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briefalpacashark · 7 months

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~The Rally Driver~

Warnings: A bit of swearing. Death. Guns.

Synopsis: You and the 141 get in a car chase. You're the driver.

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Perfect song to listen to while reading.

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You rarely had a mission in the heart of a city. But there you were, in the heart of London hauling ass down a street, the boys hot on your heels. You all tuckered yourself around an alleyway hiding from the array of bullets.

“This is a shit show,” Price grunted as he checked the nick on his arm.

“Yeah no shit,” you chuckled nervously, going to reload only to find you were out of ammo.

“I'm out,” As you chucked the empty magazine to the side, your head snapped up at the sound it made. Your eyes took in what you assumed was a car under a fancy-looking tarp.

“Hold on, I've got an idea,” you announced. The boys barely spared you a glance as you walked up to the car, yanking the cover off. A low, impressed whistle left your lips as you took it in. A 1969 Dodge Charger painted in a sexy navy black sat in front of you. You almost cried as you slammed your elbow into the window, smashing it. Slipping in, you worked a little magic. (Stabbing a small knife into the ignition and turning it). The engin roared to life, gathering the boy's attention.

“Get in bitches!” You called excitedly. Quickly, they piled into the car. Simon in the passenger seat, Price, Gaz and Jonny in the back, left to right in the respective order.

"Seatbelts on," you called.

"Nows not really the time to be worrin about taht love," Jonny chuckled.

"Seat belts save lives. Put them on or I'm turning this car around," you threatened.

"Were not even moving," Jonny grumbled but they all obeyed. As soon as you heard all four clicks you took off. You slammed the gear stick forward and put the pedal to the metal. You gave all the boys whiplash as you tore out of the alleyway.

“She's got a bit more of kick then I though,” you chuckled excitedly, ignoring the boy's desperate need to get there seat belts on. Guessing your position in the car the enemies got off a few shots, the glass from the rear window shattering and running down upon you all. You shoot through the gears, zooming down the street. Gaz let out a strangled scream as his body was pushed into the back of the seat. Now the streets of London weren't necessarily long, they were a maze of old and new architecture. Which meant there were a lot of sharp turns. With expertise you skidded, turned and slipped around every corner with ease, rarely losing the speed you were building up.

“You're crazy!” Jonny yelled.

“Don't worry, crazy people can still drive,” you shoot back. As the group held on for their life, you couldn't help but smile at the thrill driving gave you.

“PEOPLE! PEOPLE! PEOPLE!” Price yelled, pointing to the group of drunken club goers crossing the street.

“Dont fucken back seat drive. I can see them” you yelled, swinging the car to the side, missing the group, and using the sidewalk as your new road. You took a sharp intake of breath when you saw the restaurant that had seating set up on said sidewalk. The road next to you was filled with cars so you couldn't move. You slammed your hand down on the horn, the few occupants quick to scramble out of the way as they saw the car barreling maliciously towards them. The car plowed through the seat tables and food. Simon stared at you as you casually flicked the wipers on, cleaning the window from the wine and food.

“Oh that smells lovely. We should get dinner there next time,” you suggested casually as you returned the car to the actual road.

“TRUCK!” Simon yelled as he spotted a truck pulling out of an alleyway. Jerking your hand break up, you turned quickly, slowing just enough for the corner of the truck to scrape along the driver's side of the car. The screeching sound of metal on metal filled your ears as the side mirror disappeared in the near miss.

“That didn't sound good,” you mumbled, hanging half out of the window to look at the damage.

“GET INSIDE THE FUCKEN CAR!” Gaz yelled.

“Alright, I think everyone just needs to calm down,” you said gently, turning around to face the panicked passengers. As you did so she caught the look of a certain pissed of enemies pursuing you in another car.

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” Simon yelled. He looked hilarious, propping his large body the best he could in the corner of the seat. “Hey don't tell me how to drive. Why don't you be useful and use your little toy on our little friends” you asked slowly turning back to the front to return to driving. The boys turned round, spotting your pursuers. Simon threw half his body out the window as he started to fire, and they fired right back. The rest of the boys quickly joined Simon's efforts.

“Does anyone have a map?” you asked casually through the gun fire. Simon cursed as his gun ran out of bullets.

“No, we don't have a fucken map,” Ghost growled as he slipped back into his seat, throwing the gun down. Coming to a roundabout you smoothly drifted the car round Gaz struggling to understand the physics of a car driving sideways.

“Should you even be driving?” Gaz yelled. He had given up returning fire and handed his gun to Jonny. He was much more focused on the danger in the car.

“I don't think so. You know I think there should be a law that if you fail your driving test ten times, then you shouldn't ever get one,” you chuckled, half jokingly.

“YOU FAILED YOUR DRIVING TEST TEN TIMES!?” Gaz screamed just about to pass out from the fear. “Of course not,” you reached back, patting his knee comfortingly.

“It was more like eighteen,” you stated.

“Oh lord help me,” he whispered. The boys grinned at the interaction.

“I'm out,” Price announced. Jonny got off a few more shots before repeating his words. The poor night inhabitants of the town were plunged into confusion at the cars that drove through there streets like rally drivers. A rally driver would be the only way the boys could describe your driving. It scared them shitless. But they had to admit, you were good, really good. You were quickly forming distance with the other car. Ghost reached across you where you usually held your gun.

“Lieutenant, so forward?” you chuckled.

“Gun,” the simple word was meant to explain what he was doing.

“Safe word?” you asked teasingly, making him look up at you with a small glare. A glare that momentarily faltered due to your close proximity. He hated to admit it, but his body flushed in attraction. You pose having one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick and the annoying smirk sent his heart racing. You chuckled at what you assumed was an are you serious look. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your lower back, sliding it down to meet the gun you had tucked into the back of your pants. Clearing his throat, he pulled the gun free, returning to the window, firing another shoot.

“Drive straight!” he yelled struggling to keep his balance.

“You shoot straight,” you shoot back but tried your best to steady the car. Steady enough for him to land a hit dead center in the driver's head. To your shock, the passenger kicked the man's body out the door and continued driving.

“Shit,” he hissed, firing off more shots failing to see the fast approaching wall. You did, however. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the first thing your hand landed on. Which just so happened to be his belt buckle. Yanking him back into the car, he narrowly missed decapitation. His eyes snapped down to the grip you had on his belt, your hand pulling the material taunt.

“Close one, lieutenant,” you spared a grin at him, releasing his belt buckle. Simon was surprised, yet not entirely against it. Dare he say, even slightly aroused?

“This place is like a maze,” you mentioned, taking her time to look at the signs.

“You are way too calm for this,” Simon huffed, going to fire again only to find that he was out of bullets. “Shit,” he whispered. Luckily, after another quick turn it seemed like you had lost them.

“Well, there's no point in panicking. Sure he's firing at us but there a terrible shot. Ain't that right boss?’ you asked, glancing back at Price that for a man with great composure looked like he was about to lose his shit.

“Please focus on the road!” Price begged.

“Alright well.I feel like I'm taking a tour through this town. Where am i doing?” you asked.

“Head west,” he ordered. “Alright cool,” you nodded, pausing for a few moments. “Which way is west?” you asked.

“Left!” he snapped. Jokingly, you held up your hands. Holding your thumb and index finger into L shapes.

“SARGENT!” Price snapped.

“Ok ok, sorry!” you whispered back, making a quick left turn, a quick left turn that had them headed in the west direction, a direction that put them directly in line with an all too familiar car. The enemy. They had cut you off.

“Shit,” you whispered. Slamming into the break. The car came to a screeching stop. Almost sent Ghost through the windscreen. The driver in the opposite car gave you a shit-eating grin as his allies poked themselves out of the windows.

“Get down!” You yelled. Everyone did so, including you as you slammed the car into reverse, taking off just as fast as you had before. Gritting your teeth, you prayed for luck as they opened fire. Snapping up, you placed your hand on the back of Simon's head rest and not to toot your own horn, but drove like a boss ass bitch. Backwards. At full speed, weaving and jerking side to side doing your best to dodge the bullets. The chase was back on, with you doing your best to drive backwards. Waving and dodging cars as perfectly as you had done before. There just wasn't any room to turn the car around. And your near miss count was going up with every passing second.

“Oh my god we're gonna die,” Gaz stated simply as he watched you.

“Not today, bud,” you stated. You saw it, you slammed the hand brake up, throwing the car around barely losing any speed as you returned to forward face driving. Your eyes searched for your exit, anything. Then you saw it, A Little bridge in the distance.

“How long can you guys hold your breath?” you asked.

“What?” Jonny asked.

“Answer the fucking question!” You snapped.

“A long fucking time!” Ghost yelled.

“Alright, everyone, windows down seat belts off,” you ordered.

“Um fuck no,” Gaz stated, simply holding tighter onto his life line.

“Do it now!” You snapped.

“Wanna fill us in on your plan?” Price asked.

“We're going for a swim. Everyone brace yourself,” you ordered, cutting the lights off. You took a sharp turn at the building, cutting off the view of the car behind. And in one quick jerk, you threw the car off the side of the walkway. You cut the engine just as the car hit the water under the bridge. The car was quickly submerged as you all clambered out. Well, almost all. You grunted as something caught on your ankle. You assumed it was the seat belt. Your hand reached for your knife as it pulled you deeper and deeper into the depths. Only your knife wasn't there. It was in the car's ignition. You reached for it, trying desperately to rip it out to no avail. Shit. You were running out of air as you struggled to untangle your foot. Only you had no light, and you couldn't figure out how it had snagged itself on you. You felt your body getting tired, panic started to set in. Your limited vision started to fade and your lungs burnt for air. Shit, you thought. As you started to acknowledge your possible death, your body went limp as you fought for the last remained of your consciousness. You didn't want to die. There was still so much you wanted to do. God and the boys would never let you down if this was how you would die. They would tease you shitless in the afterlife. You were about to let it go when a set of hands grabbed your shoulders. They gave you a yank, quickly discovering you were caught on something. Their hands patted you down till they found the culprit slicing the seat belt. They swam you back to the surface, you gasping like a fish out of water at the much needed oxygen. Sighs of relief sounded as you briefly caught a glimpse of the skull mask on the face eof the man who kept you afloat resting your upper back on his shoulder.

Ghost had saved you.

“Fucken hell,” Ghost whispered. You couldn't really tell due to the lack of oxygen but you could have sworn you felt him pull you closer to him, his chin pressing against your head in an awkward hug. Price swam over to you, taking your face into his hand.

“You alright, Sargent?” he asked. After a few more gasps of air, you nodded, pulling a thumbs up.

With deep breaths you all waded in the water waiting as you heard the other car approach. As it drove over the bridge and off into the distance. You had lost them.

“Well, personally, I think that went well,” you said with a cheerful grin. The boys all chuckled as they somewhat relaxed.

“Do you even have a license?” Gaz asked.

“An Australian one, yes,” you nodded.

“But then again, the police officer doing my test was drunk when I drove him home,” You shrugged casually, earning another set of chuckles. Reaching up you hugged Simon arm tightly. “Thank for saving my ass big guy,” you whispered.

“Don't scare me like that again, you hear me?" he grumbled holding you impossibly closer.

"No promises," you stated.

"Hey what was that bout seat belts saving lives again?" he asked as he sawm you to shore. You simply chuckled shaking your head.

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--COD Master List here--

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #cod #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod modern warfare #Youtube

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

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Title: Uncertain and Sure Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 550

Summary: Immediate follow up to Desperate. The moments after you're retrieved from the safehouse.

Content Warnings: insecurity, brief reference to past kidnapping and sex pollen ordeal

Notes: No one really asked for this (at least not recently), but the idea of it was inspired by an ask @sergeantbarnessdoll sent me with a gif of a certain kissing scene featuring one Sebastian Stan. Good lord that man can kiss. Written spur of the moment.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You fidgeted with the zipper on the standard-issue jacket you’d changed into at the safehouse while Sam and Bucky radioed into the home office in New York. It wasn’t your first quinjet ride, but it was your first ride – first anything – after having spent an intense twelve hours with Bucky Barnes where he let you use him to get over a sex pollen infection, confessed deeper feelings for each other, and then explored the new intimacy of that connection physically and emotionally in the safehouse.

“Strap in,” Sam turned and reminded you before slipping into the pilot seat while Bucky adjusted the navigation from the co-pilot seat.

You nodded and took your spot in one of the jump seats. You felt the intensity of Bucky’s look before your eyes flickered up to meet his. Looking over his shoulder, he gave you a tight-lipped smile, and you returned it, your chest tightening as he looked away. You told yourself it was the pull of the quinjet’s liftoff, not any insecurity creeping into your mind.

After shuffling you into the shower to clean up, Bucky had encouraged you to sleep when you hadn’t been otherwise engaged, but your body was still so tired. Your eyes closed, and you let your head fall back against the seat. Bucky had reassured you that was to be expected after everything you’d been through, that from his limited but field-reliable expertise you seemed to be through the worst of it but that the medical team would examine you when you got back, and that you would recover after more rest, but you still hated how exhausted your body felt. Weak.

Weak and strung out and vulnerable.

Uncertain.

You gasped and your eyes flew open when a warm hand covered yours.

“Hey,” Bucky soothed. Kneeling in front of you, he brought his vibranium hand up to cup your cheek.

Damn Bucky and his Winter Soldier or White Wolf silent approach skills.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

“The look on your face had me worried. I need you to know, I’m not going anywhere. What I said and what we did – what we shared – at the safehouse after the pathogen had cleared your system? That wasn’t just getting caught up in the fallout of a mission for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

And you saw the depth of feeling in his eyes. He meant it. The unease in your chest began to fall away, and that must have registered on your face, because his expression softened.

Bucky brought his other hand up, and then cradling your head in both hands, he leaned in for a sound kiss. His lips claimed yours unapologetically, and you sunk into the kiss. Warmth, want, safety, desire. You felt all of it immediately.

A low whistle interrupted your kiss, and Sam hollered, “I knew it! I told Steve y’all were made for each other!”

“Yeah right,” Bucky argued.

“Took you two long enough to get out of your own damn way,” Sam responded, and you laughed.

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but you put your hand on his cheek and turned his head back to you. “Never mind him,” you said, “just give me another kiss and then go make sure we get home, Barnes.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to yours again.

READ THE NEXT ROMP WITH THIS COUPLE: INSATIABLE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #aspen wrote something #bucky barnes fanfic #desperate verse

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espace--positif · 1 month

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After Rain Comes Sunshine

A Zayne x Fem!Reader Fic [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Zayne invites you to join him on one of his morning runs. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the weather has other plans for the two of you.

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader

Content: Fluff, Pre-relationship, Slow Burn if you squint, MC Reader, Brief description of injury.

WC: ~3.7K

You stared at the figures on the report in front of you and they stared back in defiance. No matter how many times you plugged the numbers into the UNICORNS program’s interface, it returned either incomplete results or an error. You sighed in defeat and laid back in your chair, staring at the setting sun on the horizon.

Data analysis had never been your strong suit, and the inconsistencies brought on by abnormal Wanderer activity in the area did not make your temporary assignment any easier. The field suited you much better, but you had unfortunately been temporarily pulled from active duty after sustaining an injury while on a mission.

You’d been on nighttime patrol with one of the new Alpha Team recruits in an area where moderate Wanderer activity had been reported when both your watches picked up a large spike in energy fluctuations. Your regrettably green hunt partner had panicked and started blasting at the tree line at the tiniest sign of movement, and an opportunistic Wanderer had jumped at him. You’d pushed him out of the way of what certainly would’ve been a fatal blow, and the Wanderer’s gargantuan claw had embedded itself in your shoulder instead.

You thought that the earful that Captain Jenna had delivered to the poor recruit at debriefing was harsh, but you found that it was nothing compared to the treatment you’d received from Dr. Zayne when you reported to Akso Hospital.

“It’s not a big deal. You should’ve seen the other guy,” you’d tried to joke, lightly and nervously tapping your heel on the side of the examination table after he’d tended to your wound. Instead of the usual chuckle or crack of a smile Zayne would usually give you when you attempted humor, you were met with silence as he picked up a clipboard and busied himself writing.

Ah, yes. You were dealing with ‘Dr. Zayne’ now.

“We, uh, we killed the Wanderer who did this. It was real bloody… is what I’m trying to-”

Your rambling was cut short when he paused his writing and looked up at you, his icy hazel eyes threatening to bore holes through your own.

“You’re not… angry, are you?” you chanced. Though he wasn’t the most outwardly expressive man in the world, even less so when he was in “Doctor” mode, you liked to think that you were attuned to his body language - the slight downturn of his lips, intensity in his eyes, and stiffness of his posture told you that he certainly wasn’t happy.

“I’m pulling you from duty. You’re to report back here in three weeks and I’ll see if you’re fit to be cleared for duty again,” he replied flatly, authoritative gaze still glued to you. You were no stranger to the strictness of the doctor’s orders, but three weeks was pushing it. This was some sort of punishment for your recklessness, you were sure of it.

“Three weeks? Isn’t that a bit much?” you asked while lightly rolling your freshly bandaged shoulder in an attempt to prove the levity of the injury.

Zayne narrowed his eyes, then proceeded to stow his pen into his white coat pocket, and you instantly knew that a hefty lecture was on its way.

“Exercising an injured muscle before it’s fully healed can lead to slowed healing and permanent damage. And next time, you’d do well to avoid being so reckless on the field. Come to think of it, perhaps a month of rest will be needed to ensure proper healing.”

And with that, he had shut down any possibility for a compromise, especially considering you didn’t have the expertise to dispute his diagnosis. Besides, when he got like this, you knew better than to argue, lest he extend your banishment from duty to an unreasonably longer amount of time.

—

This was a week and a half ago, meaning that you’d only served half your sentence. The worst part about being under such strict orders was how cooped up you felt. As perilous as your Alpha Team assignment was, you’d always enjoyed being able to visit different parts of the city, sometimes even venturing further. You’d often explore and find new restaurants and cafés to try out in the vicinity of your mission area on the way home.

But the best part about finding these new places was getting to share them with a certain someone who happened to share your passion for culinary experiences. You’d write down the most notable new place you’d discovered after each assignment in a new area, and it had become a sort of ritual for the both of you to visit and rate each place every weekend.

Ironically, that certain someone also happened to be your doctor, and he was the reason why you hadn’t partaken in your post-mission reward in a week and a half, even staying in last weekend. Sure, you could always initiate a weekend outing, but you hadn’t left your neighborhood in days, and your list of new places to try out was barren as a result. Just as you were considering whether you’d be able to bargain with Zayne to get cleared for duty earlier than scheduled, your phone chimed with a text notification.

It was as though he’d read your mind from a distance.

Good afternoon. How are you feeling?

Seizing your opening, you hastily sent back a message.

feeling good, my shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore. honestly! just feels stiff. but maybe I’m at risk for a vitamin D deficiency since I can’t go out to missions anymore :P

Three dots illuminated his side of the conversation, then swiftly disappeared. He wasn’t taking the bait. You furiously typed another message, this time going straight to the point.

well, as my doctor, don’t you think that’s concerning? maybe I can come by tomorrow and check if I can get cleared early haha

It was worth a shot, you told yourself, but your strategy could very well backfire seeing as off-duty Zayne was prone to responding to your half-jokes with equal amounts of seriousness and teasing, especially in your text conversations where the tone was constantly blurred. He might flat-out refuse, or even extend your suspension from duty just because you’d dared ask, and just because he could. But the dizzying figures side-eyeing you from your computer screen and the stale indoor air that had been your only companion for the past few days had evidently compelled you to risk it all.

His almost immediate answer blipped on your screen.

No.

Then three dots. You gulped.

But if you’re feeling cooped up, why don’t you join me for my morning run tomorrow? Running is a good way to get moderate exercise and won’t impact your shoulder healing at this point.

Your heartbeat quickened ever so slightly. Was Zayne really inviting you on one of his morning runs? He’d spoken about those like they were a ritual, and so the open and sudden invitation, though not unwelcome, was surprising. It wasn’t as glamorous as a restaurant outing, but it was an opportunity to spend time with him. And to touch some grass and breathe some fresh air, of course. Because that’s what this was about.

A smile crept up your face as you typed your reply.

yeah! that sounds good. see you tomorrow!

—

This is how you ended up lacing up your running shoes at the very crack of dawn, surrounded by nothing but the luscious greenery that framed the gravel path you stood on. You would have appreciated it much more if it wasn’t 5:45 AM and you had something to look forward to other than a grueling marathon.

Your eyes drifted towards your running companion, Zayne, who was completing a stretching routine a few feet away. You absently emulated his movements as your eyes caught onto his hulking arms, your gaze tracing every curvature of his taut muscles through the ribbed fabric of his black long-sleeve shirt.

Perhaps you did have something to look forward to after all.

He must have caught you staring, as his movements halted and you were met with a quizzical look. You quickly looked away, heat creeping up your cheeks, and looked for something to say, anything, to break the silence.

“So you run here every day, huh?” you said, almost too fast. “It’s beautiful, really.”

“Not every day,” Zayne’s deep voice echoed through the tranquil canopy of trees. “I usually run a circuit through the city, close to the hospital. But for today, I wanted to make sure you…”

He trailed off and you turned to face him once more. This time, he averted his eyes and seemed suddenly preoccupied with the nothingness in the tree line.

“Wanted to make sure I… what?” you prompted.

“Exposure to nature has been proven to be conducive to healing and improve patient outcomes.”

There it was, the familiar doctor-patient wall that Zayne would employ against you whenever either of you came close to acknowledging whatever it was that budded between the two of you. Yet you’d seen him chip away at it far too many times during your weekend outings, and you’d also been known to jump at any opportunity to deal some damage to it whenever you could. Even so, the status quo didn’t bother you, as long as it meant he would still be around. A permanent fixture in your life.

“Hmmm,” you hummed in response, trying to find a witty rebuttal. When the words failed you, you simply yelled out: “Well, improve this! Race you to the end!”

And with that, you dashed ahead, leaving Zayne behind, no doubt shaking his head at your antics.

—

Your amusement was quite short-lived, as your increasingly aching legs reminded you why you’d always hated cardio and prioritized strength training. You’d clearly bitten off more than you could chew, but you were also notoriously stubborn, and so your feet begrudgingly crunched on the gravel at a regular rhythm as Zayne matched your unrelenting speed, though he made it seem effortless.

“Sure you don’t want to slow down?” you heard him ask as he ran long strides beside you, not even remotely out of breath.

“Nope,” you huffed. Your stubbornness aside, you especially didn’t want to slow him down after he’d so graciously invited you into this part of his life. “Besides… we’re almost there… right?”

He let out a low chuckle. “Not in the slightest. We’re about halfway through the route.”

“Wha-” the sound of surprise escaped your lips before you could hold it in. At this point, the sun had completely risen, though roiling clouds had begun to obscure it. Surely you should have completed more than half of the run by now, right?

You’d clearly figured wrong. The drive that had been powering you through your unsustainable pace evaporated in an instant and you skidded to a halt. With your hands on your knees, you attempted to catch your breath and soothe the burning in your calves. Embarrassment be damned, this run was going to be the end of you if you didn’t take a break right this instant.

You felt a hand softly touch the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Don’t stop so suddenly, just keep walking and breathing.”

“R-right,” you managed between exhales.

You tried steadying your breathing as you both resumed walking, but the warmth of Zayne’s body against yours made the endeavor much harder than it had to be. His large hand remained on your back, gently guiding you forward and lightening the load on your sore legs. The cooling breeze that dried the beads of sweat on your brow was a welcome presence as you felt yourself feeling warmer and warmer by the minute.

After what felt like hours, your heart was thankfully no longer threatening to burst from your chest, and the painful ache in your legs had dulled. You discreetly looked up at Zayne only to find him scanning the tree line with a serious expression on his face. No matter where you went, he was always as alert and cautious as ever. You’d called him out on it once during one of your weekend outings, and he’d answered something ominous along the lines of “it’s better to be overprepared than taken off guard.”

Despite your teasing, however, his vigilance was always a welcoming sight. You could allow yourself to relax whenever the two of you were together - it was a far cry from the constant alertness your missions forced you to adopt. His presence alone made you feel safer than you’d ever care to admit, and his rare but soothing touches seemed to melt your worries away. In little moments like these, you were afforded the luxury of simply living in the present.

Your steps became light as your attention drifted to a patch of bright blue and purple flowers that neatly adorned the upcoming bend in the path, perfectly framing it on both sides, and you realized that this was nice. The breeze lightly grazed your skin and you were thankful for its refreshing chill until it suddenly picked up and that very chill began to creep into your bones. You unconsciously inched closer to Zayne, your head pressed up against the side of his chest.

“We should head back,” he said, voice warmly rumbling against your ear. “It looks like it might…”

Raindrops slowly plipped and plopped against the gravel, grass, and leaves. Zayne halted both your movements and held his free hand up, as if to gauge the magnitude of the rain that would follow. He didn’t need to keep it up long, as the rain quickly escalated to a downpour, violently drenching you both in an instant.

You stared at the wet ground in disbelief. You normally didn’t mind the rain, but this was more than just rain - it was a veritable storm. And now your run would definitely have to be cut short. So much for a nice moment.

The two of you resumed your run, this time in the opposite direction, headed towards the forest’s entrance. The brief respite you’d just concluded evidently hadn’t done much to regenerate your energy and vigor, as you found yourself lagging behind Zayne as the rain and wind buffeted your body. Your legs burned once more, and you cursed yourself for pretending to stretch while ogling your running partner earlier instead of actually stretching.

You slowed to a halt, trying to give your legs a break, but knowing very well that once you stopped it’d only get harder to get moving again. But while a little bit of rain wouldn’t kill you, keeping up this pace when you’d already foolishly spent all of your energy in the first half of your run very well might.

You figured you should tell Zayne not to wait for you, that you’d catch up eventually, and inhaled sharply so your voice would carry from your crouched form through the roaring storm. But before you could utter a word, two strong arms nestled against you and you were suddenly staring at the lopsided tree line. Zayne had deftly scooped you up and resumed jogging without skipping a beat.

You instinctively braced yourself by placing your palm on his chest and looked up at him, bewildered. It took you a moment to compute what was happening, but once you did, heat warmed your face despite the chilling rain and wind.

You began to protest. “Zayne, you don’t need to… I can just catch up with you!”

“This forest will flood with the two of us in it if we keep up with your pace,” he replied, light mirth permeating his voice.

You huffed. Your arrogance and poor performance at cardiovascular exercise had been noted and you’d likely never hear the end of it - as serious and stern as Zayne presented himself, he’d always remember the smallest details when they presented an opportunity to tease you later on. Still, in an attempt to save the remainder of your dignity, you pressed on.

“No, but, you’ll get tired carrying me around!”

“It’s nothing. If anything, I’ll get to finish my workout,” he said, wet strands of dark hair dancing along to the rhythm of his light jog.

And thus, you resigned yourself to being carried out of the very workout you’d signed up for. When enough of your embarrassment had fizzled away, your mind began to drift away from the downpour and hone in on the steady thumping of Zayne’s heartbeat, which you could feel vibrating through your palm and reverberating throughout your whole body. The unwavering, rhythmic beats drew you to that same sense of safety you’d felt earlier, and so many times before. You found that the rain and the cold didn’t bite as harshly when you focused on the warmth of his body, the strength of his heartbeat, and the steady yet light bounce of his footsteps.

And eventually, you found that you’d stopped caring about the weather altogether.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

—

By the time you finally rejoined civilization, the rain had let up to a light drizzle. You’d found refuge in a small café, one of the first you’d visited together ever since starting your weekend tradition. At this time of day, it was luckily not too busy. They’d graciously offered you a table even though you were sopping wet, and you busied yourself drying off as best as you could with the copious amount of paper towels the server had offered you while Zayne ordered warm drinks for both of you.

When he returned from the counter with two cups in hand, soaking wet, hair still dripping, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. The juxtaposition of this man’s calm demeanor with his disheveled appearance, combined with the ridiculous circumstances amused you to no end.

Zayne raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” he asked as he placed down the cups.

“Nothing. It’s just…” you scoured your brain for a way to get back at him for his comments on your pace earlier. “You’d think a man would check the weather before going on a run, you know?”

A hint of a smile played on his lips, and he sighed in mock exasperation as he sat across from you. “And you’d think a hunter would be able to run for more than five minutes in a row,” he quipped back. “Am I going to have to add mandatory cardiovascular training to your health plan?”

You definitely would never hear the end of this.

You threw your hands up, feigning defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll manage my pace better next time.”

You grasped your cup, the warm ceramic soothing your freezing hands. “But I’m just surprised that someone like you could just get caught out in the rain like that. Didn’t you once tell me about how being overprepared is the key to all your problems or something like that?”

“‘If you’re not overprepared, you’re underprepared,’ was the quote,” he replied as he slicked back his wet hair. You shifted your gaze to the ripples in your cup to stop yourself from staring. “And you’re right, I should’ve looked at the forecast before I dragged you out there. Or at the very least, I should have stuck to my normal route. We likely would’ve found shelter faster. I’m sorry, it’s my fault we ended up like this.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for!” you replied hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply that at all. I had fun today, and I got to breathe some fresh air, get some exercise in… I’m gonna be honest, even though it rained on our parade, I’m really glad you invited me to run with you.”

You beamed as you finished your sentence, unable to hide your genuine contentment. You meant every word of it. In contrast to the gloomy weather outside, your mood had been brightened by this ordeal. As strange as it sounded, you were almost glad for the rain which had brought you closer together in more ways than one.

Zayne’s intense gaze settled on you, as if he was trying to read your mind. This time, you didn’t look away. “Is that so?” he started. “Then allow me to be honest as well. I neglected to look at the weather forecast because I just wanted to get you out of your apartment. You sounded pent up, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

You felt a comfortable warmth settle within you, and you knew you couldn’t ascribe it to the coffee alone. “Thank you,” you replied, ignoring the heat that was surely visible in your cheeks. “I was pent up. Data analysis was driving me crazy, I hadn’t left the house in days since my assignment is remote, and I missed you.”

Perhaps you were feeling a little too comfortable, for you blurted out the words without thinking. Well, it was too late now. You clumsily took a sip from your cup and set it back down with an unceremonious clang.

“I missed you too,” he replied, voice gentle and low. When you peered up from your cup to face him, he suddenly seemed more interested in the weather again, looking out the window at the slowly clearing skies. He cleared his throat unceremoniously and continued: “I missed the opportunity to discover another restaurant with you this past weekend. My palate has come to expect variety every Saturday, you know.”

You smiled as you freely took in his flustered expression, a rare occurrence for the brilliant and ever-composed Dr. Zayne. You greedily gulped your coffee before it got cold, and reminded him to do the same, which seemed to push him back to his normal level of composure. The two of you spent the remainder of the morning excitedly discussing the culinary potential of your next mission destination in another week and a half.

Tonight, as you reminisced on the day’s events, you could rejoice, for the wall that neither of you had built but both of you had reluctantly maintained over the years had lost another brick. It wouldn’t be long before it crumbled to dust entirely, of that you were sure. In the meantime, you’d gladly content yourself with living in the present, in the moment, in the warmth and safety of Zayne’s unwavering presence.

Note: Hello! I can’t believe my first fic in YEARS is for a game I started playing 4 days ago, but L&DS and Zayne have literally taken over my life so I had no choice. This is also my first 'x reader' fic EVER so I’m kinda nervous, but I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you to @pmpmyread for proofreading!

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne fluff #li shen #l&ds x reader #espace--positif

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loveindefinitely · 8 months

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I forgot how ugly he was.”

Price, beside you, raises a slightly bemused brow. Taking the binoculars from your easy grip, he too, examines the target standing on the mansion’s balcony. A cigar sits between Price’s lips, mirroring the less sophisticated Marlboro between the Lieutenant General’s.

The man, one of the few higher-ups you were somewhat close with, is a decorated Shadow Company leader. Known for his strategy and persuasion, he was always a good asset.

Shame he was always this side of too touchy, and a general ass to anyone who had a vagina. Or an inclination for the same sex.

Real pity that he’s the one with the information you need, and the one you can’t kill.

“You’re not wrong, darlin’,” Price murmurs under his breath, exhaling a puff of smoke as he slips the cigar from his mouth, the cherry burning in the dark of night.

Ghost, like usual, is found a few buildings down, sniper at the ready. Soap and Gaz were ordered to stay behind for this mission, much to their chagrin. It was the closest you’d seen Gaz fight with his Captain, and Soap was just being generally pouty.

Both you, and Price, had managed to reason that expertise in explosions and protection wasn’t exactly wanted for a quick get-and-grab.

And, maybe, a small part of you needs a break from the two Sergeants. Your night with Gaz has infected your mind, even now, the day after. And seeing him, with his bright smile and dimples and eyes made your heart skip a beat. Especially with how no one could know of your rendezvous, lest you be kicked out of the deal.

Or worse.

You swallow, once, accepting the binoculars once more when Price hands them back to you with another puff of his cigar. He’s surprisingly courteous about it, not blowing the smoke into your face.

“Lt, we have eyes on the target. Over,” you speak into your radio, eyes like a hawk as you watch the Lieutenant General shake off flakes from his cigarette over the pristine white railing. He’s shorter than most, especially considering his rank, and you can’t help a small, private smile growing on your face at that small fact.

“Been around bloody Johnny too much,” Ghost mutters, and you roll your eyes. “No hostiles spotted, you’re good to go.”

Rising into a crouch, Price gives you a curt nod, before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so with quiet movements, the only sound the barely there crunch of dirt underneath your boots.

Your previous Lieutenant General was always an uncomfortably wealthy man, and you see now what he’s chosen to do with such an abundance of money. He lives in an off-the-grid mansion, deep in the middle of nowhere, only hills and trees around him.

Those families in Las Almas, displaced and killed and ruined – they were entirely more deserving of just a fraction of this wealth. Your tongue feels coated with something sour.

Price smells like cinnamon and spice, even in his gear, and it’s a scent that settles in your belly like a warm stew.

It’s rare, these days, to see daylight. All this recon work done well past midnight, hiding in the shadows and staying low. Not your favourite, but at the same time, it’s kind of… nice, doing this, just you and Price and the moon. No having to tiptoe around what to say around Gaz, or avoiding Soap’s innuendos.

If only it wasn’t for Ghost, too, watching over the two of you.

God, how you hated that man. His snarky comments, the roll of his eyes, his mask he refused to take off. And the way he almost looked down at you, questioned your authority, not unlike all the men you’d known. Worked alongside. Hated, too, in much the same vein.

You wonder, distantly, if he’ll ever come around. If there was at all a possibility of a civil interaction between you both, one that didn’t end in death threats or glares or passing out.

“Somethin’s on your mind.”

Head snapping up, you meet Price’s knowing blue eyes. Calculating, always aware, always ready for the worst case scenario.

“Not really, Cap,” you easily shake off in a whisper, continuing to follow him, until your backs are pressed against the beige, concrete wall. Your assault rifle is pulled to your chest, safety off.

The bandage on your cheek had been replaced just this afternoon, a soothing balm and fresh wrappings alleviating the growing itch that had been forming on your face. What was another scar, even? This one, at least, had somewhat of a neutral memory attached.

Ghost’s chest, his arms, a single threat turned into a promise.

You blink.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you underestimate our smarts,” Price says, low, under his breath. His words have you halting.

“Sir –”

“I know you’re used to bein’ the smartest kid in the regiment,” he continues, not unkindly, “But you’d do yourself well to remember that my boys are here for a reason, too. We know more than you give us credit for.”

His voice is deep, gruff, even in the low whisper he’s reduced to.

A shiver erupts down your spine as you feel out where to start climbing the wall, trying not to look at the man next to you. His words – they hit a part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Never said you guys weren’t smart, Captain.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”

You have nothing to say to that – an irony, all things considered. Instead, you jerk your head towards the bricks that’ll allow you both to scale the side of the mansion. With your gloves on, the two of you make it to the third floor, shuffling through an open window.

It’s pitch black, except for a lone light turned on in your target’s study, just down the hall.

The air is stale, stifling, potent with old filing and decade-old cologne. It has your throat feeling clogged, your eyes slightly glassy as you move towards the light, gun at the ready.

This is, you realise, the first time you’re working beside the Captain.

You’d worked in tandem, obviously, but never so closely knit like this. With him at your six, his body like a furnace when beside your own, it’s an entirely new dynamic. So different to that of his subordinates – more steady, controlled.

Ghost is silent over the radio, a small mercy, as you two find your way into the study, backs to the wall as you quickly clear the room. You never knew when a surprise could be awaiting you.

“Check the drawers, I’ll look through the shelves,” Price whispers, a direct command delivered in a raspy breath.

You nod, immediately transferring your gun to your back as you rush through the desk’s contents.

The room is dusty, obviously having seen little use in recent years, and the drawers are filled to the brim with knick knacks. Old paper clips, photos, receipts – everything, except for what you need.

“Got anything?” You find yourself asking, a harsh whisper in the still quiet of the room.

Price shakes his head, a stern movement, still searching through the shelves with a stealthy yet quickened pace. You focus back on the drawers, going through each one with efficient and expert ease. Some old gum packets, paper clips. Fuck.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your throat feels thick with dread.

The contract you were looking for – it could be the beginning of the end. You needed this like you needed air, right now, and if you didn’t find it –

“Darlin’,” Price calls, smooth but demanding. You instantly look up, drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. “We’re goin’ to find it. Stop thinkin’.”

It’s, obviously, easier said than done.

You appreciate his sentiment – the way he’s trying to guide you – but that sinking feeling of despair has you gripped in its tenuous claws; unrelenting and powerful and cruel. It feels as though everything is riding on this; like your very existence will disappear as soon as you find out the document has.

A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.

It’s Price.

“You need to get your head in, Colonel,” he orders, his voice no longer patient or kind. This is the voice of a Captain. “I am not about to waste my time here if you can’t do your job.”

It’s exactly what you need, right now, and he knows it. You know it.

You take a breath.

And you nod.

He claps your shoulder, a firm glint in his eyes as he jerks his head towards the rest of the room. You’re running on a timer – your mini spiral an unnecessary hurdle. All you have to do is block off that side of your brain, and get the bloody job done.

Although Ghost is still silent as ever, you can feel his looming presence even without being at all in his line of sight.

It’s debilitating.

With more meticulous movements and keener eyes, you look through the drawers. Less desperate, more knowing, because if there’s any doubt that you won’t find it –

“Target is leaving the balcony – I’m ‘bout to lose sight on ‘im,” Ghost’s quick voice starts through your radio. The slight tone of worry has every inch of you on edge. Your wide eyes flicker to Price’s – whose jaw sets.

“Copy, Lieutenant,” Price murmurs, voice low.

The gun strapped to your back feels heavier than before, now, and your hand drifts to the pistol attached to your thigh. The same one that’s come in handy time and time again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –

A hand on the scuff of your neck. A door being pulled open – pitch black.

Your heart thunders in your chest, Price’s hand pressed against your sternum, his chest against yours. The air is tight, and you’re cornered in a…

Closet.

Price pulled you into a closet – and now, you’re stuck with his thigh between yours and his arm outstretched above your head. You feel entirely weak before him, the Captain of the 141.

If it was at all in question, anymore, you would’ve considered that this would be the perfect time to kill you. To be rid of Grave’s right-hand woman, and to cut off any loose ends.

Instead, all you can feel is his warm breath against your forehead.

The footsteps pause, but the creak of the study’s door has your spine rigid all over again. Price presses in closer to you – and you don’t make a single movement. Don’t speak a single word, in case its very syllables are your undoing.

You can’t see, not in this speckled darkness, but price’s very existence feels so strong against your own that you can’t help but shudder a breath.

“Sir – You can’t possibly be serious. Use your damn brain.”

Your ex-Lieutenant General hisses into what you assume is his phone. And by his grating voice dripping with stress? There’s only one man on this Earth that he could be talking to.

Phillip Graves.

You can’t make out what your Commander says in response – not through the small, tinny voice of the phone, but you can pretty much guess his sentiment.

“Most of our men are gone! We can’t take down that bloody Task Force –” He hisses, his voice palpably furious. Without realising it, you find yourself curling in further to Price – his own head ducking down to shield you subconsciously.

The creak of the study’s floorboards, echoing under the weight of the man’s boots, makes your heart pound.

You feel not unlike a small child, hiding from their parents while the sound of yelling and smashing glasses echoes around the room. The long since buried memory of your father – before he left, before he broke your mother’s heart – of dark hair and angry, pulsing veins. The same veins you inherited.

The ones of which you wish you could carve out of your skin, just to watch the fury bleed out.

“Why the fuck is she so important? Good pussy or not –” Your heart, a thud, thud, thud, “ – She’s just a girl. She’s not worth it.”

Price’s hand tightens his hand, unconsciously clasping your throat like it’s a new necklace of yours. It’s oddly comforting, even if it threatens to block your airflow. His chin nearly rests atop your head, so close, but all you get is the waft of cigars and ink.

Graves must respond with something – something that the man just a few feet away from you does not appreciate.

“At this rate, the worst case scenario is that she finds out,” the man starts to pace, the rhythm of his footfalls matching the heaving rises of your chest, “And then what? Get your fucking head in, Commander.”

Your mind’s flooded with possibilities, what could possibly constitute the worst case scenario, when the next sentence shatters you entirely.

“She’s smart, Commander, and she’s gonna want to figure out the truth of dear old mum’s death soon. Don’t be idiotic.”

Silence.

Your ears ring – your throat closes, and your common sense crumbles at your feet.

The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.

One. You shove Price off of you – not in a way that’d cause him pain, but forceful enough that he can’t push back in time to stop you.

Two. You swing the closet door open, the light flooding your view, along with the large frame of the Lieutenant General.

Three. You slide your trusty pistol from your hollister, flick off the safety, and aim with a shaky grip.

And you shoot.

The bullet slices clean and true through the man’s forehead, blood instantly dripping between his eyes as he falls forward, body slumping, until the phone clatters to the carpet alongside him.

Price yells something. You can’t hear it past the ringing in your ears, the muffled sound that drifts between reality and thought.

Dropping to your knees, you clasp the phone in your grip, blood staining the face of it. You bring it to your ear, hand no longer shaking. Steady as a surgeon.

Graves says something, sounding desperate.

“When I kill you, Commander,” you rasp, and you think you can hear Ghost’s irritating voice through your radio, “I’ll do it the same way I plan to finish Shepherd.”

“You’re gonna regret –” Graves hisses, but all you do is pull the phone from your ear, and press the circular red button.

The line cuts.

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you, and it’s only then that the ringing stops, and all of your other senses fall back into place.

The hand moves to the hair at the base of your skull, Price fisting it and pulling your head back to face him. He looks… angry, but it’s softened, somehow, by the understanding in his blue eyes.

“You had one order, Darlin’,” he borderline growls, and your skin prickles, “Tell me what that was.”

A petulant child is what you are. How he’s treating you.

You answer anyway.

“Not to,” you swallow, throat dry, “Not to kill him. Captain, you have to –” His grip on your hair tightens, and your words stop short.

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “If you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way of our mission…”

Even though he doesn’t finish his sentence, you understand the meaning of it. You’re acting reckless, growing impatient – risking yourself and others over petty disputes.

Everything feels so difficult, right now, impossible to comprehend. Like your mind’s on auto-pilot, your body, too.

Price releases his grip from your hair, and you find your gaze moving to the body laid in front of you.

And…

A piece of paper – folded – has fallen just beside his jacket’s pocket. You lean forward, clasping it between your hands without a second thought, and open it up with careful movements.

With every word you read, your mouth falls open wider – until you find yourself standing on unsteady feet, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

It’s.

“It’s not the contract,” you breathe, realising Price is just watching, waiting, looking out for you. You finally look up from the sheet.

“It’s something better.”

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ragingbookdragon · 2 years

Text

She glowered at the man. “I know I get paid an awful amount of money, but I do not get paid enough to be a goddamn babysitter.”

“You’re not babysitting.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing if you send me. I’ll be babysitting.”

Price sighed. “Why do you think you’ll be babysitting?”

She grunted. “Because Ghost’s going to be a dick to Soap and then Soap is going to whine to me that Ghost’s being a giant dick to him and I’m gonna have to intervene like a babysitter. Babysitting.”

“Did you stop to consider that your expertise is what’s sending you on this mission?”

“I’m considering that I’m no longer your favorite child. That’s what I’m considering.”

“I don’t have a favorite and you know that.”

“Oh, fuck you, it’s Gaz and we all know it.”

“I’m the favorite?” Gaz asked and she glared at him until he pursed his lips.

“I’m not going.”

“You’re going.”

“No, I’m not.”

Price sighed and looked at Ghost. “You work her.” He waved and walked off, leaving the room.

“I’m not going,” she repeated, and Ghost stood, walking over. “Don’t you dare try to intimidate me. I know what you’re gonna do and it’s not gonna work.”

Ghost stood in front of her, gazing at her, then he gently took her hand and caressed it, asking, “Love, will you come with me ‘n Johnny to Mexico?”

Her mouth opened and closed, flopping like a fish as her cheeks heated and she muttered, “Oh, you bastard.”

“Please?” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “You know we’re gonna need you.” He leant over, slate gray eyes pleading as he added, “I’m gonna need you with me.”

She let out a groan and gingerly fell into his arms, letting him carry her. “OH, FINE!”

Ghost pressed his masked lips to her head. “Thanks, love.” Gently, he set her down on the floor and stepped over her, leaving her in the floor.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, then Gaz said, “You are so weak.”

“Oh, shut up! No one likes you.”

He grinned. “Someone’s jealous of the favorite.” Rising from his seat, he walked over and bent down, patting her shoulder. “Have fun babysitting.”

As he walked away, she called out, “Noooooooo! Don’t leave meeeeeeee!”

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milf-murdock · 8 months

Text

I See Red (Part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!Reader

Part 2 can be found here

Summary: A tech expert lends her expertise to the 141 for a mission. It’s not her fault that she’s tall, beautiful, and perfect. But it is her fault that she can’t keep her goddamn hands to herself. How else are you supposed to react when you walk in to find her lips on your Ghost? Warnings: allusions to cheating (not Ghost’s fault!! Sweet man has never done anything wrong in his life), swearing, angst (does it make it better if I promise all the fluff in the next chapter?) A/N: Well this has been on my brain for a while. I’m so thrilled to finally have this out into the world! The OGs know that this was one of my first prompts I came up with when I was first writing for Simon Riley. I guess we’ve come full circle <3 Thank you for all your support. Remember, your comments, tags, and messages mean the world to us writers!

It’s surprising that the harsh grinding of your teeth isn’t audible given how hard you’re clenching your jaw. You watch in irritated silence as a tall curvy redhead named Bex leans over Ghost’s shoulder to peer down at the encrypted computer.

She’s always so fucking close to him, to your Ghost.

You steady your growing impatience by taking a swig of water, the thin plastic crinkling under your touch.

“Hmm.” She leans in closer and you could tell Ghost is on edge. He wasn’t exactly the sort who tolerated too many people encroaching on his personal space.

Clearly he makes an exception when it comes to gorgeous redheads though, you think to yourself before mentally chastising the thought.

The rational side of your brain knows that he’s more than likely just putting on a brave face because Bex is new to the team. Technically, you correct yourself, not an actual part of the team. She’s more like a short term contractor. Even you had to begrudgingly admit that the 141 needed her level of expertise to crack through the firewalls and get the intel needed to ensure success for the next part of your mission. After all, you risked your life getting the damn laptop. What good is it if you can’t even get into it?

You knew all of this. Logically. It made sense. Your team needed a military-grade computer expert. She was the most qualified for the job—the “best of the best” Price had said. Done. Fin.

Except…

Except you just couldn’t get over the way her eyes always seemed to linger on Ghost. The way she’d accidentally brush up against him as they walked side by side through the hallway. The way she laughed a little too loud at his terrible Army jokes. And right now, the way her hand rests on his shoulder as she studies the screen.

Your fist unconsciously clenches around your water bottle causing the ice cold water to gush over the loosened cap, spilling all over your lap.

You let out a shout, jumping to your feet as the cold water soaks through your layers. Bex jumps as well, surprised by the outburst, stepping back from the mess.

Simon is on his feet in a heartbeat.

“You okay?” But not even his deep baritone, usually instantly calming, could soothe your irritation, now at an all time high.

“I’m fine,” you snap, crossing the briefing room in strides to toss the empty bottle in the bin. Ghost watches you with careful eyes. Though his face is covered by his signature skull balaclava, you didn’t miss his appraising gaze as he tries to assess the situation—ever the tactician.

You take a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you try again, aiming for a more pleasant tone. “Really. Just a slip of the hand.”

“Well,” Bex scoffs, “You really should be more careful. We are dealing with electronics here, you know.” Her snarky tone has you nearly seeing red again, but you clench your jaw tight and plaster the friendliest smile you could muster, though you’re certain it must look more like a grimace.

“Noted,” you grit out before turning your attention back to Ghost. “I’m gonna head to the barracks and grab a shower. Catch you later?”

Ghost’s head bobs in a subtle nod, but his eyes are still looking at you with that quizzical expression on his face. He knows something is wrong.

You just subtly shake your head in response, doing your best to a convey a “not now. We’ll talk later” with just a glance. Turning back to the door, you leave the two of them behind to tackle the task at hand. The sooner you crack the encryption and figured out where your target is, the sooner Bex can get the fuck out of here.

Walking across the base, you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, internally scolding yourself for letting your temper get the best of you. The fresh, cool evening air helps calm your sour mood, and you do your best to reassure yourself.

I’m sure it’s nothing.

It’s all in your head.

He probably doesn’t even like redheads.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t even see where you were going, which is exactly how you find yourself running face first into the brick wall of Johnny.

Oomph. The air whooshes out of your lungs as two broad hands reach up to steady you.

“Easy there, lass,” the Scottsman chuckles. “Watch where yer goin’ bonnie.”

“Sorry Soap,” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment. “Didn’t see you there. Lost in my own head.”

“I’ll say!” Johnny claps a hand on your shoulder, the other balancing a stack of folders. “Hey, while I have you here, have ye seen LT?”

“Yeah, he’s with Bex in the briefing room. They’re trying to tackle that computer we lifted from the last mission.”

Soap nods. “More power to her. That shite doesn’t make any fucking sense to me.”

“Yeah. She’s a real blessing to the team,” you grumble, unable to withhold your eye roll.

“There’s that fiery sergeant I love so much,” Soap teases. “Am I getting a whiff a jealousy, hen?”

“Don’t even get me started Soap or I swear to god—“

“Alright, alright,” Soap laughs good naturally, his free hand coming up in mock surrender. “But hey, would you mind dropping off these files to LT? He needs to review them before our meeting with Laswell in a couple hours and I’ve got to meet up with Price now, don’t have time to trek all the way to the briefing room.”

“Sure,” you do manage to hold back your sigh this time. “Happy to help.” And you are happy to help Soap—he’s a great friend to both you and Simon—you just aren’t too happy at the thought of seeing your new BFF Bex again so soon. At least the short walk had served its purpose in cooling your temper a bit.

“You’re a treat, bonnie, I owe you one,” Soap smiles, giving your shoulder a firm pat before taking off in the opposite direction towards price’s office.

You adjust the stack of sealed papers in your hands as your turned back around towards the briefing room and head across base.

You quick steps have you approaching the briefing room soon enough. Surprisingly, the door is left slightly ajar—you must not have shut it all the way when you stormed out of the room earlier, you reason.

You approach silently, softening your footsteps to avoid any kind of noise, a small voice in the back of your mind goading you to surreptitiously see how Bex might behave without an audience. You peer in the room to find Bex and Simon standing at the table, the computer screen lighting up in front of them.

“We’re in!” Bex exclaims, her voice high pitched with excitement.

You watch the scene unfold before you and it feels like the world is moving in slow motion. Bex turns her radiant expression up to face Simon, her hands moving upwards and tucking up under his balaclava, and then—in the blink of an eye—she raises it above his chin and presses a kiss to his lips. Simon’s hands reach up to grasp her wrists, already beginning to pull away, but it’s too late.

You see everything.

The papers fall to the floor with a crash, and both Simon and Bex jump apart, eyes flashing to the door.

Bex at least has the good sense to look embarrassed by her actions, her face flushing bright red, eyes cast to the ground.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Simon urges, pulling his mask back down in place. “Wait—“

You turn and walked out the door, the scene playing on a loop in your head.

Her lips. Pressed up against Simon. Your Simon. His lips…kissing her back? The memory already warps, tinged with shades of red matching the shades of anger running through you.

The rage fuels your steps as you run from the briefing room, desperate to get away.

Simon blinks at the empty space in the doorway, the space where you stood just a second ago, before this colossal shit storm descended.

“Well, sorry we got interrupted,” Bex’s sultry voice breaks the silence, her small hand reaching towards Ghost’s glove. “Should we continue where we left off?”

“Touch me again, and you lose the whole goddamn hand,” Simon’s hardened voice is laced with the threat of violence. “Keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

The blood drains from Bex’s face.

With that, he storms out the door, following your trail. One thought playing on repeat in his mind: I can’t lose her.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

Read Part 2 here ❤️

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon Riley x 141!Reader #ghost x 141!Reader #141!Reader

458 notes · View notes

court-jobi · 7 days

Text

You're It For Me

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 4K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Pro-hero Bakugou/Pro-hero Reader, canon-typical aftermath, love confessions, light hurt/comfort, protective Bakugou is protective, bedsharing-not spicy (yet)

Summary:

Bakugou fears very little in this life- because he knows with you by his side, even fighting the worst of the worst villains is easier when you're on the other end of the line in his headset. But never one to let things go unsaid, he makes sure to cup the side of your face and tell you the greatest promise short of 'I love you' that he can before storming out for the mission: "You're it for me. Got that?" You have to swear it back every time, so he believes it. It's both a promise and a lifeline- especially when he hears the worst possible communique: that the team's lost visual of you.

A/N: my ao3 loves have encouraged this pairing to be something of a series, so maybe that's what this will become!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

Beeping right into his left eardrum signals an incoming update through Bakugou’s earpiece, pinpointing the alert straight to the source over the raucous cheers of his thankful public. He’d taken on the ‘A’ grouping of villains, while you pursued ‘B’ as they made an escape from the scene. The ‘A’ punks were the ‘muscle’, but Dynamight was far stronger than any of them had anticipated.

‘Pissy extras, you weren’t worth my time’, he’d touted when his good ole buddy Cellophane wrapped em up tight in a nice, neat bow.

Bakugou might have celebrated this win a bit more with the crowd surrounding him, having caught the villain and was prepared to call it a day alongside Sero, ticking off another win tally in traditional, mega-blasty action… if not for the update coming through on his comms:

"We lost sight of Joyride- crash site at the industrial pylons at 6-5-2 and 6-5-7- Tightrope is-- confirmed; eliminated. Repeat, requesting visual of Joyride-"

Bakugou's soul drops to his gut.

There was a crash and you were missing. Sero hears the same update and looks to Bakugou gravely- knowing full well who you are to him. Not just a teammate, but more, in every way.

Turning quickly from the gathering of people, Bakugou takes a one-armed leap from the side of the building and blasts off a slight cushion to his fall, then jogs towards the incoming transport with Jeanist's interns calling out for him to report back. He doesn't listen to any word of thanks as he marches to the transport. He's fueled by pure anxiety behind masked eyes, rage bubbling hot in his breath. He listens to his radio, and prays.

"--still no sight of- wait, wait! Joyride spotted! We have visual! Status? She alive? Affirmative, she's coming up over the edge- (laughs) I can't believe it, she chucked that eight-wheeler straight into it!"

Bakugou swallows, throat tight despite the relief.

"Ok Dynamight, off to rende with Joy–?-"

"YOU HEARD ‘EM, MOVE!"

Poor intern shutting right up and driving away, Bakugou shucks off his pauldrons and vambraces against his discipline that he should really keep em on until fully off duty, but with his protective instincts still in overdrive, he knows he's producing more than enough sweat should he be caught by surprise at this point in the aftermath. He's not going to need the extra firepower where he's going.

Screeching to a slowed approach, Bakugou can't wait the extra second to allow the van to come to a complete stop before he's chucking the door open and jumping past the cordoned off emergency vehicles assisting passersby. He shouts only briefly for 'making way', and people listen to the man on a mission. Calls of thanks fall to his deaf ears- by choice, this time.

From around the corner, he turns assessing the damage surrounding the crash site below. He spots Uravity already helping, and is grateful for her expertise while still set on recovering you.

There ahead -his angel in a leather jacket trudging up the off ramp with weary steps- is the sight he thanks every god in the heavens for.

Bakugou stays his swearing out of sheer gratitude to not see copious amounts of blood draining your face; that sheen on you is just sweat as you’ve chucked your helmet off to breathe better. One look at you and it’s like no other day; you just look understandably tired and in want of a shower more than life. Your expression isn’t pained– just your usual distaste for incline treks by show of your flat, annoyed brows and mouth breathing. That look coming from a top 20 Pro Hero known for her stylish grace is funny- if only under different circumstances.

There's a crack in his voice as he shouts your callsign, but he's not ashamed of it; not with the punch of fear ripping the sound from him. He sets off in a run– straight to you.

You look up at the alarmed call. Dynamight is hurtling towards you, and you're just as relieved to see a sight for sore eyes. Seems the shock of what you just did catches up as you find renewed haste in leaving the smokey scene behind you. You pick yourself up into a jog with a delirious smile forcing its way onto your face.

In a span of a few seconds, Bakugou shoves up his protective face mask, catching your bounding self up into his arms, hugging you tight for two full, shaking breaths before pulling you into a fire-loaded, protective kiss.

Smokelines are smudged across his cheeks and burning tears lay built up at his lash line as he heaves grateful breaths in and out through his nose against your cheek. This kiss is tense, but needed. Without an ounce of regret, he keeps you painfully close. You held no less affection from him, your hands immediately grabbing for purchase on his nape, sweat-licked and all. You gasp for a breath with a laugh before he smashes his mouth across yours with tongue, messy and relieved and angry that something has scared him so bad.

Releasing your lips from his, he bumps his forehead to yours for a solemn few seconds to rein himself in.

He husks, "You good-?"

"Yeah."

"Not hurt?"

"Nah~"

"You swear."

You nod with your eyes still closed, breathing a quick answer before being given another couple hard kisses on your cheek. You're hugged tight again, swayed as he takes a couple traipsing steps with you in his arms. A heart-wrenching, gutteral sigh rasps from him, leaving you reeling as he holds you in sight of who knows how many. The fact that you're not alone in this moment is only a fleeting thought as your residual adrenaline causes you to shake- probably the reason why Bakugou is set on keeping a tight hold on you.

"I'm ok, Katsuki. M'okay-" you answer shakily, barely a whisper. You're convincing yourself under the guise of assuring him. It works, in a way.

"Thank fuck," he answers to your neck.

He’d done his part- you heard so on the coms once you found your dislodged helmet after you made a timed dismount off the bike before it careened you both off the exit ramp. It was then that you reactivated the jostled ‘live’ signal from your helmet and typed back the status code that you were alive. The mic had broken, or else you would have reported so yourself.

But the fact remains, you haven’t told anyone reporting on the scene what you’ve seen- what you’ve done. You did stop the villain’s crew from taking what they’d stolen, but you’d effectively ended anyone else’s chances of recovering the files with the demolition site you’d essentially forced them into. The valued records didn’t fall in the wrong hands, certainly, and it’s an ultimate grace that no other civilian lives were lost, but you do think about how grim the scene looks at the bottom of the ramp.

There’s no earthly way anyone could have survived that firefest. For some reason, the gravity of that fight grips you now. You’d almost joined them had you not thought hast enough.

"He's.. he's dead. Tightrope and them, the uh- runner. I hit 'em."

"Good. F’he wasn’t, I was gonna kill him myself."

You chuckle, despite the subject matter. Tired breaths still heave from you, coupled with the gentle relief of Bakugou’s supporting arms around you– bare arms you now notice are cannonless, as they set you fully down on your own.

"Oi, BACK IT UP!"

You realize there's a few reporting drones coming in at your back when Katsuki’s dominant hand lifts off of you to bat one away with a harmless smack on a lens; luckily Bakugou is already ushering you back to the van, keeping you ahead of him with a careful palm to your shoulder. He lets you lead towards shelter and a thorough once-over from the medic team for the shock. More grateful civilians cheer praises on both of you, especially your name since it was evidently shared by many as the saving agent of the day.

Unlike your chilly counterpart, you did offer a wave and a reassuring, proud grin for those onlookers, but Bakugou knows your true feelings better as you grit through your teeth,

“Oh, yes please, photos. What I’d kill for a bath right now…”

After a ride back to the agency, you start to breathe normally again. On the bus where you’re strapped up with a bp cuff monitoring your status, your care is complete with your hand in Bakugou's as he stands above you. He hovers even more after you hit the showers, dress down comfortably, and receive one of the highest compliments from your agency lead on your quick actions and limited infrastructure casualties. Finally, true ease in your tummy relaxes as you get a pass on submitting your report while in your current state until morning, and as you are given a lift back to the apartment complex-- of course, with Bakugou in tow.

It's the early morning hours when you are able to go lay down, the smallest change in the sky after the night’s darkest hour giving way to a persistent sun. It does little to threaten your desire to sleep though, with your protective boyfriend playing bodyguard keeping a hand on you at all times then offering to stay 'until you fall asleep'.

You feel the safest you have in months that morning…

When he follows your soft ask for him to see you safely upstairs, carries out his nighttime routine alongside yours, he does nothing more forward than wrap his entire body as close to you as possible. He kisses you goodnight with care and softness and just an edge of heat.

"You fucking scared me." Bakugou whispers into the quiet space you've created.

"I thought nothing scares you."

He huffs, but it's a sad, wet sound. "Tch, like hell it doesn't."

You're both quiet for a while after that, just relishing in your joint safety, touching each other to soothe the chills from within, soaking in his light presses to your forehead until he lays a kiss longer than the others–

"I love you so damn much," Bakugou rasps all in one go, "I love you."

It's the first time he's said it, outright.

You'd thought you'd scream and kick your feet if he ever got around to saying what you already believed to be true. All you want instead is to absolutely melt into his skin and sob.

"HEY-"

Bakugou called out to you at the start of all this in full, armored glory- nearly every bit of skin covered up in his winter suit while the dead of summer sun bears down. For this crazy mission, he’s been preparing all afternoon, ready to bring his all to the fight ahead.

One word and you whip around before he yanks you into speaking range. He grounds you with a hand to your shoulder keeping you still- expecting him to say ‘be careful’, maybe even an extra ‘watch for those crackhead speed demons out there’.

But with his commanding, brash voice on, you weren't sure what he'd say to you- not when he’s looking at you like that.

"You-- y'better not pull anything stupid now," he stares you down with complete earnest, choosing words carefully because he figured you might be listened to on the team’s headsets.

Yet never one to let things go unsaid, he cupped the side of your neck for the next bit-

"You're it for me. Got that?"

Your azure-blazed helmet hid most of your face, so you smiled with your eyes so he could see that you agreed. You heard him loud and clear, and got his meaning entirely.

You placed your hand in an 'i love you' sign on his chest before another call over the radio gave directions and pulled you both apart to look for the flare.

"-Got it,” you resolved while only giving him a second before you crafted a biped transitbike in record time with your quirk- "Go kick some fuckin’ ass!"

Heart zinging with motivation, you sped away- leaving Bakugou to cackle at your rare cursing and blowing his own way skyward and into his element.

Tipping your head up, you can barely find words with him looking at you like this. It’s the look from this morning all over again: a tight, straight-set scowl dead set on keeping himself from crying, hand sifted itself into your hair like you're going to be ripped from him in an instant, and soft eyes that are begging- a look you never thought you'd see from him.

You don't have it in you to tease him, or even be your trademark soft and demure to contrast his hard and offensive shell. No, you feel like doting on him when he's like this, because you know you’re the only one who sees him this way. This vulnerable, laid beside you with a weighted blanket on him to soothe his anxiety, too.

So you promise your whole existence to him instead: a genuine word without fear of an audience.

"I love you, too. You’re it for me."

You sink in and out of sleep while he holds you like this. Though gratefully, he's out like a light after the last few kisses he laid on your head when you said it back-- like his spirit could finally rest knowing you believed the same.

You keep waking up in the night unsettled by some restless instincts left over from the night before.

After twisting again and turning your neck to bleakly look at the light coming in, you heard his drowsy inhale bring out a grumbly moan,

"Go t'sleep."

'It's bright,' you say through your exhaustion, but it's evident that you're far too awake by your tone.

At this, you heave in surprise as Bakugou completely flips you onto the other side of him, tilting you with a palm until you turn the other way (towards the bathroom) and lie completely in his shadow. You check his face to see if he's upset at your waking him, but his eyes remain shut by sleep and are solely focused on blindly making sure you're completely locked in and comfortable in his arms, still.

It's thoughtful and strikes you sweetly, tucked back in his embrace again. You feel completely secure with his warmth flooding you at your back.

"Thanks."

Again, he simply whispers,

"mmm sleep f'me, 'ngel... I've gotcha."

A phone buzzes just minutes later, his. It's Kirishima- and like moth and flame they are for each other, Bakugou answers, tipping only onto his back so he’s barely moving from you. You still sleep through lightly and you hear him talking, but not each and every word fully.

Bakugou swiped up to answer the call, but didn’t deign a chipper welcome necessary.

"......hey uhhh Bakugou?"

"hmwhat."

"Are you still sleeping?"

"Yes."

"It's after 2pm, man! Thought you were dead to the world~"

"I am. Whaddya need."

"Well, just wanted to check on you man. I saw the fight last night, and I've tried calling Little Miss, too but she's not answerin’."

"Had the same night. She's 'sleep too."

"Eh, I shoulda figured. Looked like it took it out of you."

"Tch, wasn’t that hard."

Kirishima played into his mischievous lilt on his end of the line,

"mmmm sure bout that? That uh, kiss, didn't look like ‘nothing’."

...Kirishima wasn't there. How would he have known you kissed?...

Bakugou wakes a little more. "Huh."

Kirishima burrs the speaker a little on the other line. Must be from him laughing through his nose knowing Bakugou's severe dislike for that sort of attention.

"I mean, I get it. I'd probably be the same after watching my girl go down like that, but-- hate to break it to ya, but it's everywhere, Kats."

"-Whaddya mean."

Notifications have flooded his phone when he cracks open an eye to really look at it, but he opens the most recent from Kirishima, texted by the redhead’s insistence for Bakugou to take a look.

There are stills of said clip of him running up to you and kissing you– one particular shot looks gorgeously cinematic because someone with a photo-optic quirk had clearly followed him, probably from that drone he almost broke. Screenshots Kirishima has collected (proof of ‘true manliness’, he claims) all bear headlines of how this was the most unexpected hero pairing of the season: how "Joynamight" is stealing the hearts of swooning civilians everywhere- and likely the shutdown of the entire hero rumor mill surrounding the explosive hero standing at No. 5. The dating scene has allegedly erupted into chaos over the news.

Bakugou stared at the photo of him holding you. One camera turned more at his shoulders by the way he'd stepped, so in this photo, he could see you more clearly- holding on as just about any loved one would hug their better half, but so beautifully content and safe in your face- if a little emotional yourself.

A blank hum is all Bakugou offered. Soft. Seemingly disinterested if it wasn't for the proud smirk.

Kirishima snickered on the other end of the line. "You sucker."

"Yeah, yeah."

"...dytell er yet?"

"Not there... But.. couldn't not, yknow."

"aaand?"

"... Dont scream about it, mtired."

Kiri audibly gasped, then at least honored Bakugou's request for distance from the phone, whooping and hollering off speakerphone, uplifted at the news. His carrying on made even a sleep-laden Bakugou happy, even if he lay there rolling his eyes for his friend to be done.

You finally stirred beside him, turning over with a stretch and seeking him out. He quickly received you, kissing your forehead again, then tipping back to the phone. "I'll call you back later, Eij."

"--Huh? Dude I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, WHAT HA-"

"Mmm who's that," you moaned.

Bakugou rubbed your back to rouse you the rest of the way. "Your big red dog."

You chortled at Kirishima's new moniker. "Whas’hewant."

Bakugou debated letting you stay in your bubble, but figured ripping the bandaid might be best.

"Just called to give us a head's up."

You looked up to him, "About what?"

Bakugou only smirked, tilting his phone to you. To focus on the light, you woke up fully, eyes widening to just how bad they did -indeed- immortalize your private moment on the scene.Those grimey, windswept headshots you’d feared at the medtend were the least of your photogenic worries now.

But-- like his own reaction-- you couldn't keep from smiling.

"Ohhhh~" you sighed, then deeper, "Ohhhhh we are in deep shit."

Bakugou snuggled in– smug as all getout, "Yeah, we are."

"Wait, lemme see-- oh my God, Kats... Oh Katsuki, this-.."

"Yeah yeah, give it back-"

"Nooo I need that one! Send it to me!"

"It's likely blown yours up too, dummy! Get your own!"

Memory of your reentry home failed you, so you had to ask him where your phone ended up because you didn't have a clue. He’d put it on the charger for you, of course. Then, sitting side by side, you both were reviewing the more urgent notes from your respective social media managers with deep, secretive chuckles.

These photos were a romantic’s dream, but a PR jumpscare. Had to be addressed in some way or it would never end, truly.

"What’d yours say?"

You fixed your wonky part with a little fluff to your hair, settling your initial overwhelm of nerves: " ‘Go on something lowkey- Present Mic’s show or a podcast off the mainstream, say ‘friendship is magic’, maybe tease it if I want to, and move on.’ I dunno- that seems like a lot of public speaking and scheduling out the wazoo. You?"

"She's just yapping. Didn't read it all." Bakugou barely cared about his social media presence since his manager did most of the publishing, save for Bakugou sharing some highlights of his select, predictable group of hero team ups. Besides that, he just focused on paying them well enough to cover his bullshit if he ever let his temper flare. Besides, now he was waiting on what you'd say, "So what're you gonna do?"

You debated, smirking like a devil the whole time as you realized what could be the fastest way to get your take out in the open,

"... I wanna share the photographer's post. Not this J’akku Press spread."

This earned a smirk for you, "Yeah?"

"...yeah?" you returned a shy look- wondering if you were crazy.

"I will, if you will."

Bakugou’s soft, sleepy loyalty is one you fear will disappear after you both get started with your day. When Dynamight reports back in, you can only hope that he’d still feel the same way today as he did yesterday- though you imagine managing the tabloid fodder a post like this can make will be less than pleasant for him. He’s so private most of the time, and when he’s not digitally absent, he’s loud. This hesitation must have shown on your face– because he takes your hand for a second and kisses it to stop your spiral.

"I meant what I said. You’re it- you’re mine. Whether we tell the world or not. Up to you."

You bite your lip again, and doubled down. You shift to snuggle with your back cradled on his chest, building the shared post:

"Aftermath: Joyride emerges from crash scene unscathed, reunited with Dynamight in a rare tender moment for today's top tier heroes." Joyride_fm: see edit: Lucky, lucky girl. Sorry for scaring you, m'love❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 #rideordie

Bakugou snickers, kissing your shoulder closest to him. "Do it, I'll repost that one."

He, however, did not let you read as he added his response thread, making you wonder what kind of a novel he was going to be sharing because of how long he was taking...

Instead, you just curled into his side and peppered him in a few distracting kisses on his chest. He’d come bolting to you last night, a core memory you’d be fantasizing about for a long time. Just watching the way his chest is rising and falling here in bed so calmly when you know just hours ago it was heaving like you’d been lost at sea, you are so gone on him. When he nudged his shoulder for you to check his draft, you damn near cried:

"Aftermath: Joyride emerges from crash scene unscathed, reunited with Dynamight in a rare tender moment for today's top tier heroes." THE_Dynamight_SoV: Hero work is not for the weak. We train, we fight, and we do everything we can to make our world a safer one, to whatever end. This woman is one of many selfless, ball-busting, indomitable heroes that I'm not only proud to do this work with, but one I can't see myself living without. You're looking at the face of a man who's holding his priorities right there in 4k. So yeah. If you see one of us like this after a battle, know it's because heroes get scared too– for good fucking reason. Better not make this a habit, dummy. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 #rideandDONTdie

"Oh my God~~" your tears and misty sniffles had you caving into his shoulder, "my tweet was so STUPID!!"

Katsuki bragged with proud cackles as you cried it out, sending the post out for the Internet to bawl over before you could dare edit your post, and turned his phone right back to silent.

You got snotty and overly emotional at how sweet he was with his statement, but were comforted by his hands smoothing over you until you calmed.

"Love you,” you settled into the peace he held you in.

"Love you, dummy."

When you got up for the afternoon run back to the office to finish your reports with fresh eyes, you entered the building as normal. There’s no hint in how either of you carry yourselves that say you all just spend the last twelve hours like koalas draped over each other. The only sign of such affections was your use of an Allmight tervis you're nursing your coffee with –clearly his– which your good ole partner in electric crime, Chargebolt, clocked from the end of the hallway:

"JOYNAMIGHT 2024!!!!"

"SHUDDUP, POWER OUTTAGE!!!"

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years

Text

Eyes On Me

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

◆

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Flirting, pining, size difference, mentions and descriptions of injury, mentions of battle, dirty talk, praise, dry humping, unprotected vaginal sex

◆

Summary: Ghost gets a life-threatening injury, and it’s your job to make sure he returns to full-health.

◆

A/N: I rarely do summaries on one-shots, but since I’m introducing a character I figured I would (: I loooove this character, and I’m really hoping to write more one-shots with her and Ghost in the future!

Part Two: Lucky

◆

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

Working on them was easy, they took everything you gave them like champs. Splints, stitches, cleanings, anything they had, you took care of. They’d bite their tongues, ball up their fists if they had to, but for the most part, that was it. Vargas wouldn’t whine, but Gaz would. Price was nearly silent and in all honesty, Soap whimpered like a baby. But Ghost, he didn’t ever make a sound.

It wasn’t always like this, you weren’t always 141’s go-to medic. Before, you were here for everyone. Whoever needed you, that’s who you tended to. You got so good at it that at one point, you’d been promoted to a rescue mission position. Daily helicopter rides became your usual. Freezing temperatures and smoke-filled air met your exterior shell on a weekly basis. You’ve even been dropped into open fields full of bullets and bloody cries. The training you received was minimal, but enough for you to take it and run. You had talent, that talent growing into expertise. You knew how to defend yourself, your reflexes were good. You could shoot a gun and if need be, hold your own. That’s what got you to 141.

They impressed you, they still do. The team worked like a well oiled machine. And when you first saw them, you immediately questioned him.

“What’s with the mask?” You’d asked him, straight to his face. He tilted his head. “Is it still Halloween?”

The boys laughed, but Ghost didn’t. His fingers curled, and he sucked in a breath. You were brand new; not a good way to start off with him. Hey, it’s not your fault he took it the wrong way. You love Halloween. Sometimes you even find the scary things sexy.

Eventually you learned the real reasoning behind his mask, behind the skeleton head that hid his face. Honestly, you were intrigued by it, his anonymity. But sometimes, it got in the way.

“Blood type?” You’d asked, going through each soldier’s file as you became acquainted, some months ago now.

“Unknown.” Your colleague responded.

“What? What do you mean?”

“We have little to no information on Ghost’s background.”

“What if he starts to bleed out? Or needs a blood transfusion?”

“Guess I’ll die.” Came his gruff response.

Spinning around in your small and circular wheeled chair, you saw his bulky body taking up the majority on the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest while leaning against the frame.

Why is she so interested in me? He’d wondered, suspicious of you. What he should’ve been asking himself is, why am I so interested in her?

He’d seen you work on his team, you were efficient and clean. He’d even go so far as to call you fearless. And surprisingly, he finds himself liking that. You were a bit of a brat, but at the heart of your teasing jokes, there was a sense of playful familiarity. And overall, having you around was good for his men. He didn’t know how vital you were to his team, though, until you had to be flown in to rescue him.

Pressing into his wound, you didn’t even feel him flinch. The gauze was soaked in the red stain seeping from the cut in his skin, and you were running out of supplies - you were running out of time. And apparently, your frantic nature showed.

“Hey,” You direct your sternest voice at him. “Ghost - Simon, eyes on me.”

He’s spiraling; body feeling light and his consciousness leaving you quickly. His eyelids are fluttering.

“You worried about me, love?” He was out of it, losing blood and flirting while in his hazy state. It was the first time he’d ever been nice to you.

But really, he wasn’t just being nice because his body was going into shock and losing his grip on reality. He was talking to you this way because he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to after this.

Giggling, you shook your head, happy that he was now responding to you. “Nah, big boy like you?” Patting his shoulder, you said, “You’ll be just fine.”

Even if he didn’t show it, Simon was worried, too.

“But I bet you wish you’d told me your blood type now.”

He wasn’t happy. Simon didn’t ever seem that happy, but right now, he definitely wasn’t happy. All he’s ever known is a military lifestyle, training and being out in the field. Having his team’s back, contributing to the work effort, that’s what he was best at. And now, he can’t do any of that. At least, not for the next couple weeks.

“I’m not a child.”

“Never said you were.” Rolling your eyes, you openly sass him. “It’s just a blanket.”

It was the first day of him being in your mini infirmary, just the two took up the room. Each of the boys came in to give him a pat on the shoulder, make sure he was doing alright. But in all honesty, Ghost hated this kind of attention. Being coddled and cared for. He could take care of himself.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” He grunts, looking away almost childishly.

“Suit yourself. I’m gonna go get some pizza.”

At this, he perks up a bit, groaning. “Can you bring me back a box?” Mumbling, he’s still looking away.

Before you leave, you turn back around with a grin. “Sure thing, big boy.”

Once you’re finally gone, he sighs, his emotions contradicting each other inside. Frustration doesn’t even come close to what he’s feeling. He never gets injured in the field. Is he losing his touch? Surely not, he’s still in his glory years. For him, it’s embarrassing to be seen like this, not just in front of the boys but in front of you, though he’d never admit it. You make him feel nervous inside, like he has to heighten the man he already knows himself to be. He has to be tougher around you; he can’t show any weakness. The only problem with that, was that he did have a weakness, a major one. That gaping hole in his chest.

“Alright,” Coming back with two boxes of pizza, you set them on your desk, moving them to the side. “Let’s clean you up.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Okay, look.” Wiping your hands off of your pants, you turn to face him. “This is my job. Would you get angry at Soap for clearing a room before you? Or Price for conducting an infiltration route?”

This makes him stop, closing his mouth for a moment, although you can’t see it.

“I’m part of your team, you have to acknowledge that. Your job is to kill bad guys, and my job,” Taking a few steps toward him, you point to his chest. “Is to fix the mess the bad guys make.”

Ghost shifts his shoulders, looking away from you for just a second. And after a moment, his eyes return to yours, and he nods.

Reaching down, he cracks the knuckles on his hands, and it takes everything in you not to break his eye contact. Every movement of his muscles makes you sweat, the ripples of them more than a beautiful sight. He’s impressive. All he has on right now are a pair of shorts and a bandage wrapped around his upper chest. Other than that, he’s bare. You can see the muscles in his abdomen, the impressive form and firmness of them, the bulges of his biceps and the chorded muscle in his forearms. His legs are thick, huge, sturdy enough to hold his entire weight along with two other men, if need be. Again, impressive.

Satisfied with his nonverbal response, you turn to grab the essentials. Pulling over a small, wheeled tray, you begin your work. Ghost sits up off the back of the bed for you, allowing you to remove the bandages around his chest. He maneuvers himself to sit cross-legged while you do it, his head tilted down to watch you work.

Truthfully, Simon thought you were attractive the moment he saw you. And then you made fun of him. But when he balled up his fists, when he inhaled that sharp breath as a reaction, it wasn’t because he was mad at you. It was because right then and there, he was attracted to you.

“You ever been stabbed like this before?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute, not really wanting to admit it. But then he shakes his head. “No.”

This tells you something, it tells you that you’re tending to the worst injury he’s ever had. And you’re shocked by his answer, you would’ve assumed he’s had worse. But a stab to the chest that just barely misses the heart? Yeah, that’s pretty bad.

He doesn’t budge when you apply the antiseptic, allowing you to work in peace. Once you’ve cleaned the wound, he’s surprised to feel your hands. His eyes widen while keeping his gaze on you, watching as your fingertips explore him. They move across his chest, just barely gliding over his skin.

“Doesn’t look too bad.” You murmur to him, eyes trained on his chest.

Ghost is undeniably the fittest out of the entire team. He’s huge, and not just in height. You haven’t seen his naked torso since the day he was stabbed, and when you were tending to him then, you definitely weren’t thinking about how attracted you were to him. You were working to save his life. But now, you have time to let your thoughts wander, to let yourself experience what he feels like.

Trailing down a bit, your fingers graze over his abdominal muscles, your tongue briefly sliding across your lower lip. His muscles are firm, smooth, and warm. Your touch makes him feel uncertain; he doesn’t know what you’re doing, but it’s making him nervous. Well, not nervous, necessarily but… excited.

“What happened to you being nice to me, huh?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him. And the smile you offer is pretty. “Thought you’d be my best friend after I saved your life.”

This makes him laugh, a small grunt coming out toward the end from his injury. You’re right, he should be nicer to you considering the circumstance. He should also be nicer to you because, well… he fancies you.

“I’m sorry.” He finally acknowledges, albeit quietly. “I know I’ve been acting… standoffish.”

“It’s okay,” Shrugging, you reach for the clean bandages. “I get it, you’re embarrassed.”

Sighing, he looks down at your nimble hands again. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get your blood pressure before you eat.” You then tell him, changing the topic while retrieving your tools. “Then I’ll leave you alone,” Glancing up at him, you grin. “I promise.”

Right now, he doesn’t want you to leave him alone. You’re nice company.

Attaching the cuff over his bicep is a feat in and of itself. His muscles stretch the fabric, but it ends up securing around him adequately. You then take your stethoscope, applying it to his inner elbow while you begin pumping the meter. Glancing up at the machine, you focus on the readings, and absentmindedly, your hand wanders. While continuing to record his data, your free hand slides down his arm and into his palm as you steady yourself beside him.

Widening those pretty brown eyes, he releases a breath, now looking further down. He’s surprised, but honestly, it feels nice. Makes him relax. And while staring at your smaller hand now resting in his, he inhales deeply, curling his fingers slightly around your hand. This makes your head snap to the side, having not fully realized what you’d done. But Ghost doesn’t move when you look at him; he does stare at you though, right into your eyes. And while keeping your gaze, he lightly squeezes your hand. He really is sorry. He’s grateful.

The days following the first are actually pretty nice. With your main focus on Ghost, the rest of the crew seem to leave you alone for the time being.

“You’ve been a big help lately.”

“What?” Comes that thick, English accent. “I’ve done nothing but sit on my ass.”

“Yeah, but it keeps them,” Pointing out into the training yard, you finish, “Off my ass.”

Turning, he stretches, watching his team run around and lift weights on the field behind him, only a window separating them.

“It’s like I told you, sweetheart.” His head then moves, returning his gaze to you. “You’re the finest thing they’ve seen in months.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tease. “What about you?”

Since he’s been nicer, you’ve been spending more time at his side. You didn’t need to sleep here, he was fine by himself, but after that first night, you did. You couldn’t help yourself. Thinking about him all alone in the infirmary while you lay cozied up in bed made you sad. You didn’t want him to get lonely. So, you slept on the small loveseat in the corner, the one the boys usually sit on to smoke. And your sleepovers were starting to make you close, that sweet little nickname being evidence of that.

“What about me?” Under his mask, his face heats up. He knows what you’re asking.

“Am I the finest thing you’ve seen in months?”

Under that skull-painted cover, he grins, giving you a single nod. “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, Ghost,” Walking over to him, you lean into his bicep, clutching it. “I knew you’d eventually fall in love with me.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbles with an amused tone, “A pretty big pain in my ass.”

After he says this, you laugh, pushing yourself off of him.

“Bones?” Your comm link buzzes slightly, a bit of static coming through.

Pressing your button, you tilt your head to the side. “What’s up?”

“Searg. is calling a meeting.”

“Time?”

“Eighteen hundred.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Bones?”

Once your conversation has ended, another one promptly begins. Lifting your head to face him, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

Ghost tilts his head to the side slightly, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Never heard anyone call you that.”

“Yeah, well you’re not on my med. team.”

“Well, you’re on my team, aren’t you?”

Giving him a thoughtful pout, you eventually answer with, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Then we should know your cover.” His voice is stern and gritty, deep and rumbling. It’s like how he talks out in the field.

“Well, now you do.” Giving him a quick wink, you turn away, intent on doing some paperwork before your meeting.

“What’s the meaning of it?” When you don’t immediately answer, he calls for you. “Bones?”

Something about him using your code name makes you grin.

“I’m known for breaking them.” Turning, you face him once again, a smile plastered across your smooth lips.

“Known for breaking bones?” He clarifies, sounding skeptical.

“Yep.”

“Huh,” He scoffs, “That’s not exactly something to boast about, is it?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be if they were mine.”

Oh, now he gets it.

“I did a lot more than sew up wounds before I came here.” With a heavy sigh, you reminisce on your time in the field. But you made a choice to be here. “I used to break them, now I heal them.”

He never knew. And honestly, this new information only makes him more attracted to you. A badass soldier with a gentle touch? Sounds like his kind of woman.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You emphasize, “I’ve got some paperwork to do.”

“Fine.” He returns flatly, and you giggle. He really sounds upset about that abrupt ending.

“Think you’re gonna be okay by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Won’t be a problem.” He grunts, shimmying to lay back down. “I’ll just sleep.”

Throughout your hours spent together, you’ve discovered that he’s quite the fan of naps. He takes one every day around three in the afternoon, and you wonder if he’s finally enjoying his rest. It doesn’t help that you often have to leave him while he’s sleeping, though. You’ve liked being by his side lately, it’s comforting. His presence has begun to grow quite kind, and even in the quiet times, it’s nice. But you still have meetings and other duties to tend to. Which include the one you’d been called to.

Ghost’s gentle snore is what prompts you to look up, your eyes searching for his own. But they’re closed, one arm propped behind his head with his other hand laying over his stomach. He’s fully laying on the bed, the blanket only covering up to his waist. He’s still shirtless, and right now, he looks practically naked. Aside from the mask. Eyes trailing up his form, you take in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the light-colored hairs scattering his pectorals, and even further down, leading from his belly button to the hem of his pants. It makes you sigh, he looks peaceful. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.

You don’t like the thought of him waking up to a room empty of you, so to make up for it, you head to the cafeteria. As quietly as you can, you return with a large pizza, one with his favorite toppings on it. Steak, mushrooms, onions, and two kinds of cheese, specifically provolone and American - strange and lengthy details, but ones you memorized, nonetheless. And after you set the box down, taking in another look of him, you turn to leave.

Eventually, the smell wakes him up. How could it not? It’s his absolute favorite thing to eat. But he has to be careful, he needs to keep himself in shape over these couple of weeks, or he’ll need more training than originally planned. Sighing, he props himself up, the realization now setting in.

She did this for me.

He knows it was you and not the boys because of the little note on top of the box.

Ghost,

I’m at a meeting until six tonight, I’m sorry I probably won’t be around when you wake up. Here’s some pizza to make up for it. Hopefully you still love me <3

Bones

He rolls his eyes at that last part, a smile pulling on the edges of his lips. You can be so sarcastic sometimes. But he likes it. You make him laugh.

While you’re gone, Simon thinks about the way you take care of him. You’re so gentle with him when changing his bandages and cleaning his wound. Your smaller hands touch him so softly that it makes him feel things for you. He wonders, is he just interested in you because you’re the only woman around? Or is he interested in you because you’re funny? Because you’re nice? It’s because you’re such a tender caretaker and you remind him of all the love he never got in life.

Looking back at the note, he reads it again. It sounds like you’d regretted leaving him, even for something as important as a medical staff meeting. Maybe you’ve been enjoying his company, too.

When night rolls around, you snuggle up on the couch, pulling the blanket you’d grabbed from your cot over your shoulders. Ghost just stares at you, one leg laying flat on his bed with the other up, the sole of his foot planted on the mattress.

“How the hell do you fit on that?”

Shrugging, you answer with, “It’s easy to fit in places when you’re not an enormous tank.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Smirking, you can just barely see his eyes in the darkness. Those nearly black orbs find your own, and it makes your chest tighten. “I like the way you’re built.”

He chuckles, amused. “Yeah?” And then he reaches for a pack of cigarettes next to his bed, lifting the edge of his mask. “Why’s that, love?” That word makes the skin on your face burn.

You get a small flash of his face when he lights the end of his cig with a match, and you notice something you’ve never seen before.

“What’s that scar from?” It just comes out on its own. He knows you’re talking about the one on his jaw.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He points out, taking a puff. And for some reason, you find that so hot.

“I’ll answer it if you answer mine.”

Sometimes, you aggravate him. Sighing, he speaks through the darkness, telling you, “Fine.”

A sly grin crosses your face on the other side of the room, and you wonder if he can see it. He can.

“I like men with muscles.” And he likes that answer. “Makes me feel like they can take care of me.”

He exhales calmly into the nighttime air between the two of you, pressing his lips to the cigarette and then inhaling once again. Ghost knows he could take care of you.

And then he thinks about his own response, settling with, “It came from a knife.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “You gotta tell me more than that.”

Flicking the ashes of his cigarette into a tray, he lays back a little on the bed. “It was a mission in the Middle East. Bloody heat was killing me, I had to lift my mask up.”

Oh, wow. Honestly, you were just kidding. You never thought he’d actually tell you anything more. But you take this chance and run with it, listening intently so you don’t miss a single piece of his story.

“We were ambushed,” He continues, shaking his head. “Price never saw it coming.”

Truly, you can’t even imagine. Sure, you had your time in the field, but it was nothing compared to what he’s gone through.

“We took them out, but not before one of them got to me with a knife. Sliced up my jaw.” Ghost exhales a puff of smoke, watching it billow into the air. Then he gently shakes his head. “Didn’t let him get any further ‘n that.”

By the end of the story, his voice has grown flat. Maybe he doesn’t like thinking about his scars. Maybe it’s why he keeps the mask on.

“Could I… could I see?”

“My scar?” Comes his instant response. “What for?”

“I dunno,” Shrugging in the dimly lit light, you glance down at the floor. A timid gesture that he again sees.

After a moment of silence, he figures, what the hell? Having you be close to his face didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Besides, he likes getting a good look at you. Finishing off his cigarette and rubbing the butt of it down into the tray beside him, he says, “Why not?”

Looking up, you shake your head. “It’s okay, I don't have to. I don’t even know why I asked.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Come over here, doll.”

Almost giddily, you do, shoving your blanket to the side and popping up onto your feet. He chuckles deeply upon seeing your reaction, watching you scamper over to him.

“You’re excited about this, huh?”

Shrugging, you grin, standing right next to his bed. “Maybe.”

You don’t give a single shit about his scar. You want to see him. Being close to Ghost gives you a good feeling.

Leaning over, you turn on your desk lamp, illuminating this corner of the room. And when you come back to him, you’re met with the incredible sight of his eyes. They’re dark brown in shade, but in the dim light, they're a dazzling pool of honey. But what really catches your eye is the lower half of his face. His mask is still pulled up, revealing his mouth, chin, and jaw.

“Can I touch?” You then ask, keeping your voice quiet.

He eyes you up and down while your gaze is fixated on his mouth. His lips curl, and he nods. “Sure.”

Lifting your hands, they fall to either side of his face. When you make contact with him, he closes his eyes, exhaling a slow breath, accepting your touch. He can’t remember the last time he let someone do this.

“Hm…” You don’t mean to, but you hum, fingers trailing along his jawline and chin. He has stubble here, just barely. It seems like when he’s crept away to the showers at night, he’s shaved.

Ghost’s eyes trail across your face, feeling your breath on his skin. You’re closer than you ever have been before, and it makes the muscles in his chest tighten, makes his pulse quicken. Licking his lower lip, he whispers, “How’s that feel?”

“Good.” You respond, nodding, your eyes not once leaving his mouth. “I like it.”

“Why’d you want to feel it?” He then wonders aloud, and he wishes you would look up at him. He wants to look into your sweet eyes. “Haven’t you seen enough scars in your lifetime?”

“I don’t really care about scars.”

What the hell?

Scrunching his brow, he then asks, “Then why the hell did you want to see mine?”

Now, you do look up into his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you work up the nerve to say what’s floating through your mind. “Because it’s on you.”

Immediately, he swallows. His gaze falls to your mouth for the first time since you’ve been this close, flickering back and forth from your eyes to your now slightly parted lips. And all at once, he sits up a bit straighter, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in.

As if you’re expecting it, you melt into him, letting him press you to his body. The fingertips on his jaw slide along his cheeks as you move to fully hold his face in your hands, Ghost’s lips easily meeting your own. One large arm slides around your back, hand securing to your waist as he pulls you further into him.

Heartbeat pounding in your veins, you gasp quietly against him, molding your mouth to his as you return his enthusiasm. Your hands hold onto him tightly, sliding down to the back of his neck. But then he stops, releasing a rough sigh and opening his eyes to look at you.

“Come here,” He whispers hurriedly, his other hand reaching out and tugging on you.

“Ghost, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” His lips are moving over your jaw, his hands still pulling on you.

“You’re healing.”

Scoffing, he leans over the side of the bed, hands securing themselves to your lower back and upper thigh. He then hauls you forward, leaning down so he can hoist you up onto his lap.

“Oh!”

“I go back into the field next week.” He grunts out, now looking up at you. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

“Ghost, I -”

“You know my name?” He asks, his rough, baritone voice demanding your attention.

And suddenly, you feel extremely fucking small. Your legs slide forward and down, straddling him. Quietly, you squeak out, “Yes.”

“Say it.”

Leaning forward, you embrace the excitement of being on top of him. Your hands return to hold his face, and he lets you. Bringing yourself in close, you look into his eyes.

“Simon.”

“That’s right.” Comes his breathy exhale, leaning in to close the small gap between the two of you.

And then Simon’s hand is on the back of your head, pushing you further into him. His other lands on your hip, fingers curling around your flesh. He smells like cigarettes and cologne, tastes like mint and tobacco. And you overtly, eagerly, wholeheartedly, welcome him.

“Closer to me,” Simon grumbles, the hand on your hip curling around your lower back. He pulls you until you’re flush against his chest, your breasts pushing up against his clean bandages.

“Simon,”

He groans into your mouth when you use his name, repeatedly moving his lips over your own. Your legs press tightly to the outsides of his thighs, holding him close to your body. And when he feels your hips shift against him, when he hears your soft, delicate moan, he decides to slide his tongue into your mouth. He licks inside, rubbing the wet muscle over your own. Moaning wantonly, it echoes into his throat, the hand on your head sliding down to hold your jaw open. The way he moves against your mouth is almost overwhelming, full of passion and lust and a particular sense of need.

“You wanna take this off for me?” His accent is making you melt. “Can you do that for me, love?”

Tugging impatiently on your shirt, those frosty eyes look into your own with a look of utter desperation. But also control. Ghost was always in control.

Nodding, you reach down, finding the edges of your longsleeve shirt and slipping it up and over your head.

“Oh…” He moans - Ghost fucking moans. His head immediately dips down to the luscious space between your breasts, mouth finding your skin.

“Oh,” It comes as a complete surprise, him surging down to kiss you here. “Simon…”

Fuck, you’ve wanted to do this since you met him. You both have.

His mouth drags along the curves of your chest, and you’re surprised when they’re followed by tender kisses. And then his hands drop, groping your ass.

“I want you.” He growls against your breasts, nipping at the soft slopes of them. “What do you want, love?”

“I want you, Simon.” Nodding quickly, your hands slide back up to his face. In your hurried state you accidentally move the fabric of his mask just a bit, and his hands come flying up to your forearms as soon as it happens.

“Don’t take it off.” It’s a firm boundary, a stern warning. His head lifts, too, eyes staring menacingly into you.

“I wouldn’t, I won’t.” He looks at you almost skeptically. “I respect your privacy.”

When he doesn’t budge, you wiggle on top of him. “Please. Simon, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

Slowly, his hands leave your forearms, loosening their grasp. He’s deciding to trust you.

One of those meaty hands falls to your chest, still holding your gaze while he cups you. The other rises to your neck, fingers curling around the back to pull you in again. This time, though, he doesn’t return to your lips. This time, he goes to your neck. Rolling your head to the side, you let him, feeling Simon’s teeth scrape along your skin. He’s feeling every inch of you that he can, hands falling to your ass when he feels you move over him. With a firm grasp, he urges you forward and back, grinding your covered crotch over his own. And while he’s busy exploring you, you take this opportunity to explore him.

Delicately, your fingertips slide down his face, down the chorded muscles along his neck, landing on his sculpted shoulders and then moving to his biceps. When you squeeze the thick meat of his arms, he groans, smirking mischievously against you. With your nails scraping lightly over his taut skin, they quickly find his back, gently scratching him. His muscles are flexing, damn near all of them. He’s so worked up with you like this on top of him. And he’s still moving you, shoving your hips over his crotch and manhandling you in the softest way he knows how. He’s strong, but he’s gentle with you.

The length of him is palpable beneath his thin shorts, settling right into your covered folds. And it makes you moan, makes your breaths pick up and your center pulse. The air is thick with arousal, the room lit dimly in the soft, yellow hue of your small lamp. His breaths are hot, fanning across your face in humid and heavy wafts. But then he stops, taking a breath. And for some reason, your sass decides to fill this brief, empty space.

“So,” Sighing, you’re also working to catch your breath. “Does this mean you think I’m pretty?”

He chuckles, that beautiful smile making itself known. “Does this mean you like my muscles?”

“I love your muscles.” Wiggling even closer to him, you grin, sucking in a tight and excited breath. Your one hand then slides down his chest, his abs, curling around to hold his hip, your thumb just barely brushing his pelvis.

“Yeah? Even when you’re sewing ‘em up?” He asks, that deliciously rich accent making you flutter inside.

“You can’t do that again.” Shaking your head, your hands move to hold his face. It’s a tender act. “You can’t scare us like that again.”

That night, you swear you started to see the light fade out of his eyes, and that, well… that was a first for you. You saved Simon’s life.

“You care about me, eh?” He replies in the cockiest voice.

“Your team cares about you.” Eyes flickering down to the bandages on his chest, you then say, “And yeah, maybe I do, too.”

Simon’s body flexes beneath you, hips rutting up into your own. And now, it’s his turn to hold your face in his hands. He lifts your jaw, making you look at him.

“Hey, don’t worry about that now.”

“Are you okay?” Eyes darting back up to his, they’re filled with concern from the memories of that day. “With me sitting like this on you?”

He gives you a cocky grin. “I’m just fine, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me. I’m a big boy, remember?”

This makes you smirk, one hand finding its way to his pelvis with much more confidence than before. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.” He nods, keeping that gorgeous grin. “Think you wanna take it?”

Breathing out a small laugh, you give your head a single shake. “I never knew you wanted to fuck me so bad.”

“You never noticed the things I’ve said to you?”

“No, I noticed. I just thought… maybe it was harmless flirting.”

At this, his head tilts, eyes boring into your kind orbs. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me harmless in my entire life.”

“Yeah, you’re one scary motherfucker.” Leaning in to kiss him, he accepts it with a heated moan. “And I find that sexy as hell.”

“Well, you said you like fixing bones.” He’s feeling desperate for you at this point; it’s like you won’t stop teasing him “Hop on this one, then.”

“Oh my god, you really are like every other fucking guy.” But you’re already reaching for the bottom of your sports bra, slipping it off your torso in one go.

“God damn.” Large hands instantly return to your breasts, cupping and weighing your tits in his palms. His chest dips dramatically from releasing such a heavy breath, leaning in to kiss one of your delicate peaks. It’s firm and wet, the repeated press of his lips. And it wouldn’t be so overwhelming if he wasn’t practically making out with your tits.

Seeing your naked form for the first time sets his own alight. He always knew you were a sexy little thing, and now, he’s got first hand proof. Your curves look delicious, and if he weren’t in a tiny medical bed, he’d lay you down to lick them.

“You want me?” He doesn’t expect this sort of response, his surprise going tenfold when he feels you reach down between your bodies.

“Oh,” He releases a tight breath, feeling you run a finger over his erection.

Staring into your eyes, he gives you an almost predatory gaze. “You know I do.”

Easily, you slide your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your delicate sex to him, though he can only barely see it. And then you’re reaching down, fingers curling over the band of his shorts to pull him out. When you do, he releases a sound you’ve never heard from him before, his jaw hanging low. He’s long and firm, crimson at the head and already leaking. The pulsations rocking through his cock are, at this point, an almost painful sensation; and when you look down, you grin. Letting the length of him rest on his lower abdomen, you move yourself so you can slide your glistening lips over him.

Simon hisses at the contact, strong hands cementing themselves to your hips. But he doesn’t stop you from moving. If anything, he only encourages you to.

“You get off on this?” He suddenly asks, the feeling of your slippery center sliding against him making his head spin and his insides tense. “Fucking your superior?”

“Baby,” You laugh, shaking your head while continuing to move over him. “I’m on the med. team, you’re not my superior.” Taking a breath, you reach out, grabbing his jaw and lowering your voice to speak. “But you did get one thing right. I do want to fuck you.”

Before he can say anything, you’re lifting yourself, his throbbing tip prodding at your entrance. You hold his gaze, an unexpected moan drifting from your lips when you finally begin to feel him.

“Fuck,” He grits out, fingers digging into your sides and urging you down. “Come on, precious. You can take it.”

Sliding down only a few mere inches, you wince. Holding onto his shoulders, your fingernails dig into his skin, scratching harshly at the firm muscles all along him. He’s bigger than you’d imagined him to be. His girth is wider than you’ve ever had, and when you reach down to feel him you quickly discover he also isn’t lacking in length.

His military voice then comes out, that stern, commanding tone. “Focus - hey, eyes on me.” Irises snapping up to his, you do as you’re told. “That’s a good girl.” Jesus Christ, you didn’t expect a single ounce of praise to come from him.

Simon’s dominant hand then slides down, the pad of his thumb finding the reddened nub at the peak of your sex. Your hips jolt when he presses the thick digit against you, but with his free hand on your back, he brings you in. He applies pressure, prompting you to lean on him, his mouth seeking out your nipples once again. Slipping his tongue out and over your skin, it forces you to whine, feeling your hips rock involuntarily against him. With the stimulation coming from his thumb and tongue, you find yourself relaxing, resting on the weight of him.

“Feels good, yeah?”

Your fingers find the back of his head, your own dropping back. “Yes…”

It’s overwhelming and sexy as all fucking hell. Simon can see the marks he’s left on your neck, shoulder and chest, and he grins, knowing they’ll be there in the morning even if he won’t be able to see them. He doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb, keeping the same amount of pressure as he swirls little circles over your sensitive clit. His mouth is sucking on you, too, his tongue running over your nipples in wet and passionate swipes. And altogether, it works like a charm, lubing you up enough for him to slide entirely inside.

“Simon.”

“You’ve got it, yeah… there we go…” The only hand that moves is the one that was touching your clit, fingers now attaching themselves to your hip once you’re entirely seated on him.

“Fuck me,” You’re clinging to his shoulders, both arms wrapping around his neck. He’s removed himself from your tits, resting his face in the slope of your shoulder, just beside your throat.

He’s searing hot and filling you completely, his tip seated deep in your guts as you pulse around him violently. And Simon’s aware of his size, so he waits for you to make the first move. And he snuggles into you while he does, resting in this brief lull.

Feeling another person surrounding his body like this brings out a sensation from the depths of his heart, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in genuine years, decades, even. He feels like he can relax in your embrace, like he can let go with you.

“Oh, god.” Head dropping back, you shift slightly, beginning to move.

“Yes,” He encourages you, reaching up to hold your neck. “That’s it.” And then he pulls, bringing you down to him. Your lips meet in a small clash, tongues colliding as soon as you make contact.

This entire event awakens something inside of you. It’s like he’s consuming you, taking over your body and every part of your mind. And you’ve felt like this for weeks, months; you’ve ached for him. At night you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, and during the day, you’ve dreamt about him. It was so hard to be in his presence, knowing you couldn’t have him, that he probably didn’t even want you in the first place. But he does; he wants you just as badly as you want him.

Simon sways his body with you, leaning back against the head of the bed. He uses this slight change in position as leverage to shove his hips up into you, giving you small and shallow thrusts. But he lets you do most of the work, grinning while admiring the way in which you find your pace.

“You’re a tight thing, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, eyes lowering to stare at the space where you’re repeatedly connecting. And then they furrow, mouth dropping open when he finally witnesses you lifting and lowering your hips. “And look how well you’re taking me…”

“You’re… so fucking big.” Lowering your head, you then offer a half smirk, shaking your head at him. “Guess you really do have reason to be cocky, huh?”

“Damn right, and I’m glad you know it.”

“Jesus - fuck!” The first word is said through a scoff, the second through a high yelp.

“You feel like makin’ fun of me again?” Simon then challenges, having lifted his feet and planted them directly on the edge of the bed. He uses this leverage to punch himself up into you, huffing out a sharp breath when he feels you fall onto his chest.

“Fuck, baby - I’m sorry.” You immediately lift yourself up, looking down at his bandages. “Are you alright?”

The fact that you’ve so easily been able to call him baby makes Simon smile, his teeth even showing for the first time that you’ve ever seen.

“You need to stop asking me that.” He says in that deeply, gritty tone. And then he shoves you forward again, knees high in the air as he lets you rest over his chest.

Your arms slide around his neck, clinging to him as he begins to shove himself up into you. Sucking in a deep breath, he grunts out beside your face, his arms wrapping around your naked torso. He’s starting to feel sweaty, sticky, his skin warm and glistening. And at this point he’s bouncing you on his cock, your ass slapping down onto his pelvis with every move. He let you have your fun; now, he’s fucking you.

“Oh my fucking god,” You’re trying desperately to keep up to move yourself back against him, but he doesn’t allow it. He’s punching the breath from your lungs, one hand sliding up your back to hold your head.

He lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you alright?”

“S-Shut up, Ghost.” Comes your stuttered response, now gasping from how deep he’s hitting.

“Uh-uh,” He tuts, “Say my name, sweetheart. Sounds so good comin’ outta that pretty little mouth.”

This makes you laugh, a small hiccup of a sound due to his intense movements beneath you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, wanna hear you say it when we fuck.”

“Oh, so this is going to happen again?” You tease, feeling his groans vibrate through his chest. Jesus, he’s so sturdy.

Leaning forward, he grabs a fistful of your ass, growling into your ear, “I damn sure want it to.”

You take advantage of his closeness, turning your head to capture his lips. “You’re so fucking deep.”

“Yeah? You want me to stop?” He whispers in return against your lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

At this point, he’s panting beneath you, sliding down a little further on the bed. You move with him, still holding onto his firm body with a wild desperation. And he keeps your lips on him, shoving his tongue inside your mouth while keeping his brutal pace.

If you were dripping before it’s nothing compared to now. You’re leaking down his shaft, the creaminess of your arousal coating him entirely. And he can feel it; it’s making his eyes roll back into his head.

“You’re gonna make me cum, squeezin’ around me like that.”

One of your hands lowers, moving down to hold onto his bicep, and then his forearm. Turning your head to the side, you smile, ignoring his comment while you breathe out lightly, “I love your tattoos, baby.”

“You just love praisin’ me, don’t you?” In two seconds, that tattooed forearm rises, hand grabbing your face. “Bring those pretty eyes back to me.” And when you look into those endlessly deep eyes of his, he grits out sternly, “Eyes. On. Me.”

“Simon,” It’s a small whine, one uttered when you feel him strike gold inside. “Please make me cum.” Your head drops to his shoulder, and what he does neck surprises you. He kisses your fucking cheek.

“I can do that for you.”

As if things couldn’t become more intense, he takes it up a notch, ramming into you and forcing your face into the crook of his neck. His hand on the back of your head holds you there, and when you bite into his neck, he groans into the nighttime air.

“Yesss, baby, don’t stop. Oh my god, please don’t stop.” He’s so big beneath you, his muscles bulging against your naked chest. And he revels in the feeling of your soft tits pressing against him, your beautiful body bouncing as it gets fucked by him.

“Fuck me,” Comes his gasped out curse, muttering, “Such a good pussy.”

“Fu-uck,”

He’s pounding against that delicate spot that’s making you go dumb, your arms and thighs beginning to shake around him.

“G-Ghost, I’m…”

“Say my name, say it again.” His voice is deep and thick, stuttering a bit. “One more time for me.” His thighs are flexing beneath your ass, one arm wrapped around your back and the other gripping the flesh on your hip.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling shoving its way through your body, coursing through your veins. The excitement of it all is something you haven’t felt in too long of a time, if ever before. Swallowing, you gather yourself enough to do as he says, once again, uttering his name.

Immediately after, he’s cumming, hips breaking their pace and length throbbing inside you. His forceful shoves against your g-spot make you crumble above him, onto him, your body shaking. The way you’re holding onto him makes him feel like he can do anything, makes him think you feel safe with him. And you do. The world could be crumbling and still, you’d cling to him, knowing he’d hold you in his arms.

Quivering limbs press against him, your body going a bit numb from the intensity of it all. Your center pulses around his girth, squeezing him tightly while you wash him in your arousal. You can feel his, too, the milky ropes shooting into you, and you revel in the fact that your body has made his feel this good. He’s breathing harshly beside you, pectorals flexing against your naked chest. You’ve never heard him groan so forcefully, not even when he’s out working. And that makes you smile, knowing you bring those noises out of him. A blissful smile crosses your face, body rolling in waves as you experience your own high above him.

“Fuck me,” His accent is thick, coating the shell of your ear. He’s petting at your hair, body beginning to slump down on the mattress beneath him. “You okay there, princess?”

You’re quiet, still trying desperately to find your breath. Swallowing, you nod, turning your head to kiss his throat, breathing heavily against him. And while his body relaxes, he holds yours above him, urging you to do the same.

“Maybe I should get hurt a little more often,” He looks over, pointer finger curling under your chin, gently lifting you to look at him. “If it means seein’ you.”

Part Two

#Jesus Christ #I need him #Simon baby I love you #I really do #you're my big beefy man #Simon Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Ghost Riley #Simon Ghost Riley x you #Simon Ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley smut #Simon Ghost Riley smut #Ghost cod #Ghost Call of Duty

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hacked-by-jake · 6 months

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[MC (they-them) × Jake × fluff]

MC stepped out of the police station, relieved to have finally finished the last report on the Hannah case, feeling the warmth of the sun on their face and the crisp spring air filling their lungs. They glanced at their watch, already mentally mapping out their route to the next town where their expertise was needed. But before they could take another step, a mysterious figure clad in black approached them, sunglasses hiding his eyes, a hood obscuring his features.

"Are you MC?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

They nodded cautiously as he handed them a sealed envelope without another word. Without waiting for a response, the enigmatic figure vanished into the bustling street. Intrigued and slightly unnerved, MC tore open the letter, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected delivery, despite already having a premonition about the sender of this letter..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘊,

I'm sending this letter to assure you of my safety.

As I sit here, penning these words to you, my heart races with both excitement and trepidation. The events that unfolded during our recent mission have left me both exhilarated and wounded, both physically and emotionally. But above all else, they've left me longing for your reassuring presence.

I write to you now, not from a place of despair, but from a place of hope and determination. Despite the close call and the injuries sustained, I want you to know that I am safe and on the path to recovery. The mine left me with several, light injuries. The burns may sting, but they are nothing compared to the ache in my heart from being away from you.

MC, our partnership has been nothing short of extraordinary. Together, we've faced challenges that most would shy away from, and emerged victorious against all odds. The way you fearlessly tackled every obstacle, with unwavering resolve, fills me with an indescribable pride. You are the true hero in this story.

Yet, amidst the chaos and danger, I can't shake the feeling of guilt for putting you in harm's way. Please know that it was never my intention to cause you worry or pain. If anything, I am in awe of your strength and resilience, and I am eternally grateful for your unwavering support.

As we embark on this temporary separation, I find solace in the knowledge that it is only a matter of time before we reunite. I've been informed about the City near Duskwood, where they requested your assistance. Moonvale awaits us with its mysteries and challenges, and I have no doubt that together, we will conquer whatever obstacles lie ahead.

Until then, my love, take comfort in the knowledge that I carry you with me always, in every beat of my heart and every thought that crosses my mind. Stay strong, stay safe, and know that I am counting down the moments until we can be together again.

I, too, will personally ensure your safety. Nymos and I are committed to clearing your path and doing whatever it takes to protect you. I've shared my vulnerability with you before, and in light of the recent events at Grim Rock, I find myself even more dependent and at your mercy.

I'm incredibly proud of you for cracking the case and saving my sister. The challenges you confronted, the horrors you endured, and the loss of Richy... I can only begin to fathom the emotional anguish you're experiencing, but I vow to be your unwavering support, concealed in the shadows, yet ever-present by your side, even if you cannot perceive me. I will never leave you alone.

MC, my love, I promise you, we will see each other again when the time comes.

With all my heart,

Jake

A/n: A little thing after the release of the date, just a little idea. Actually, I just wanted to post the letter, but decided to add the first part, just as an introduction. Letters from Jake are just great, aren’t they? :) I was a bit proud for the wording here. Even if the first part is pretty short and not so detailed. But well, writing Jake is a stress-lovely something. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and I hope you will have a fantastic day/evening/night! 💚

#duskwood #moonvale #duskwood fanfiction #moonvale fanfiction #<- wahhhh #duskwood x moonvale fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #everbyte studio #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #everbyte duskwood #iamjake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte game #duskwood jake x player #letters from jake #{hbj(dw)/writes;fanfiction}

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eighthman-bound · 4 months

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Batman AU were an older Bruce is sent back to the body of a past version of himself, couple years prior to him returning to Gotham and becoming Batman.

He takes advantage of this advanced foreknowledge and makes a beeline back home to try recruit his enemies to join his crusade before they become supervillians.

“Edward you are a one in a million genius, I know your talents are being wasted and abused at this company, come join me in this crime prevention organisation I’m creating, I can give you the resources, respect and mental care you need for your creations. Oh the mental health thing, yeah that isn’t personal we do it for everyone don’t worry about it.”

“Selina Kyle come train our team your heist tactics and I will help you find evidence Carmine Falcone s your father.”

He flies to that prison in Santa Prisca to rescue the young man wrongfully imprisoned, to give the man who would be Bane hope and a just mission.

He gathers all the Doctors he can, Langstrom, Isley, Fries, Quinzell. Crane; I will give you the resources to continue your projects safely in return for your expertise when the need arrives… just for Gods sake don’t test anything on yourselves without my say so please!!

And Batman and Harvey Dent have never been closer.

With this new group and foreknowledge he can potentially take down big threats like the Court Of Owls. Ensure the Red Hood doesnt fall into that vat of acid.

He focuses his attention and takes down Tony Zucco long before the circus comes to town.

He takes in Jason Todd from the streets.

Makes sure his family live comfortably, even if in their eyes he’s just a stranger now.

Would all this intervention create a safer, less villian occupied Gotham? Or backfire in the worst way?

You decide.

#Batman #dc comic #Gotham #Harley Quinn #Jason Todd #dick grayson #au #poison ivy #two face #bane #harvey dent

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saigethearies · 11 months

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saige’s terrortober presents…

proximity

your unlikely partnership with tobio was just that- a partnership. that is, until the vacant room at the motel had only one bed.

demon hunter!tobio kageyama x witch!fem!reader

contents/warnings: unprotected vaginal sex, facefucking, dry humping, confessions, some praise, mention of a knife and violence, reader and tobio are both a lil drunk on lust

wc: 2k

18+ MINORS DNI

the first time you met tobio kageyama, he held a knife to your throat.

in his defense, he did think you were a demon. a skilled hunter such as himself was able to detect your dark energy from a mile away, he just didn’t know you emitted it for a different reason.

demons emit it naturally, you emit when you utilize the dark arts. practicing black and white magic alike is what enabled you to grow stronger than the other witches, and in turn be better able to protect the people. what better way to take down a demon than to give it a taste of its own medicine?

you could have easily gotten his blade away from your skin, but you had a stigma against using incantations on fellow humans. besides, coming off as hostile would make it harder to plead your non-demonic case to him.

eventually you managed to appeal to his years of experience in the field, the ravenette deciding you weren’t acting or behaving like a demon in any fashion. explaining your abilities to him, he brought you back to the hunter society, seeing the value that could come from a witch battling against demons.

the higher-ups decided a powerful duo could be made out of your unique powers and his perfected expertise, so the rest was history.

you and tobio were coming up on a year of being hunting partners, cutting down countless demons together.

the feelings you were starting to develop, however, were becoming a lot harder to fight.

the lingering stares you’d give him, the heat on your cheeks, your racing pulse- you were worried you were being obvious. that he’d catch on and your dynamic would become awkward, because he didn’t feel the same.

someone as reserved and standoffish as tobio definitely didn’t feel the same, he probably didn’t think twice about romance. it was a miracle the two of you could even hold a friendly conversation now.

oh, how wrong you were.

“we only have one room left, and it only has one bed.”

the both of you blinked, still covered in dirt and grime from the mission you’d completed about an hour ago. all of the other motels in the town were completely booked, something about a festival. you and tobio were both exhausted, each failed attempt at finding a place to sleep worsening your tiredness.

and now? the two of you avoiding sharing a room in general when possible, sharing a bed?

there was no way. tobio was probably about to turn to you and just suggest to try again in the next town over-

“we’ll take it.”

his response caught you completely off guard, and you watched on in shock as the innkeeper handed him the key.

the walk to your room was quiet, and once you were there, the only words spoken were to determine who got to shower first.

offering to shower second, you left the bathroom once you were clean and in your pajamas. tobio had changed into his while you were bathing, and it was clear the two of you were both caught off guard at each other’s attire.

tobio had on a pair of athletic shorts- no shirt.

you had on an oversized shirt, and tobio couldn’t see any bottoms, which was leading his poor imagination to dangerous places.

you stared at each other in silence for a few moments longer before he finally broke it.

“sorry, i thought i would be sleeping alone, or else i would have, you know, brought a shirt.”

“no, it’s fine! don’t apologize! neither of us planned for this…”

more silence.

you saw him grab one of the pillows off the bed, moving towards the floor space in front of it. “you take the bed.”

“what? tobio, no, your muscles are probably really sore. you need it more than me.”

you weren’t wrong. his fighting style was much more physical than yours, relying on weaponry and hand-to-hand combat while your specialty was your spells and incantations.

“you take the bed, i insist.”

he frowned. “if my sister knew i made a girl sleep on the floor, she’d kill me.”

you sighed. neither of you were going to budge on this, so the next words that came out of your mouth had your stomach erupting into nerves.

“…we can share it?”

his face almost went pale. you weren’t sure if you should be offended. “…are you sure?”

“yeah, it’s just one night, right?”

somehow the bed felt even smaller once you were both in it. you swore it was a double, but now it felt as if it couldn’t have been much bigger than a twin. you were half hanging off the side, trying to avoid being in tobio’s personal space more than you already were.

the hunter noticed how uncomfortable you looked.

“…you can move closer if you need.”

head turning towards him, you mirrored his earlier question. “are you sure?”

“you’re gonna have back problems tomorrow if you sleep like that, yes i’m sure.”

that’s how you ended up in bed with your demon hunting partner, your head on his chest because of the limited space, his arm resting behind your shoulders.

it was dark, the two of you just trying to fall asleep as fast as possible. you could hear tobio’s heartbeat below your ear, the sound almost soothing despite the way too intimate proximity.

you let it lull you for a few more minutes, almost nuzzling into his skin. suddenly, you felt his heart start to beat quicker, the pace accelerating and accelerating until-

tobio jumped out of bed, cheeks dusted pink as he breathed heavily, looking down at you.

“what’s wro-“

“do you have some sort of spell on me?”

a look of confusion came onto your features. “huh?”

“a spell, do you have a…love or lust or whatever the fuck spell on me?”

you jaw fell open. what the hell was going on?

“tobio,” you started. “why are you asking?”

he tried to calm his breathing. he was usually so cool and collected, you weren’t familiar with seeing him this frazzled. “because i…”

“because you what?”

“i really want you right now, like really bad.”

his words had your brain malfunctioning, chest feeling warm and bubbly. he wanted you?

you cleared your throat. “tobio…you’re not under any spell right now.”

he blinked. “i’m not?”

“no.”

you saw the reality of the situation sink in for him, and you never thought you’d ever see tobio kageyama look so embarrassed. if the ground were to swallow him whole then and there, he would be thankful.

you figured you might as well end his suffering.

“it’s okay,” you said with a soft smile, figuring now was as good of a time as ever. “i want you, too.”

your saccharine words drifted into his ears and tobio’s mind went blank.

then, he was on you before you could even watch him move, sitting down onto the bed and tugging you into his lap. he crashed his lips against yours, teeth gnashing together as he kissed you with so much vigor it reminded you of how he fought.

your mouths continued to dance against one another’s as his arms encircled your waist, grinding his pelvis against yours. he discovered that what was hiding beneath your big t-shirt was the thinnest pair of pajama shorts possible, the material doing nothing to conceal your heat from him.

that caused him to hump against you with even more passion, and your eyes almost rolled back when you could feel his covered length press into your core, trying to gyrate in rhythm with him.

pulling away, you tugged your shirt over your head before grabbing onto his shoulders, hovering your lips back over his.

“can i suck you off?” you asked, eyes watery and blown wide.

“w-what?”

did he hear you right?

“please, tobio! wanna suck your cock so bad.”

you were practically whining against his lips now, so desperate to have your mouth wrapped around the warm dick you could feel rubbing against you earlier.

the red on his cheeks intensified, seeing you so needy for him. the image of you on your knees before him also made his pants feel tighter, so the hunter found himself nodding. “alright, if you really want-“

he didn’t even have time to finish his sentence before you were dropping to your knees before him, tugging his athletic shorts and boxers down all in one go.

his erect cock was so pretty, long with a pink tip. you found yourself grasping it gently, bringing it to your lips so you could place several kisses on the head.

tobio’s head was already spinning at the attention you were giving him, a groan leaving his lips then when he felt your mouth finally engulf him.

his hands flew to grip the side of your head, bracing himself as you started to bob up and down. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a pretty girl pleasuring him like this, his past few years all consumed with hunting and protecting the public.

you opened up your throat, taking him all the way in as your nose came flush against his pelvis. tobio shivered at the sensation, fingers tightening on the side of his head. you moaned around him, and the vibrations caused something to snap within him.

keeping your head in place, the ravenette pulled out of your mouth only to thrust right back into it. he proceeded to fuck your face, sounds bubbling up from his throat that had your pussy growing even wetter than it was before.

just as his thighs started to shake from an oncoming orgasm, tobio yanked you off of him. you gasped, trying to collect your breath as he hauled you back up onto his lap.

“sorry,” he breathed, almost ripping your tiny little sleep shorts as he tore them off of you. he saw your cunt bare before him and almost lost it then and there.

“why’d you stop?”

he gave a soft peck to your pout that contradicted the frantic way he was moving his dick between your holds.

“wanna cum inside you instead.”

such dirty words sounded foreign coming from tobio, but the almost frenzied look in his eyes told you he wasn’t all there right now. his usual stoicness was being bogged down by lust, lust induced by you.

you practically cried out when he started to pull you down onto him, his dick feeling even bigger than it did earlier. he held your hips in place, panting against your ear as he kept burying more of himself inside of you. it was a miracle you were already so wet or else that stretch would have hurt.

tobio’s sanity seemed like it was hanging on by a thread. “can…can i move now?”

you nodded with earnest.

“please, please fuck me!”

planting his feet on the floor, the hunter instantly started to jackhammer up into you, every hit deep and hard within your walls. you squeezed your eyes shut, almost wailing as he battered your cunt.

“fuck, you feel so good, fuck, fuck!”

every time he pistoned up into you, tobio brought your hips down to meet his. he was practically using you as a fucktoy, and the thought sent your mind into shambles. your pussy clenched at the way he was treating you.

“tobio, i- ahhhh!”

his tip was slamming against that special spot within you now, every thrust now having your thighs twitching against his.

“feels even better than i imagined,” he breathed out. “wanted this for so fucking long, just didn’t think you felt the same.”

your heart fluttered at his confession.

“r-really?”

he kissed your cheek. “really.”

tobio’s balls felt so tight and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. from the way you were trembling in his lap, you probably weren’t fairing much better.

keeping a hand on your hip, his other hand came to push your head against his chest, cradling it there as he picked up his pace.

you squealed out, tears falling onto his skin as your g-spot was met with even more force from his cock. feeling the band within you finally snap, your muscles locked then spasmed as you climaxed. the stimulus of your own orgasm sent tobio into his own, his hips stilling as he groaned and spilled into you.

the two of you were slumped, you going slack against tobio as he fell back onto the bed. coming to, his blue eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

“shit, i didn’t ask-“

“birth control spell,” you answered, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. “we’re fine, don’t worry.”

you felt him relax at that, rubbing his hand up and down your back. you hummed, smiling as you started to drift off into sleep.

“hey.”

“hm?”

“…do you wanna get breakfast tomorrow?”

you cracked an eye open at that, lifting your head to look at him. “like as hunting partners?”

the little scowl that came onto his face had you chuckling. “don’t be an ass about it!”

pressing a little kiss to his pec, you laid your head back down.

“i’d love to.”

_____

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#saige’s terrortober #kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama tobio smut #tobio kageyama smut #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

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maceofpentacles · 1 year

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a bit of info on working with archangels 🕯️

the archangels, and angels in general, are beings that will never intercede without your expressed consent! they believe in free will which means that they will only work with you, give you messages, etc., if you are open and willing to receive their divine messages.

a common misconception is that angels will only help those who are religious (i.e. christian, jewish, muslim) but that is not the case! angels have nothing but love for humans and nature so they aren’t tied to any specific religious affiliation, though they come from a more religious background.

each archangel, and angel, has their own areas of expertise when it comes to guidance but nothing is beyond them! so you can essentially reach out to any angel for anything and they will do their best to help you.

i’m going to briefly talk about seven of the main archangels and list some correspondences and offerings as well!

archangel michael - the great defender

archangel michael is the great defender of all that is good. he can be called upon for help with strength and courage as well as general protection.

he is associated with the sun tarot card

offerings include: frankincense, rosemary, basil, white or blue candles, selenite, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel raphael - the divine healer

archangel raphael is the divine healer. he assists with physical healing as well as emotional healing. he is especially popular with healers and those who work in the medical field.

he is associated with the strength tarot card

offerings include: lavender, rosemary, chamomile, peppermint, green candles, fresh flowers, emeralds, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel gabriel - the messenger

archangel gabriel is a messenger who helps people learn how to communicate effectively. he can help you find the words you need to get your point across. he helps artists, writers, and teachers.

he is associated with the moon tarot card

offerings include: lavender, jasmine, lily, white candles, moonstone or clear quartz, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel uriel - the hermit

archangel uriel is a wizened hermit figure who helps us deal with feelings of loneliness that can become overwhelming at times. he helps us learn how to be alone without feeling lonely.

he is associated with the hermit tarot card

offerings include: sandalwood, frankincense, cinnamon, red or gold candles, citrine, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel chamuel - the peace bringer

archangel chamuels main mission is to bring peace to the world. you can call on him when you're suffering from anxiety or if you need help forgiving someone. he is especially helpful when it comes to relationship troubles.

he is associated with the lovers tarot card

offerings include: rose, chamomile, lavender, pink candles, rose quartz, love letters, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel zadkiel - the forgiver

archangel zadkiel is who you should call when it comes to forgiveness as a whole. he helps regulate emotions and work through them so we can feel that sense of forgiveness for others and ourselves.

he is associated with the temperance tarot card

offerings include: rose, lavender, chamomile, eucalyptus, purple candles, amethyst, engaging in acts of service like volunteering or donating, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

archangel jophiel - the transformer

archangel jophiel is responsible for the positive transformations we go through in life. he encourages inner journeys that help us to discover our passions.

he is associated with the star tarot card

offerings include: chamomile, lemon balm, sunflower yellow or orange candles, yellow jasper, spending time in nature, practicing positive affirmations, water, letters or prayers addressed to him

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch #angel work #archangels #angelology #archangel michael #archangel raphael #archangel gabriel #archangel uriel #archangel chamuel #archangel zadkiel #archangel jophiel

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aynavaano · 6 months

Text

Tech is always right

Hunter x F reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 5k

Summary: After you became part of the crew Hunter noticed your nightmares and offered comfort by letting you sleep in his bunk. But it soon becomes clear that you both want more.

Notes: I wanted to write wet Hunter for so long and here it is. This is basically porn with very little plot, I know we all want that, we thirsting, we hungry little bitches. We have oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mention of creampie. All for our favorite sergeant

You've been running with the crew for a while now, and the way you all crossed paths still feels like something out of a holovid. It started in the midst of chaos. The mission they were on went sideways and Wrecker was down. After the war you tried to make your way on your own and now you found yourself tending to Wreckers wounds who got hit by an explosion right in front of you, just as the Empire started orbital bombardment on the city. It was a close call, but the Batch wasn't about to leave you behind, not when the sky was raining fire, Hunter pulled you and Wrecker onto the Marauder just seconds before they took off.

As the battles raged on and the injuries piled up, it became clear to them that they really needed someone who could provide medical support and technical expertise—a role you seamlessly filled. Your skills not only helped Tech with the ship but also ensured that the team stayed in good shape despite their frequent injuries.

Nightmares had plagued your sleep for weeks now, leaving you restless and weary but shortly after you became part of the crew Hunter offered you comfort by letting you sleep in his bunk.

It is another one of those sleepless nights, where the darkness of the ship seems to echo the darkness within your mind. The dim glow of the cockpit lights illuminate the Marauder and you sit alone, bathed in the soft hum of the ship's systems. Fingers absentmindedly tapping on your datapad, you glance around the cockpit, the quiet solitude amplifying the weight of your thoughts. Everyone else appears to be asleep in their bunks, their breathing steady and even. Yet, for you, sleep remains elusive, a distant dream slipping through your grasp.

But eventually, exhaustion creeps in as always, dragging you into a shallow slumber. Nestling into the co-pilot's seat, you hope for some respite from the scenes that normally haunt your nights.

Contrary to your belief Hunter is awake, attuned to the subtle shifts in the ship and its crew. He hears your restless movements, the faint whispers of distress that accompany your troubled sleep. Without hesitation, he rises from his bunk, silent footsteps carrying him to your side.

"Another one of those nights?" his voice is soft, laced with concern as he gazes down at you.You nod silently, unable to find the words to articulate the turmoil within your mind.

"Alright, let's get you in bed," he says gently, scooping you up in his arms with practiced ease.

Carrying you to his bunk, Hunter lowers you down onto the mattress, his movements careful and deliberate. Slipping in beside you, he pulls the sheet over your bodies, the warmth of him against you a comforting anchor in the darkness.

For many weeks now, this had become routine. You would find solace in the safety of his arms, your back pressed against his chest as he holds you close. It was a silent understanding, an unspoken agreement that offered both comfort and companionship in the dead of night.

Rarely did you sleep on your own bunk anymore. Instead, you would seek refuge somewhere aboard the ship trying to fall asleep, and Hunter would always come for you.

In the morning, when the rest of the crew stirs from their slumber, Hunter would be the one to wake you. A cup of caff in hand, he would gently rouse you from your sleep, his touch gentle and comforting. And if Wrecker's snores still echoed through the ship, he would wake him too.

Already from the first moment you laid eyes on him, you couldn't deny the pull he had on you. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in with an irresistible force. And now, to have this connection with him, to share these intimate moments in the quiet of the night, felt like a dream come true.

Of course, there were moments when your mind wandered to more... spicy thoughts. Fantasies of what could be, of what you longed for deep down. But you dared not to act on them, fearing the repercussions of crossing that line. The bond you shared with Hunter was precious, and you couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

Unbeknownst to you, Hunter harbors his own desires, his own yearnings that mirror your own. He is completely wild for you since the first night he carried you to his bunk, consumed by the scent of your skin, the warmth of your touch and the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest. But he is trying his best to conceal it.

Tonight feels no different you are snuggled up to Hunter after he picked you up from somewhere on the ship as usual, but this time, your dreams take a steamy turn, leaving you wet and needy.

In your dream, Hunter's kiss is urgent, his lips pressing hard against yours as his tongue explores your mouth hungrily. With a primal need, he slides his hand beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers finding your wetness and circling your clit with delicious pressure.

Pinned against the Marauder's wall, you feel the cold metal against your back as Hunter's body presses firmly against yours. His hardness throbbing against your thigh, aching to be released from the confines of his pants.

With a low growl, he continues to ravage your mouth, his kisses fierce and possessive. His fingers work tirelessly, stroking and teasing your clit until you are trembling with desire.

As pleasure builds within you, Hunter's touch pushes you closer to the edge. With each flick of his fingers, you feel yourself teetering on the brink of ecstasy, your body on fire with need.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you shatter into an orgasm and you wake up to your heart beating rapidly and your walls clenching around nothing but the memory of Hunter's touch, leaving you empty and soaking wet for him. After you catch your breath and calm yourself down you make sure you didn’t wake anyone. Content that all is quiet and Wrecker’s snoring steady as always, you snuggle into Hunter’s embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you as you drift off into a peaceful sleep, safe in his presence.

The next morning, Hunter wakes to the lingering scent of your arousal, driving him completely wild, making it increasingly difficult to control himself around you. You pretended to be still asleep but you feel his hard bulge pressing against your back as he carefully gets up, not wanting to disturb you. But before he can make it to the fresher, Tech intercepts him, eyeing the obvious bulge in his shorts.

"When exactly are you planning to do something about that?" Tech asks, pointing to the obvious erection with one hand and realigning his glasses with the other.

Hunter hesitates, unsure of how you feel about him. "I'm not sure if she's into me like that," he admits.

Tech isn’t buying it. "I've analyzed her body language and observed the way you two look at each other and I have come to the conclusion that there is mutual attraction between the two of you. From my calculations it is appropriate to make a move," he urges.

Hunter's mind reels at Tech's words, his heart pounding in his chest. Could it be true? Normally Hunter could tell if someone was attracted to him by the subtle raise of their heartbeat or other signs that he could easily pick up with his heightened senses. But around you it cost him all his power to remain calm, your scent alone made him almost loose control a few times already. So he tried to shut himself off whenever possible and wasn’t paying attention to the subtle signs of your body.

But before he can respond, Tech presses on. "And besides," he adds, "we could really use the extra space if we can get rid of the extra bunk that is not in use since weeks."

With a scoff, Hunter brushes past Tech and continues his way to the fresher, his thoughts consumed by the weight of Tech's words. Could it be that you felt the same way about him and he hasn’t noticed? Nobody has ever made him loose his composure the way you did.

Meanwhile, you slumber on, completely oblivious to the conversation that has just happened. It isn’t until Hunter returns with a cup of caff that you stir from your dreams, the scent of your arousal still lingering in the air.

"Did you sleep without nightmares?" he asks, his voice soft with concern. You nod, a faint blush rising to your cheeks as you recount the dream that had left you breathless last night. As you speak, you notice a subtle shift in Hunter's demeanor, the way his eyes linger on you a fraction longer than usual.

His hand reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and in that moment, your heart skips a beat. Hunter's gesture was purposeful, a subtle attempt to validate Tech's observations and he immediately sensed the subtle shift in your heartbeat at his touch. He decides to carefully explore your reaction to him further later on but for now the lingering sweet scent of your arousal fills his senses, threatening to overwhelm him and he once again feels his cock straining against his cod piece, longing to be unleashed. Before it makes him loose control completely he gets up “Alright, I’ll leave you to your morning routine” he says softly “The fresher is all yours and Tech asked for your assistance on a difficult repair later” You nod, casting a dreamy smile at him. And as you slip from the bed and make your way to the fresher, you catch a last glance at him, marveling at his dark locks loosely falling over his shoulders, before he enters the cockpit and disappears from your sight.

The rest of the morning passes in its usual routine, with you and Tech tackling repairs on the Marauder over way too many cups of caff. But your mind keeps drifting back to Hunter, who is repeatedly casting glances at you, his intense gaze lingering a bit too long, almost as if he is trying to decipher your every thought and feeling. It made for some strange interactions between you and Tech, his eyebrows raising in curiosity as he notices the tension between you and Hunter and questions your unusual distraction from your task.

You manage to brush off most of his uncomfortable questions and as the afternoon rolls around, the whole crew ventures out to gather rations and stock up on some essential supplies. Preparing for your departure planned for the next rotation, you decide to stay behind to complete the repairs. Shortly after they set off the sky grows dark, ominous clouds looming overhead, and soon enough, the heavy downpour begins.

Just as you are engrossed in your work, lost in the sound of the rain hailing down on the Marauders hull, the hatch of the ship swings open, and Hunter stumbles inside, drenched from head to toe. With a weary smile, he closes the hatch behind him, pressing a button on his forearm piece to seal the entrance.

"I figured I'd better make it back," he explains, his voice slightly breathless from the dash through the rain. "In case this storm decides to get any worse. Didn't want you to be stuck here all alone." You can’t help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at his words, grateful for his unexpected return.

Hunter swiftly sheds his armor and his drenched clothes, stripping down to the bottom of his blacks to rid himself of the wet fabric. Your gaze flickers hesitantly, catching a glimpse of his exposed form. Heat surges through your veins, pooling between your legs as you watch the water drops cascade down his toned body and his tattoo stretching across the entirety of his left chest on full display. His hair, now slick with moisture, clinging to his forehead and temples, emphasizing the feral allure that draws you in.

As he reaches for a towel to dry off, you sense his attention shift, his focus momentarily diverted by something in the air. The tension between you crackles with anticipation, his heightened senses no doubt picking up on the rapid beat of your heart and the subtle scent of your arousal building between your legs.

"Mesh’la, you smell so good," he whispers, turning to face you, his voice low and rough with desire, his eyes fixated on you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "So good for me" he adds, finally succumbing to the effect you have on him.

You blush because you instantly know what scent he is referring to, but before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a hunger fueled kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting more. It is primal, passionate and a silent admission of the desire that has been building between you for far too long. You manage to muster a question amidst the haze of arousal, seeking some semblance of clarity in the whirlwind of sensations that threaten to overwhelm you.

"Where are the others?" you murmur, your voice barely a whisper against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement.

"They stayed in town, getting everything from our supply list" he replies hastily between heated kisses, his voice thick with longing, his gaze locking with yours in a silent promise of what inevitably is going to happen. "Got the Marauder all to ourselves for a while."

His words send a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you wet and needy. You can’t deny the raw desire that pulses between your legs anymore, urging you to surrender to the intoxicating pull of him. With a hesitant nod, you invite him in and you feel the heat of his touch as his hand slides under your shirt, his fingers tracing along your curves rising up to hungrily cup your breasts. The sensation of his bulge pressing against you sends another surge of heat pooling between your legs, your body responding instinctively to his unspoken invitation.

Hunter's voice is a husky whisper against your ear as he murmurs , "I want to taste you." The words send a shiver of anticipation through you, and you find yourself nodding eagerly in response. With a sense of urgency you wiggle yourself out of your leggings and get rid of your shirt all at once, thoughtlessly throwing it to the floor. He drops to his knees before you, his hands gently parting your thighs and he lifts your leg slightly up to let it rest on his shoulder. With one hand he pulls your panties to the side and his fingers carefully slide over your wet folds, index and middle finger parting your outer lips to expose your delicate core dripping with wetness. “So wet for me” he whispers in awe, savoring the sight before him.

As he buries his face between your tights the sensation of his warm breath against your sensitive skin sends a wave of arousal crashing over you, and you gasp in pleasure as his tongue leaps out, sliding through your slit, finding your throbbing clit and tracing teasing circles around it.

He eats you with a voracious hunger, his mouth working tirelessly to elicit the sweetest moans from your lips. Each flick of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, building the tension in your core to dizzying heights. He savors the taste of you, his mouth watering as he laps at your swollen folds, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment.

But Hunter isn’t content to rely on just his tongue alone. With skilled precision, he slips two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to stroke that elusive soft spot deep within your core. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, the dual assault of his tongue and fingers driving you to the brink of ecstasy. “I’m close Hunter” you moan as he quickens the pace.

“Cum for me mesh’la” he whispers against your wetness gazing up at you, before he leans back in to deliciously suck on your clit thrusting his finger in and out, massaging that soft spongy spot inside you. That was all you needed and with a loud moan, you feel your climax cresting, the waves of pleasure crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you trembling in his grasp, his arms supporting your weight against the wall. Hunter's lips work tirelessly against your swollen flesh, coaxing every last drop of ecstasy from your trembling form as you surrender to the overwhelming feeling.

After sending you into a frenzy of pleasure, Hunter withdraws his fingers from your pulsating core, glistening with your essence and with a hunger still burning in his eyes, he brings them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them clean with an almost reverent fervor, his eyes locked on yours.

As the aftershock of your orgasm subsides he slowly gets up trailing soft kisses up your body, cupping your breast on his way until he reaches your neck. He softly bites into your flesh and you feel his bulge pressing against you again. One hand wrapped around his neck, you reach out with the other one to trail over his bulge and as you feel his thick cock twitch under your touch a soft moan escapes his lips. “This is what you do to me” he whispers in your ear. “Do you know how many mornings I had to get up before you and slip into the fresher to take care of that. You drive me crazy, you know that?" Hunter growls, his eyes dark with desire as he pins you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body pressing himself closer against you. "I want to be inside you, to feel you clenching around me as I make you come undone again." You gaze up at him and reach out, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his blacks to pull them down and finally give his cock the attention he is aching for.

“Not here” he whispers and lifts you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you to his bunk with a tenderness that belies the raw desire burning in his eyes, while the storm outside is raging and tearing on the Marauders hull. Gently laying you down on your side, he quickly strips off his blacks and positions himself behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close into the position you’ve been sleeping in for the last weeks.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifts one of your legs, positioning it just right as he guides his throbbing cock to your slick entrance, teasing you and coaxing a few moans from you already. “Are you ready to take me?” he asks softly, his voice laced with desire.

"I've been aching for you," you admit, your voice coming in shallow gasps “I want to feel every inch of you Hunter”

The sensation of him sliding into you is nothing short of euphoric, every inch of him filling you to the brim as he buries himself deep inside your welcoming heat.

“Fuck," he groans, his voice rough with need as he begins to move slowly, thrusting deep inside you. "Do you know how many nights I have fantasized about taking you like this?" he confesses.

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with eager anticipation. "Show me how much you want me," you gasp, your voice a breathless plea as you urge him on, your hips meeting his with each powerful thrust.

Hunter responds eagerly, increasing the pace as he drives deeper into you, his movements becoming more desperate with every thrust. One arm wrapped around your waist, his other arm reaches out to find your clit, trailing circles around your pearl to increase your pleasure. You can feel the tension building in your body again, the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your core.

"Please," you whimper, your voice filled with need as you chase your release. "Let me cum."

With a low growl, Hunter redoubles his efforts, his movements growing more urgent as he drives you both towards the brink of ecstasy. The intensity of his thrusts sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, the sensations overwhelming as you fully surrender to him. “Come for me cyar’ika” he groans in your ear, pulling out of you until only the tip of his cock rest within you, only to slide back in even deeper than before reaching that extra sweet spot deep within you.

Crying out his name, you tumble over the edge, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like nothing you’ve ever felt before, your walls desperately clenching around him. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks his breath ragged. “Inside” you moan and as the last waves of your orgasm wash over you, you feel his cock tighten with each thrust until he fills you up with his hot, pulsing release, his cum spilling out around his length and onto the sheets beneath you. You feel the warm, sticky wetness coating your thighs and oozing out of you, his cock still inside you, as you cuddle up closer to him. As his cock softens and slowly slips out of you, he savors the sight of his milky cum seeping out of your core, planting gentle kisses along your thighs.

For a blissful moment, you lie entwined in each other's arms, the world around you fading into obscurity as you bask in the warmth of your connection. But soon, reality intrudes, and Hunter's voice breaks through the haze of your afterglow.

"Let's get you cleaned up, before the others come back" he murmurs, his touch gentle as he lifts you into his arms once more, carrying you to the fresher, with a tenderness that speaks volumes of his affection.

As he sets you down, he leans in and kisses you gently, his lips lingering against yours as he whispers sweet loving words. "You're intoxicating for me, cyar’ika, nobody has ever made me feel the way you do" he murmurs, his voice still husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you." His words send another shiver down your spine, and you feel your wetness starting to drip again as desire courses through your veins once more and you look up at him with a hunger not yet sated.

"Mesh’la you seem like you've been starving," he remarks with a playful grin, before stepping into the fresher with you and closing the door behind him, leaving you both enveloped in the dim light of the little cabin.

He steps closer, his hand finding yours and he guides you into the little shower, his eyes never leaving yours. He reaches for the controls and as the hot water starts to flow, steam begins to rise around you. The warmth of the water envelops you both as Hunter presses you against the durasteel wall, his lips finding yours in a loving kiss, your bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. His hands roam eagerly over your body, cupping your breasts, gently pinching your nipples and his kisses leave you breathless.

With a hungry glint in your eyes, you brake away from his embrace and sink to your knees before him, eager to taste him. Taking his throbbing length in your hand, you guide him into your mouth, savoring the salty tang of his skin and the leftover of your mixed juices as you explore him with your tongue. You brush soft kisses against the sensitive skin and slide your flat tongue up against the underside of his cock until you reach the tip.

"Oh cyar’ika, that feels so good," Hunter groans, his fingers tangling in your hair as you take him deeper, teasing him with swirls around the tip. Your mouth works eagerly, lips stretching around him as you take him deep, relishing the way he fills your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and suck gently, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. With each bob of your head, you feel him grow even harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You use your hand to stroke his length, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you eagerly suck him deeper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive underside. Hunter's groans of pleasure spur you on, his hips bucking against your hand as he thrusts into your mouth, seeking more of the exquisite sensation you provide. You tease him mercilessly, tracing patterns along his length and flicking your tongue against his most sensitive spots, driving him to the edge of loosing control. But you’re not ready to let him go just yet and just as he's about to lose himself in the bliss of your touch, you pull away, leaving him panting and desperate for more.

"Not yet," you whisper, your voice husky with desire. "I want you inside me."

With a low growl of approval, Hunter lifts you up effortlessly, pressing your back against the cool steel of the freshers wall. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as he cast one last look deep into your eyes, before he enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation of him filling you up again is almost overwhelming, every inch of him stretching you to your limit as he drives into you again and again, his pace relentless and unyielding.

"Oh fuck, Hunter," you moan, your voice echoing off the walls as pleasure courses through your body, your pussy still sensitive from your last orgasm "don’t hold back. I’m already close”

He obliges, his movements growing more frantic as he chases his own release, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air as you both surrender to the pleasure consuming you.

With a shared cry of ecstasy, you both reach your climax, the intensity of your orgasm vibrating through your whole body and with a low, guttural groan, he spills his seed deep inside you, filling you up with his warmth as you cling to each other, the warm water washing over you. The sensation of him pulsing within you sends another round of shivers coursing through your body, leaving you completely breathless and spent in his arms.

Hunter's touch remains tender and loving as he slowly sets you down, your trembling legs barely supporting your weight. “You've been on my mind constantly, cyar’ika,” he whispers “but I've been holding back, afraid to ruin what we had” He spoils you with soft kisses, washing away the traces of your passionate encounter with gentle hands. And as the warm water cascades over your skin, you can't help but smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship with him. Wrapping your arms around his neck you lean in to kiss him "Hunter," you whisper, gazing deeply into his eyes, "I love you."

As the sounds of the rest of the crew entering the Marauder echo through the ship, you and Hunter find yourselves still in the fresher, knowing there is absolutely no way to conceal what has just taken place. The evidence of your intimate encounter is laying plain to see on Hunter's bunk, the sheets soaked with a mixture of your arousal and his release and your clothes thrown all over the floor.

“Don’t worry” he whispers softly with a kiss on your forehead and wastes no time slipping into a pair of shorts that he fished out from the laundry, offering you one of his sleep shirts as a makeshift cover-up. "Here, take this," he says, his voice soft yet reassuring. "You'll need something until we can get your clothes."

You accept the shirt gratefully, the familiar scent of him providing a sense of comfort amid the impending ridicule from his brothers. “Ready?” Hunter asks with a reassuring smile before he steps out of the fresher and you follow close behind him, bracing yourself for the reactions awaiting you.

As you enter the main area of the Marauder, Hunter's brothers greet you with knowing smiles and playful teasing, your clothes splattered on the floor around them. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Crosshair quips with a mischievous grin, eliciting a chuckle from the others.

Hunter's arm finds it’s way around your waist, pulling you close, a silent gesture of protection as you face their good-natured ribbing. "Just couldn't wait to get cleaned up after the rain, could you?" Crosshair continues to tease toward Hunter.

Despite the light-hearted banter, you can’t help but feel a sense of embarrassment at the thought of your private moment being so blatantly exposed. But with Hunter by your side, offering unwavering support and reassurance, you hold your head high, determined not to let the situation dampen your spirits.

“You’re just jealous” Hunter grumbles to shut Crosshair off “and now stop it, you’re making her uncomfortable, and I will not let that happen” but Tech can’t contain his excitement any longer. "So, does this mean I can finally get rid of the useless extra bunk and put the space to better use?" he interjects eagerly, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Hunter's gaze softens as he turns to you, searching for your confirmation, a look of love and adoration in his eyes. "Yeah, I don’t think we need that anymore," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth as he speaks, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Crosshair grunts and gets up to continue stowing away the supplies they brought in. “My calculations are always correct Hunter” Tech adds with a satisfied smile, before he follows him.

#the bad batch #star wars #the bad batch season 3 #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb season 3 #hunter x reader #tbb fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #wet hunter

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waffles-art-writing · 1 year

Note

Can you do Ghost(mw2) x female reader who is like Yor from spy x family(the jobs she has not the personality)

Female reader also has a child

COD MWII Ghost x Female!Assassin!Reader. (Reader has a child)

Summary: You’re recalled from retirement of being an Assassin, your daughter being your main priority. You end up going back into the field with Task Force 141. After the mainly successful mission, Ghost takes you home after finding out you’re injured but not sever enough to need to go to the medical wing. You share a soft moment with the cold lieutenant, showing the side of the quiet man no one has seen. The next morning the babysitter drops your daughter back home, your young child coming home to a surprise and a face she hasn’t seen since she was a wee babe.

Proofread: Kinda???? Not really

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Female Assassin (AFAB)

Age Rating: 16+

Codename: *Whatever you want it to be*

KEY: Y/N - Your Name. L/N - Last Name. C/N - Codename

Warning/Info: FLUFF!!!! Soft!Ghost, Injury Description, COD Violence, Female!Reader, Weapons. It is reasonably long. Call Of Duty Comic Description of Ghost.

If you want a part 2 please comment!!! <3 :) (PART TWO)

I apologise for the lack of posting, stuff irl has been picking up a lot and I will not be able to post as much as I wish I could. And I am applying for a new job which will result in me having to spend less and less time on here. :( but I’ll update when I can.

A screeching sound pierces through your calm, soundless sleep. The ear piercing sound making you groan, rolling over, smacking your hand onto your nightstand, slapping the screen of your phone. The sound comes to a halt, you look at the time. Eyes widening, you didn’t set the earlier alarm. “Shit shit shit.” You curse out, stumbling to pull on some pants, tossing a shirt over your head as you dash down the hall. Stopping to peek into your daughters room, who is fast asleep, covers pulled up to her chin, a foot sticking out of the bed to the side.

A soft smile spreads across your lips as you look at her. Her hair a mess on the pillow, hands wrapped around her stuffed dog toy, snuggled into it. You move away from the door, continuing on your mission to the bathroom, pulling your hair back into a messy bun. Life has been hectic ever since putting your job as an assassin on hold so you can have your daughter, and not end up losing her cause you’re not around enough. Only two people knew about you and your daughter, both of them still working well and truly.

You flick on the bright light in the bathroom, you look towards the mirror. Dark circles rest under your eyes, hair tousled and messy despite it being pulled up in a messy bun. You lean against the bathroom counter, turning the tap on to brush your teeth. Suddenly your phone vibrates, the sound echoing around the cold room, almost amplifying the sound. You tap the green button on the screen not looking who it was.

“Hello?” You answer, your voice quiet to not wake your daughter.

“Morning L/N.” The deep gravely voice of Price comes from the speakers, it almost sends a chill down your spine. You haven’t been called this early by him in a long while. “Morning John, is there something you need?” You cut straight to the point, not wanting to beat around the bush as to why he is calling you so early in the morning, on a week day of all days.

“Straight to the point as always I see. Yes, we need your expertise for an overview of a mission- Yes I know, before you even complain I know you aren’t in the field anymore, or thats what most say but Laswell says otherwise.” You roll your eyes, of course he would know you still do the occasional job but you haven’t done one for years, you aren’t even sure as to how he thinks you could help. “Mission Overview? What could I possibly help with?” You question, your hands running under the cold water to splash it onto your face.

“Its an Capture or kill mission and if the time comes and we, y’know gotta send the target on their merry way to an early grave, we want you to give us an idea on how we should do it.”

“And why can’t you guys figure it out?”

“L/N we need you for this, its a complicated mission… I myself want you in the field and execute this yourself…”

You sigh, running a hand down your face. You worked for KorTac - a mercenary group - and you assisted Price and his team the Task Force 141 on occasion. But you mainly worked solo, the Task Force 141 never met you, other than Price and Laswell. You met Ghost as well, you both stay in contact occasionally, only in case of emergencies… well more like, needing a ride from the base back home on the very rare occasion he decides to go home.

“Pay?” You ask.

“Whatever your rate is, kid.” He replies.

“Good. I’ll be there in 3 hours.” You hear Price reply with confirmation before hanging up the phone. Your fingers drum against the counter.

Okay, cool, doing another job, nothing new right? Just been out of the field for a few years, just gotta warm up a bit thats all… Right?

———

“Okay behave, don’t do anything silly and listen to your teachers. And remember to listen to Amber’s parents okay? Have a good day and a fun sleepover.” You say to your daughter - Emilia - kissing her forehead. “Yep!” She chimes, a smile spread across her cheeks, her braids neatly tucked up into a ponytail. “Good, Love you.” You smile, pulling her into a hug. “Love you too Mama.” She squeezes her arms around your neck, your crouched form still larger than her. Once you let go, she waves goodbye, running into school towards her friends. You smile, quickly turning around to walk towards the car park.

You make your way towards the dark blue sedan you bought far too long ago, still surprised it still works. Your face falls when you see a figure leaning against the hood of it, hands in their pockets, clad in black. Including a cap and what looks like a skull balaclava. You sigh, knowing who it is. Its not a common thing to see people walk around in a skull print mask and clad in full black.

“Lieutenant…” You greet when you reach him, he stands up and nods to you. “C/N…. Or should I call you Miss L/N?” He pokes, his dead pan tone not helping his remark to come across as teasing. You shake your head with a smile, unlocking the car. “I’m assuming you’ve been sent to make sure I end up coming right?”

Ghost shrugs, a small nod accompanying it. “We can’t be too careful…” He states, climbing into the passenger seat as you get into the drivers side. “Right… whatever you say Ghost.” You huff, buckling yourself in as you pull out of the car parking.

———

“The mission will be tough, but I brought an old acquaintance along to help us plan out a strategy. Boys, meet C/N. She has worked with me in the past and used to work for the Mercenary ground KorTac, she now works solo for the government.” Price states as you stand at the front of the room.

“Hello, Yes before you ask I’m what some call an ‘assassin’. I work solo but I haven’t worked in the field for some years now, as I have had other things going on. But I am still qualified to assist you boys in any way to make sure this mission is a success.” You pause, locking eyes with Ghost, he knows you’re nervous to be here again. You continue to inform them the best strategies for them to be able to do this unnoticed, especially while inside.

———

It’s the day of the mission, you managed to get a babysitter for Emilia. She wasn’t all too happy about you leaving for a few days, but you said you’ll be back in not time, and have a gift for her. Which is partly true, you just hope nothing goes south and cause you to stay away longer than you planned. You want to be back by the weekend, or at least before the new school week starts.

Your plan to stay out of the field didn’t last long, Gaz ended up falling sick with food poisoning, pretty bad food poisoning from the amount of time he spent in the bathroom or medical bay yesterday. Still having an upset gut this morning when you arrived at an ungodly hour in the morning, having just dropped Emilia off at the baby sitters.

The team is communicating back and forth over the comms, you’ve managed to infiltrate the building where the target is. The slick walls on the outside not making the job easier. You are definitely a lot less fit than what you thought you were, but still fit enough to keep up with the team and your job on this mission.

Assassinate the target, and get the hell home.

Simple right? Yeah really simple, if it wasn’t a great big warehouse like building with barely any cover or high points for you to use to your advantage.

———

“Got eyes on the target.” You whisper into the comms, slinking along the beams that support the A-Frame ceiling of the warehouse. “Copy that, Ready when you are C/N.” Price states, Ghost and Soap stating something of confirmation.

You step lightly across the beam, your light footwork going unnoticed by the man littering the floor below you. There’s a catwalk just below you, one armed guard standing at a door that leads into the office where your target sits, back to the door and window that overviews the factory.

The guard walks up and down the cat walk intermittently, observing everything below him. Never above him. How stupid.

As soon as the guard passes by under you, reaching a part in the catwalk railing that’s solid sheet metal. You jump down, landing lightly on your feet, the sounds of the factory drowning out your movement. Crouched low you sneak up behind him, slicing the backs of legs, right through the tendons that keep him standing. You spring up, hand covering his mouth to keep him silent. Other arm wrapping around to the front, quick jerk to the side. Lights out.

You gently lay his limp body down, tucking him up against the metal barrier.

“Guards out, preparing to breach the targets office.” You communicate. “Be careful C/N.” Ghost states over the Comms, both him and Soap just downstairs at the entrance, ready to breach if anything goes sideways. “Always am.” You hear Soap snort at your reply as Price growls at you all to focus.

Your skilful hands test the door, it doesn’t budge, the window that’s just a foot or two away from the edge of the cat walk is open. Either pick lock the door and risk getting caught with your back to the open or swing in through the open window and possibly fall and either hurt your self, die, or break all your bones then die by one of the other guards bullets. Either way you could end up dead.

Window.

Quickest way in.

———

The mission was a success, you managed to get into the room, secure the target and kill them. Clean and quietly. Getting out was a different mission entirely, one of the guards spotted the fact they couldn’t see another guard on the cat walk. They investigated and found the slumped body of the dead guard. Immediately yelling for the alarm to be pulled.

Ghost and Soap busted in to draw their attention to them and away from the office, all you had to do was get the fuck out and get to the extraction point. You managed to slip out the window on the far side of the office, but not without being nicked by the a few bullets.

You manage to sprint across the roof, throwing yourself off the edge and landing on top of a large truck with a large thump. You cough harshly, feeling like your ribs got smashed by a sledge hammer. You stumble to your feet, slipping off the side of the truck and sprinting towards the back fence of the compound, you glance to your right, seeing Ghost and Soap climbing the wall quickly. You fling yourself into the fence, dragging yourself over the top, thankful theres not barbed wire.

“C/N? You good?” Soap calls over the comms, you can hear he’s breathless, the faint sound of Ghost in the background barking orders out to the extraction chopper to start the engine. “Y-Yeah…” You wheeze, rushing through the brush of the forest, weaving in and out of trees heading uphill towards the small clearing the chopper is situated in. Your lungs burn, the cold air stinging your eyes and cheeks. The adrenaline numbing the pain in your leg and arm, your ribs still feeling like you’re wearing a corset.

You stumble into the clearing, Ghost and Soap a few paces ahead, the lieutenant spins around. Noticing you’ve arrived, Soap running to the chopper. You nod to Ghost as you approach, Ghost waits for you to pass before following after you into the chopper. You slump down into the uncomfortable chair of the helicopter, adjusting to keep your ribs from being pushed on by the seat strap.

Both the men ask if you’re okay, you wave them off chuckling while wheezing out a “Just a little unfit is all.” Soap chuckles, Ghost just shakes his head lightly, moving forward to signal for the chopper to get you all out of there.

———

Once back in England and on base you get a phone call from the babysitter a normal thing, it’s almost eight thirty in the evening “Hello?” You ask, bringing the phone to your ear as you walk down path towards the entrance of the base, car parked not too far front he entrance. “Hey Miss L/N! Lizzie here, I was just gonna put Emilia to bed. Are you free to talk to her?” The babysitter Lizzie states, it’s almost like a nightly ritual. Every night that you’re not home, whoever is looking after your daughter will call to see if your available to say goodnight to Emilia.

“Yeah I’m free.” You state, stopping at the end of the path by the entrance of the main building, sitting down on the bench outside. You hear Lizzie talking to Emilia, your daughter sounding tired but excited. “MAMA!” She calls through eh phone, you smile a and laugh lightly hearing your daughters voice warms your heart, her sweet voice making you happy. “Hey pumpkin. You behaving?” You ask her, having a teasing tone. “Yeah! We got to watch a movie while eating dinner!” She states happily, you smile listening to her talk about what happened throughout the day.

The door opens and closes, Ghost slips out into the cold evening. His eyes spot you off to the side, its dusk, the flood lights not coming on just yet. He can see your breath in the cold air, billowing out past your lips. His own breath billowing out into the air as he pulls his mask up, he leans against the small wall of the entrance staircase. He shoves he cigarette between his lips, cupping his hands around the flame of the lighter. He hears your laugh, it echos into the evening air. Its warm and light to his ears, his eyes flick up to watch you. He’s too far away to hear what you’re talking about.

You bid Emilia goodnight, shutting off your phone as you shoved it into your jacket pocket. Sighing as you search your small duffle bag for your keys, knowing you threw them in there. You wince, groaning as you lean over, gripping your side with ragged breaths.

Ghost pushes off the wall as soon as he sees you double over on the bench, showing pain. “Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He mumbles, flicking his cigarette in front of his boot and stomping it out. Stopping over the smouldering ashes to crouch down in front of you, pulling his mask down quickly as he kneels. “C/N what’s wrong?” He asks, his voice stern as he looks at your scrunched face, pain obvious across your expression. “My ribs- I… I thought they were just bruised.” You wheeze out, sitting back to look at him. His hands ghost over your knees as he stands, sitting next to you.

“Let me check, we don’t want you to go home with broken bones. Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, motioning for you to shrug off your jacket. “Just a few grazes from a bullet but I handled them, they weren’t deep.” You groan, pulling your jacket off, your thick jersey and shirt thankfully being warm enough in the crisp air. “Okay, may I touch your ribs? Under your jumper?” The taller man asks, you nod your head turning slightly so your back is facing him. His glove clad hands snake under your jersey and shirt, ghosting over your waist up to your ribs.

“Did you land on your back or front?” He asks, his fingers delicately pressing against your rib cage. “Front, kinda threw myself off the roof onto a truck roof…” you state, flinching when his hands snake around to your front, right under the hem of your sports bra. Rough gloves pressing into your ribs. You wine, flinching away from his hands. “Ow- Watch it lieutenant…” you snap, your body disagreeing with your sudden movements. “M’sorry” he mumbles, he pulls his hands back. Laying your jacket across your shoulders again. “Well nothing is broken from what I could tell, but you’re not driving.” He states, standing from his spot next to you and grabbing your duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You look at him confused, a brow raise as you slip your arms through eh jacket again, fixing your jersey and shirt in the process. You stand, looking up at the large man. “What? I need to get home, what the hell do you mean Ghost?” You ask, tone almost angry. “I’m driving you home, you shouldn’t drive when you have damaged ribs.” He states, keeping his explanation to a minimum. You sigh shaking your head as you follow him, he ready knows where your car is. You both arrived in the same vehicle so thankfully he remembered where you parked.

———

The drive back to your place was quiet, the occasional question, or observation. Ghost helps you out of your car, his hand ghosting over the small of your back guiding you up the stairs of the small apartment. “You didn’t have to walk me to my door, Ghost.” You state, unlocking the door and pushing the door open. Toeing off your boots by the door and dumping your bag on the couch as you walk past it, Ghost follows you in, leaving his boots by the door while closing it and locking it. He immediately walks towards your bathroom, he’s been here a few times, he knows the layout like the back of his hand. “Ghost? The hell are-” “Finding your med kit, take your shirt off, I need to properly check your ribs.” You stare down the corridor towards the bathroom with a shocked expression. You throw your coat over the back of the couch, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, passing it towards your bedroom at the end of the hallway. “I’m in my room just so you know.” You call out, grabbing the hem of your jersey, wincing when you tug it up.

You jump at the feeling of calloused hands resting over yours. “G-Ghost?” You stutter, feeling his presence behind you, his breathing quiet and muffled by his mask. “Let me help.” He offers, more like stating he is going to help you even if you deny it. You lift your arms above your head, wincing at the movement. He tugs the heavy fabric carefully over your head, throwing it over to the hamper in the corner. You wince you turn around, looking up at the taller man. “Why… Why are you doing this?” You ask, brows furrowed.

“You go n’one else to help you, and I know that you wouldn’t get help.” He states, gently pulling your dark shirt up and over your head as well, your sports bra on full display. Ghost’s eyes linger on your chest for a second before quickly adverting his eyes to the medkit on your bed. “Sit down.” He mumbles as he opens the small bag, kneeling down in front of you. You sit with your arms tucked around your stomach, conscious of how you look.

You have always been conscious of your body, especially after your pregnancy. Your tummy never got back to as toned and flat as it was before. Stretch marks paint your hips and thighs, and your lower abdomen like tiger stripes, rough to the touch and unpleasant to look at. Ghost grabs the anti inflammatory cream from the kit, pulling his gloves off and warming the cream up in his hands. You stare at the movement of his hands, mind wandering to thoughts you never thought you would have again.

What would his hands feel like, I wonder if his touch is soft - he lays wears gloves maybe he has soft hands? Maybe they are rough, like his personality. What his he doesn’t like what I look like and thinks I’m disgusting, what if he thinks pathetic for being in pain. What if-

“Y/n?” Ghost asks, he’s being saying your name for the past few moments. You snap your attention back to him, letting out a small ‘huh?’ When you notice him looking at you with slightly furrowed brows. “Can I put the cream on?” He asks, his voice quiet, his hands resting on your legs, palms facing up with the cream smeared across them. “Oh… uh yeah…” A small blush of embarrassment paints your cheeks as you sit straighter, arms resting across your tummy. Ghost watches you sit up properly, reluctant to move your arms. He attempts to work around your arms, gently spreading the cream across your ribs. His hands are calloused but his touch his soft but firm enough to make sure the cream spreads.

“…Love, I need you to move your arms…” He states softly, his eyes looking up to yours, his soft with concern. You furrow your brows, looking away as you move your arms, the yellow light from your lamp glowing softly across your skin. The light bumped stretch marks marring your skin, the deep colour a large contrast against the rest of your skin, most of them have lightened but a few are still dark. You flinch when you feel his hands move lower along your rib cage.

He hasn’t said anything, quiet, like always, eyes analysing everything he is doing in great detail.

He finishes rubbing the cream in after gently lifting the side of your sports bra to get under the cloth, gently massaging the cream into your sore body. “Its still going to be bruise to shit, you’ll have to be careful…” He mumbles, he gently takes your left arm into his hands, peeling back the bandage you haphazardly wrapped around while back on the base. He smears the residue of the cream around the wound, “You did a good job at cleaning it…. Just half assed bandage” he teases lightly, re wrapping your arm with a clean bandage.

You shrug, handing your head, eyes trained on his knee thats pressing into the plush carpet of your room. The same carpet you paid too much money for and installed it yourself while almost 3 months pregnant. A lot of tears have been shed on this carpet, some blood but mainly tears. You hear him say something, your mind elsewhere as you mindlessly shake your head. Not a hundred percent sure on what you were disagreeing too.

You never noticed how detailed his tattoo is, its on display as he takes his jacket off, rolling his long sleeve up. The permanent ink thats been delicately painted into his skin stand out against the rest of his pale skin tone. The scars he’s gained after the tattoo break the ink in small lines, mostly the ink has stayed. His hands are large, rough but gentle. He’s always been a tough and scary man on the outside but you can see he has the same needs as anyone else. Love, affection and care… even partnership. Yes he has the team but he needs something more, but he’s scared, hesitant. Horrified if he gets too attached or too close with someone he cares about he will lose them, he’s terrier he will do the wrong thing, scare them off, pained himself in the a bad light he’s always been known to hold.

Ghost eventually gets to check the bullet graze on your thigh, its shallow. Still needing antibiotic cream and a new bandage, your track pants that unzip up your mid thigh are scrunched up around your hips and upper thigh as he works on your injury. Mumbling something as you hold the clothing out of the way.

“…Can you stay the night?”

Ghost’s movements cease for a brief moment, his breathing stilling as he glances up at you then back down at the bandage he’s wrapping around your thigh. You stay silent, looking at him. Hands itching to do something, but you can’t.

“…Sure…” he replies after a moment.

You nod your head, happy that he agreed. A little anxious despite the fact you know him, he knows you. Fuck he even knows your daughter since she was a wee babe, but hasn’t seen her for some years. She probably won’t remember him at all. She was barely three when he met her, she’s now turning six in a week.

Ghost zips your track pants back up, pulling the fabric down your leg. His hands linger on your covered calf. Fingers pressing in the muscle gently as he stares blankly. You can see he’s thinking, thinking to the point of being motionless. You lean forward, ignoring the slight pain thats throbbing throughout your body. You reach down a tap his hand thats on your calf, knowing he isn’t fond of physical touch. “Ghost…” you whisper, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

He snaps his head up to look at you, eyes set at a hard glare which soften slightly when he realises its you. You give him a soft smile. “You okay?” You ask softly, his hands falling away from your calf, the warmth going with it. You miss it, the comforting weight and warmth of his large hands gripping your calf. He nods his head as he cleans his throat, standing to clean up the med kit and discard of the old bandages. “Yeah, I’ll be right back… Get uh…” he pauses glancing over at you when he turns to walk to the door. “Change and get into bed, I’ll get you water an a pain killer.” He states, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Ghost shuts the door softly, careful to not slam it. He glances down at his watch. 2245 (10:45pm) he groans quietly, nudging the bathroom door open again the put the med kit back in the sink cabinet.

Why the hell did I agree to stay? What the fuck is wrong with me? Her skin was so soft… Her stretch marks were fucking amazing- FUCK I can’t think like this. I need to stop thinking like this, we are friends… are we even friends? What is she hates me and Is only offering for me to stay out of sympathy or it being late? God she has a kid, I can’t just barge into their life and be the man they see with their mother. I’m not a go-

His thoughts get cut short when he spots a photo of the fridge door, one side of it ripped, torn off. He reaches up and slides it out from under the sunflower magnet. The photo is of you, smiling as bright as the sun thats beaming in through the tree tops. Emilia is cradled in your arms, clearly only a few months old. Her big eyes beaming in sunlight, same colour as yours. Ghost’s fingers trace the ripped edge of the photo, he knew who was supposed to be there. He quickly pins it back to the fridge before taking the pain killers and water to your room.

———

You watch as Ghost places the bottle of water and pain killers on the bedside table. You’re sitting in bed, bag t-shirt and shorts. You look up at ghost, patting the bed next to you. Ghost stares for a moment, shocked you want him in your bed and not to just crash on the couch.

He opens his mouth to deny but you beat him to it. “You aren’t sleeping on that piece of shit couch, you’re staying in here with me. And thats final.” You state, tone firm. Ghost looks from you to the open space on the king sized bed next to you. His eyes flickering back and forth over and over again. “Sleeping on top of the blankets.” He mumbles out, knowing we won’t be able to get past your stubborn attitude, you’re a mother. You know how to get your way. You smile, a soft one of reassurance. You throw a spare shirt at him and point towards the box in the corner.

“Stole this from you a year ago cause you forgot to take it with you after you did your washing here…” You chuckle lightly, “The box should have some basketball shorts or something you can wear. They were my brothers that he gave to me when I was pregnant cause they were bigger than my clothes.” Ghost just nods, crouching down in front of the box and searching through it, he knows you would be angry at him if he slept in his clothes he wore that day.

He looks over at you then towards the lamp next to you, you get the idea and turn over. Back facing him, hand resting on the switch to turn it off as soon as you feel the bed dip behind you. It feels like an eternity for him to lay on the bed, even though he’s on top of the covers. You can hear a small groan emitting from his side of the bed, you flick the switch. The room delving into darkness, the only light peeking out from under our door, the nightlight that sits in the hallway for Emilia happily lighting under the dark corridor.

It quiet, apart from your breathing and Ghost’s muffled breaths, and the starting pitter patter of rain hitting the window. You turn to lay on your back, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“Thank you.”

Your soft words break the silence, Ghost looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s laying like a dead man, straight as board, hands clasped together over his stomach as he looks towards the ceiling.

He hums in response, he turns his head to look at you properly, the dim light from the hallway making it practically impossible to see anything, but his eyes have adjusted easily. He reaches over to clasp your hand thats resting on your own stomach overtop the blankets. Squeezing it softly, letting you know he heard you. A small smile creeps up onto your lips. You turn onto your side, facing him now. He copies your action, bodies mirroring each other as your hands lay clasped together between the two of you. You let out a small sigh, his hand squeezes yours when he hears the heavy breath.

“Emilia would’ve jumped in between us if she was here, she doesn’t like when it starts raining late at night.” You state, smiling to yourself as you trace Ghost’s broad silhouette in the dark room. The small amount of light peeking through the thing curtains behind him on the far side of the room. “So she’s scared of rain?” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the quiet, the gravel in his voice hoarse but still has a soft tone to it as he tries to talk quietly.

You shrug, unsure what she’s actually scared of. “I think it’s more when it suddenly pours down and it’s dark, the sound and lack of light scares her.” You hum, still trying to figure out what your daughter is scared of, even though you have reassure her many times that its just rain. You hear the deep rumble of Ghost making a humming like sound, like he’s thinking.

“Well… I’m sure there’s no monsters, you’re scary enough” he teases, squeezing your hand. You feign hurt, gasping and swatting his chest lightly. A giggle leaving you, a small, breathy almost non existent chuckle rumbles from Ghost’s chest. “God, if the Ghost thinks I’m scary, I really must be.” You laugh, teasing him back. Your ribs hurt from your laughter, but you’re too caught up in the fact you are hearing the one and only Lieutenant Riley laughing, laying on your bed, your hand in his.

“Nah, yer alright. You’re scary, but not as scary as Price when he hasn’t had his morning coffee” he jokes, tugging you closer slightly, he’s still on top of the blankets. His arm wrapping around your waist, careful on your sore ribs. “That’s true.” You agree, laughing softly as you place a hand on his chest, feather lightly touches run along your back. Your head tucked under his chin, his mask still on. Thankfully he didn’t wear the hard skull one and just a simple fabric one with a skull print.

Your laughter slowly ceases, breathing going back to normal. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you speak up again.

“Thank you again… This means a lot Ghost.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Simon…”

“What?”

“Call me Simon…”

Your eyes widen at his words, a warm feeling flooding your chest as you tuck your face into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Thank you Simon.”

“Anytime Y/n”

His words were barely a whisper, you fall back into silence. Its nice, the heat from his body keeping you warm, eating your pain in a way you didn’t think was possible. The pain killers probably taking most the credit for the lack of pain, yet the sense of security and comfort falls over you. Your eyes slide shut, breathing evening out as sleep pulls you into the depths of slumber.

“Goodnight, Love.”

————

You walk out of your room, hair messy, rubbing your eyes, feet padding across the hardwood of the hallway. Mind still in sleep mode. You round the corner into the kitchen from the hallway, bumping into something… more like someone. You wobble as you lose your balance, arms snake around your waist quickly, pulling you close.

“Careful, I don’t wanna take you to the hospital cause you broke your ass.” A deep voice chuckles, you look up, bleary eyed and confused. “O-Oh… Sorry Gho- Simon…” You apologies, rubbing a hand down your face with a groan, leaning your forehead against his chest. He’s changed into his cargo pants from the day before, same shirt from last night. It fits a little tight across his chest and his biceps but not too tight.

“Drinks on the coffee table, go sit down.” He states, his voice still laced with sleep. You look at him confused, glancing over at the coffee table. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.” You state, walking over to the couch and slumping into it.

“I’m not the one who looks like I got ran over by a bus.” He teases as he walks over, bowl of fruit in hand and more painkillers and a glass of water. You thank him as he hands them to you, he sits next to you on the couch. “Feeling any better?” He asks, voice quiet. You nod your head, scooping some fruit into your mouth. The comfortable quiet gets broken by a knock at the door, you jump from your spot. “Shit” you mumble around a mouthful of fruit. “That’s Lizzie with Emilia.” You state stumbling from the couch, placing the bowl of fruit on the table, throwing your hair back into some sort of up-do. Simon stands from his spot, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Sit back down, I’ll get it.” He states, turning to go to the door.

“Wait Simon you still got-” you were gonna say hes still got his mask on, it will scare Lizzie and Emilia and confused them both as well. But your words die in your throat as you watch him tug it over his head, stuffing it in his pocket. You didn’t realise until now he must’ve washed the black war paint off when he got up. You watched in stunned silence, the man who never takes the mask off, ever. Has now taken it off, his dark short cut hair on display.

With baited breath you watch as the door opens, Lizzie coming into view with Emilia standing next to her gripping her hand. Lizzie looks up at the taller male with wide eyes, filled with confusion. You’re too shocked to register any words being exchanged between the two, you’re shaken from your trance when Simon turns to face you with a small smile. Jaw covered with a light stubble, dark chocolate eyes, a small scar cuts into his brow, two other scars rest just above his other brow. His nose is sharp, jawline defined. On his left another scars cuts through his top lip going up to the outer edge of his nose. There’s a another scar that paints his skin from the bridge of his nose trailing to the right, ending on his cheek bone below his eyes.

“MAMA!” Emilia screams, snapping you out of the trance properly. You crouched down catching her in your arms, ignoring the fact she just rammed straight into your heavily bruised ribs. “Hey pumpkin! I missed you so much.” Emilia wraps her arms around your neck, legs clinging to your waist like a koala as you stand up. Your arms scooped under her to support her properly as you walk over to stand next to Simon. “Thanks a lot Lizzie. I’ll go get your pay-” Simon stops you from moving towards the kitchen island to get your wallet. “Already paid her.” He states, hand resting on your lower back as you look up at him. Emilia looks between the two of you smiling. Lizzie waves it off and says shes happy to do it again, you bid her goodbye and close the door.

Emilia dragged Simon off to her room while you talked to Lizzie, saying something about wanting to show him her stuffed toys. You thank Lizzie again, showing your appreciation for her looking after your daughter. Once you closed the door, you stroll down the hallway. Hearing the rumbling timbre of Simon’s voice softly echoing around the apartment. You reach Emilia’s room, leaning against the door frame, you bite your tongue to not giggle at the sight in front of you.

There’s stands, Simon Ghost Riley, Clad in black cargo pants and a dark grey shirt. Sitting Criss Cross Apple Sauce on the floor, the pastel pink fluffy rug below him a strong contrast to his clothing. Emilia is rambling on about her stuff toys, pulling each stuffed animal off her bed to show the large man. Simon’s eyes are soft, just the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he nods along to Emilia’s words.

“And this one is Burt! He’s a water dragon! See!” The young girl states, a large smile on her face, cheeks rosy from excitement to showing a new person her toys. “Nice to meet you Burt.” Simon greets the toy, probably the umpteenth one he has greeted in the span of five minutes. “Nice to meet you too Mr. Simon!” Emilia states, hanging her voice to sound like a boyish drawl. You can’t help but chuckle at this, walking into the room when they both look over at you.

“I see your toys like Mr. Simon quite a lot, sweetheart.” You smile, taking a seat on the ground, knees tucked beneath you. Emilia smiles, nodding her head as she grabs another toy, leaving the small blue dragon next to Simon, like the rest of the toys she’s shown him so far. “She’s very confident and friendly for a kid.” Simon quietly states, keeping his voice low to talk to you. You nod and shrug your shoulders, a small smirk on your lips. “Yeah, I guess so. She always has been.”

“Mr. Simon… are you staying the night?” Emilia ask’s suddenly, gripping her favourite stuffed dog, in her hands. Simon looks from the young girl to you, in which you just nod to Emilia. “If your mum says I can.” He states, his tone soft. Emilia’s eyes light up, she jumps towards you, pressing the dog toy into your chest. “Please mama! Please please please! Can he stay!” She asks, more like demands. You laugh lightly, scooping the young girl up in your arms. Cradling her against you, humming in a a question manner. “Hmmm. I don’t see why not. SO yes, he can stay.” You conclude, laughing when Emilia squeals in excitement. “Thank you thank you!” She dashes from her spot in your arms, towards her bedroom door. “I gotta go build a fort for movies! Don’t come over till I’m done!” She states, dashing towards the living room, her bare feet pounding against the hardwood.

“Well… Look’s like you have a fan.” You tease the quiet man, a small smile on your lips as your eyes soften when you see him. His large and scarred hands softly gripping the small dragon toy in his hands. “Seem’s so… Guess I’m going to be spending more time here.” He states, standing as he places the toy back on the bed. You stand next to him, leaning up and leaving a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you…” you softly state, placing a hand on his upper arm before leaving the room when you hear Emilia yell something about needing help.

Simon watches you leave, a hand ghosting over his cheek. His chest tightening with emotion, it feels tight but its almost comforting. He shakes his head as he follows you out, planning to help Emilia with her ‘fort’.

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