rodolfo tried to stop Soap, but he just shut the door and Rodolfo flinched back, his anxiety immediately spiking. So? He got right out of the car, rushing after Soap and up to the doors of the warehouse.

“Rodolfo! Get back in the fucking car!” Soap hissed and Rodolfo shook his head. “Ugh… You drive me insane.”

Rodolfo winced. “I didn’t want to be left alone…”

Soap looked at him and then softened, nodding. “Fine.” They fully went up to the doors and Rodolfo hugged himself as Soap knocked, carefully.

The door swung inward with a startling creak and Rodolfo swallowed. “Do you… Do you think we’ve been had?”

Soap looked pissed and shoved the door open, stepping into the warehouse. “We better fucking not have.” He growled.

The warehouse was dark. Eerily dark. Rodolfo followed Soap into it, trying his hardest to make out anything. There was a movement in front of them, but it was side to side if Rodolfo was making it out correctly.

“Fuck.” Soap hissed and Rodolfo heard a soft thud into something soft and wet. “Gross.”

Rodolfo cringed and backed up a bit, trying to find the wall to look for a switch or something, remembering most warehouses sometimes had a lighting system. He doubted Sean or whatever would have… a thing at a warehouse that had no light. Of course… he didn’t know Sean.

The wall didn’t have a light switch and Rodolfo took a deep breath. The swinging object behind him was making a deeply unnerving sound and made Rodolfo’s nerves high. He felt along the wall, but he was met with nothing but smooth metal.

“Rudy,” Soap spoke and Rodolfo turned in the direction of his face, jumping when a light was suddenly pointed at him, seeing that Soap had found a flashlight. “Come to me and we’ll look around, okay?”

Rodolfo nodded and carefully made his way over to Soap. There was a disturbing amount of mud on the floor, which Rodolfo could barely make out in the bare light from the flashlight. He finally made it to Soap and Soap started to point the flashlight around. It really was just a bare warehouse, having some high up platforms and a couple stacks of pallets, but nothing else.

Soap turned to the left and then a face appeared in the light and they both jumped back, screaming. Rodolfo tripped over something soft and landed in a puddle of mud. And Soap managed to stay standing.

Soap immediately helped Rodolfo up and he turned back around. The “face” was a man sitting on a couch and… Rodolfo felt nauseous as he stared over the body, Soap’s flashlight traveling down it. The face was in his stomach, poking out. “Well…” Soap’s voice was strained. “Meet Sean.”

Rodolfo hunched over, throwing up. “Oh god…” He teared up, holding his stomach and wiping his mouth.

Soap turned to him and Rodolfo couldn’t make out his face in the glare of the flashlight. “Rudy… Don’t look down at yourself.”

Rodolfo almost immediately went to but Soap yelled at him not to. “Don’t!” The flashlight finally moved off Rodolfo and Rodolfo could barely make out Soap’s expression as deeply terrified. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rodolfo nodded, having no problem with that. He turned to leave before getting hit by something and falling over. It couldn’t have been a person, it hit the top half of Rodolfo’s body. Rodolfo realized it had been the thing that was swinging and he almost didn’t want Soap to point the flashlight at it, but was unable to stop him as he did so.

His eyes went wide as he recognized Daniel almost immediately and he screamed, covering his mouth. Soap’s flashlight immediately moved to point at him and Rodolfo was able to make out red covering his hands, causing him to just scream louder.

“Rudy!” Soap rushed over and crouched down, helping Rodolfo up. “Let’s go, we need to get out of here!”

They both started to rush to the doors but then they were closing with a loud slam, plunging the warehouse into complete darkness, save for Soap’s flashlight. Rodolfo trembled, moving as close to Soap as he could.

Then, the lights turned on, and Rodolfo jumped back, flinching again. The first thing his eyes made out was just how much blood there was. In fact, there wasn’t any mud at all, just blood puddles.

The second was the five bodies in such disgusting displays of death, Rodolfo didn’t even want to think about it and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing as close as he could to Soap and taking deep breaths.

“You ran away.” The voice was distant but loud and Rodolfo frowned, not recognizing it. The accent was different, the voice was deeper. “Why won’t you trust us?”

“You bastards killed people! Damn, why the fuck wouldn’t we trust a couple of murderers??” Soap yelled.

Rodolfo peeked a little, seeing the man who had rounded the jeep to Soap was on a balcony thingy, watching them.

“For you.” The second voice was much closer. “We’d only killed one person and that wasn’t our fault. But then they did that to you and- What choice did we have?? Besides, I’d seen what that bastard was doing to Rodolfo the year before, I wasn’t going to just let him get away with it. You knew what would happen if you said for Rudy not to forgive, and yet you said not to. You wanted it to happen.”

“No, no, I didn’t-” Soap shook his head. “I didn’t want that to happen… He sucked and he deserved to die but not like that.. Not… No.”

Rodolfo flinched into Soap as someone approached from his right. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Soap’s sentiment of Wayne deserving to die. He was a person… “Why are you doing this to us?” He asked, turning his head and seeing Alejandro was approaching. “We didn’t do anything…”

“No, no, we’re not doing this to hurt you…” Alejandro murmured, getting close to Rodolfo, though Soap didn’t let him get too close. “No, no. I… Ghost, get down here.”

The one on the top of the balcony thing seemed to hesitate before he was dropping down and coming over. Rodolfo flinched back, seeing he was wearing his white skull mask. His heart picked up in pace and his head started to feel heavy again. Oh no…

“Shh…” Alejandro took him from Soap and before Soap could stop him, Ghost had grabbed Soap, holding him back.

Rodolfo stumbled and then he fell into Alejandro, slumping. Alejandro moved to the floor with him and then he was getting out a water bottle and some pills. Rodolfo could make out his name on the bottle and… well, he didn’t really have any other choice. He didn’t think he could get away, this time.

They looked fairly convincing, too, and so he tilted his head, letting Alejandro help him take them. Vaguely, he was aware of voices, but he could barely hear, his ears starting to ring. Then, he slumped into Alejandro, again, and closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths.

It was slow and then his head started to clear and he blinked as the ringing faded. “There you are… isn’t that much better?” Alejandro was murmuring, rubbing his back. “We’re not trying to hurt you… Either of you… We want to protect you, to keep you safe from the rest of the world. It’s too cruel, it doesn’t deserve you.”

Rodolfo teared up and shook his head. “No, no…” He looked up at Alejandro, closing his eyes as Alejandro cupped his face. “I… You’re a murderer…”

“No one I’ve ever murdered didn’t deserve it.” Alejandro’s voice was so gentle and sweet. Rodolfo couldn’t help but start to believe it, his head going fuzzy as the scent of honey and cinnamon washed over him.

“Please just let us go.” Soap’s voice became audible, again, and it sounded heavy with tears. “We won’t tell anyone it’s you… Please…”

“We can’t.” Ghost spoke up and Rodolfo looked over, seeing he had Soap by the arms. “Please just come with us.”

“You’ll live a content life.” Alejandro made Rodolfo look up at him, again, and Rodolfo sniffled. “You’ll never want for anything.”

“Yeah, and you’d have us barefoot and pregnant.” Soap hissed. “Perfect little wives for your sick fantasies-”

Alejandro visibly gagged. “Okay, let’s get one thing straight, kids are not happening. Disgusting. No.”

Rodolfo blinked, surprised. “I can’t have kids, anyway, Soap.” He reminded and then slowly, carefully, he curled into Alejandro, exhausted. He was sticky and he wanted to shower.

“Regardless, I-” Soap struggled. “Just fucking let us go.”

“No.” Ghost didn’t even look to be struggling that hard to keep him in his grasp.

Rodolfo sniffled. “Soap… They’re not going to let us go, I’m just… I’m sick of fighting… I… Let’s face it… I’m disabled, I can’t… I can’t do anything and do you really want to go back to that school? They sacrificed us. They’d do it again if they got a whiff that they wanted us…”

Soap looked at him and then his resolve seemed to slowly crumble. “I… You’re right…” He mumbled and he relaxed, though he did jerk out of Ghost’s grasp.

Both alphas seemed incredibly happy, however, and then Alejandro was peppering kisses all over Rodolfo’s face. Rodolfo whined and squirmed before relaxing as Alejandro stopped and then he closed his eyes and curled up into Alejandro again. “I’m sticky and covered in blood, I want to… I want to get clean.”

“Let’s go back to your motel room and then you can shower and we’re gonna take you home, okay?” Alejandro murmured, nuzzling Rodolfo’s cheek.

Rodolfo softened and nodded. “Okay…” He held on as he was carried, relaxing into Alejandro.

And then he was being carried out.

@Humanmilkerr @vergilnelosparda @cathsolos @caspertheassholeghost @midnighthunt3r @the-snarky-dragon @smadrawz @thegodofsleep @hufflepuff-hugz @bonesincatharsis @stardust-medic99 @a1bird1 @arwenprinses @bl-nk-sp-ce

113 notes · View notes