#such a sad sad ghost he should be allowed to cry a little | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigassmoonchild · 8 months

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Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: He's gone. He's gone and all he's left you with is this god damned pup, but god forbid you're allowed more than a month of peace. You never wanted to see this.

Content Tags: Mentions of Death, Pregnancy, The 141 Being A Pack, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Some Comfort, Mentions of Violence, Medical Inaccuracies, Fear, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm having some problems finding accounts asking to be tagged. Please make sure you've got the right settings! As always, content under the cut and requests are open!

P.S: Keep sending in asks! I'm checking throughout the week!!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

A knock on your door brought you out of your stupor. You'd been half asleep, having finally been able to get some rest after throwing up half of your dinner from the night before.

It was barely 5, so theoretically no one should really be bothering you. Gaz had your squadron to do some combat situations, and he knew exactly what to do with them. They were especially feisty.

When you'd opened it, you weren't entirely sure what to expect. Maybe Simon? Or Soap, or Price? Maybe Gaz?

Definitely not the officer standing at your door, holding a few items. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, just staring at one another. He didn't seem to expect you, and you were just scared. You felt your heart sinking into your stomach.

He spoke your name to you and you nodded, feeling like you were staring through him. "I'm so sorry," and from there you didn't remember anything. Just a few words, the handing over of the few items of his they recovered before another apology.

You closed the door, staring at the dog tags sitting in your hands. You read his name, written on the dirty tag. When you took it into the bathroom and washed it, you felt the metal warm up like you'd just taken it off of Simon.

Waking up the next morning left you feeling hungover. Head throbbing, mouth dry and just feeling sick overall. You weren't sure of anything over the next few days, moving like you were a puppet being controlled.

There weren't any tears, there wasn't anything. You didn't feel anything. You avoided the pack- his pack. Staying away from the main areas they'd go, you found yourself staying within the medical areas, your office and your room. You ignored everyone outside of your squad.

So when there was a knock on the door, you hadn't thought twice of calling the person in. You and Sadie, one of the two Omegas you were training, had been talking and slowly becoming what you almost considered a friend.

"You can't keep hiding from us," Price said to you and you froze. Your chest seized, eyes shutting harshly. You didn't want to even think. "You've got his dog tags on," he whispered, rounding your desk and standing beside you.

It took a few weeks, but you had eventually cleared Price to walk without assistance. And he was abusing his ability to slowly get back to normal.

A sob tore through your chest and you felt everything hit you. Anger, for Simon doing this to you. Sadness, how you realized all you had left was the pup. You didn't want to believe he was gone, but he was. The tags around your neck proved it.

Price pulled you in close, resting his head atop yours as you wailed. You could feel the tears and snot, maybe drool coating his shirt as you grasped onto him. Hoping that he would be able to fix everything. He was the pack Alpha, he was supposed to know what to do.

Rocking you a little, just slightly side to side, he hummed against you. Allowing you to cry everything out, feeling as you slowly grew limp. The wails turned to sobs, sobs turned to hiccups before it was just shaky breaths. All you could think the entire time was 'he's actually gone'.

Pulling your face away from his chest, he gave you a small smile. "He's only assumed KIA," he whispered and you blinked at him. "We never got a body," he told you. You tugged your head free of him, could feel your eyelashes sticking uncomfortably together.

"He might not be dead?"

"Don't get your hopes up, kid," he gave you a little pat on the head. "Don't allow yourself to wallow in pity, let us take some of the pain off of you. We lost a packmate, just as you lost a mate," he whispered and let himself out.

All you could do was sit in your office, blinking slowly and feeling nothing at all. You didn't think it was possible to feel nothing after losing someone, but the little hope Price had given you felt like nothing at all.

They couldn't recover his dog tags without a body, could they?

As time wore on, and they were slowly losing hope on finding Simon, you eventually broke the news. You'd called the pack into Price's office, feeling it was best to break it there. Somewhere he could control reactions as best as possible.

When Gaz finally entered, closing the door behind him you looked at the three around you. You breathed deeply, completely unsure how to go about any of this.

"I'm pregnant," well, that's how you broke it to them. It wasn't how you were expecting it, but that's how it happened. None of them said anything, they all just stared at you.

Soap was the first to respond, pulling you into him and pressing his head against your abdomen. "Really?" He'd whispered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around him as best you could.

You all stayed quiet, it felt like you were both grieving the loss of Simon but hoping the best for the pup you were going to be responsible for.

And they made sure to help. Price would help you during the nights when you felt the worst. The loneliest. He had claimed to be responsible, 'I'm the pack leader after all'.

Gaz dragged you out of your nest, forcing you to go for walks with him or eat with everyone else in the mess hall. He would come by every so often, just to check up on you or interact with you. 'Givin' you a little bit less monotony, huh?' You enjoyed when he came by, it made you a little less lonely.

Even with everything that everyone did, Soap seemed to grow the closest with you. He'd insisted on joining you when you'd gone to the doctor to be able to get vitamins and other medications. He insisted on making sure you didn't have to be alone in the mornings after Price had left to deal with Captain stuff, helping you through the sickness.

You just wanted Simon. As much as you appreciated everything they were doing, they weren't Simon. You had been able to get into his room one night, after the fourth week of him being missing. It took you this long before you could get yourself to enter his room.

When you did, you had to choke back tears. His scent wafted over you, just slightly becoming stale but still there. His bed was made, pristine as ever, and you found yourself building a nest slowly.

In his closet, you'd buried yourself in layers of his blankets and clothes. Shirts and hoodies, some left unwashed being the closest you could get to his fresh scent.

All you wanted was to be alone. For once, you didn't want anyone near you, you didn't want to talk to anyone. Being snappier to people seemed like the way to get them to leave you alone. Stay colder with people.

No different than Simon, you figured. Not too much different than how he would perform, if it had been you. How similar to him were you becoming? Pushing people away, going through shit on your own? Not talking?

So you filled your time with work. You didn't give yourself much time to sleep, barely enough time to eat and take care of yourself. You didn't want to think, and you didn't allow Gaz to pull you away. No matter how hard he tried.

A few days latter, you'd been working on helping one of the recruits patch up a simple wound in the medical center. Your squad had finally graduated to helping there, and so you'd been using them to help. When you'd cleaned your hands of the blood that caught on them, you saw Price standing by the front desk.

Venturing over to him, checking in with some of your squad to make sure they were alright, you found him looking through papers. Files. You recognized one of the names, Sadie.

"What's that?"

"Is there anyone you recommend for a reconnaissance mission, Doc?"

Once more, you were sitting on the chopper. Soap had to sit this out, as his stitches still hadn't quite healed up from the emergency surgery. So there was one more spot open for you to join, and you had opted for Prices choice of your squad.

Sadie 'Trip' Thomason. She had been lovingly given the callsign Trip because of her first attempt at running a course. She ate complete shit, and continued to somehow trip every single course. Even ones that were on level ground.

You loved the kid, but she was a klutz. So you joined on the mission, nor wanting her to be alone for her first one. She wasn't much different from you.

As the chopper landed, you were surprised by the fact you weren't taking fire. They had decided to use a shit ton of people for this mission, so whoever they were rescuing was important. Yourself, Trip, and another squad leader and one of their people had joined.

Enough medics to perform a surgery.

You and Trip stayed behind, prepping an area for emergency medical attention. It was mostly because you were pregnant, but you were one of the most skilled medics they'd had.

"Hey Doc, you wanna know something?" Gaz called through the coms. You hummed in response, moving quickly through the chopper. "My boyfriend left me because I was too mysterious. Or did he?" You snorted at that, feeling your chest tighten just a little.

You knew of Simons whole dark and dad joke schtick. You never really got to hear it, but he sometimes said them to you. During lunches and dinners with you. Before everything fucked up.

"Did the lieutenant rub off on you, Gaz?" You'd asked back and he made a little jab at you, snickering about how dirty it sounded. God, you'd hit him if you could.

Trip had nudged you, wiggling her eyebrows at you at that.

"You and the lieutenant have something going on, then?" You rolled your eyes, trying to bite back the tears that were trying to force themselves from your eyes.

Looking over at her, you gave a little smile. "He's my mate," she gave a little gasp, nudging you even more. You shook your head. "He's assumed KIA, though," you whispered, glancing out to the dark tree line. You were wondering who it was that took this much manpower to bring home.

There wasn't a shot in hell you were going to get your hopes up and think it was Simon. No chance. In the time you'd been thinking, Trip had finished off prepping for quick medical attention and you'd come back to.

You started to prep for possible surgery when gunshots began echoing around you. "Prep the chopper for liftoff!" Gaz shouted through the coms and you checked the pilot to make sure he'd heard but watched as he began pressing buttons.

The ground quaked under you as it began preparing to lift, your supplies starting to shake and nearly fly off. Trip fell trying to save items and you had to shout at her to leave them over the chopper blades.

"But we need them!" You shook your head, gesturing around you.

"We're about to take off, we have enough backup supplies to replace them! It'll take too long to collect them, they're not too sanitary anymore!" You shouted back, grabbing her vest and strapping her in to the helicopter. "Do not fall!" You shouted, tugging on the rope keeping her set.

She nodded and began to try and reset the area, only bringing out the items that could be held down or were heavy enough to hold themselves down. Glancing out, you could see figured running towards the chopper, one thrashing around.

"We've got a feral Alpha, Doc! We need to sedate him!" You watched as four people dragged the Alpha closer, hear the snarls he was letting out. Leather. Tobacco, heavy musk and sweat. Your heart started pounding harder and harder, vision tunneling.

Shaking your head, you stumbled back into the chopper. "You can't sedate a feral Alpha," you whispered into the coms, watching as the man you called your Mate tried to fight off the men dragging him onto the chopper.

They'd found rope and tied his arms together. All you could do was stare, see the man you loved brought down into ferality. It was different than a feral rut, the amount of androstenone filling him was lethal. His body was in a state of fight or flight, so there was no chance it could turn into a rut.

He was fighting.

With one step forward he snarled at you, eyes blown black from his pupils. His scent was different, just barely, but you couldn't work on him in this condition. You could feel yourself panicking, staring at Simon but not quite Simon. Gaz came around, tugging you away from the man lying tied on the floor of the chopper.

"Talk me through it," he whispered. "Why's he feral?" You blinked up at Gaz, swallowing as your mind reeled.

Looking to the side, you could see Trip sneaking glances at you. "Androstenone," you whispered. "He's got too much of it in him, but he's in fight or flight so instead of being in a feral rut, he's just feral," you whispered.

"And how do we help him?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

Back on base, Price had found you. You didn't even want to look at him, not with how he'd lied about what the mission was. It wasn't just a reconnaissance mission, you were quite literally sent to rescue your mate.

He was put in a high secure containment cell. He was literally knocked out to be checked out, a few different medics and highly esteemed surgeons being called in to do emergency surgeries. Emergency blood transfusions. It seemed like everyone on base was trying to help, offering their blood to the man.

All you could do was sit in his room, playing with the dog tags that you'd put around your neck some months ago. Between the time they'd rescued Simon from the time your test had been, it was around two months.

God, you were two months along with his pup and he didn't even know it. Would he recognize you? Your scent? Or had it changed with the new hormones that had flooded your body.

You were terrified, wanting nothing more than to have Simon in your nest, hold him close and never let him leave again. But that's not how the real world worked and you had to get back to work.

The next few days you were extremely distracted. "I asked for more pain meds," one of the patients told you.

"No, you didn't," you said and they looked at you lost. You blinked slowly, trying to process what they'd actually said. Can I get more pain meds? "Sorry," you whispered and turned around, calling for one of your trainees and having them give him for pain meds.

It continued like that for a while. You answered phone calls from people just asking some basic questions about whether they should or should not come in to the center for. Sometimes you'd hung up on people instead of putting them on hold, sometimes you just said words that combined and had to repeat yourself three times.

There was a sudden influx of people for a short while, and each of them had been clawed or bitten by something. Someone?

It took a little while, but Price had eventually found you. "Lot of people being attacked, huh?" You blinked at him.

"What's happening?"

"They're trying to figure out how to bring Simon out of the feral mindset he's in," he whispered, looking away. You looked at him, not being able to say anything. "We need your help,"

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comfortless · 2 months

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what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

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wingedblooms · 1 month

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Elain Archeron, member of The Tortured Poets Department

i’m hearing voices like a madman - so high school

i’m seeing visions / am I bad or mad or wise? - guilty as sin?

you can mark my words that I said it first / in a mourning warning, no one heard - cassandra

and for a fortnight there, we were forever - fortnight

leaving me bereft and reeling / my beloved ghost and me / sitting in a tree / d-y-i-n-g - how did it end?

i saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist - so long, london

i cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art - i can do it with a broken heart

but my bare hands paved their paths / you don't get to tell me about "sad" - who’s afraid of little old me?

so I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street / crash the party like a record scratch as I scream / "who's afraid of little old me?" / you should be - who’s afraid of little old me?

i hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind - i hate it here

one slip and fallin' back into the hedge maze […] i keep recalling things we never did - guilty as sin?

these fatal fantasies / giving way to labored breath, takin' all of me / we’ve already done it in my head / if it's make-believe / why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow? - guilty as sin?

wise men once said / "one bad seed kills the garden" / "one less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen" / locked me up in towers / but I'd visit in your dreams / and they tried to warn you about me - the albatross

a rose by any other name is a scandal / cautions issued, he stood - the albatross

i spied the catch in your breath - i look in people’s windows

what if I roll the stone away? / they’re gonna crucify me anyway / what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy? - guilty as sin?

"stay away from her" / the saboteurs protested too much - but daddy i love him

crashin' into him tonight, he's a paradox - guilty as sin?

it’s happenin' again / how did it end? / i can't pretend like I understand - how did it end?

this cage was once just fine / am I allowed to cry? / i dream of crackin' locks - guilty as sin?

thought I caught lightning in a bottle / oh, but it's gone again […] please / i’ve been on my knees / change the prophecy / don't want money / just someone who wants my company / let it once be me - the prophecy

cards on thе table / mine play out like fools in a fablе […] poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand / oh, still I dream of him - the prophecy

lilac short skirt, the one that fits me like skin […] and I'll tell you one thing, honey / i can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean - imgonnagetyouback

i, i hear thе whispers in your eyes / i’ll make you wanna think twice / you'll find that you were never not mine / (you’re mine) - imgonnagetyouback

'cause the sign on your heart / said it's still reserved for me / honestly, who are we to fight thе alchemy? - the alchemy

i'll tell you something right now / i’d rather burn my whole life down […] i'll tell you something 'bout my good name / it’s mine alone to disgrace / i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing - but daddy i love him

if long-suffering propriety is what they want from me / they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly / i choose you and me religiously - guilty as sin?

#elain archeron #member of the tortured poets department #elriel #ttpd lyrics #elain 🤝 taylor swift #the tortured poets department

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angelstate · 5 months

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CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost x Virgin!Reader

+18 content warning

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who at the start of the relationship wasn’t sure how to act around you, not because he didn’t like physical contact or spending time with you, God, he wanted nothing more than to enter his way into every nook and cranny of your life and ruin you for everyone else that could come after him (he would never allow another man to enter your life) but he didn’t want to irrupt your life that way from the start, he was a patient man after all, he would make you crave his presence.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who is “caught off guard” when you start to ask him to stay over, claiming you didn’t want to be alone and that you missed him too much at night to let him leave, besides is late and too dangerous for him to go back home (he is type of dangerous man your parents warn you about when walking alone on the streets) and he as the oh-so-amazing-boyfriend he is obliged to your request, not wanting his pretty girl to get sad.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who really tries to make you happy despite loving when you get sad and cry like a kicked puppy, it’s truly a sight for sore eyes, at least ones as empty and sinister as his. And yeah, maybe he gives you the silent treatment just to watch you follow him around and beg for attention he would gladly give you if you didn’t look as good as you do when desperate and whiny for him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who lures you into falling right into trap after trap to get what he wants from you, a dirty pantie in the laundry basket? Why don’t you go fetch him the rest of the dirty clothes from the bedroom while he loads the washer for you? putting the dirty pair of underwear in his front pocket when you leave the laundry room.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows he is going to lose the shame sooner or later, but now it’s too early to do so, he doesn’t want you to think he is creepy (he is beyond creepy, mentally fucked up in every sense) he loves you after all, and he wants to know your smell, your taste and much more, what a better start than a dirty pair of panties to begin knowing you more in detail.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who sometimes does feel guilty, not for what he does, sees nothing wrong with stealing dirty underwear and pressing it to his nose while jerking off (sometimes licking them), that’s a way of loving you when you aren’t around. He feels guilty at times because you don’t know this “lovely” part of him, you should know every corner of his mind the same way he does yours. and maybe it's easier for him because you're so fucking dumb in the best way possible, giving him unlimited access to every detail about you if he just asks while kissing your neck or calling you an equally as dumb nickname.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who wants nothing more in this world than to corrupt you till there’s no space in your brain not plagued by memories of him, fucking you, loving you, making you cry, everything. He wants you to see him as the definition of love and pain and be addicted to his sadistic nature.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows really fucking well how sick in the head he is for wanting to ruin such a pretty little thing like you, but in his mind, he is practically making you a favor, he shows you just how ugly the world can get it at times, protects you from it even, and in return you love him unconditionally, keeping your head empty, letting him take full control of you so you don’t have to worry about anything.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows you sometimes doubts the legitimacy of his “good intentions” but is quick to shut down every question you have with manipulative words that sound pretty and full of love. He doesn’t mean to be so manipulative though, he really wants you to see his true intentions but if anything that could make you less docile to him, try to find a way out of the apartment now the two of you call home. It truly is for the best if you don’t know what occurs in his sick mind, at least for him it was the best.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who despite being a manipulative piece of shit does indeed love you and goes out of his way to make room for you in his life the best he can. He actually started using his PTO days to spend more time with you, he had prioritized his job and would never take days off if it wasn’t strictly necessary, but with you now being part of his life (therefore part of him) he knew he had to make good used of the vacation days he had available to love you and coddle you.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who has a high salary because of his rank and years serving as an SAS soldier, he is well off, to say the least, and has never been one to spend money on anything, except on you that is. Because he wants to spoil you the best he can, he knows your background and that you didn’t exactly come from money, just another middle-class suburban family who lived comfortably but not well off. but the way he goes about spoiling you is so fucking creepy, buys you clothes he knows are way too revealing for you to feel comfortable wearing outside, and spends way too much money on sex toys he knows he’ll have to basically coerce you into trying them.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who is extremely kinky and loves to be the one in power (in and out of the bedroom) he knows you were never given the sex talk though, barely gave your first kiss in 8th grade before your parents found out and put you in an all-girls school so you didn’t get distracted from studying, so to say the least, you were a virgin when entering the relationship. Ghost like the fucking creep he is loves that about you.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who loves the fact you’re a virgin so much he cannot help but tease you about it, physically and mentally with lingering touches and teasing comments to rile you up only to deny you right after. “Taking your virginity would be like cutting an angel's wing, can’t do that to ya’ lovie” he so fucking cockily says, arms crossed over his chest and his voice gruff, looking down at you, and you know he’s smirking under his mask.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who wants you to beg for his cock, wants to have you on your knees, begging for him to take your virginity, he’s the only man in your life after all, the one you plan to marry and devote your soul and life to (you better devote your life to him) He is playing the long game, both torturous and pleasuring because when the time is right, he is going to fuck you till you can’t remember nothing but his name and can’t walk away from him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who waited a lot of fucking time (like a lot) to finally get you where he wanted, it does come by surprise though. he is used to you sitting on his lap, tugging his belt, and asking him to try to go further. he always rejected you though. wanting you utterly desperate. what he hadn’t taken into account is what you did in the meantime, every time he shut you down. sooner he discovered what you did. The image of you, straddling a stuffed animal he bought you at the beginning of your relationship pressed against your cunt as you humped it like a bitch in heat, soft mewls, and moans leaving your lips, and ghost didn’t want to interrupt you, having too much fun looking at you cry from overstimulation as you struggled to make yourself come. but then you moaned out his name, his real name and the urge to fuck you senseless became too much to ignore this time.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who opens the bedroom door fully but doesn’t enter, only calling out to you to see the face of panic you would get at being caught “What are ya doin’ lovie?” he saw the way your hips stopped moving, your face full of embarrassment and your doe eyes teary, from shame or overstimulation? he didn’t care, you look pretty either way. he hears you struggle to answer him, too fucking dumb to even think of an excuse to give him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who doesn’t care to wait for an answer after you don't speak for almost a minute, choosing to take matters into his own hands and do what he had been wanting to do since the beginning.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who doesn’t care enough to warn you before he is grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you towards the end of the bed, flipping you on your back and hovering over you with a dark look in his eyes that send shivers down your spine, he looked fucking possessed (can’t you blame him though?) as he looks down at your panties, the fabric soaked and covered in your slick, the sight makes him want to groan out loud.

he had never expected you to be so filthy in the cutest of ways, I mean really, humping a stuffed animal he gave you, could you really be more desperate than that? he wishes he had caught you sooner, but he guessed you only really touched yourself when he wasn’t home or at least busy enough to not come into the bedroom, either way, he couldn’t care less right now, not when he had you under him all flustered and shy yet clearly frustrated from not having come yet.

“you should’ve come to me dovie” he says, pressing his hands on your clothed cunt, spreading your slick on your thighs before his fingers began softly rubbing your clit, his lips finding their way into your neck and leaving wet kisses all over the exposed skin. ”could’ve made you feel so good if you had just asked nicely", he mutters against your skin, a small sob coming from you making him break into a smile, lifting his head and looking at your flushed face, tears running down your face as you whimpered.

you sniffled, thighs twitching as his fingers don’t stop rubbing circles over your overstimulated clit. “didn’t wanna bother you Si..” he hears you mumble, a content sigh leaving his lips at your words before he leaning down and kissing you on the lips, not caring to reassure you he wouldn’t have been bothered if you came to him horny and looking for release. you had to look for it alone, so fucking dumb you were.

“gotta punish you now, sweetness…went behind my back and touched what's mine” he says against your lips, his free hand moving to grab a fistful of your hair and pulling it slightly, a whine leaving your lips at the sudden touch. “dumb little bitch you were, huh” he added not even three seconds later, his comment making your heart clench, you didn’t want to disappoint him, never. couldn’t bear the thought of doing something he didn’t approve of when he basically controlled your entire life by now. Before you knew it, Ghost was pounding into you with a brutal pace, the tip of his hard cock reaching your cervix and hitting it continuously, dragging moans of pleasure mixed with pain, struggling to take all of him while he forced his way in.

your legs were on his shoulder while pinned you down with his weight, leaving no opportunity for you to move away from him, forced to take everything he gave you “Filthy girl, so needy and not even able to take all my cock” he said, grabbing once again a fistful of your hair and pulling on it more roughly, forcing your head off the bed while he littered your neck with bite marks and bruises, “ can’t expect much from a dumb bitch like you” he continued to insult you while he bullied his cock into your pussy, loud moans leaving your lips, so cock-drunk you couldn’t even formulate a response.

his thrust became harder and harder, a frantic pace that began creating a tighter and tighter feeling on your lower stomach, you dug your nails into his back, scratching him when suddenly the knot on your stomach snapped, your orgasm ripping through your body, making your hips twitch to try and get away from Ghost as he continued to fuck into you overstimulating you. “I can’t.. s’too much! too much!” you said between moans, sobs following soon after while another knot began forming rapidly.

Ghost could feel you clench around him, your slick from your orgasm wetting his cock and thighs even more, making it easy to thrust into you while your walls sucked him in with a vice grip. he felt himself get closer to coming, one of his hands moving to your neck, choking you while the other moved to your clit, drawing tight circles that force a last orgasm out of you. “gonna fill you up, dovie, ruin your pussy for every bastard you meet after me” Ghost groans, quickening his pace, his balls slapping against your ass before he finally gives one last powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside you and filling you with his load, groaning on the crook of your neck while he feels your pussy spam around him, milking him dry.

Ghost sits up on the bed, your legs falling from his shoulders onto the bed, your body entirely spent as he watches your hips twitch, tears stains on your cheeks while your eyes are half closed, tired and overstimulated “Did so good for me, lovie..such a pretty girl you are” Ghost mutters, pulling out and watching as his cum spills out of your cunt onto the bed sheets, a wicked smile on his lips as he looks down at his dick, dry blood on part of his skin.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who took your fucking virginity after begging him for almost a year of dating and absolutely broke you apart because of how hard he fucked you. (Maybe next time he'll have you gagging on his cock)

#cod x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost x reader #boyfriend!ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #fanfic #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost riley

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rainybubbles · 1 year

Text

How do COD men confess to you ?

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro

If you want more context here the part 1, and 2

G H O S T :

-At the end of your shift, he was waiting for you.

-And Max.

-Because Max was a cute puppy who stole his heart, but he would never tell a soul.

So yeah every day he wasn't on mission. He knew that at 10 pm, he will be at this little pet shop.

-Because he loved how your smile was appearing when you recognized him.

-He loved how you still joked about the ropes he bought or even how when he walked you back home, you were trying to go out of your way to make this walk longer by taking him to the little restaurant.

-This little restaurant, that you chose on purpose, because it has 4 fire escapes, and a perfect view on the outside.

-You knew him.

-And you didn't step back.

-Well in fact you didn't step back when he was just a creepy man who bought ropes at 3 AM, so he -sincerely doubts about your survival instinct.

-So yeah...

-But how did he confess, you're asking me ?

-Well, he didn't.

-Ghost has too many issues to open his heart like this.

-So you decided to make a moove.

-A classic move with a little declaration and a gift.

-Yeah.

-So you bought rope.

-Yeah.

-I know this doesn't sound good.

-It sounds even like the beginning of a horror story but wait.

-You decided to send him a package.

-And in this package you will put a rope tied in a heart form with a letter.

-Telling he took you heart in hostage and you would like him to keep it.

-...

-Seems weird, but it kinda fit your meeting, so it seems like a cute idea.

-Until three months passed and you had no news.

-Not even a letter.

-You didn't panic because sometimes his job was like this, he told you.

-But the problem was you had to move out.

-And even if he had your number, Ghost changed his phone regularly to prevent from some undercover shit.

-Besides your job at the pet shop, he couldn't contact you.

-So you tried to ignore your removal.

-But at the end of the fourth month, you had to admit this relationship will never had an end.

-And you mooved out of the country.

-A bittersweet ending.

-You felt like you were reading a fluff story but forgot to read the tag "hurt/no comfort".

-Shit.

-Maybe next time you should read the tag of your fucking love life.

-Like "a rope man will steal your heart" "angst" "sad ending" "slow burn" "fucking weird story" "not a happy fidelity card guy" "maybe he was into bondage but guess what ? We will never know lol"

-Maybe you were crying when you saw a rope in a DIY shop after this.

-Or not.

-Your dignity and ego will never recover from this memory. (neither did the sales assistant who was just here trying to help you)

-So you tried watching around, maybe the destiny would help you.

-Maybe a tall masked man will appear at your door at 2 PM, under the rain saying he has always loved you and....

-And you don't open the door for your own mom because you're too scared that she could be someone pretending she's your mom so you hoped he wouldn't do this.

-Yet two months after your removal, you had a call from your previous boss.

-You usually avoid calls, but you knew he wouldn't call you if it wasn't important.

-So you answered and...

-He was telling you a package with your name was delivered to him.

-And when you asked what was in it.

-He answered.

-"A fidelity card for rope, with a yes on it."

-You never smiled that hard.

-(Ghost found your new contacts thanks to Lasswell later, to confirm you both confessed to each other.)

S O A P :

-You had kept in touch.

-Through letters and some texts, when Soap was allowed to send them, you started to have a great friendship.

-But lately in the memes that Soap sent to you, you found a lot of references to the French girls in general.

-Firstly you didn't pay attention.

-Until that night.

-When you saw Titanic again with your parents.

-And it clicked.

-The French girls scene !

-By you stopped.

-Why would Soap make implicit reference to this ?

-Then again you remembered his drawings.

-He sent you some of them in his letters.

-When you get back to your home, you gathered them, looking if maybe he had made a portrait of you or had made a joke that you didn't see.

-But it was just random sketches.

-You stared at Ghost sketch eating an ice cream when you noticed something on his mask.

-He had a "W" on it.

-You searched through the sketches and...

-"U to the mow, I go you will" you said out loud after collecting the letters and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

-And you tried to understand it.

-But except this fucking "mow" and "will"

-You didn't find any coherence in it.

-Did he want to ask you to mow his lawn in his garden ?

-But he didn't have a garden.

-And why a "U" and then a "You".

-Why, why Soap would even do this ?

-He was not the kinda guy that do this.

-"...I think I'm too stupid to find out this shit." you admitted.

-Well maybe your French girls scenes will not be romantic.

-So you texted him saying, you understood he sent you a message.

-But you didn't find how to translate it.

-And he texted you the answer.

-"Will you go out with me ?"

-...

-"Did Price give you the idea Soap ?" you answered.

-"Wait, you didn't answer."

-"Did Price give you the idea ?"

-"You think I couldn't be a romantic, love ?"

-"I think we're both too stupid to create a thing like this, love."

-"... it was L.T"

-"he...Ghost ?"

-"Yes."

-"...did he love titanic ?"

-"he had a collection about it."

-"...wow."

-"yeah."

-"To answer, yes, I would love too. But never ask again advice from Ghost, I don't want to end on an iceberg."

-"Yes, love."

P R I C E :

-Soap and Gaz with a broken arm led to your confession.

-They were both drunk and knew their captain had a thing for you, and it was reciprocated.

-Especially after Price offered you some chocolates to make clear he was interested in you.

-But nothing was happening.

-So with some scotch, and very bad ideas, Gaz and Soap decided that their time to shine had coming.

-They were the Cupids of the base.

-And what had Cupid ?

-Wings.

-If they used their wings to bring you from your office to Price at the bar, then he would be happy and more relaxed in this context, and maybe he will confess.

-Yes.

-Except.

-They didn't have wings.

-So when they jumped out from the roof.

-Their arms broke.

-And who was the doctor at the base ?

-You.

-You didn't go out because you were busy to treat their arms.

-"Maybe we need some bows next time." Soap whispered but it was more like he shouted in Gaz's ears.

-"And some white underwears! Cupid has that. I'm sure if we wore this, it will work for sure." Gaz answered.

-"And what about not jumping from the roof and not drinking that much, hmm ?" you asked.

-"Sssshhhh, we're in a confession plan right now. You can't stop us." Gaz said trying to put his finger on your mouth but ended up to do it on the wall next to you.

-"I'm calling Price to take you back to your bed, you're both too heavy for me."

-"We could walk."

-"It's not walking the problem Soap. It's where you could go."

-"hmm."

-So you called Price.

-The problem was he asked you why.

-Why did the boys jump out from the roof ?

-You blinked.

-He would know when he would come here.

-So you decided to gather some courage and-

-"They try to make us confess by bringing me to the bar with you. But they believe they were angels and could fly."

-The silence was so loud.

-He hung up.

-You sighed.

-Well at least, you said it.

-You didn't expect a yes, but at least an answer would be the minimum.

-When later, you heard a knock, you didn't make the effort to look up.

-You heard Price taking the boys to their beds and the door closing.

-But few minutes later, you heard a knock.

-Surprised, you stood up.

-Maybe someone else has drunk too much and-

-"John." You said surprised.

-"I intend to ask you out with some roses, and tomorrow but I guess two drunk soldiers with broken arms beat me."

-"The experienced strategist beat up ?" you joked.

-"I guess so. I'm sorry it was done like this, love."

-"I don't care honestly. As long as it's you asking me."

-He smiled and took your hand slowly.

-"Well, I can't wait for our first date, then."

-"'Hope Soap and Gaz will not be there."

-He laughed.

-"I can't promise that." he smiled.

G A Z :

-A meme.

-He sent you a meme.

-To confess.

-But you never answered him.

-And when he saw you, you never talked about it.

-So...he understood he was rejected.

-And he was okay with that, hell it was normal.

-He just thought it was reciprocated because you had what seems like dates with him.

-Maybe he mixed up signals.

-So he just never talked about it again, because he didn't want to make you feel awkward.

-But one day during lunch, he heard Soap talking with you.

-"So you got a new one, uh ?" Soap asked.

-"I didn't have the choice. His ass fucking destroyed the previous one."

-Gaz stared at the floor.

-He didn't know you had someone.

-Maybe that was because you never-

-"L.T has a cake, that's for sure." Soap joked.

-Gaz suffocated.

-You-

-And Ghost-

-And Ghost's ass-

-"That's not funny Soap. He fucking destroyed my phone just by sitting on it. It's not a cake. It's a fucking breeze block at this point."

-Your...

-Oh.

-oh.

-FUCK.

-He realized.

-You didn't ignore him.

-You hadn't see his message.

-"How does it happen ?" he asked to be sure of his conclusion.

-"I just let my phone on a bench, and he sat without looking, that's it. But because his ass is apparently more solid that my relationship with my father, or even the fucking Vivelle dop gel, he broke it."

-"Fuckin' hell". Gaz said

-"You can say that again. Why are you asking, by the way ?"

-"I sent you a text and you never answer, so I was wondering why."

-"Now you know. But I will answer, I manage to transfer my data and texts on my new phone."

-Gaz didn't feel well now.

-Soap was here.

-And your phone in your hand.

-Meaning he will see your reaction in live and with a public.

-Like he was on the set of a TV show. But here he could gain your heart and not $100,000.

-But you didn't say anything, neither did open it.

-You just sit and talked with him and Soap like it was not important.

-Because of course you couldn't know what was his text.

-So he waited.

-All the day, for you to open this fucking meme.

-To see it.

-And at midnight.

-He received a Mister Worlwide saying yes.

-Never he was so happy to see this bald head

A L E J A N D R O :

-He had everything planned.

-The moment, the place.

-It was going to be a big thing.

-He talked Rudy about it and even the 1-4-1 during a mission.

-Because Soap teased him about you.

-So he explained how he was going to ask you out and-

-Laswell stopped him.

-Their communications were not over.

-She heard everything

-And when Laswell ordered you to tell the location to Price

-He understood you were on their mission as a technician, and you heard all of it.

-The only thing that could kill Alejandro is Alejandro after all, right ?

-Even when it was dying of embarrassment.

-He mumbled some insults in Spanish and tried to hold his head high.

-He had everything planned, and just a microphone ruined this ?

-No,no, no, no he refused.

-He met you because of those mics, how they dare to betray him like that ?

-He ignored this and finished the mission.

-But on the way back, he heard your voice.

-"Good job guys. By the way I would love going on a date with you, Ale. If you needed to know after...this."

-You know the smile he did, when they interrogate Valeria ?

-It was one hundred brighter right now in the car.

-Soap even wore sunglasses to protect his eyes.

-Alejandro was so fucking happy.

-Maybe he did not hate the mics.

-Even though he's persuaded that someone hacked them this particular day.

___

If you want more : here.

I'm sorry that it took so long to post this part, but when I posted another COD about how you meet Farah, Alex and Konig I had a comment saying it was shit.

And I know my English sucks, so I deleted it and hesitated to write again..

Maybe I need some readers to help me, or maybe this comment was just hateful, I don't know.

In any case, sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language !

#call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #cod x reader

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soapybutt17 · 7 months

Text

Coldest Night

Summary: What if your worse nightmare has come to life?

Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish.

Word Count: 1,702

Chapter Warnings: Angst. Character Death(s). Life threatening injuries. Mentions of blood loss. Mentions of violence. Major Spoiler for MW3.

A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, just know that i know you had good intentions, but i am not over mw3 and what they had done to my boy Soap and now i'm just down right sad again. didn't go into too much detail for soap's part cuz the wound is still fresh and my boy did not deserve what happened to him. :'(

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

John “Soap” MacTavish

The day that you had learned Soap was KIA, you had fallen to your knees in the middle of the base and had sobbed your heart out. Johnny had always had a special place in your heart. Out of the three, you had worried about Soap the most knowing how his tendency to act brashly had ended with him more injured than he needed to be.

You mourned his death worse than anyone else in the base. You were the one that had to make the call to his family, letting them know about Soap’s passing. How it had been so hard for you to hold the tears as you listened to his parents crying through the other line. You still held a level of professionalism as you explained to his family the next step that was needed to be taken and you would be helping them all throughout wherever they may need you.

Early on, a part of you would begin to blame each and every single one of the boys. They had made a promise to you that they would keep an eyes on each other. But they broke it, you had unfortunately displaced most of your anger towards your husband, who’s already filled with guilt knowing Soap had died under his command, Soap had died saving him from Makarov.

But slowly but surely you began to heal, learning that you should not have blamed anyone of the boys for what has happened—especially your husband. The man was already plagued with his own guilt, Survivor’s guilt as the therapist you had forced all three of them to take had explained. You had your own guilt, knowing if only you had been there for the mission, you could have made difference. But at the end of the day, there was no use thinking of the what ifs. It was about learning to move on.

It was in Soap’s death that you and your husband have decided to retire. The fear of having to lose either Gaz or Ghost haunted you both. It was no a decision either of you would be willing to make any longer. You couldn’t in your conscious allow another meaningless death because of a war be on either of your hands.

Even as the years has passed since Soap’s death, you had never forgotten the man and all the memories that you had shared with him in your time as part of the Taskforce. You were still mourning just as much as your husband, but it was slowly but surely getting better. It had also become your mission of constantly checking up on the two boys, proud that they’ve gotten themselves promoted as Captain and Lieutenant respectfully. They had both deserved it, more than either of them would believe, Soap would have been their number one support should he still been alive to witness it all.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Riley!”

Even as hard as you try to keep the wound covered, Simon was losing so much blood that you were slowly but surely doubting if he would be able to make it. It was stupid of him to take the bullet to save you. Completely and utterly stupid of him to do this to you now when he finally has a life to live.

“You deserve to live, you’ve got the Captain and the little princess waiting for you back home.” Simon gasp, even as hard as he tries to be strong, pain was very well written on his masked face.

Your hands dug further onto his stomach where the bullet wound resides. All of your medical training has faded from your mind as panic continued to settle. Tearing your sleeves off, you placed it onto his stomach, hoping it would add to the gauze stopping the wound from bleeding further out.

“You fucking deserve to live too.” You snapped, radioing back up again. A single tear was shed as you were given an ETA of an hour.

Simon might not make it in an hour.

“I want you to promise me something, Rookie.” He coughed, his shaking hand slowly pulled off his mask revealing his pale face, and blood loss was slowly but surely manifesting. “Promise me that you’ll bury me in my home town, not as Ghost, but as Simon Riley.”

You sobbed, knowing what his request had entailed. His past that had once haunted him all throughout his life and his career. He was ready to leave it all behind and live and die finally as the man behind the mask.

“Bury me with me Mum and brother.”

“Okay.” You nod, sobbing now as he clasped onto your hands pulling it away from the wound on his stomach.

“Thank you for being the Mum I thought I could never have again.” He whispered cupping your cheeks with his bloodied hand before his hands fell and his eyes closed.

Death had taken him from you and all you could do was sob, shaking him awake, ignoring the voice of your husband and the rest of the team that had grown concern that your sobs would notify their enemies of your whereabouts, but it truly didn’t matter. You’ve lost Simon, your boy. The man that you had loved like he was your own, and the man you had promised your husband to protect when you had agreed to go on this mission with him.

You had failed Simon, just as much as you had failed to keep your promise with John. You would never see yourself ever stepping back onto a mission again after this. You had vowed to yourself never to because of it.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

“How is he?”

It’s been three days of no sleep for you. You had refused to leave the confinements of the cold plastic chair that was situated outside of the hospital room where Kyle was in. No one, not even your husband could coerce you into leaving your place outside of the room.

John, Soap, and Simon had begun taking turns in giving you food, coffee, or change of clothes. But nothing could truly make you leave your position until you were sure that Kyle was stable and as far away from any sorts of danger.

But you should have expected something like this to happen. A mission gone wrong would always end with someone getting compromised. You were thankful that it was just an injury—as severe as it had been for the past few days, it was better than dealing with a funeral and paper works that come along with it.

You were still shaken up after you’ve been notified that Kyle was compromised. You dropped everything and made your way here in the hospital. All thoughts of work and your obligations were placed in the backburner until you were certain he was going to be alright.

“Stable.” The Doctor’s single word had washed all the relief onto your body. It was all you needed to know.

“Damages?” You inquired.

“Broken collar bone and hairline fracture to the skull, but they will heal. What I want him to focus more on is healing the few bullet wounds to the stomach he dealt with. We were able to remove most of the bullets and fragments, but we will not be certain about any underlying damage until after he wakes up.”

You nod. In the years of knowing Kyle, you know he would be able to get back from this, but knowing the damages that he had to endure because of this mission, there was this fear that just doesn’t seem to leave you. What if there was something wrong that would change his life in a way that no one would help him with.

“When will he be able to wake up then?”

“When he is good and ready.”

You nodded, thanking the doctor for the update. Slumping back onto the chair, you sighed resting your face onto your hand. Only now did you feel the fatigue and lack of sleep finally get to you.

“How are you holding up, Darling?”

Looking up, the sight of your husband was a welcome comfort for you in this very moment. He sat beside you with his arm immediately wrapping around your shoulder. Only now did you also come to realize the shiver that run through your body at the lack of coat.

“Better than Kyle is.” You muttered.

“He’s gonna be alright.” John’s reassurance did nothing to you in the moment, but you held onto it still. Every single reassurance that was given to you, you would take.

“I hope so,” You muttered. “He was supposed to be on drill duties next week.” You hoped a little humor could ease away your worries.

“And he still will when he wakes up.” John reassured with a chuckle. “I’ll make sure of it, My Love.”

“What if he doesn’t come out of this the same way?”

“Then we will help him adjust to the civilian life should it be the choice he makes for himself.” He answered immediately. “We will not know for sure, but whatever happens, it is our duty and our responsibility to make sure all three of those Muppets are well taken care of whether they still work for us or not.”

You nodded understanding very well what he was trying to say.

“I just can’t stop worrying about him. I don’t know how he’s doing right now and what he’s feeling.”

“I worry about him too.” John admits sighing. “But we will resolve nothing if all we do is worry about him and the other two.”

You nodded. Only now did you realize that for the past few days, your husband had allowed you the time to take it all in. How one member of your team being compromised as Kyle was right now would not be the first time that it would happen and you were certain it would not be the last.

You had your duty just like John did. With Kyle now in the clear, it was only time for you to regroup and deal with the mess you’ve left behind in the base.

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fangirlfrom-hell · 7 months

Text

October 1st and Traditions Gone Wrong || Jay and Will Halstead x Halstead Sister

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

Becca wants to follow the Halstead's tradition, but looks like everything is againt it.

👻🕯🎃🕸🦇⛓🖤🕷🥀🪦🐈‍⬛💀🌙⚰🍁🕸️

"WAKE UP, YOU SNORER!"

Jay abruptly opned his eyes when a hand moved his shoulder with a shout of "HEY!".

"What the--"

"DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHAT DAY IS TODAY?" Becca was on top of his bed, jumping with excitement.

"Um, it's 5:00am on Sunday, that's all I know", her brother answered turning to his side, trying to go back to sleep.

"IT'S OCTOBER 1ST, SILLY! THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR HAS BEGUN!" She was smiling from ear to ear, extreme happiness could be heard in her voice.

Jay, feeling a bit defeated, reluctantly opened his eyes and gazed at his sister, who was dressed in a pajama adorned with little ghost designs. Despite his initial exhaustion, he couldn't help but break into a warm smile as he turned his eyes to her, feeling a surge of affection and happiness.

"Well, you certainly know how to wake someone up with a bang!" He rubbed his face with his hands. "What's the plan for today, Becca?"

The girl changed her tone to a more serious one. "You're joking, right? It's tradition: we watch 'The Night Before Christmas' while having a Halloween-themed breakfast, silly..."

Then, she switched back to her excited tone: "I ordered these Jack O' Lantern molds to make pancakes..."

"What? How did you order that? With what money?"

"I used your card, but that's not the point! I'll call Will, in case he forgot. He should be the one cooking today." And she hurriedly left the room.

"Sure, he'll be delighted to be woken up," Jay muttered to himself and chuckled.

After a tiring night call, Jay struggled to break free from his bed. He knew Becca wouldn't allow him to go back to sleep. Besides, she was brimming with energy; this date was significant to her, and he didn't want to disappoint her. They had followed this tradition since they were kids, but it had halted when Jay went to war and Will pursued his studies. Jay had resumed it when their mother passed away, primarily for Becca's sake. Will had rekindled his involvement in the tradition only a couple of years ago when he came back to Chicago.

Jay stepped out into the hallway, wearing his own ghost-themed shirt to match his little sister's. He made his way straight to the kitchen to brew some coffee. As he prepared the coffee, a smile crept onto his face when he spotted the box of Jack O'Lantern molds she had bought, fully aware of how much she had been anticipating this moment.

The room remained dimly lit, with most of the lights turned off, but Jay could discern Becca's silhouette on the sofa. She appeared deeply engrossed in a phone call, and Jay couldn't help but sense a tinge of concern. Was she crying? He continued to watch her intently while tending to his coffee, quietly trying to gauge her emotions from a distance.

"..sure, I understand. Yeah, no problem, I already told you I get it. See you later". she said into the phone before hanging up.

A few seconds of tense silence filled the air. Jay waited for her to say something, but she didn't budge from her spot.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yes," she replied tersely.

"Is Will going to make it?" Jay inquired, though he already knew the answer.

Becca struggled to conceal her emotions, her voice quivering as she responded, "No."

Jay let out a deep sigh and sat down next to her. She was gazing into the abyss with her arms crossed.

"He just got back home from his shift; that's what he said," Becca explained, immitating her brother's voice. "He said he would be here later. I know. He's working, he's tired...but he forgot about it! And now everythingi s ruined! Just for the record, I'm not mad at him, I'm just...sad, I guess."

"Hey! Nothing is ruined, I'm still here!" Jay reassured her.

"But the tradition is with the three of us! We can't do it with minus one!"

"Well, sometimes traditions change, and that's all right, Becc. We used to do this without him, remember? Then he came back, and it evolved to what we have now..." Jay reassured her, understanding the sentimental value of their tradition, but also the way it had adapted over time.

"I guess you are right."

"What I'm trying to say it that if he said he'll come later, and his precense it's so important for you, maybe we can adapt to it. We'll watch 'The Night Before Christmas' in the evening, no big deal. Meanwhile, you and I can select another movie and savor those Jack O'Lantern pancakes. What do you say?"

"Yeah, I like that!" Becca replied with a hopeful smile.

The two Halstead siblings got to work. Together, they cooked the Jack O'Lantern pancakes and prepared hot chocolate for the special occasion. They shared hearty laughter, engaging in playful banter, and soon, Becca's spirits began to lift. Occasionally, Jay would stifle a yawn, and it was impossible for Becca not to notice the dark circles under his eyes; he appeared incredibly tired.

"Thank you for doing this with me," the girl said as they settled back on the sofa. "I know you're exhausted too."

"No problem," he replied sincerely. "There's nothing I'd rather do than celebrate October 1st with you," he winked. "Now, what are we watching?" Jay added, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Ghostbusters?" Becca suggested with a grin.

Will arrived at Jay's place around 5:00 pm, carrying two big bags filled with Halloween-themed treats and snacks. "This is my way to say I'm sorry," he explained.

"Apology accepted," Becca said, taking the bags.

Everyhting was going well, the Halstead siblings were now together, preparing everything to finally watch the movie. The initial credits appeared: "The Night Before Christmas" and Becca, Jay, and Will started to sing along: Boys and girls of every age. Wouldn't you like to see something strange? Come with us and you will see. This, our town of Halloween...

"Oh, geez! I'm so happy we made it!" The girl said and hugged her bothers.

But like a bad omen, Jay's phone began to ring. Becca turned to him, but he initially decided to ignore the call. It was probably nothing, as it was his day off, and he had explicitly asked not to be bothered, considering the Halstead's celebration. However, the phone rang again, three times in a row, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Halstead", he sighed as he answered the call.

"Oh, God. I should have kept my mouth shout", Becca reproached herself as she paused the movie.

"I'll be there in 15", the detective brother finished the call with an agry tone.

"It's your day off!" Becca stood up, "This is not fair!"

"I know, I know, Beccs. I'm really sorry, but I gotta go to this crime scene".

"Ugh, this day is cursed. It's a stupid tradition, anyway. Who cares?" She stormed off to her room and slammed the door shut.

Becca's heart sank, but not as much as Jay's. He called out, "I'll try my best to be back soon, Becca! I promise!" as he hurried away, his voice filled with regret and determination.

"I'll take care of this, don't worry," Will reassured his brother with a comforting pat on the shoulder before Jay left the place.

Becca's door was opened and when Will peeked his head in, she was sitting at the edge of the bed, weeping the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

"Hey, munchkin", he slowly approached to her "You know this is not Jay's foult..."

"I know," she turned to face him, her expression troubled. Her voice quivered with a hint of sadness. "But it doesn't make me feel better. I... I always wait for this day because it brings us together. We used to do this with Mom and Dad, and... I don't know." Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued, her voice choked with emotion. "Things started going wrong since this morning. I should have listened to the signs. You two are adults now, with your own lives and jobs, so, of course, you wouldn't have time for these things."

Her words carried a deep sense of disappointment and longing, and her eyes glistened with the memories of cherished family moments that seemed to slip further away with each passing year.

"It's not nonsense," Will assured her, his tone gentle. "You're right. We're not kids anymore, and we have other things to attend to, but nothing, not even work, will ever be more important than you, Becca. You are our priority, and if this tradition is important to you, it's important to us too." He sighed and reached out to hug her by the shoulder. "I apologize for forgetting it; I wanted to make amends by coming in the afternoon. I didn't think it would cause so many problems."

"No, it's not your fault. It is what it is, that's all."

"You waited for me the whole day," Will observed. "May I ask why it's so important that the three of us watch it together?" He inquired, genuinely curious about the significance of their tradition for her.

Becca frowned for a moment, lost in thought, and then she smiled warmly. "It was Mom's favorite spooky movie," she explained. "Somehow, it feels like she's still around when it's the three of us." Her eyes held a mixture of nostalgia and comfort as she shared her toughts.

Will and Becca spent the evening playing board games until they decided to watch another film while waiting for Jay.

"You haven't seen 'Gremlins'?" Will asked incredulously. "How come? Geez, that's it! That's what we're watching now!"

Hours passed by, and Becca's eyes were beginning to close. After all, she had woken up very early to start the day. She realized Jay was not coming back on time, but she still wanted to wait until the very end.

"You should rest," her brother encouraged her.

"It's 10:00 pm. If he gets home, we can still honor the tradition."

"Tell you what: close your eyes and sleep; you look tired. If Jay comes back, I'll wake you up."

"Hmm, will you really wake me up?" She asked, sounding suspicious.

"It's a promise!" he assured her.

As soon as she place her head on her brother's shoulder, she fall asleep.

👻🕯🎃🕸🦇⛓🖤🕷🥀🪦🐈‍⬛💀🌙⚰🍁🕸️

"We shouldn't," murmurs echoed in the distance, almost as if they were part of her dream. "I promised her," another voice chimed in. "Give it a try," someone suggested. "If she doesn't wake up at first, we let her rest."

"Hey, Becc!" Will's voice was now clear and bright. Becca opened her eyes to see her red-haired brother's face in front of her. "Jay's back."

She turned her head and spotted him standing right next to the couch. Her smile was bright, and suddenly, a rush of energy filled her tiny body as she stood up quickly.

"OK, WHAT TIME IS IT?"

"Um, 11:30."

"IT WORKS FOR ME; WE'RE STILL ON TIME TO COMMEMORATE THE TRADITION!" Becca exclaimed with enthusiasm. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MOVE! MOVE! GET EVERYTHING READY!"

Becca couldn't contain her happiness. It was true; the tradition hadn't gone as usual, but at this very moment, surrounded by her brothers, she felt a warmth that overshadowed any disappointment.

It was true what Jay had said: traditions change with time, and that's perfectly okay. In this case, they had even added two more movies to the celebration. Her brothers had made the effort to be with her on this important day, and she couldn't have been more grateful for their presence. She hugged both of them tightly, cherishing this moment of togetherness and the bonds that meant the world to her.

"I'm glad you both made it".

By the time the movie finished, the clock struck 1:00 am. Becca couldn't stifle a tired yawn, feeling the exhaustion wash over her. She turned to her brothers and was surprised to see both of them fast asleep, their peaceful expressions illuminated by the soft glow of the TV.

A warm, fond smile crept across Becca's face. She stretched her tired limbs, feeling a sense of contentment in this moment. With a gentle sigh, she snuggled up between the two Halstead brothers, her heart filled with love for her family. It had been an unconventional but truly special day, and now, as she closed her eyes, she was ready to join them in a well-deserved slumber, cherishing the bonds that meant the world to her.

👻🕯🎃🕸🦇⛓🖤🕷🥀🪦🐈‍⬛💀🌙⚰🍁🕸️

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a like, comment or share 😌♡

#one chicago #chicago med #chicago pd #halstead sister #jay halstead #will halstead #chicagopd #jay halstead x sister #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfic #Jay Halstead x Halstead sister #Will halstead x sister #Will Halstead x Halstead sister #Spooky Season #The nightmare before christmas #Halloween #One chicago

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dapandapod · 8 months

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Brave your neck to see the sun

Just another thing that lives in my head rent free that is half a fic, half an idea, that begs to be written, so here is the mix of it. And because who I am as a person, I slapped it on Ao3 as well.

(cw, lettenhove has fallen, sad stuff in general, loss of family, their spirits)

Because....

Cursed Jaskier.

I mean, he is immortal, and his home, Lettenhove, is but crumbled rock by now, and jaskier is tied to their ruins.

And maybe madness is threatening in the corner of his eye, maybe the past is talking to him, maybe the stones remembered what they looked like in ages past.

And Jaskier cannot leave.

Maybe this is where jaskier goes after the mountain, because when he last was home, it was still standing.

But the land is fallen, burned, ash on his tongue.

Maybe there was a curse put on the stones rather than him, keeping what remains of the family bound to the ground, for the dynasty to defend against an army should they return.

And Jaskier is caught in the ruins, and the remains of his family and his childhood.

Geralt finds Ciri, and she dreams of Yennefer, yes, but she cant' stop dreaming of a land that was, and she feels herself pulled there, but it is too dangerous, because it is on the other side of the army following her.

When they finally go, the survivors in the gathering of houses on the outskirts of Lettenhove speak of a ghost, of lights as the darkness is falling, of the sound of crying, and singing, sometimes laughing.

It takes time for them to make it up there, the magic fighting them every step of the way, making it treacherous and dangerous.

Jaskier can hear them coming, but they are not the first ones attempting to seek the treasures of what once was, and he hides.

They find a lute, broken in what seems in a fit of rage against the stones. some of the strings are still connecting the neck to the body, and Geralt feels a pang of fear when he recognizes it.

Jaskier has had time to make many hiding spots, a routa of sorts, of small camps. There are weeds growing around the cracked stones, sticking up defiantly, baring their necks to see the sun.

Eventually Geralt finds Jaskier, hiding in one of the crumbled rooms, a half burned painting propped up against the wall, a little girl with one eye covered with yellow locks looking out, holding the hand of her older brother.

Jaskier holds his dagger out, until he realizes who it is.

Geralt doesn’t know how to break the curse, and it hurts Jaskier to leave. They can’t stay with him, and to not raise suspicion they have to leave him behind.

Jaskier watches them leave, and he knows that he won’t see them again. Why would Geralt come back after all, now that Jaskier finally can’t follow.

He waits until he can’t see them anymore, until he believes they can’t hear him anymore, and he screams out his frustrations, voice echoing against the stones.

Eventually Yennefer finds him, and she has the solution. Not a pleasant one, but one that allows him to leave.

His bloodline is tied to this place, imprinted on him when his fathers father brought him underground and a small child, and put his blood among his ancestors.

What Jaskier thought was madness was instead shattered remains of a spirit.

With the witch’s help, Jaskier’s mother’s spirit wakes, and she cries when she sees her son.

“Where were you?” She asks, she grieves, she screams, until her rage has run its course.

More spirits rise, and Yennefer keeps them safe in the middle of the courtyard.

The curse can’t be lifted, but they learn that Jaskier can be freed, can move on from his past if he lifts his imprint away from the stone.

A grave hag has taken residence below, her cackling and grunting traveling up the stairs, and Yennefer too must leave Jaskier, to bring a witcher to help.

Her magic is still fragile, and she places her hand on Jaskier’s cheek as he takes her goodbye, leaving him with the spirits of his family.

Eventually it is Eskel who kills the hag, keeping Jaskier company when he laughs a little too loudly, his eyes a little too wide with unrest and grief.

When Yennefer finally returns, she brings Geralt and Ciri once more, and they are surprised to see Eskel by Jaskier’s side, the hag dealt with.

Yennefer presses Jaskier’s cut palm against the cold stone of his ancestors, chanting as she recalls his blood, distangles his past from the stone.

Above, the ruins creak and groan, the spirits growing agitated. They shriek and they trash and they try to protect their home from the intruders.

When they emerge, Jaskier is quiet. He is quiet as he tests his first steps outside the ruin grounds, and he is quiet when he looks back to what was his home, and then his prison.

The ground is covered in weeds, slowly dancing in the wind, the spirits keeping their own company.

Lettenhove is no more, and the ruins remain unbothered.

Sometimes Jaskier returns, just to speak with his sister. Sometimes he sings to his mother, and talks about the worldly affairs with his father.

Jaskier is not tied to the stone anymore, but his spirit will not rest until his family does.

Ciri doesn’t dream of the ruins anymore, but sometimes she gets a faraway look, takes Jaskier’s hand, and asks if he would take her to the coast.

Geralt and Yennefer never reconnected after the djinn. and eventually finds another djinn to break the wish.

She finds her own way, even if it is connected to Ciri’s, and she finds her own destiny in the shape of a Merigold.

It takes time for Geralt to build up what he broke. Takes time to figure out how friendship works, and even more so when Geralt figures out his own feelings towards the bard.

The bard is not the same man, how could he be, but he grows anyway. Grows like a defiant weed in the cracks of a stone, baring their neck to see the sun.

#whump the bard i guess #cursed!jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #lettenhove #julian alfred pankratz #i'm not saying he left his name behind #but maybe he did #this almost took a very darker turn i just need you all to know this #dapanda writes #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #witcher eskel #yennefer of vengerberg

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crow-stars · 2 years

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Hiyaa! I read your Ace and Deuce fics and i find them so adorable! Especially Ace's like sulky Ace bc his plan fell through just adorable. Your writing too is absolutely stunning and expressive keep up the good work!!

Also I dont know if you do requests like this but if its allowed can I request the first years dealing with the aftermath of the prefect going back home like them coming in terms with the fact that they may or may not never see the prefect despite all the things they went through, i just imagine Adeuce and Grim would deal with it the hardest

hello there dear little reader~ i'm so glad you enjoyed those stories, i'm quite fond of those two troublemakers. and i accept requests like that, yes, but you always have to make sure to read the rules and, if you're not sure on anything, always ask me dear reader.

now then... let's see what we have here;

the first year characters from the stories of twisted wonderland. and the aftermath of the prefect going back home, how sad they must feel! oh, the story this will create will be wonderful! now let's see how this book turned out...

❝IF ONLY YOU HAD STAYED❞

❦summary; good things don't last forever, people don't stay the same, places change, and you can't expect everyone to stay

♪the characters in this story; ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, epel felmier, sebek zigvolt, grim, prefect!reader

✎word count;

❀what do the ghosts say?; reader is referred to a few times, but not solely focused on reader, format of headcanons + mini written section, angst, crying, depictions of grieving, platonic or romantic relationship (can be viewed as either), grim is also incorporated a bit in every section

☛the author's notes; i love writing sadness. it's a specialty of mine. it's also a bit of a personal headcanon of mine that the first years take care of grim once the prefect/player leaves twisted wonderland. also man, i just realised i'm talking like you died or smth. huh

☪look at the catalogue?

❛ACE TRAPPOLA❜

✧ Ace didn’t take it well

✧ He knew that it would happen eventually, they all did. But he didn’t expect it to come so soon

✧ When you had gathered everyone at Ramshackle, he didn’t assume anything was wrong. When you had told all of them, time seemed to freeze

✧ You.. you were leaving? Going back to your own world?

✧ No, that surely wasn’t true! You were probably just messing with them all! But you weren’t, oh no, you weren’t

✧ Ace was... he felt devastated. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, no, but he felt like something important was being stolen away from him. Something important to him was getting taken away and he couldn’t do anything about it.

✧ Ace was silent during the sendoff, what could he say? When it was his turn for a goodbye, the only thing he did was hug you tightly and wished you to be safe, to not get into any stupid trouble. And then you were gone. You stepped through the mirror and it swallowed your body

✧ Ace missed you, life at NRC didn’t feel the same after you. Nothing did for a while.

✧ To everyone else, Ace just seemed to dismiss your leaving, sweep it under the rug and go back to being the mischievous person others knew. The rest of the group knew different.

✧ Every so often, Deuce would find Ace sitting in the dark of their dorm, staring silently at his phone. Old pictures of you all. Sometimes he would find Ace crying, silently, shoulders shaking with every sob

✧ Ace would claim sometimes that you’d come back, come to visit. Truly, he believed that you would come back one day. But he had to come to terms with it in his junior year.

✧ Even years later, Ace refuses to talk about you to anyone that isn’t the others of the group. It hurts to talk about someone that never really existed in his world. He feels he should talk about you to the others and only the others.

❦

A hand dragged down Ace’s face as he slumped in the chair in his living room. It was late, too late and he just wanted to knock out on this chair.

“Oi! Ace, you’re late! Where’s my tuna?”

Ace shook his head and huff, but there was still a faint smile on his lips as Grim hopped onto his lap, tugging at his disheveled suit. He pushed the cat monster off his lap and stood, laughing when Grim yelped in surprise.

“At least give me some time to rest, you weasel.”

Ignoring Grim’s agitated rambling, Ace walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinet where he kept Grim’s much desired food, placing it on the counter so that Grim could snatch it up. The cat cheered, ripping into the canned fish as Ace watched silently.

But, unexpectedly, Grim paused. He looked up to Ace, beady sapphire eyes swirling a bit with some nostalgia. He didn’t say anything for a bit, which was uncharacteristic of him. It was silent for a few beats, Grim gripping his still open tuna can tightly in those paws of his. Ace purses his lips a bit, waiting for Grim to say something before deciding to break the silence.

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself thinking, weasel. Spit it out!”

This got a response immediately, as expected, and Grim hissed at Ace. “Shut up!” There was a little pout on the cat’s face and Ace found it amusing. Grim’s ears pressed against his head, the flames that fluttered from his body dimming a bit and Ace knew what he was thinking.

“Are you thinking about them?”

The ears perked up and Ace knew he was right on the spot. Grim only nodded, ears flattening against his head again. Ace sighed heavily, placing a hand on Grim’s head. He gave the cat a few scratches behind his ear and heaved another sigh.

“Just eat your tuna and we’ll go to sleep soon. Deuce is coming to get you tomorrow.”

Grim nodded and began digging into the tuna, flames brightening a bit. The sight made Ace smile, despite the heavy sadness that set in his chest.

❛DEUCE SPADE❜

✧ Deuce was one of the few that took it better. Don’t get him wrong, he despaired when you told them that you were returning to your world. But he understood. Or at least he said he understood

✧ Oh, how he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to beg you to stay, you were important to him, close to him. But he also couldn’t imagine the pain of being away from family, people who cared for you as much as he and everyone else at NRC did.

✧ So he was only silent, he only smiled as you left, wished you the best as you readied to go through the mirror

✧ Deuce cried that night, surrounded by the other first years

✧ He felt so unmotivated for months afterward, not wanting to do anything, even in track and field he was lagging behind

✧ But he eventually had to come to terms, realize that he wasn’t the only one grieving.

✧ Oh, when he first found Ace in the dark of their room, furiously wiping at the tears that rushed down his cheeks, Deuce felt so bad. That was when he finally realized that he wasn’t alone in his grief

✧ He cried with Ace that night and the next morning, while they didn’t speak much of it, they shared a silent understanding.

✧ From then on, Deuce made sure to periodically check on the others. If they were okay, how they were faring.

❦

✧ Even if you had left, Deuce was determined to not let the group fall apart. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

✧ Even in the present, he’s one of main reasons that all the (former) first years still talk with one another.

Deuce could hear his phone buzzing, subtly moving across the counter as he cooked some food for him and his companion.

“Grim, could you check the chat for me please?”

The cat perked his head up from his napping spot, eyes lazily roving over to the device. “Myeh? Why don’t you get it yourself?”

Deuce motioned to the cooking omelets on the stove with a pointed look. “How about it’s because I’m cooking your lunch and if you don’t want a burned omelet, then you better pick up the phone.”

Grim glared at Deuce, even hearing a low hiss from the cat monster, before he begrudgingly picked up the phone, with a bit of trouble due to not really having opposable thumbs Deuce couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight for a bit before turning back to his cooking.

“Nyeh, they’re talking about the picnic.”

“Oh shoot, I almost forgot!” Deuce sighed, now remembering the event that was planned three days from now. He looked back at Grim, who was still holding the phone, staring back at Deuce. “What’re they saying?”

Grim looked back down, squinting a bit. “Eeeh... Jack’s asking if he needs ta bring anything.”

Deuce looked back at his cooking, wracking his brain. Ace was going to bring some patties and other meats to grill along with the coals needed, Deuce planned to bring some of the main dishes and some egg dishes, Epel was planning to bring apple pie and a few condiments, and Sebek said he would bring fish dishes. He snapped his fingers, realizing that no one had any plans to bring refreshments.

“Tell Jack to bring some drinks. Sodas, tea, water, that stuff.”

He heard Grim hum, then the recognizable clicking of the phone’s keyboard. Deuce placed the finished omelet on a plate and walked to Grim, placing it beside him with a fork. “Oh, also tell him to bring a snack for you to have when you leave with him.”

“Nyeh?!�� The flames in Grim’s ears burned a bit brighter as he looked at Deuce incredulously. “What am I, a baby?”

Deuce didn’t answer and was swiftly met with Grim attempting to claw at his arm. He laughed and was quick to move out of the way. He still heard Grim typing anyway.

❛JACK HOWL❜

✧ Jack got it. He knew it would happen eventually and, now, the time has come

✧ While he wasn’t much for crying, he was much quieter than usual, tail swaying limply when you announced your leaving

✧ He was a bit clingier than usual and did as much as he could for you before you left. Jack felt sad, really he did, but he didn’t cry. If anyone asked on his thoughts, they would think he didn’t care.

✧ Jack did care though, he did. But he also cared for you, and wanted you to be happy. If going back to your original home would make you happy, then so be it.

✧ The hug he gave you before you left was next to bone crushing, but he poured all his care for you through that action

✧ Once you left, he worked harder to become someone you would be proud of

✧ There was a low chance of you ever coming back, but he wants you to not be worried about them while you were back home.

✧ He was also the one to try and gently push the others towards accepted your departure. He just wanted his friends to be able to cope well.

✧ Jack, even years after, still tries to improve. He talks about you casually, making comments about how you would have liked this certain thing, or suggests going to this one place you would have wanted to see.

✧ He talks like you’re still there with them and that’s how he likes to remember you.

❦

His heartbeat rang in his ears as he jogged, the cold air revealing the small puffs of air he exhaled. Jack paused as he reached his doorway, lifting his wrist to check his time. He shaved off a few minutes, not enough to see good results, but it was good for the day.

Opening the door, Jack was met with Grim, who was rummaging through the cabinets for food. The sound of the door opening made the monster turn, grinning that sharp little smile of his.

“Jack! You’re back! Now you can feed me.” Grim laughed that little laugh of his and Jack could only smile.

“Don’t you know where the snacks are?” Despite saying this, Jack trudged over, giving Grim a quick pat on the head as he pulled out the small baggie filled with snacks made specifically for the cat monster.

Grim snatched it up, cackling as he rummaged through the bag and ripping into a snack. Jack, meanwhile, went into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He was quick to open it, chugging the cold liquid and letting it cool down his hot body.

Looking to Grim again, citrine eyes studied the sight of Grim, messily chewing on a pack of peanut butter crackers. A thought crossed his mind, wondering if you were eating well, maybe eating your favorite snack. Jack chuckled at the thought and a somber smile spread across his lips.

Grim lifted his head from his mini feast, staring at Jack with a confused stare. “Wha’re you staring at?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just keep eating. I need to call Epel.”

“Eh?! Is it that time already?”

Jack nodded, walking to where he kept his phone as Grim whined about having to go with Epel the next morning and that he hadn’t packed, despite the fact he never had to in the first place.

❛EPEL FELMIER❜

✧ Oh Seven, what to say about Epel

✧ He cried. He cried a lot much to his chagrin. He didn’t mean to sniffle when you said you’d be going back home, but he did. And he felt so humiliated about it too

✧ In the upcoming days, Epel felt so disconnected. It was like he was there, but also not. He was still hanging out with the rest of you, laughing and smiling, but it all just felt like he was drifting along

✧ The day you were leaving, he was still feeling adrift, the hug Epel gave on the weaker side as his head lolled to lean against you

✧ In the aftermath, Epel had felt like a ghost or maybe undead. Only nodding along to whatever was said by Vil or just doing as he was told. It was a bit disturbing to see, if you asked any of his dorm mates

✧ It was only when Vil confronted Epel about it did he finally break down.

✧ He allowed the tears to flow down his cheeks and he would have felt embarrassed about doing this in front of his housewarden if he wasn’t distracted by the fact that he missed you so much.

✧ For Epel, it was a long process. He didn’t ‘bounce’ back like he wanted to, but it was still a process.

❦

✧ Sometimes, he forgets that you’ve left too. When Epel opens his messages, expecting to see a text from you, he sees nothing. Only a dated message from you so long ago.

✧ It’ll make that pang hit his chest again, but he’s usually fine after a bit.

The sun was beating down on him and Epel huffed as he climbed down the ladder, a basket under his arm and full of apples. He looked to where Grim was supposed to be, sighing softly once seeing that the cat monster was still in his spot.

Grim had his tail curled up by his face, silent as he napped silently under the shade of an apple tree next to another basket. Epel was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of the scene before him and opening up his messaging app. He had to stop himself, though, before he pressed on the contact he was about to click on.

There was a pause, a brief pause as a soft ‘oh right’ slipped past Epel’s lips. His phone fell a bit in his hands and he looked down at the brown earth. He was silent as he sorted through his thoughts, that familiar tight feeling still in his chest.

After a minute or so, Epel sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly just as he was taught. “Alright.”

Instead of clicking on the contact he had planned to, he pressed on a separate chat, the one that was much more active than the other. Sharing the picture, Epel pocketed his device and walked over to where Grim was. He sat silently next to him, sighing as he let himself relax. Epel sat with his thoughts as a hand mindlessly ran through Grim’s fur. He sat with all the good thoughts, the bad thoughts, the saddening thoughts. Epel let himself feel it all as he rested.

But once he was finished, that tight feeling in his chest softened to a light prick and Epel sighed. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and picked it up, chuckling at the messages he was getting from the others. After sending his own contribution, Epel leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.

He was supposed to meet Sebek soon, but a quick nap would do him good.

❛SEBEK ZIGVOLT❜

✧ He didn’t like it. Sebek didn’t like the thought of you leaving at all. While yes, he knew it would come someday, he also refused to acknowledge that it would ever come. But now it has.

✧ Sebek wanted to scowl at you, scream at you, yell and shout his lungs out. How dare you leave! How could you leave, weren’t you happy here with all of them? In Twisted Wonderland? He felt betrayed.

✧ During those last few days, he didn’t want to see you or even speak to you. Maybe if he didn’t see you before you left, he’d feel better about it all. Sebek dedicated himself to being Malleus’ knight more than ever during those days.

✧ Still, he had to confront the fact you were leaving, especially since, when you stood in front of him, arms wide, Sebek didn’t think twice to engulf you in a tight hug and not let go.

✧ But he had to. He had to watch you leave, get swallowed up into the murky green of the Dark Mirror and leave them all behind.

✧ Afterwards, Sebek acted like everything was fine, but he felt so numb. Or maybe he was mad, simmering with anger until it was ready to pop.

✧ He didn’t want to talk about you, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you existed. Sebek avoided his newer friends, Grim, and places he associated with you. It was a bad way to cope, he knows, but it was better than that heavy feeling in his chest, the despair.

✧ It was Malleus who brought him out of this grieving. Well, it was more unknowingly, but with how much the Young Master talked about you, Sebek couldn’t ignore the topic of you anymore.

❦

✧ He got better as time went one, getting more comfortable with talking about you or coming across things that reminded him of you.

✧ Nowadays, he’s still hesitant with the thought of bringing you up, but he won’t deny you existed, that you were a part of his formal years

“Grim! Get off of his Majesty! You were just outside in the garden.” Sebek stormed towards Grim, who was sitting in Malleus’ lap, being stroked by the fae king. He heard Malleus’ deep chuckle and bowed quickly.

“It’s alright Sebek. I do not mind.”

“B-But your majesty!”

Grim cackled lightly, smirking at the distressed knight. “Yeah! He doesn’t mind.”

Sebek felt a deep sigh escape past his lips, but he relented. “Fine... Just be sure to come to my quarters soon so I may bathe you! You can’t be disheveled for tomorrow’s meeting!”

His footsteps echoed throughout the throne room and he left Grim to be pet by Malleus. Sebek made his way to his quarters, walking to the calendar that hung by his bed. Taking a nearby pencil, he crossed out another day on the calendar.

One day closer. It was one day closer until he would have to make the try back to NRC and meet up with the others. He dreaded it, but he looked forward to it.

For once, Grim did as he was told, having eventually made his way back to Sebek’s room as the knight was running the water for Grim’s bath. Though as always, it was a pain getting the cat bathed, as he would whine and yowl about the water, how it was getting in his eyes (it wasn’t) and that he wanted out. It was always a struggle to get him bathed, but Sebek somehow did it.

Grim laid on Sebek’s lap now, dry and his tail swinging from side to side. Sebek was quietly reading and he didn’t dismiss the agitated swish of Grim’s tail.

“Are you nervous?” Sebek’s usually booming voice had softened to fit his tone and Grim only lifted his head a bit, tail pausing.

He mumbled out a meek ‘yes’. Sebek sighed, fingers running through Grim’s fur a few times in an attempt to soothe him.

“We go every year and yet you always get so nervous.” Sebek chuckled. “I am too, Grim.”

The only response Sebek got was a small ‘mrow’ and he knew that Grim had fallen asleep. He smiled softly and shut his book. Tomorrow was a big day.

❛GRIM❜

✧ Grim... oh, poor, poor Grim.

✧ He was one of the worst out of all of them in response to you leaving

✧ He clung to you, refusing to let you leave his side

✧ When you announced you were leaving, Grim couldn’t fathom it. You were his henchman! His servant, the one that’s supposed to stay with him and serve him forever! You were... you were his first friend.

✧ But you were set on going back home. Grim still couldn’t accept it, but could he really stop you?

✧ The day you were leaving, the mirror chamber was filled with soft sniffling or muffled sobs, but Grim was the loudest, yowling and hissing as Jack held onto him.

✧ You said your goodbyes to him first, but no! He didn’t want you to leave!

✧ Once you were gone, Grim was inconsolable. He was uncharacteristically quiet, he wasn’t the boisterous self anymore. No offers of his favorite can of tuna or Ace’s lunch could even get him to talk.

✧ Grim didn’t talk, only going through the motions of school. He didn’t want to move out of Ramshackle, despite the Headmaster’s offer to have him in the care of the first years

✧ He refused to leave the first place he was able to call home. The ghosts of Ramshackle did their best to care for the cat monster, but there was only so much that a spectre could do for the living.

✧ Once the first years graduated, Grim had been able to accept that the possibilities of you coming back were slim. He was reluctant to leave Ramshackle, but he did.

✧ Over the years, slowly but surely, he was able to adjust to life without you. Yes, it hurt him a lot sometimes and whoever was currently taking care of Grim would hear soft whines during the night, but he got better.

❦

“Grim! Wait up!”

He couldn’t wait for them though, excitement was running through his body and electricity was spiking through his skin. Grim was getting to go home, his first home.

While it wasn’t truly complete, it never was without you, it was still his home. It was the closest thing he had to being near you. Grim’s little feet tipped and tapped as he waited for Ace to open the door to Ramshackle, nerves wracking his body so much that Jack had to pick the cat monster up to keep Grim still.

When the door was finally opened, Grim scrambled to get out of Jack’s grasp, sprinting into the old home and up the stairs. He could hear the others setting their things down on the old couches, but Grim could care less.

He scrambled to get the door open and was thankful when one of the ghosts appeared, greeting Grim before opening the door for him. Grim rushed into the room, hopping onto the only bed that was in the room.

There was a layer of dust on the sheets and Grim could see a few dust specks fly about after he had jumped onto the mattress, but it smelled like you still. He doesn’t know how but he could care.

The curtains were open and shining warm summer light on Grim as he curled up on your old bed, comfort curling around him as he closed his eyes. He imagined the warmth was you holding him close, petting and cooing at him as you used to do before.

It wasn’t you and Grim knew this. But right now, curled up and surrounded by something that he knew as you, for the few hours he was here, Grim could imagine that you were still here.

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that-angry-noldo · 1 year

Text

it hurts, doesn't it ?

you remember him. remember his silver laughter and bright eyes; remember how small and fragile he felt when you first held him, when he first cried in your hands while you stood, frozen, not able to tear your eyes away from his squished face, not knowing what to do. you remember his first steps and first words, his excited babbling and all of his childhood tragedies; you remember singing away his pain after he fell from a tree, remember spreading your arms wide so he could jump and hold onto you like a little monkey he was.

you remember you loved him. you know you still love him.

he is quiet and wary now, his movements quick and skittish. he doesn't talk - not to you, at least. you know eärwen can hold him close, and he can cry into her shoulder, and she knows much more about him now than you do.

and it hurts, but it's not about you. you'll take it, as long as that means your boy feels a bit safer, finds a bit of comfort; and you are grateful to your wife (beyond grateful - sometimes you wonder why exactly does she live under the same roof as you, for there will never be anything you can ever do to repay her), but,

but.

you hate that there's a but. you hate that something stings inside you when he shrinks away from your gaze; you hate that it hurts when he escapes the room when you walk in, hurts that his eyes look at you as if he wants to say something but he never does, hurts that he's so scared and afraid and why is he?

it hurts because there is just so much you want to say (i'm sorry i turned my back on you, i'm sorry i wasn't there for you when you needed the most, i'm sorry you went through it alone), but you never can; and you can't even ease his pain, not unless he allows you, and he doesn't allow you because he- why? why does he fear you, why would he fear you?

so you run from him. (you always run.) you burry yourself in work, you don't leave your office, you write and you lead and you rule; you don't venture close to his bedroom, you don't show up for breakfast or for lunch or for dinner. it is wise, you think, it'll give him space. (you know your wife thinks it's a peak idiocy, but you ignore that. you're stubborn enough to ignore that.)

it doesn't help. you still feel guilt, and your son still avoids you, and eärwen still glares at you like you're doing mitake after mistake. it's all crumbling under your fingers, and you feel hopeless - not for the first time in your life.

... you can't sleep.

it's nothing new. your sleep habbits are a mess not even Estë is able to fix in one go, and eärwen is used to it by now: she doesn't wake up when you slip out of the bed.

you wait for the kettle to boil, mixing herbs for your tea - you harvested them yourself; they are one of the few things you still grow in your garden. it storms outside, and the shadows dance in the poorly lit room; you regret leaving your bed, missing its comfort already.

you think he's a ghost when you first see him; the mug falls from your hand, shattering into small pieces. he looms in the doorway, his figure tall and wavering.

you blink, and you're quick to pick up the shards, muttering a quiet "sorry". when you raise your head, he's crouching, too, helping you silently.

his hands shake. you notice that. you throw the shards into the trash.

he doesn't go away.

the wind howls outside, and it's only now that you notice your son is shivering. you make a step forward.

"Are you cold?" you ask, quietly. he thinks, then nods. you search his face; he looks at you with big sad eyes, and you look around helplessly.

"i think there is a spare blanket in the living room," you say. "should i get it for you?"

"please," he whispers, and you freeze again; he's still looking at you, and he still didn't go - and he's still there when you return with a blanket and put it on a table so he can take it. he's still there when he fixes the blanket over his shoulders, and he doesn't go away when the kettle finally whistles and you put it off; you don't think as you brew camomile tea instead of the one you wanted for yourself, and as you put it before him. he's still looking at you, and you remember - you're not supposed to be here, you're not supposed to do this, where is eärwen, - and you look to the doorway reluctantly.

"don't leave," your sons whispers quickly, then pales. he's gripping your hand. "don't- don't leave, please, i'm- i-"

"alright," you say, softly, and sit beside him. your body is tense and your brain doesn't work, but your words make him ease his grip a bit before tightening it again.

you sit in the kitchen, and it storms outside the window, and your son is by your side.

"don't leave," he whispers again, half-asleep. "please."

you squeeze his hand, and he grips it in return. "i won't," you whisper. never again, you think.

#finarfin #finrod #eärwen #silm fic #silmarillion #tolkien

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whenthepawnstrikes · 1 year

Text

Between His Finger and the Trigger Chapter Four: identity.

Summary: Ghost believes you have betrayed him, you try to prove your innocence.

Warnings: This particular chapter deals with violence towards the reader (Ghost has trust issues and believes you betrayed him, so he threatens to kill you with a knife, he doesn't actually hurt reader though). This can be a potentially triggering subject, so please, read with caution!

____________________________________________________________

Fuck.

You take your hand off of the collar of your shirt, and slowly stand up. Ghost stands across from you, knife in his steady hand.

“I was talking to Price.”

“Bullshit.”

Ghost takes a step forward.

“Who do you think I was talking to?” You reach for your knife.

“Put your hands up before I slit your goddamn throat.” Ghost warns, taking another step.

“Slitting my throat? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You put your hands up beside your head.

Ghost steps forward menacingly, knife at the ready, your back hits the wall.

“I was talking to Price, I had just enough signal to have a short conversation. Everyone is alive, we were the last ones he couldn’t contact.” You spoke slowly, calmly.

“And why should I believe that? Why should I trust you? You’re the reason the mission went to shit, you’re the reason we were found out, how am I supposed to believe that you aren’t working for the other side?” Ghost looks furious now. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes show nothing but anger.

“Work for the other side? I’ve been a part of your fucking team for months now, Ghost. If I were with the enemy, wouldn’t I have betrayed you a long time ago?” You defended yourself, trying your hardest to rationalize, to talk to the man in front of you.

But it was already apparent that Ghost was no ordinary man, he is what his name entails. He was mysterious, threatening. He walked steadily towards you, the blade in his hands was held tighter than ever.

“Ghost- Please, I-” You stammered, you tried to come up with something to prove your innocence.

You heard the familiar crackle of the comms.

Ghost stopped.

He shook his head at you, as if to tell you “no”, and pressed the button on his mic.

“This is Bravo-6, Rookie, are You still there?”

“No, this is Ghost.”

“Is Rookie with You?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did they tell you I had contacted them earlier?” Price questioned, “You two were the last ones that needed confirmation of…survival. If that makes sense.”

Ghost took a second to look in your direction, the knife he held in his right hand was soon holstered onto his thigh.

“I heard. “ Ghost replied, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Good, now, we are obviously far apart. The signals’ shit, so I’ll make this quick.” Price continued, “We all separated into groups, Soap, Gaz, and Vargas all found each other, and then they found me. Where are you two?”

“Small cabin, in the woods.”

“Good, stay there. The enemy is everywhere, make yourselves obsolete, try not to bring attention.” Price finished.

“Already done, sir.”

“Good,” Static interrupted Price’s voice, “Shit, signals out. Over.”

“Over.”

Static.

Ghost let go of the button on his collar, and looked up at you, and then backed away. He went across the room, and sat down on that same stool by the window. The silence was almost deafening. You felt the dried tears on your face evaporate from the hot air of the stove. They were soon replaced, and it pissed you off. Weakness, not allowed in your line of work. Tears are almost as bad as having regret, or remorse. These weren’t tears of sadness, in fact, you weren’t even sure why you were crying.

The fire reminded you of your guilt from earlier. Ghost wasn’t going to talk first, so you might as well.

“Thank you.”

Ghost froze, and looked up from the floor, “Why?”

It was all you could think to say in the moment, almost getting your throat slit by the guy who’s supposed to be your teammate was a little unnerving.

“For the meat, the firewood..” the tears were flowing heavier now, “For…” You just shut up at that point, and leaned against the wall. You slid down until you were seated on the floor. You stared at your knees.

The silence was so tiring. You were sick of silence, but you had nothing to fill it.

“You’re welcome.” Ghost said.

His words were almost an apology, there was a somberness behind them, but also a stubbornness. Like he knew what he did, but didn’t want to admit it. At this point, You were so pissed you couldn’t even try to make him apologize. You were so mad you just cried.

Another moment of silence, why was it always quiet in this fucking cabin? It’s in the middle of the woods, and there’s no noise? If you fell in this forest, would you make a sound? Did that dead man make a sound? Did Ghost’s gun make one when he took the shot? Did yours make one when you missed your shot?

And in the middle of this spiral of negative feelings, you heard the birds sing, for what felt like the first time.

Birds. Trees. Forest. Snow. The painting. Your grandmother's house. That same nostalgic feeling from earlier fills your chest, the painting, safety, warmth. The tears slowly stopped. You know why you were crying now, fear. Even with that behemoth of a man with you, you still felt scared, alone. Task Force 141 was a pillar, a sturdy thing for you to hold onto. And now it’s gone, for now at least, and it was debatably your fault-

“I should have trusted you. You were right, I was wrong.” Ghost whispered.

You looked up, he was standing in front of you. Holding his hand out to help you up.

You nod, and take his hand. With a small grunt, he pulled you to your feet. You now stood, your nose barely reaching his neck.

“Don’t get used to apologies Rookie, I’m rarely wrong.”

You smile, “You call that an apology?”

Ghost’s eyes crinkle, “Sure."

“I owe you one anyway, maybe I deserved that, for being so...” You tried to rationalize, why were you sparing his feelings?

“No, you don’t. I owe you, if anything.” Ghost replied.

“Really? You owe me now?” You asked.

“Yes, don’t get used to that now.” Ghost scoffed.

“Okay, do one thing for me then.” You smirked.

“Already? It better not be stupid.”

“How’d you cut the meat so cleanly?”

Ghost paused, “That’s it?”

“Answer the question.”

Ghost took a deep breath, “I was a butcher.”

“When?”

“I only owe you one. And it’s been repaid.”

“But-”

“No buts, let’s just figure this shit out.” Ghost interrupted.

“Figure what out, exactly?” You asked.

“How we’re gonna find our team.” Ghost stated.

Our Team.

Ours.

The both of us.

You smiled again, and looked him in the eyes, “Of course."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #xreader #simon riley angst #slow burn

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bloodyknucklesforme · 10 months

Text

Beautiful Pt. I | Ghost x Nina

Let me show you how sadness can turn into happiness I can turn blue into something Beautiful, beautiful Beautiful like you - Lana Del Rey

Simon Riley was a man of his word or at least he tried to be. When Johnny's final ask if that Simon take care of his partner, Nina, how could Simon deny him?

CW: Major character death, violence, angst, self harm, little bit of smut at the end

He stood behind her. The morgue was cold as expected. The metal exam table was in front of them, draped in a sheet. Johnny was underneath it.

He still had a hard time believing it. He was gone. Simon had been the one to hold him when he died. Been the one to keep pressure on his wound and beg him to stay.

“Come on, Johnny. You’ll be okay.”

“Promise me, you’ll take care of her.” His blue eyes were watery.

“Don’t talk like that. We’ll get you outta here.”

“She’s gonna be so sad.” He was crying. “Don’t let her do anything stupid. Tell her I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“Johnny,” he warned.

“Ghost, please. Promise me, you’ll make sure she’s okay. Please. I need to know she’ll be okay.”

“John-“

“Promise me, Simon.”

“I promise. She’ll be okay.”

She wasn’t okay. How the fuck was she supposed to be okay? Johnny was everything to her.

She knew the moment she opened the door to him. Started shaking her head, a begging look splashed across her face.

Simon wasn’t one for physical contact. All he could do though was hold her. His back against the wall as she sobbed and screamed. That was two days ago.

Her hand hovered over the sheet.

“He’s going to be cold, isn’t he?” She was shaking.

“He is,” he affirmed. He wanted to tell her to stop. To walk away. She didn’t need to see or feel him like this.

She looked confused, she couldn’t understand why he’d be cold. After so many nights of him warming her bed. She’d never wake him up.

“He can’t be cold. He… he doesn’t like the cold.” She shook her head back and forth. Grief reduced. It turned her into a child throwing a tantrum against death.

His experience with grief was mixed with rage and hate. A way to bury all the hurt in the bodies of all the men he killed. She didn’t get that luxury. She’d have to feel it all.

Feel the hopelessness of waiting for Johnny to slide back into bed with her.

He had to wrap an arm around her waist to stop her from collapsing. She hung limply over his arm sobbing hard, the sheet clutched in her hand.

“Nina, you don’t have to. Seeing him won’t make you brave and it won’t bring him back. You don’t want to see him like this. I promise.” He held her wrist, preventing her from pulling the sheet away. He was a coward. He didn’t want to see Johnny again. He had to carry his body back, tell Price and Gaz, sit next to him on the plane back. He’d seen enough.

“I’m never going to see him again.” His funeral was in a couple days, he’d be moved up to Glasgow tomorrow. Closed casket.

It should have been him. He didn’t have anyone waiting for him. Johnny always spent the plane ride back talking about his and Nina’s plans. Their day trips, the recipes she found, movies and shows to catch up on. He never told Johnny he liked hearing those plans. Allowed him to live vicariously through them. He had any hope for a life like that torn from him years ago. Just like it was torn from Nina now.

“He said he’s sorry he’s not here,” Simon said softly. “He was worried about you till the end.”

She whimpered. Her nails were digging into the hand he had around her waist.

“I’m so sorry, Nina.” She let go of the sheet and hung limply in his arms crying silently. “Let’s get ya home, love.”

He lifted her to her feet, keeping an arm around her waist and her face to his chest. He walked them back out to the car.

The funeral was in Glasgow. Price, Gaz, and Simon were the pallbearers along with a couple of Johnny’s relatives. His cousin, the one who inspired him to sign up in the first place, was despondent. He wasn’t wearing his dress uniform like the rest of them.

Nina sat up front with Johnny’s mum and sister. Black didn’t suit her. Price sat down on the other side of her, clutching her hand in his lap.

She didn’t speak. She was supposed to, he’d stayed up with her as she wrote things down and re-wrote them. Tears made the notecards illegible. He watched from the back as Price and Johnny’s mum tried to get her to walk up. She buried her head down between her legs, he could see her shoulders shaking.

Price’s eulogy was a poem followed by some speech about how brave Johnny was, how good of a man he was. Gaz talked about their friendship. Simon also stayed quiet, standing in the back. He didn’t have anything worth saying.

Nina sat next to him on the way to the burial, clinging to his arm like a child.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her to the side as they got out of the car. He grabbed some tissues out of his pocket and gently wiped away any tears or make up smudges. They walked together.

Price had two sets of ID tags in his pocket. One for his mum and one for Nina.

Nina looked shell shocked as Price closed her fist around the tags. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her hair. Simon had never seen Price cry before.

Price and Gaz took Nina back to the car. Nina’s eyes still hadn’t left her hand, looking at the metal chain dangling between her fingers. Gaz kissed her temple and told her to call for anything. Simon hadn’t seen him cry before either.

Price helped her into the car.

“Just a moment, love.” He shut the door and looked at Simon. He rubbed his face and laid his head against the top of the car “I feel like I gave her the world and took it right out of her hands again.”

“You don’t have to keep sleeping here. I know the couch isn’t comfy.”

“You need me. I’ll stay.” It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever slept. He didn’t feel right leaving her alone. Two months now he’s slept on the couch. He wouldn’t leave till she told him to and she hadn’t told him to.

She handed him a clean blanket. She stood in the hallway, bouncing between her feet.

“Are they dead?”

“Who?”

“Whoever did it?… killed Johnny, I mean.” She was crying again. She had a hard time finishing any sentence without crying now.

Simon looked at her, wondering how he should say it. It was a sniper, lucky shot, through the side into his heart and lung. Some Russian PMC cunt. They never found him.

“Yeah… yeah, we got him.” Simon nodded. If it made her sleep better, he’d tell her they’d skinned him alive.

She nodded back, accepting his lie.

“I want bad things to stop happening to me,” she said, tears running down her face again. She walked away before he could say anything else.

He used a cotton swab to dab disinfectant on her cheek. She’d scratched herself open in the night. They’d already bandaged up her arms to stop her from hurting herself. Johnny had told him once about Nina’s self harm. How proud he was that she was going months without. It was a near daily occurrence now. Either nightmares or panic attacks, it didn’t matter. Simon knew he couldn’t stop her, he just made sure they were stocked on bandages and disinfectant.

“I’m going to put mittens on you in your sleep,” he tried to joke. She didn’t laugh.

“I can’t do it,” she murmured. “I don’t know how. I don’t want to be alone again.”

He knew the feeling. Grief that came over like deep sea waves, dark and brutal. Filling everything with water.

“I really wanted to be Nina MacTavish.” He could hear the wetness of her voice, how it choked her. “We were going to get married. He said he’d give his twelve months notice after we got engaged. Said we’d move to the country. Had all these plans.”

“I’d give that all up. I’d give it all up if it meant I could have him back even just to say goodbye.”

Simon hugged her, let her sob into his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Years ago… decades actually. Anytime he cried as a child he received a harsh slap across his face. He didn’t cry while he was tortured. He didn’t cry when he was rescued. He didn’t cry when his family was murdered. He didn’t deserve to well in his grief. He was the reason for her’s. He kept stumbling over apologies to her. Sorry Johnny was gone. Sorry he didn’t save him. Sorry he couldn’t save him. Sorry it wasn’t him instead.

“M’sorry, love.”

It started slow; a drink here and there, her tucked under his arm as the movie played, her fingers sliding up his sleeve. He wanted to drink down intimacy like water. Almost a year, he’d been sleeping on the couch between deployments. He dreaded the day she’d ask him to leave, that she didn’t need him anymore. He drooled at the thought of being needed. Meaning something, being able to patch up all the damage he’d done

Here she was, straddling his lap, matching taste of bourbon on their lips. Soft kisses, testing the waters. His hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. They’d turn off the lights. No one would know.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” She slipped from his hands, eyes bouncing around to look at anything but him. “I’m going to bed.”

The second time her tongue was in his mouth, his hands on her arse. Then her face buried in his neck, his shirt soaking up tears. He rubbed circles between her shoulders, murmuring reassurances. He carried her to bed.

The third time, he was on his back, her chest pressed against his, his hand in her hair. He liked how soft she always was, how her nails felt against his scalp. He was going to ruin this.

“I’m sorry, Nina.” He pulled back.

“Maybe we should stop doing this.”

“Maybe we should.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, her finger running along the neck of his shirt. He didn’t know why they kept doing this. He didn’t encourage it but he also never denied her. She could walk all over him if she wanted, cut him open, use him as she pleased.

“I miss him. I miss being held. I’m sorry. I’m awful. I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. Imsorry.” She went to sit up, Simon caught her and laid a hand on her back, holding her still.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, Nina.” He wanted to feel her, to touch her, to hold her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he would somehow hurt her. He was scared. He had avoided intimacy for years. A quick blow job or hookup in a bar bathroom, here and there. Fully clothed, no shared names. He wanted to kiss her again.

He didn’t want her to see him. His body was a quilt of scars and muscle. Johnny had scars but nothing like his. It would disgust her.

“I don't want you to get hurt,” he said. He wouldn’t be able to care for her like Johnny did.

“Oh…” She laid her head back down on his chest, her ear pressed against where his heart was. How many nights had she and Johnny laid like this?

He carried her to bed once she fell asleep.

They found him. The cunt that killed Johnny. It was by accident, they’d given up hope in finding him. It hoped it was him. Part of the same unit, at least. Simon broke his hand somewhere between breaking his nose and shattering the back of his skull. Gaz and Price had to pull him off.

Black grease paint was still smeared across his face as he walked back into Nina’s flat. Several fingers taped together, stitches in his side, a new scar on his face.

“Simon… oh my god.” She rushed towards him. “What happened?”

She held his face in her hands so delicately. He leaned into her touch. He failed her, killing that man didn’t bring Johnny back. He could only deliver his broken self back to her door.

“C‘mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” She took his uninjured hand and led him to the bathroom.

He leaned against the counter as she took a warm cloth to his face. He allowed himself to relax, his arms dangling by his side.

“I always liked Simon more than Ghost.” She wiped his eyes gently, working black paint out of creases. Her skin was warm under his palm. He liked how warm she always was. He lifted his hands to her hips.

“Can I?” He whispered, his nose pressing against hers. He’d missed her. Truly missed, a deep homesick feeling. He hated not being able to get up and walk down the hall just to check on her. He’d resisted calling but he texted, more than normal. He dreamt about her. Dreamt about being here with her. Her mouth on his, the taste of her toothpaste, how she giggled when his tongue dragged across her bottom lip.

He wanted to lift her up, angry that the stitches prevented it. They turned off the lights as they walked to the bedroom.

“No,” He held her wrists when she tried to take off his shirt. “Let me take care of you, yeah? Just lay down.”

He slid her shorts and panties down her legs. He kissed his way up her thighs. He kissed, licked and sucked until she was writhing underneath him, her nails digging into his scalp and his face wet.

“Simon…Simon..please..Simonnnnn,” she moaned. He liked Simon more than Ghost too. He liked how she tasted. He pulled orgasm after orgasm out of her. Till her thighs were shaking and chest was heaving.

“Let me return the favor?” She asked. His head was in her lap as he knelt on the floor by the bed.

“No favor to return.” He didn’t want anything from her except maybe… “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Come here, Simon.”

Yeah this will probably be 2-3 (maybe more parts). Not canon for the rest of the Soap x Nina stuff.

lmk if you want to be tagged in the next parts

#ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x nina #soap x nina #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

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cassynite · 10 months

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wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

#cassy writes #cassy wips #does this feel true to dae's character? who knows!#oc: sparrow #daeran arendae #pwotr pals

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piratesfromspace · 1 year

Text

Hard Rain (Ghost/Reader/Soap)

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x Reader x Johnny Soap McTavish Rated: Explicit Word count: 1.2k Summary: Soap knows about Ghost's affair with you. Note: This is a continuation of "Rain or Shine", from Soap's point of view. I recommend you read it first to understand what's going on! Reader callsign is "Rain", and I have written her as autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: pining, angsty, little bit of smut (threesome, dom/sub vibes), overall canon typical violence

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // <> // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5

Divider by firefly-graphics & Gif by Shadow0-1

Half the platoon can probably hear them. Soap freezes in the corridor. The piece of paper in his fist is almost torn apart, knuckles white against the black of his fingerless glove. He hears her again, a little broken sound and he might have thought she’s crying if it wasn’t followed by a more explicit moan.

And then Ghost’s voice, low but clear enough that he can understand Simon’s urging her to cum on his cock. Soap has to shut his eyes and breath through his nose, slow, when his heart rate just spikes up. He knew Ghost and Rain had a thing - Ghost's open admiration for her work, persistent rumors around the base - but it’s another thing to witness it.

Johnny can’t prevent it, his mind is leading him to this train of thought without him being able to stop it: how does it even work? Is he keeping the mask on? Rain is so frail compared to Ghost, how is he not breaking her, how… how does he even fit? Images flash behind his lids, nasty ones. His lieutenant’s hands, so huge on Rain’s waist. Her face distorted with pleasure. What does she look like under her uniforms? Simon, he’s seen half-naked before, years of sharing cramped space in crappy hideouts, it’s inevitable. But her, she stays a little bit behind the frontline most of the time, she’s not the one going out for days on end for recon missions. No reason for Soap to see more than what she willingly shows. Dainty arms with lean muscles, strong legs in tight leggings when she trains, a nice ass…

His thoughts are betraying him once more. He’s hard between his legs, and he should be ashamed. That’s his superior over there, and that’s a fellow soldier. He curses and turns back to run to his bunk.

Soap always follows orders, and most of the time he tries to not question them, even if he doesn’t understand the reasoning behind. Just point him at something, and he will shoot, no questions asked. But in this very particular occasion, he allows himself to be puzzled by the situation. It’s just him, Ghost, and Rain. Ordered to stay put for at least a week in this safehouse. For surveillance and recon of the neighborhood.

It’s not the first time he’s been assigned this kind of mission, although boring, they are necessary. This, he understands. But why Rain is with them, he can’t wrap his head around. Officially for trying to intercept the target comms and prep planning of further operations in the area. Bullshit. She doesn’t need to be there, she could have stayed behind at the temp base they have with the whole squad.

The only explanation that makes sense to him is this: Ghost asked her to go on this mission with him. Or more accurately, Ghost asked Price to send her with them. He’s grown irrationally protective over her. They’re being sloppy. Their relationship is not gonna stay a secret for long. Soap’s actually surprised Price hasn’t already shut them down. But, all things considered, he’s not gonna complain. He likes Rain too. And he has one more person to tell his stupid jokes.

The safehouse is a random flat with only one big room beside the bathroom. No real privacy. And defective heatings. He has known worse but that’s definitely not the best. At least, there is a shower with hot water. Luxurious. As soon as he lays eyes on the only bed stuck against the back wall, he knows he will have to make do with the sad little couch or even the floor. There is no way Ghost will allow him to share the mattress with Rain unless she agrees. It’s not that his Lieutenant doesn’t trust him in any way, far from that. It’s just… Soap has noticed how she can be very peculiar about things and touch - any kind of - and intimacy, and how Ghost tries his best to make sure she feels safe. It makes sense, Soap understands, but his back is gonna hurt like hell.

Ghost is outside, just a few feets away, it’s his watch and he just needed some fresh air. Soap is trying to sleep on this damn shabby couch. He can’t find a comfortable position. The thing squeaks with each of his turns. He seriously questions if he wouldn’t be better off on the floor. He turns again, and the couch screams in response.

“Come here Soap.” Rain’s voice is a little bit slurred, sleepy. “Nah, I’m good” he huffs. Not convincingly he has to admit. “I’m tired of hearing you toss and turn. Please come here John.” she insists. “Don’t really want to be killed in my sleep by Ghost”. A beat of silence. Did he just say that out loud? “I’m my own person, I can choose who I sleep with.” she bites back, and the innuendo is so obvious it can’t be unintentional. Also, she didn’t deny the implication of his affirmation. “MacTavish, I swear, I need to sleep. Move.” she orders with a sense of finality he can’t fight.

When he slips next to her on the mattress, he’s ready to stay over the cover, but she lifts the duvet in an unambiguous invitation for him to settle against her. She’s warm next to him, her small body clad in just a loose T-shirt and thin sweatpants, coton so soft from years of wear. In the faint light from the street lamppost, he can guess the round shape of her shoulder, the slow rise and fall of her chest.

She falls asleep in seconds, when he can’t really relax enough to follow her. He keeps looking at her shadowy form, and when her breath hitches in her throat and she shudders because of a nightmare, something clenches in his chest. He waits until she looks peaceful again before closing his eyes.

“She’s in charge, alright? A single word from her and this stops.” “Yeah” he exhales. Ghost hand tightens on his scalp and he groans in warning. It starts to hurt. “I mean, yes- yes, sir.” Soap corrects himself.

Ghost long fingers, still gloved, are shoved in Soap’s mohawk, angling his head slightly to the side, his neck exposed, pupils blown out from the desire and the light discomfort of it. He’s more than happy to submit though - not only to his lieutenant, but to her as well.

Ghost relaxes his grip on John’s hair and he dutifully gets back to work. He had previously laid her down on the mattress, stripped her of her pants. He leaves kisses on the inside of her thighs, playfully bites the thin skin, making her gasp and whimper, until Ghost’s hand on his head guides him against her weeping cunt.

The soft bluish light of dawn wakes him up. Rain is asleep, curled up against his side.

Her sweet taste is still on his tongue as he can’t really shake away the too vivid dream.

Fuck, Simon… He almost falls from the bed when he realizes Ghost is watching him from the other side of the room. The giant is sprawled on one of the small kitchen chairs, unblinking eyes sunk into the skull mask.

He opens his mouth to speak an apology or an explanation at least, but Ghost silently raises his index finger in front of the white stripes at the bottom of his balaclava. Shush. Don’t want to wake her up. He adds, signing rapidly. Go dress, you have the next watch.

Soap’s chest opens up in relief. He lets Simon read the words on his silent lips.

Yes, sir.

NEXT PART

#ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #autistic!reader

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purringsquid · 1 year

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Heimdall, Thor and Baldur grand adventure (a part of Heimdall x wife reader series)

Only first part of this is reader pov. But I encourage people who want to read about Heimdall and his brother (or just Heimdall with baby) to read it anyway.

When she is born, there is nothing but uncanny silence. Not cries, no cooing, no laugh of the Norns. Only Eir's heartbreaking pity:

"I’m sorry, my lady."

You take the little body from her, still warm and yet with no sign of life, red mark where the cord tangled around the small neck.

"Don't be." You whisper.

You place a kiss on her forehead and breathe life to her with your magic. There's no cry, when she opens her eyes and yet you feel relief - at least until you look carefully and see the hollowness her eyes possess. You could save a body but not the soul. That's giant magic - one that they never shared with others.

"Don't tell a word of this." You say to Eir.

And to your surprise she does not protest. "As you wish, my lady."

"Don't even think about it in front of my husband. Avoid his eyes when you can." You press her further.

"Lady Y/N," She hesitates. "He will know in time."

"I know this just.. be quiet until then, will you?" You cradle your child, pulling her close to your chest. Despite the tragedy of her birth, the love you feel for her is overwhelming.

"I will." Eir assures you, sadness never leaving her voice.

"You can let him in then." You smile, prompting her to do the same, she should at least pretend to be happy in front of others.

The door opens before she can touch the handle. A second more of waiting would have been too much for your husband, apparently. He doesn't even look at Eir, storming to your side. You can hear someone laughing at him from the door.

You give him a smile, showing him your child. “It’s a girl.”

He looks at her with lifted browns. “Why is she ugly? That can’t be after me.”

For a moment you are not sure if he is being asshole on purpose or had never seen a newborn child before. Both were very possible.

“When was the last time you looked in a mirror?” You snap back. He can’t let you have a nice moment, can he? And yet you are secretly happy that he doesn’t see her lack of soul. You couldn’t care less that he is an asshole, as long as he doesn’t notice – as long as he doesn’t do anything to you or her.

After days of arguing you name her Bylgja after his dead aunt-mother. It amuses her, but you don’t tell your husband that – he still didn’t get used to you casually conversing with the dead.

Your choice of name does not amuse Odin, but he does allow it in the end. You have to argue with him over it. Heimdall would rather just choose a different name and sulk, then admit to his father he disagrees with him.

He often checks on her, even returns to your home while he is on patrol to do so. But if he notices that something is wrong, he does not say anything.

It takes him a month.

You wake up with the feeling that something is wrong. Your eyes shoot open, looking towards the crib. It’s empty and so is your husband’s side of the bed. But there’s someone else present. Since Bylgja was born the ghost of Heimdall’s aunt-mother – her namesake – had followed her everywhere, but now she stands here by your bed, along with the ghost of Odin’s first wife.

“Where’s she?” You ask them.

‘Heimdall-.’ One of them says. You wrap a coat around you, not bothering to dress up properly. ‘Odin-’ You had feared that answer. You hurry barefoot out of the cabin and the ghosts follow you, their words sounding after you. ‘Why would you not tell him?’ ‘Foolish, girl.’ ‘Odin will-’

“I know, shut up.” You curse having to live up on the wall, as you run down the hill faster than you ever did before, dirt and stones clinging to your feet.

“Y/N-“

Startled at the sight of you, Nana tries to stop you in front of the Great Lodge. You push her away, running through the door and further until you reach the All-Father’s study.

In the silence the Lodge provides in the night you can hear the voice of your husband. “-not cry and when I look in her future, I cannot see anything.”

You stop by the door, you had feared this day would come, but you never dared to think about it long enough to prepare yourself for it, because if you did, he might have noticed. You have no idea what you will say once you walk in.

“Of course, you can’t. The child has no soul, am I right, lass?” Odin raises his voice at the last sentence. “Come in.”

You open the door to the sight of the All-Father carrying your daughter and your husband, looking at you with a pained expression that soon turns to anger.

“What did you do?!”

He does not wait for you to answer and in a second he is at your side, his hands forcing your head up, so you have to look in his eyes. You try to push him off, but he won’t let you, his gaze shines with magic as he runs through your mind, forcing you to remember the giant's curse and the Norns’s prophecy, as well as your conversations with the All-Father.

All that you avoided thinking about so hard now flashes through your head. ‘The Norns also said that I will be cursed to give birth to a dead child-‘ ‘The child you carry shall be born dead-‘ ’There’s a way to save your child, but you would not like it-‘ ‘Only the Giants can tie a soul to a body. Ironic is it not-’ ‘I was afraid that it would either be the wedding or an execution-‘ ‘I’m sorry, my lady.’ ‘Don't tell a word of this.’

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” He pushes you away so hard you have to take a step back and your back hits the door.

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” You say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Yeah, sorry if I don’t believe that.” You know that he’s still reading your mind, but clearly his anger is only allowing him to see what he wants to.

“And what do you believe? That I should have told you, so you finally have a reason to get rid of me? To be disowned and tossed away?!”

“You should not be lying to your husband!” He shouts, stepping closer to you, until he has you pinned to the door.

“Children-“ The All-Father makes a sorry attempt to stop you from waking up the entire lodge.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have married the goddess of secrecy if you didn’t want her to keep things from you!” You don’t know why you say that, it just slips from your mouth, while your mind spins around the fear of being separated from your child or worse - her being punished for your actions.

You don’t dodge when he hits you, just stay pinned to the door, hoping that his anger won’t spill over to your daughter. Tears run down your cheeks at the thought. “Heimdall-“

“Heimdall!” The All-Father says in a firm voice, he is still holding your daughter and you hope that he will take your side in this, since he had known, but he seems strangely indifferent to the situation and it crosses your mind that he might have been planning this all along. Just having you give birth and then let Heimdall do the rest.

Heimdall turns his head to his father. “You knew.”

“Yes.” Odin says matter-of-factly. “If you want to leave her do so, but don’t settle to mindless violence. I would expect that from Thor, but not you.”

You don’t even know what to say to Odin. This wouldn’t have happened if he did not send you to Svartalfheim in the first place! You look in Heimdall’s eyes as you think this. They are the last you see of Asgard before the ravens take you away.

_________________________________________________________

“Calmed down yet?”

The All-Father sounds disappointed, and in any other situation that would make Heimdall feel ashamed, but not now. Not when it turned out there was a whole conspiracy against him and his father was a part of it! Eir too!

“If not get out and return when you are.” The All-Father says, as he rocks the soulless baby in his arms.

Heimdall clenches his fists and takes a deep breath. He would not be kicked out for not controlling his emotions. He was not Thor. “I’m alright, All-Father.” He says through gritted teeth. It is not his right to question the All-Father, so he does not ask why he kept his daughter’s state from him for so long. “Is there something that can be done?”

“Yes.” The All-Father nods. “Take Baldur and track the Norns, Y/N had mentioned they had the answers, but refused to give them to her.”

Heimdall knows the door of the All-Father’s study will open, before they do and tries to avoid it by shouting: “Stay out of this, Thor. The clever people are talking.”

It does not help, the door opens anyway and Thor walks in.

“All-Father.” He says.

What follows next is the performance of the longest sentence Thor had ever said, as he insists on accompanying Heimdall and Baldur on their quest. Apparently, he had zero trust in leaving Heimdall’s own child with them and worse, the All-Father allows him to, despite the drunk just crawling his way back from the pub and insulting Heimdall’s parenting skills.

The All-Father returns Bylgja to Heimdall’s arms, before telling them that Niflheim would be the best place to start their search and sending them off to find Baldur.

“Between mother and Y/N, the All-Father seems to be pretty shitty at arranging marriages.” Baldur sees no seriousness in the situation, his mind filled with amusement that makes Heimdall’s skin crawl.

“Shut up.” He snaps, adjusting his hold on his daughter. Baldur is as always relishing in his invulnerability by pissing him off. He used to piss him off even when he was vulnerable, but lately it was getting unbearable. (He tried to fuck his wife on their wedding night for fuck's sake.) He ignores Baldur in favour of warning his other brother of the approaching enemy. “Thor! Ogre at your right!”

Thor throws his hammer, killing the ogre instantly. Of all the Realms the Norns had to choose the Niflheim to stay at this time. Heimdall hated Niflheim, the only realm worse than Niflheim was Helheim.

The moment Mjöllnir returns to Thor’s hand a pack of nightmares spawns around them.

Heimdall quickly realizes the struggle of fighting properly, while holding a newborn, so he uses his foresight to dodge their attacks instead (and Baldur’s attacks too, because he gives no shit about being careful not to hit his allies), cursing, as he tries and fails to draw his sword without nearly dropping his daughter.

Thor notices his struggle and chuckles. Asshole. “Need help?”

“No.” Heimdall snaps back, adjusting his hold on the child, as his brothers finish off the nightmares. He puts his hand under Bylgja’s chin as she throws up, then wipes it off in the snow, more grateful for his foresight now than he was during the whole war.

“You sure? I can tie her to your chest, so you don’t have to keep carrying her.” Thor insists.

It is a tempting offer but since Thor is the one who makes it, Heimdall has to refuse. “No.”

It takes being nearly hit by a revenant for him to see that, maybe, this little humiliation would be worth it in the long run. He foresees the attack, but the revenant is almost as quick as he is and he missteps while dodging it and it’s only Thor’s hand on his back that prevents him from falling down. No need to say that the whole thing is utterly embarrassing.

Baldur meanwhile laughs at the sight, as he sends a frost wave at the revenant. “I knew you liked blondes, Thor, but wow.”

“Hm.” Thor grunts.

While the revenant is distracted Heimdall pushes the child into Thor’s arms. He’s too slow to fight it anyway. “Here- careful.” He can’t say more, even though he has a speech ready, because he foresees another attack coming their direction.

He draws his sword to fend it off. It’s considerably easier when his arms are free and he is soon pushing the revenant back. Not that Baldur would let him have this victory alone - he jumps at the beast from behind ripping its arm off with his bare hands.

At any other time Heimdall would have let the revenant tear Baldur apart, but he does not want to waste time now, so he takes hold of the revenant’s other arm. Before he can rip it off too, Mjöllnir lands on the revenant’s head, killing it instantly.

“Hey! That was my kill!” Baldur shouts at Thor.

“Only because I held it back for you, baby.” Heimdall wipes off the little dirt that he allowed to land on his body.

“How far are they?” He asks Baldur, looking at his daughter in Thor’s arms, fucker can fit her in one hand, otherwise he would struggle with fighting as much as Heimdall did.

“You tell me, future-teller.”

Baldur has a good point but is still a swine. Heimdall looks in the nearest future and only sees more wandering in snow and fighting ogres. Also, Thor tying the baby to him while Baldur is having the time of his life watching them.

“Alright, Thor.” He bites down his embarrassment and reaches for his daughter. “I will need a little help here.”

“Took you long enough.” Thor comments, but leans down to wrap his waist band across Heimdall’s back and Bylgja in the front, pinning her to his chest, while Baldur is laughing and wiping off imaginary tears.

“Can’t you go tracking or something?” Heimdall barks at him.

“Nah, this is too much fun.” Baldur laughs. Heimdall is fully prepared to murder him as soon as he finally finds the Norns and he no longer needs him.

Within the next hour of wandering in the snow it is proven, that it is truly easier to fight off the spawn of Niflheim without having to keep holding Bylgja in his hands and that the humiliation was indeed worth it… Except Baldur’s taunts about it don’t stop coming until Thor threatens that he will tie him to a stone and throw him into the ocean for fish to nibble on. (He is surprisingly creative when it comes to violent threats.)

“She’s so damn silent.” Thor points out the obvious, he is not exactly known for his fast wits – hence why him being good at creative threats is so surprising. “If you jumped like that with Modi at your back, he would be screaming and biting.”

“You don’t say.” Heimdall rolls his eyes. “She’s nothing like your stupid sons.”

“So, you are telling me,” Thor says, “that she did not make a sound since her birth and it took you a month to realize she’s fucked up, because you thought your child is just so much better than others that she doesn’t cry?”

“Absolutely fucking not, what do you take me for!” Heimdall hates that Thor’s right, that’s about what happened.

“That’s so stupid of you, it’s cute.” Thor grins and Heimdall wants to murder him.

“Eat shit, Thor. I would love to see you noticing if Sif was feeding you lies.”

He ‘forgets’ to mention that a Wulver is about to jump on Thor. Grinning, as it bites to his arm, right before Thor smashes its head.

“Not to be interrupting your delicious argument.” Baldur reappears from his short tracking (and pouting) trip in an ice-filled gorge, that Heimdall really hopes is just another dead end. “But Thor is right on this one, Heimdall, you’re an idiot.”

For the lack of anything better, Heimdall throws a piece of ice on Baldur’s head. His brother doesn’t bother dodging, it hits his head and he continues talking as if he did not even notice. “The good news is we are close and that I take no fall damage.” He motions to the chasm. “You see that deliciously bottomless hole back there?”

The hole is very much an abyss, one that likely leads to the core of this realm and appears very dark and unfriendly. Heimdall is not keen on getting any close to it with a baby at his chest… nor without her in all honesty. He looks in the future just to see if Baldur is mistaken again and… he sees them meeting the Norns. Great.

“Fuck..”

“Fuck indeed.” Thor repeats. “But I want to see you make the jump.”

“You will.” Baldur says, turns around and runs forward the abyss.

They both stand still, waiting for him to jump inside and when he finally does, they don’t move either, as there’s a long pause and then – finally – the sound of his meat splashing on the ground.

In a moment of morbid curiosity, Heimdall walks to the abyss and looks down, he can’t see anything but darkness, unfortunately. Thor follows after him, doing the same. From the bottom Baldur makes a sound that Heimdall interprets as “I broke every single bone in my body, but I’m fine.”

“So, do you want to climb on my back or should I hold you bridal style?” Thor grins.

“I can make the climb.” Heimdall rolls his eyes.

He dodges as Thor tries to pick him up anyway.

“C’mon, I’m not waiting for your slow ass to climb down. Who knows how deep that hole is.”

“Yeah, hop on, golden boy, I’m not waiting for ya!” Baldur laughs from the abyss and Heimdall curses their godly senses. At this point he starting to think that he does not actually need a healthy baby. He could always pick up one of his human children if he wanted one – and it would be without all that humiliation.

“You know, if you weren’t holding that baby, I would hang you next to Mjöllnir and be over with it.” Thor reaches for him and Heimdall sighs, letting himself to be picked up.

“Those three cunts better have an answer worth all this.” For the sake of his daughter, he swallows up the humiliation and holds on Thor’s neck.

“Can’t you see if they do?” Thor asks, lifting his hammer.

“Not their words.” Heimdall snaps and that’s the last thing he does before Thor lifts them in the air.

When they land, he immediately jumps off, Thor and tries to wipe his stink off himself. Then kicks Baldur who is laying on the ground, laughing his broken ass off.

“You look truly beautiful together.” Baldur laughs, earning another kick to his stomach from Thor. “Ow, I aaalmost felt that.”

“Get your ass up. If you are a good boy, I will let you kill them after we are done.” Thor says, sounding uncannily too much like the All-Father. Then he turns to Heimdall. “How’s the girl?”

It only then occurs Heimdall that he could check on her - he does so just to find out she’s as blank as always. “Seems fine, only for the little detail of having no soul.” He says sarcastically. Then, thanks to his foresight, adds; “Don’t say it.”

Thor doesn’t listen. “Like my ex.”

“Feeling hilarious today, aren’t we? Let’s get this over with. Just pick him up, until he recovers.”

“Nah, I’m- hey!” Thor takes protesting Baldur by one of his twisted limbs and throws him at his hip. No need to say the sight satisfies Heimdall, after all the humiliation he was put through on their trip. For a good measure, Thor covers his mouth.

“Finally.”

They walk in silence from then. It is easy to find the Norns now, Baldur’s help is no longer needed. Heimdall sees the path in his future and follows their threads until they start dropping from the air and he and his brothers are overwhelmed by them.

“Want some mead before we go in?” Thor asks, drinking some himself. Heimdall does not need to look into his eyes to know his offer is driven by pity. It pisses him off.

“No.” He snaps. He does not wait for his brother to hide the bottle before entering the lair of the Norns.

“The sons of Odin, enter the home of the Norns.” Verðandi’s voice greets them.

Urðr’s voice follows. “You should be more specific, sister. Those are not his only sons – just the ones he had kept – for now.”

“Of course.” Verðandi answers. “His oldest – Thor, who slays at his command, Baldur – the son of Freya, who wished to defeat his fate, now cursed by her attempts. And Heimdall, the all-seeing god, who failed to foresee his firstborn’s death.”

“For someone who works with babies, you for sure are cunts.” Thor says and the (seemingly) youngest of the Norns appears behind them, mocking his words by saying them at the same time he does.

“He has so many questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t dare to, so he insults us instead.” Verðandi says.

“I could know that myself-“ Heimdall speaks and is interrupted by Skuld’s mockery. “You little shit-“

“That’s how you sound.” Thor chuckles at Heimdall, his hand still covering Baldur’s mouth. “At least you know how shitty that feels now.”

Verðandi speaks before Heimdall can. “Intimidated by those who see further than him, he tries to scare his enemies into giving him his answers.”

“In all honesty,” Heimdall says, firmly, his words once again mirrored by Skuld “I’m not at all impressed by your demonstration of a short-distanced foresight and neither are my brothers.” Oh, how he hated to call them that aloud. Still, he gives the Norns his best smile. “So, if you may, tell us how to save my child and we will leave without doing you any harm.”

“We are not threatened by you, Heimdall Son of Odin.” Urðr says. “We know how this will end and so do you.”

They are right, he sees himself leaving with his child in his arms, as soulless as before, angry but not entirely dissatisfied. They will tell him what he wants to know.

“Then stop your games-“ This time when Skuld comes to mock his words, he catches her by her neck, cuffing her. The witch yelps, as he does so. Poor thing thought she could evade him. “And tell me how to save my child.” He nods to his brothers. “Or I let Baldur eat the little one.”

Baldur lets out a growl through Thor’s hand, confident in his new position of a rapid dog. Heimdall could see in his mind that he blamed the Norns for his blessing-curse as much as he did his mother and he was ready to charge at them as soon as Thor let him go. (And Thor saw it too, it was not that hard to guess, if you spent more than five minutes around Baldur.)

“You won’t kill her.” Urðr says.

“The sons of Odin have as little patience as the All-Father himself did, when he was young.” Verðandi appears as her sister vanishes. “But they won’t cause us harm, they are too loyal to their father and he is too scared of the future.”

“You won’t speak of the All-Father like this.” Heimdall says at the same time that Thor drops Baldur and he charges at the old woman, who disappears in a wave of threads.

“I’m holding her for you, idiot.” Heimdall and Skuld say at once. “Really? Still?” Again, she mocks him.

She dodges as Baldur tries to hit her face, making his fist shoot Heimdall’s direction, he too evades it, but has to move himself – and by that the witch in his hold - a step back. “Careful! Idiot!”

Verðandi shows again. “And while the young ones fight, the eldest brother takes the lead.”

“You know what we want, what do you want in return?” Ignoring her and his brothers, Thor walks forward where Urðr stood a moment ago.

“We want nothing from you.” Urðr appears before him. “But do you want what you ask of us? Does Heimdall truly want the reanimated child to live?”

“Yes!” This time his voice is joined by not only Skuld, but Thor too.

He has to dodge another attack that Baldur misplaces. Being at the edge of his patience limit, he throws Skuld at him. Leaving him to do as he pleases with her and moves to stand next to Thor.

“Here he comes, determined to get what he came for! Or to fulfil his father’s orders perhaps?” Verðandi says. “The big brother grunts in disappointment.”

Thor grunts and Heimdall speaks before he thinks, turning to Thor. “Disappointment-”

“Shut up.” Thor says to him and then turns to the Norns. “He wants it, so what can we do?” Heimdall looks in his mind and sees only that he does not wish for this sentence to be taken out of context - and a hint of worry that Thor has no right to feel.

“Tell me, Heimdall.” Urðr says. “Will you love the girl, even when she grows ugly? There are, after all, consequences for fiddling with the fate.”

“Will she?” He looks back at Urðr. “What consequences?”

Skuld repeats his words again, indicating that Baldur couldn’t pacify her even when Heimdall caught her for him. He is truly only useful for sniffing tracks.

“He will.” Thor answers for him again.

“So, determined. But we are asking Heimdall, Thor.” Urðr says.

Verðandi speaks before he can answer. “He lies, thinking he knows so much better than us.”

“I will.” Heimdall doesn’t really care what he says to the Norns, he can see his own fate well enough.

“And if he doesn’t then I will, satisfied?” Thor adds (and Skuld repeats).

“Pff,” Heimdall scoffs. “You beat your sons from nightfall to dawn and then again. No, thank you.”

“Are you prepared to raise a child on your own then?” Urðr asks. “Or will you ask the All-Father to give you another wife? A new mother just like you had?”

That was a low blow.

“Sure, you can, Heimdall! What are the odds that the All-Father picks a child cursing cunt for the third time!“ Baldur joins them, his grin showing bloodied teeth. Heimdall does not look in his mind to see how he got them, neither he chooses to answer to him.

“I can work it out myself. Any other questions? A riddle perhaps? They suck, I always see the answer beforehand.” He notices that he had unconsciously covered the baby with both of his hands at some point, pressing her to his chest.

“Only the last one; What will you do when she grows up more powerful than the All-Father? When she chooses not to follow his orders? What will you do when we tell you, that she won’t be on your side during the Ragnarök?”

Heimdall is taken back because he did not foresee that, Thor does not answer for him neither.

“Stunned, he stands in silence.” Verðandi comments. “He never thought of his own this way, he does not dare to think outside his father’s wishes – or he might end up like Tyr he thinks.”

“Oh, shut up.” He is ready to charge at the witch, but she disappears before he draws his sword. “I- I will let the All-Father deal with it, the way he wishes to. Is that all?”

Thor only glares at him, Baldur laughs and says “Of course you will, pussy.” Heimdall punches him.

“Let it be then.” Urðr says. “You cannot save the child’s soul – you cannot save what never was. You can only get her a new one – and you will pick one of your other children for that, seeing no other as worthy. The child will die, but its soul will live like a god.”

“A shiver runs down the father’s body, as he listens, but he tries to think pragmatically of it.” Verðandi very much nails what happens inside Heimdall’s head, if only she would do that silently.

“And how shall I anchor the soul in her body?” He asks. “That’s giant magic.”

“You will have to convince one to do it.”

“He looks at his brother-“ Verðandi starts saying, only to be interrupted by Heimdall, whose patience finally ran out.

“Oh, will you shut up?!” He shouts, throwing is hands. “How am I supposed to find one?!”

“You will have to catch one on the Wall.” Urðr mocks him.

“Great, we are leaving.” Heimdall (and Skuld) say.

“He turns away, feeling angry, because it’s easier than to admit he is afraid. But he is not the only one with questions.” Verðandi says. “The oldest can swallow them and leave, long used to keeping his thoughts to himself, but the youngest – he will ask them.”

Thor indeed follows Heimdall’s lead. They can hear Baldur behind them. “How can I break my curse?” He asks.

“You will-“

They do not hear the answer, they walk away and don’t stop until they reach the place they started at, marked by Baldur’s blood on the ground. They wait for Baldur to finish his questioning – and maybe executing, neither of them really cared.

“You still don’t want mead?” Thor asks, untying the bottle from his belt and taking a long swing.

“Leave me some.” Heimdall says in defeat, reaching for the bottle.

Thor gives him the bottle with no other word and Heimdall finishes it off in one swing, although it was still half-full. From behind they can hear Baldur walking forward them.

“And then I thought you had left for the baby-murdering quest without me.” He laughs.

Heimdall throws the now empty bottle at him. “We should’ve just left you to rot here.”

“You should.” Baldur grins. “Oh wait, am I being too feeless?” Before he can say more, Thor grabs him by the head, breaking his neck in one swift move. Then he throws his body over his shoulder.

“Are you coming, or would you rather take the climb?” He asks Heimdall.

“I will climb.” He answers. “But I don’t need her for that.” He starts untying the cloth holding Bylgja and then hands her to Thor. “Take her to Asgard, I will be back with the soul soon.” He answers the question Thor was thinking, but did not (to his own luck) dare to ask.

Thor nods, swings Mjöllnir and flies away. Leaving Heimdall to his thoughts alone. He sighs and starts climbing, the abyss is so deep that he – with his sight – barely sees the exit. At least he has a time to think over his next actions. Acquiring the soul will be easy enough, but the only Giant he knew of that still remained outside Jötunheim was the very one that had cursed his child. Living giant anyway, maybe some of the dead ones could help?

To be continued.. I'm an attention whore who did not want to wait for posting. I'm not sure if this should be posted like this on Ao3 or two separate fics: Heimdall pov and reader pov, so people who don't like x reader can read the Odinsons adventure fic. Tell me your opinion..

#heimdall x wife reader #heimdall #thor #baldur #god of war #my writing

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