rusted-pipe-of-wisdom · 1 year ago
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not done duneposting
isn't it fucked up how in the first book, the role of love is that of one force intertwined with so many others and in the end it's just another justification for the terrible things humans do to each other
but in messiah it's the narrative bat with which herbert bonks his characters on the head screaming, "you dumb!! you loved and were loved, and there was nothing else of remotely comparable value in your short stupid life!!! all your accomplishments are dust except for the love you were given!!!!! you dumb!!!!!!"
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thegoodficslivehere · 2 years ago
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So I usually just reblog fics I really love or appreciate it would want to read again here but I also might write fic?? I've got so many ideas buzzing and the current brainworm is Call of Duty (despite having never played the damn game!) and I have an incredibly excellent idea for it!! It's fairly self indulgent but I want to share it because I'm sure others will take joy in it too.
Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?
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angelsworks · 9 months ago
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Goldilocks and the Four Bears
I haven’t written for the cod fandom yet so all the 141 might be terribly out of character. In fact I haven’t written for a while. I appreciate all the people that still read my work and continue to support me. I hope you’re all doing well :)
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Poly!141 x reader
Masterlist -> Here (will be made later :))
Warnings: 18+, mature themes, descriptions of torture, injuries and mistreatment, etc
Summary: After escaping from your last mission that had gone terribly wrong, your stumble through the woods leads you to a log cabin.
It was snowing. Fucking snowing.
Any belief in a deity had been long since crushed after the last few months. Well you thought it had been months. Your captors (a small but deadly terrorist group) had failed to provide you with your own calendar and clock. Much like how they had failed to provide you with new clothes to replace your own, that had been ripped and torn and become tattered to the eye.
It was stolen clothes you now wore as you made your escape. Trudging slowly through the already six inch snow, your thoughts trailed to the fresh snow adding to the existing six inches. The size 12 pair of boots were rubbing at your heels with increasing vigour. Leading you to contemplate if bruised skin could blister or not. The guard you’d killed as part of your escape had been good for one thing. Or three things actually. The ill-fitting boots, a loose pair of combat trousers and long sleeved compression shirt.
As you made your way through the terrain you felt a cold chill steadily working it’s way up your trouser leg. Slowly, spreading across the flesh, affecting any skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the trouser material. It made you wish you’d waited for a guard more similar to your stature. While the compression shirt was better than nothing, it was still thin. The flimsy seeming material now doing little to ward off the cold.
Maybe the sudden awareness of the less than ideal weather conditions wasn’t down to your stolen clothes, but the sudden loss of adrenaline. How long had you been running now? Well trudging desperately through the snow, making your way further and further into the thick forrest and fauna.
It was hard to try and map where you’d been, what direction you’d walked in and where you’d come from. It was all white. Every tree looked the same. Every incline became and decline and you’d become disoriented.
Months of abuse, of torture, ofpain. All ignored for a few short hours as you willed your aching body forward. Through trees and snow and stone. Through anything that would put you at a greater distance from them, from Miasma.
They hadn’t transported you. At least you were mostly sure. When you blacked out, you woke in the same dingy cell, on the same dingy floor. Only covered in more bruises or cuts. So you hoped you were where this all started. In Slovenia.
You’d done solo missions before. It was easier that way. One man in, one man out. No one to turn on you or leak information. With Gunner in your ear, nothing ever went wrong. Until it did.
Your objective was to gather intel. To stay under the radar before formulating the next attack. While sneaking around you’d learned just how large their operation was. In turn you’d also learned just how large their base was.
The small outpost hid underground levels. That became clear after your covert operation was blown and you were dragged down to the very heart of the multi-storey building.
Each day (if that’s what you could call them) gave you no indication of the time of day or how much time had passed. They made sure of that. In fact it was the first time in months you’d seen the light of day.
The light that you noticed was now fading apparently, as you looked desperately up into the sky. Grey clouds had rolled in, covering the majority of the sky. The sun was still peaking out from the dense overcast that was rolling further forward. Soon the sky would be covered and the snow fall would quicken.
A few miles back you were struck that no one from Miasma had followed you. You’d expected armed guards to be shooting at you and angry dogs to be tearing at your ankles. Yet you’d had no chase.
Maybe they knew you would get nowhere in the climate. That you’d be weakened by the terrain and from the violence you’d endured. They were right of course. But you didn’t let it stop you.
Even now as you’d gone further, you still felt the burning desire to survive. Granted it dwindled under the ache of your body and the never ending valley of white before you. But you wanted to live. You wanted your revenge.
The final rays of the sun had been clouded and the snow started to pick up. At least your footprints would be covered under the fresh snow. Not that it mattered if all your footprints lead to was a frozen corpse.
Flexing your fingers, you found yourself wishing for gloves. Your toes were long past numb and every injury you’d endured felt like it was waking up. Old cuts that had turned to scars felt fresh, bruises that had yellowed felt like they’d returned to their starting purple colour. Your felt heavy. You felt dense. You felt tired.
Your desire to drive on had dwindled now. The once raging fire was now only a candle. A candle that was down to its wick. The wax around it long since melted and now it was to its edge. Trying to burn the glue that chained it in place. The image made you crave warmth even more.
Was this it?
All the work you’d put in over the years. From a child you had trained for a mission you didn’t fully understand. A mission that belonged to someone else, to Gunner. He’d turned you into a soldier, his perfect soldier.
Is this how his perfect soldier died?
No it wasn’t.
So despite your blue fingers, numb toes and foggy mind, you push on. Just a little further, you tell yourself. Past these trees, past this stream, past more trees.
Your doubts evaporate when you come upon a clearing. You find a decent space boarded by snow dusted trees from all sides. They stand tall, seemingly acting as natural walls to protect those inside. The grass is covered in undisturbed snow. It’s thick and white and makes you smile.
None of it matter though because sitting in the middle of it all if your salvation.
A log cabin.
You consider the sight to be a mirage. Created from and low blood sugar, dehydration and desperation. But you trudge on, almost to a stumble speed, as you reach for the door handle.
It’s unlocked.
Despite any moral compass telling you that breaking and entering or trespassing is wrong, you ignore it. You’re hurt, aching and this is a last resort.
You close the thick wooden door behind you. Taking note of the copious locks it has. When you move inside the cabin you find that no one’s home. As quietly as you can on stiff legs, you sneak around the house. Trying to wake up the instincts you’d been trained on.
Enter a room, check your surroundings, check again. Don’t assume anywhere is empty. Threats could be hiding around any corner.
So for each room of the ground floor you do just that. Open door, check the rooms, move on. From your searching you’ve found a large living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a toilet some sort of office/drawing room. The decor gives you no clue as to who’s house you’ve invaded. There are no pictures of people, no personal possessions. It feels surreal. And wrong.
To start with you go back to the living room. Using the large fireplace, stockpile of logs and matches, you start a fire.
Again, better sense would tell you to avoid such an action. To avoid alerting anyone of your presence here. But you decide to put sense aside in a bid for survival. If you didn’t get warm soon you were sure you’d be frozen soon.
Next you go to the kitchen. You rifle through the cupboard in an attempt to find something edible. To your surprise you find the place to be well stocked. Even going as far as having fresh milk in the fridge. The sight confuses you. Send alarm bells ringing in your ears.
There are products in the fridge that are in date. Fresh products. Yet no one is home. It doesn’t make sense.
As you empty a can of soup into a pan you realise, it doesn’t need to. You’re happy to play stupid and see this as all some sort of blessing, some miracle.
While the soup cooks you fill a glass with clean, cold water. Relishing in the taste of something fresh. When you’ve downed the first glass you refill it again. This time with an intention to make it last longer.
After the first spoonful you find that you like vegetable soup very much. Almost burning your mouth as you devour it in a few minutes. Immediately it feels as though you’ve been recharged. The warmth from the fire has spread throughout the ground floor, your fingers have warmed around the bowl of soup and your body no longer feels related to a glacier.
The sky only darkens as you sit by the fire. Basking in the warmth and taking a moment to rest for the first time in months. You don’t imagine ever leaving your spot on the floor. But the promise of a bed upstairs has you moving your legs in that direction.
Before your ascent to the second floor, you strip your clothes and hang them on a drying rack you found to the side of the fire. Now left in the nude.
Upstairs you find multiple bedrooms. All almost identical, except for one at the end of the hall. You assume this is the Cabin’s master bedroom as it’s slightly larger than the others. Inside there’s a wardrobe full of clothes, a full length mirror, a TV, some sort of game station, and of course the larger than most bed.
In the mirror you catch sight of yourself. The cuts of course stand out first. From the slight turn you can muster in your neck, you can see large welts and thin cuts, bruises and scrapes, all littering the previously plain skin. From the front and behind, your legs look like a Jackson Pollock original piece.
Capturing various purple and blues surrounded by smaller splodges of green and brown. With the occasional black blob or two to really contrast the overall tone of the piece.
As a child you had a strange infatuation with your bruises. Likening them to a sticker or badge of achievement. They were easy to come by during training. A strange part of you liked the way they looked on your skin. They acted as a log book of the hits you’d taken, the falls you’d taken, any sort of impacts you’d had. They made you feel strong, maybe even proud too.
Staring into the mirror at your body again, it all seems worthless. You knew you were strong before. You didn’t need months as a prisoner to prove it.
You take a few steps forward to properly look at your face. Who stares back must be a stranger. You haven’t let your eyebrows be this out of shape since you were thirteen. You didn’t have that scar above under your chin before. Your eyes were always so bright and vivid. Not lifeless or hollow or so lost.
With newfound energy you take yourself to the nearest bathroom. That just so happens to be the en-suite in the bedroom. It doesn’t surprise you. Nothing about this abandoned, well stocked cabin does anymore.
Instead you shower in one of the nicest bathrooms you’ve been to in a long time.
At first the water has you freezing. Not due to the temperature but because of the fire it lights on your back. Every scrape, every cut, every burn now being cleaned. The cleanse sets your body alight. In a way you feel the heat is helping you to heal. Granted, all you have to show for it is a mixture of blood and grime, floating slowly down the drain. But it’s more than that.
It’s the last few months being scrubbed off your skin. Your wounds and ailments being shown that this is the end. They can heal in peace. You can heal in peace.
So you take your time. Using any products you can find; shampoos, conditioners, body wash, face wash. You’ve acquired a new razor, fresh from the packet. It’s amazing what a difference shaving your legs and various other places can do to your mood. You’ve always preferred removing the body hair. Afterwards the feeling of smooth legs under a thick duvet made all the work worth it.
The final step, bar drying yourself, was brushing tour yellowing and plaque ridden teeth. The minty taste in your mouth feels unfamiliar but it welcomed nonetheless. Wiping your tongue across the now almost pearly-whites you’re happy with how smooth they feel.
Now showered, shaved and dried, you make you way into the bedroom. Finding the wardrobe and drawers to be filled wit strictly masculine clothes. You pick out a pair of boxers and one of the large white t-shirts to sleep in. The shirt dwarfs you in size, looking more like a dress. Not one that you would wear outside though. Not with the black boxers showering through the material, or your hardened nipples making an appearance.
With your towel back in the bathroom and the lights off, you crawl into bed. Letting out the loudest sigh your sore throat could muster. Then quickly falling asleep on the linen.
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It was snowing. In fact it was a fucking blizzard.
A barrage of white, dagger-like snowflakes pelted against the four men. The lack of light and the dense haze of the storm made it impossible to see where they were going. They were all thankful for the less than modern compass. Hidden away at the bottom of Jonny’s bag. When he acquired it was unknown. But the four were grateful nonetheless that the Scott had the dated equipment in is kit.
After their week long training they were ready to fall asleep on the nearest surface. The blizzard they now faced was an unexpected one. Nothing on Price’s radar Gad alerted them to such a storm.
They’d just finished their survival training in the mountains when the first snowflake formed. During the rest of their descent it had only worsened.
As the snow around them thickened they trudged on. Becoming more aware of the weight of their kit, ache of their muscles and chill in their bones. These men were tired, hungry and cold.
After more miles and more words of encouragement from Price, Gaz was sure they were close to the safe house now.
Laswell had been kind enough to let them use the safe house after a particularly gruelling training exercise. It would be the closest thing to a holiday the 141 would get this year. Before the worst of the storm it had the Scotsman joking that he would build a snowman outside. An idea quickly shot down by Ghost in the interest of remaining vigilant to an enemies surrounding the house.
While snowmen were out of the question, snowballs were not. Something Ghost found out, twice, in the back of the head. Turning to see an innocent looking Gaz and Soap.
“You’ll regret that when we’re back on base and you two are on shit duty” the balaclava wearing Brit grumbles.
Soap sighs dramatically, “Oh come on Lt. Dinnae be like that, it was only a joke”.
The threat prompts Kyle to add, “It was all Soaps idea, think he should get shit duties on his own.”
Soap gasps feigning offence, “You bleeding clipe, don’t come knocking on my door when you want someone to warm your bed tonight.”
The comment causes the younger man’s face to heat up and laughs to come from the others.
“That if we get there in this blizzard” the captain quips. Trying to keep morale, but refusing to ignore the sinking feeling that they’ve missed the safe house completely.
“How far now?” Gaz asks, determined not to start pestering like an insolent child. Yet equally determined to have a proper meal and get out of his cold clothes.
“Two klicks north, then we should be there.” Soap tells him, loud enough for the others to hear in the now whipping winds.
“It was two klicks north last time someone asked Soap, are you sure you’re reading that right lad?” Price finds himself asking. Despite his rank, his military expertise and all his training agains the elements, it doesn’t make him immune to the cold. Immune to looking forward to sitting by a fire with a cup of tea in his hands.
Laswell wasn’t one to be stingy with safe house stock. From previous safe houses he’d been to that she had set up, they’d been a home away from home. Proper bedrooms, running water, stocked shelves. Price found himself ready to welcome anything that had four walls, a roof and could shelter him and his men from the storm.
“Two klicks north Captain, I’m sure”. Jonny confirms.
Sure enough, through the dense curtain of blizzard, light emerges. A gentle glow against the black nights sky. The closer they get, the clearer the house becomes.
A log cabin.
A big one at that. The sight is inviting enough to bring a smile to the men’s faces.
“Laswell’s outdone herself this time, fuckin yaldy” soap practically exclaims. Pushing forward to the front of the pack, in an effort to get in first.
“Hold it Jonny,” Simons voice is quiet through the mask, but harsh enough that the others can hear.
Ghost points to the chimney, “someone’s here”.
Sure enough as the others look up, they too see the plumes of smoke, gently rising from the brick chimney.
“Another team captain?” Gaz finds himself asking, while reaching for the know hidden in his thigh holster.
Price finds himself doing the same, “No, we’re the only ones in the country.”
The tension in the air is thick, rivals the thick snow pelting down on them. The four of them stand motionless, a short distance from the front door. Covered head to toe in winter gear, a layer of the snowstorm attached to anything it can stick to.
“Right, there’s only one door. I’ll lead. We’ll secure the ground floor first. Stay silent, we do this quietly.” Price commands. The men nod, moving to grasp their various knives. Following their captain as he moves to the front of the cabin.
With an almost inaudible creek, Price turns the handle of the door. Pushing the oak forward, grateful that it seems to glide over the wooden floors. Allowing him and his men to breach the property without alerting its inhabitants.
Price enters the living room first, signalling for the others to spread out and search the rest of the floor. He does indeed find a crackling fire, yet no one man’s it. The warmth is welcomed, but for the time being he ignores any desire to sit near it and warm himself.
His attention moves to the drying rack set up beside the fire. Upon further inspection of the items he finds combat trousers, a compression t shirt and a pair of large boots, size 12 he gathers from the label on the tongue. The clothes are still damp to the touch, leading him to infer that the intruder arrived a short time ago.
The badge on the arm of the shirt catches his eye. He rips it off the Velcro and examines it up close. An unknown insignia, contractor perhaps? Some new found terrorist group? Price doesn’t know. It’s not one he’s come across before.
Simon searches the kitchen. The space is a decent size, dark too. He blends into the shadows as he checks the space for any sign of life. He finds a empty soup can on one of the worktops. Turning to the sink he notices a single glass and pan siting there.
Once finished in his search he creeps back to the living room. Finding his captain there, along with a stoic looking soap and serious looking Gaz.
Price raises his hand to Simon, showcasing the fabric insignia to him. With cold eyes Ghost runs over the stitchwork. Mind running through the possible groups it could be associated with.
“Any ideas?” Price asks in a hushed voice.
Ghosts silence is a loud enough answer for the group. No
“Whoever they are haven’t been here long. Their clothes are still damp. Large boots, size 12.” Price goes through the details he’s uncovered.
“Men’s?” Gaz asks.
“Most likely”.
“There’s a pan in the kitchen. They’ve had soup. Only one glass.” Ghost reels off.
“We don’t know who we’re dealing with, could be anyone. Stay vigilant. Be prepared for a fight. I’ll take the lead upstairs. Shout if you find anything.” Price commands.
The team follow him single file up the stairs. Weapons at the ready as the sneak up the steps. Footsteps light on the wooden floor.
Price takes the first door, Gaz the second, Ghost the third and Soap the last door at the end of the hallway.
While three of the 141 find their rooms to be empty, Soap stops in the doorway. After almost silently twisting the door handle and letting it slide open, he stands in silence. What he didn’t expect to find was a girl sleep in the master bed, a pretty girl to be exact.
The Scotsman finds himself lost for words. He expected to have to fight someone of his stature. Maybe larger. He expected to walk away with a bruise or two. He feels lost on what to do. Should he wake her? Should he leave her?
Meanwhile the others have gathered in the hallway. Sharing a concerned glance at their teammate.
“What is it soap?” Ghost asked quietly.
“It’s a lass. A bonnie lass at that.” He tells them. Wonder in his tone as he stares at the sleeping girl. Watching as her chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Completely unaware of the four men that have entered the house.
The men collectively frown, walking further to investigate themselves. Sure enough, after they pass the threshold of the master bedroom, they too stand frozen. A girl. Not a man, or group of men. A girl, sleeping in their bed, in their log cabin.
Completely unaware.
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cowboydisaster · 1 year ago
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Dark Red
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pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)
masterlist
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Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.
Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 
Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 
 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 
“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 
“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.
“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 
“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 
“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 
“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 
You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 
“You alright?” 
Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.
“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 
“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 
“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 
“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 
“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 
“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 
The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 
“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 
“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 
“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.
“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 
“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 
“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 
“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 
“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 
“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  
“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  
“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 
“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 
“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 
Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 
“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 
“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 
As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 
“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 
“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 
“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 
You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 
“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 
“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 
— 
An hour later
Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 
“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 
“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.
“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 
“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.
“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 
“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.
“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 
“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 
“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 
“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.
“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.
Thirty minutes later
You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 
Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 
He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.
“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 
“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 
Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 
You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 
Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 
"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 
"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 
Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 
"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.
"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 
"They said you wanted me." 
"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 
You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.
"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.
You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 
Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.
"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.
"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 
It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.
Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.
Cpt. Price:
-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.
You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:
-LT, where'd you end up?
-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 
-OH SHIT
-LT!
-YOU HOUND!
-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.
Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 
Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 
"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 
"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 
No one except for you.
Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 
A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 
“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 
“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.
You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 
“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”
The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.
“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 
“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 
“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 
Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.
“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.
The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 
His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 
“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 
“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 
Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.
“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 
“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 
Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 
“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.
“I can’t-” You shake your head.
“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.
“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.
“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 
“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.
“That’s my girl.” 
You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.
“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.
“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 
“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 
“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 
“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 
“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 
Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 
Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.
It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 
All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 
Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 
“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 
“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 
“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 
“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 
Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 
“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.
You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 
You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 
“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.
“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 
“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 
Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.
“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 
He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 
He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.
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freshlove-sturn · 5 months ago
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house on the cape.
pt 1 pt2
based on last friday’s video bc im obsessed with it. (events that happened in the vlog may not be in order just so the story flows how i want, also might add or get rid of some things for that same reason ofc). definitely gonna be multiple parts if yall like it so please let me know!!
summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.
a/n: sorry guys but i think im scrapping all my old fics. i just have lost interest in them and i dont want to give yall something that i just half assed yk. i just need something new 😖🙏 don’t hate me pls. also i didn’t proof read and i never do so hopefully this all makes sense LMAO
……………………..
“BOYS TRIP!” chris shouts through the house.
the triplets are back in boston from being in la. i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t wish that these visits would last forever. being across the country from my best friends sucked.
“oh yeah , and you’ll be there too. you’re one of the boys.” chris points at me, smiling before loading the car with our bags.
“chris please never say that again.” i cringe, but fail to keep in my laughter.
“i agree. that was disgusting.” nick chimes in.
“just wanted to make sure you know you’re included.” chris throws his hands up in defense.
“thanks.” i smile and shake my head before getting in the car.
we were staying at their house in cape cod, something all of us looked forward to each summer growing up.
we arrive at nate’s house to pick him up. after the group effort of showering him in compliments for his new hair cut, we get back in the car.
sandwiched between nick and nathan, i check the time on my phone. nick grabs my wrist and moves it out of the way to give himself a better view of my lock screen.
“that is such a cute picture.” he says admiringly. it was a picture of matt and i. the picture was taken from behind while matt gave a piggy back ride back to the car because my feet hurt from wearing heels to madison’s concert.
“you took it.” i laugh.
“i know. i really out did myself huh.” he hypes himself up. i smile and roll my eyes.
once we get to the cape house, we unload the car. all of our bags scattered haphazardly throughout our respective rooms. the same rooms each of us have stayed in for years. nate with chris, nick with matt, and me, having been the only girl, with my own room.
“let’s go to the beach!” nate walks out into the kitchen, clapping his hands together.
the beach was just within walking distance. matt and i fell behind the rest of the group.
“i’m so glad you’re back.” i tell him.
“me too. i missed you.” he replies.
“i missed you too.” i admit. “a lot.” i look up and meet his eyes. we just stare at each other for a second. we didn’t really need to say anything. it was almost just a mutual understanding that each other were our favorite person.
if only he knew the extent.
the only person i’ve confided in about my feelings for matt was nate. which was precisely why he kept shooting me knowing glances anytime matt and interacted. nate swore that he knew i was in love with matt for years, before i even knew myself.
i can’t exactly pinpoint when i fell in love with my best friend, but i do remember when i realized.
flashback
matt and i sit together in the hammock string between two large oak trees in the backyard of the cape house. the gentle breeze swaying us back and forth softly. the sun was going down just to the right of us. beautiful pink and orange hues paint the sky.
“i could stay right here forever.” matt breaks the silence that had fallen between us.
“me too.” i reply softly.
“oh hey i have something for you” he digs his hand around in his pocket and pulls out a baby pink seashell. he hands it it me.
“i’ve never seen a pink one like that before.” he tells me as i admire the gift.
“me either. i love it. thanks matt.” i smile sweetly at him.
“of course.” he returns the smile.
i feel the heartbeat in my chest racing and my cheeks heating up. the feeling i had been carrying around with me for quite some time became abundantly clear.
i was in love with my best friend.
when i got home that night, i tied a string around the shell, and wore it as a necklace. and i haven’t taken it off since.
end of flashback
that was back when we were 16. 4 whole years i’ve gone hiding my biggest secret from the one person i told everything to.
our gaze was interrupted by chris. “jesus, yall are some slow pokes” he hollers back at us.
we both laugh and pick up out pace.
soon we arrive at the beach. i’ve always loved the beach. it truly is my happy place.
especially when i’m with matt.
nick snaps pictures here and there.
“oh my gosh matt look! this is just like your tattoo!” i hold out a shell to him.
“oh shit you’re right.” he holds out his arm, revealing his tattoo.
“that’s sick.” chris admires the similarity while nick takes a picture.
later that night, we all sit in the living room debating on what movie to watch.
“chris im not watching planet of the apes again. we’ve watched it like 9 times already.” nick argues, shutting down chris’s pleads.
“how about grown ups?” matt suggests.
“yes i love that movie.” nate agrees.
“that’s fine with me.” nick shrugs and starts typing it in.
“is that good with you?” matt leans down to where i was sitting in front of him, his voice soft and genuine.
“yeah that’s good with me.” i tell him.
he smiles and pats the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing me to come sit up there with him. i stand up from my spot on the floor and sit down next to him. he drapes a blanket over the both of us.
about an hour or so into the movie, my eyes get heavy. i lean my head on matt’s shoulder, to which he responds with wrapping his arm around me. this was nothing out of the ordinary. there’s pictures going back to when we were in preschool of the two of us practically fused together passed out on the living room floor.
suddenly, a gentle shake of my shoulders woke me up from a sleep i hadn’t even known i fell into. my eyes flutter, slowly regaining focus. when they do, i’m met with matt’s gentle blue eyes.
“hey, you wanna go lay down in your bed? i don’t want your neck to be sore.” he asks, genuinely concerned for my comfort.
i look around, everyone else appeared to have gone into their rooms.
“yeah i probably should.” i say through a yawn.
matt grabs my hand and helps me stand up from the couch. we walk down the hallway. my room came before his and nicks.
“goodnight matt.” i say, slowly turning the doorknob.
“goodnight y/n. see ya in the morning.”
i toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. i stand up from bed, and leave my room. slowly making my way to the kitchen to get a drink, careful to not wake anyone up.
i open the fridge and grab a water. before i can take a sip, i hear a familiar voice behind me.
“can’t sleep?” the sudden breach of silence made me jump a little. i turn around and see matt. he was leaned up against the door frame. his sweatpants falling dangerously low on his figure, his arm under his shirt itching his shoulder, exposing his midriff.
“nope. you?” i set my water down on the counter.
“hm mm” he replies.
we stand in silence for a few moments before matt breaks the silence again.
“wanna go to the beach?”
….
a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF YALL LIKE THIS. SUGGESTIONS ALWAYS WELCOME AND MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 🙏 i’m using my old taglist, so lmk if you want taken off or added to it!
taglist: @honestlybabymiracle @pepsiimaxx @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattestrella @luvmxtt @rac00ns-are-c00l4
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thewriterg · 11 months ago
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.1
pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader
summary; new recruits, questions, and a bag of tricks
warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language
A/n; my toxic trait is starting a new series before finishing my other ones 😊 | chasin chaos masterlist
“Sergeant Mactavish, Werewolf.” The brunette held his hand out clawed fingers reaching about for the lieutenant who barely spared it a glance before looking back towards his sergeant and captain who smirked or started back at him smugly your presence lacking completely which was uncommon even if you weren’t meeting the eye he could feel your presence today it was gone but he temporarily stopped himself from dawning on it while words spewed from his lips
“Where’d you find this guy?” The gruff voice drizzled over the sassy reply made Gaz bight back a chuckle
“At the end of a rainbow” The harpy replied smartly his arms crossed over his chest feathers lying delicately over the surface of his forearms slightly lighter than the ones on his back where his wings sat it’s trail coming curtly to an end when it reached his the front of his wrist that damned fitted cap resting around his head in its common home ground talons tapping one of the many quills the sound almost sounding if he were thunking a table having his feathers harden on command just for the sake of it a quirk you could say
“Worth his weight in gold mind you” Price offered eyes not looking up from some type of notes he were reading over thick pear and moss mixed green colored horns sitting adorned on his well kept hair curling slightly forward and up Ghost could tell he was wearing an older shirt since there were two holes cut out instead of one for his stray wing that still sat strong spar bones matching the color of his horns and furless tail while the mainsail resembled a more dirty rag cream color
“They said it not me” Soap grinned mock waving off the compliment quirking the damned thick bushy brow of his the only one with a slit slicing right through the point of the arch while the hulking man sighed heavily dragging a hand over his covered face balaclava with a simple print of his actual hard mask a skull
“Fuckin’ hell… you follow orders?” The muffled voice was not a mere obstacle for the hybrid to hear the slight pointed ears on the side of his face doing their job well to listen
“I well trained if that’s what you’re asking. Sit, stay, paw, jump, roll over, I know ‘em all.” The brunette looked off mocking a ponderous expression counting off on his fingers the canines in his mouth slightly showing even though they were retracted
“Real bag of tricks, aren’t you?” The instinct in the sergeant perked up as you suddenly trailed beside ghost surprised that he hadn’t been able to pick up your presence or at least your scent quicker like he had with Ghost especially since they were so… different not having a face to match with your cooled voice since it seemed you also favored a balaclava yours simply plain black yet he didn’t mind just gave him two sheets to play at once…
Raking eyes over your figure the man determined you were a looker for sure yet he didn’t miss how the other silently agreed
“My apologies miss, I dinae get your name” Soap stated a now gentle smile resting on his face that you seemingly ignored accent seeping through a little more and as more time went on the more he could smell the authority coming from you and Ghost it was a little less than Price yet more than Gaz and the other recruits around base
“Depends who you ask. What’s the role you’ve had in your pack?” You questioned eyes low that he could see through the gap in your mask where your sight shone through staring him down almost as if you could see right through his soul yet he kept his quirky grin Mohawk stopping just below the base of his neck a small piece of stray hair lying against his forehead thick fluffy tail perking up slightly swaying against the back of his thighs cargo pants dipping in the back just below his tail
“I’ve been in a few packs could be an alpha, beta, omega if you wanted me to… but I seen you have your roles sorted. I’ve got no problem bein’ ah pup miss” You roll your eyes at that while the brunette winks you swiftly trail away dragging Ghost away with you picking up Price on the way while both men let you drag them along their hulking figure’s towering over your back boots slightly thumping against the floor before your figures disappear within the halls he turns to the crow who’s fiddling with the screen of his phone
“You ever feel left out of somethin’?” Soap questions and Gaz suddenly stands a small smirk on his face as he rakes his eyes over the wolf before shaking his head
“There’s enough for everyone to get their fill, you’ll be next soon enough” Without an explanation the sergeant was already trailing away opposite of where you had gone leaving him alone
But never for too long
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
“It’s rude to stare sergeant” Ghost grunted gruffly after jamming his janky locker shut barely giving Soap enough time to look at his shadows slipping from under his glove some looking like it was traveling farther up almost resembling veins while the rest began to make a small cloud on his wrist until he shoved his sleeve over the sight unapologetic about the whole thing barely looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the wolf as he stood behind him
“Just tryin’ ta figure you out, Lt.” He grins tail becoming livelier as it perks up behind his back before it reluctantly lowers still up and lively
“I’m well traveled, seen a lot of things, met a lot of people. Never smelt anythin’ like you… or Flatline for that matter” A slightly clawed finger rests curled on his chin tail gently flapping up and down it had been a little over a week since he was recruited it didn’t take long for him to find out your name or call sign that might have well been your name since no one seemed to know it just by the brief description of eerie, bold eyes, and a mask to cover you face, he got the answer of either Ghost or Flatline
“Hell of a compliment soldier” The blonde resorts almost sarcastically finally looking over his broad shoulder to lock eyes with the brunette and he waves him off finally stepping closer to the skull mask wearing man deciding by his side was the best place to stand and if he noted the smoke trying to spill from his pockets where he had his hands shoved deeply he didn’t say anything about it
“Och, you know I dinnae mean it that way. Can’t blame me for bein’ interested, I never packed with a wraith hybrid before… or a phoenix thought they were bedtime stor-”
“Not hybrids” Ghost cuts off the scott before he can dig any deeper and he furrowed his eyebrows questioning if he had heard right if his ears were failing him or not with a small ‘what’ spilled from his lips
“We’re not hybrids.”
“No shit? What the hell is tha’ like?” Swiftly Simon was in front of him eyes bold yet precise slicing right through him while Johnny’s gaze slightly widened at the quick movement his boots not even so much a squeaking against the ground a bit of the air currents flowing against Soaps slight shorter form
“You ever shut up Mactavish?” He somewhat seethed and the wolf was back to sly grin in less than minute, the grin that showed his canines in the full well kept facial hair adorning his structure even more, the grin the wraith wanted to wipe of his fucking face to be exact.
“Only when people make me.” Soap implied looking up slightly to address his superior with a voice that would make other feverish or peely in his terms that damned drunken grin still on his lips while Ghost practically stared him down eyes slightly squinted thoughts brewing behind those sharp, precise eyes of his that the Scott couldn’t wait to hear of tail swaying behind him with a bit more speed than before but of course his Lt. was a tease and put all his weight on one foot to turn walking out of the locker room without so much a grunt but he liked the chase
And so did superiors
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“It’s an in and out mission that I’m sure you could do on your own, however I don’t need higher ups on my ass about favoritism. You’ll grab a few normals and head Midwest in the states to Chicago. One out of three missiles resigns with one of the biggest weapons busts in America that’s supposedly on its way over to Russia package delivery for a friend of ours… Makarov.” The air in the room shifted at the name drop of a once friend fallen foe even though You and Prices shoulders were up at the mere mention of Russia itsself you had a love hate relationship with meeting room as you got passed a file over things you truly didn’t need to go over things that a rookie could even fill in the blanks for
“This will either be the easiest sail of your life or your standing on the line of death, you all know your first priority even though I know you don’t want to hear it. Push come to shove the normals go first.” The older short cut haired woman looked at You, Price, and Ghost especially Soap noticed it confused him at first the wraith and phoenix at least, two lieutenants in such a small base or at least a small base that wasn’t Air Force but it made sense to him shortly after when he peeked in on occasional training sessions thought out a week You and Ghost switched groups between normals and weaker hybrids both favoring one group more than the other deep down and then at the end of the week bring them together to spar
“Wheels up at 04:00 tomorrow I’m sure you’ll have your picks by then.” Laswell sighed looking around the table for any objections your sitting between Soap and Gaz while Price and Ghost are sitting on the opposite side of the rounded table one of your legs are crossed under your form while the other is propped up you have your arms wrapped around it and your covered chin is lying on your knee and without another word she grabbed her laptop and exited room something about a ball and chain to her desk
The wolf and harpy are first to get up from their seats and the winged hybrid doesn’t go before gently brushing his fingers against your arm migrating towards the exit even though he’s stopped shortly by a shit eating grin and swaying tail conversation quickly taking place between the two
“So, what do you think?” Price hums both him and Simon approaching your seat as you began to stand rolling your shoulders eyes low beneath your mask it was still early in the day only 13:27 you had a training group normals at 14:15 sharp anyone who was a minute late got to run laps around base even if they weren’t hybrids or the ‘superior’ race in the field you couldn’t determine if you were fighting a hybrid or a normal and if you babied them because they were weaker than a super they wouldn’t have a fighting chance against one.
“He asks a lot of questions” Ghost responds curtly while the older man takes no offense to it producing a chuckle from the back of his throat taking out a cigar from his breast pocket in his vest holding out the thick brown lump filled with nicotine out to the blonde who responded by taking out a silver lighter snapping the cover back quickly as it produced a flame its front covered by an ace card with its main attraction being a skull the drug lights aflame a small hissing sound coming from it when the salt and pepper haired hybrid took a drag
“Comes with the package. Wolves don’t like uncertainty in the pack dynamic.”
“He knew you and Gaz before he transferred, didn’t he?” You spoke up squinting your eyes at your captain eyelashes mere meters away from kissing your cheek standing the only way he could get a read on you and Simon he usually says ‘those eyes can tell you everything and nothing all at once, just gotta watch em.’
“Yes, but you’re both hell of a new variable” Price admits before smugly nudging your shoulders with his strong single wing while Ghost crossed his arms over his chest you roll your eyes stepping away from the pair
“Save your verdicts until you see him in action, he’s a vision in the field.”
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Hey… how yall doing 😅
I haven’t posted since October I missed you writers!
Ermm I’m a year older —Nov 8th— happy belated birthday to me
And that’s about it 😭
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exhaslo · 10 months ago
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omg i like love ur writing so much its like not even funny i look forward to each thing you write
so im thinking: Miguel as like ghost from modern warfare and clumsy new recruit reader whos actually super good at what they do but the twist is that she uses the art of catching people off guard to fight aka flashing enemies her bewbs
so Miguel’s annoyed over that because its such an “indecent” tactic but it works because even he gets caught like a deer in headlights when she does that. So like ig like in the middle of a mission she does it again and miguel straight up challenges her to to it to him and things get steamy ???????????
Aweeeee, thank you!!! It means a lot to me that you read and like my writing!!! Also, I suck at FPS games, so I never played COD MW, but I can try my best with this one, haha
So sorry that I got to this so late! I'm still catching up to so many requests from last month! But I can totally do this! Sounds really fun haha!
Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, breast play, flashing, semi-public sex, grinding, oral (male receiving)
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This was supposed to be a serious game of friendly fire. This was supposed to be preparing everyone for the competition that was coming up with their rivals. This was supposed to be taken seriously as if everyone was really in the middle of the battlefield.
So why couldn't you?
Miguel was in awe as he read your stats and files. You had nearly a perfect score when shooting down the enemy team. Hell, you even had some military background, but yet you left there and applied here, which made him a little curious.
Miguel was also from the military, so he knew the rules and procedures. The only way he was going to find out more about you was the join you in action. Perhaps you were hiding something and could be used when Miguel had to get called onto the military again for a mission.
"We'll see tomorrow," Miguel hummed to himself, placing your file next to his usual ghost mask.
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This was a first. Miguel was impressed with you when you first came into the shop, gearing up and grabbing your weapons. You gave off a professional aura. Miguel was going to enjoy this fun little game and who knows, perhaps he could enlist you.
At least the thought last for a solid five minutes until the game actually began. You all split up, but Miguel stayed somewhat close by to you to watch you in action. You had everything set up and kept your focus for the enemies, but once you spotted one.
"Haha!" You yelled as you flashed your tits.
Miguel's eyes widen at the sheer shock of the action, but once you revealed your boobs, you immediately fired at the poor soul.
"Sucker," You said with a grin before fixing your shirt.
"What the hell are you thinking?" Miguel hissed as he stormed over to you. Your eyes glanced over at his tall dementor, knowing that he was hiding his anger behind his mask,
"Hm? It's friendly fire, all that matters is who wins." You said with a sweet chirp.
All Miguel could do was ask you to not do it again. You gave him a cute pout, apologizing before grabbing your gun and running off. Still not trusting your words, Miguel followed you to keep an eye on you.
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Miguel was beyond frustrated. While team did win with an overwhelming victory, the shame behind it was what made him mad. You had the most kills, all thanks to your little trick. It was a shame to the game, but there was no one else complaining but Miguel.
"Yai! Good game guys!!" You cheered, jumping in place.
"Hehe, good game." The enemy team chuckled, staring at your breasts. You smiled and made your way to Miguel,
"Aren't I good?" You said with a grin. Miguel glared at you, but you couldn't tell because of his mask,
"If this were a real war, would you even consider doing it?" He had to ask. You raised a brow,
"As much fun as it would be, there is no chance a real enemy will be swayed by my boobs."
"Hn, there's another friendly fire match in two hours. Can you join, and if you do, don't use your trick."
"Yeah!" You smiled brightly before giving another pout, "Fine. I suppose I could show you that I'm still a good shot."
"Good." Miguel said with a heavy sigh before leaving to his office.
You waved towards him, resisting a chuckle. At least he wasn't complaining about the size of your breasts. Besides, Miguel was fuming with anger, so he must be silently liking the trick too. At least you hoped he did.
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Miguel cussed quickly as he gripped the edge of his desk while pumping his dick in his hand. How frustrating it was to watch you carelessly show off those perfect bouncy breasts to other men like it was nothing.
It felt shameful to Miguel for even thinking about how perfect those breasts would look under him. His hands grouping them, giving you a reason to behave next time. You just looked so innocent and cute, to think you did something so daring.
Groaning as he cam, Miguel took a moment to compose himself. He was going to see you in proper action in the next game. Hopefully, your shots would still be up to par even without your little trick.
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You were doing good. You had kept your focus and still aimed perfect at each of the enemy team. Although, it did feel a little weird without having a laugh about your fun little gimmick. It just wasn't as fun without you giving the others a good laugh too.
Firing against another enemy, you stopped to reload. You felt a little frustrated. Right as you reloaded, you heard someone yell to show them your tits. Gripping the gun, you let out another sigh before hearing a gun go off.
"I'm confused. Do you, or do you not like to show the enemies your boobs?" Miguel questioned as he appeared beside you. You leaned against the wall, sighing softly,
"It's a long story of self worth and shit that I rather not get into. I left the military for a reason, and I personally think it's fun to throw people off guard, but then they start demanding it...I just, don't like it." You admitted. Miguel glanced at you,
"You're a good shot even without your trick."
"It's a fun stress reliever. I'm sure you would still be a good shot if you had something similar done."
"As if." Miguel replied coldly before shooting another enemy. You glanced at him with a devilish smirk,
"Is the famous ghost afraid of losing his kill streak?"
"Hn," Miguel grunted, not wanting to give you the satisfaction, but hell, he also wanted to prove you wrong, "Don't think they'll care about my chest." He teased.
You laughed and scooted over to him, "Not that kind of distraction." You cooed and saw his hard on through his pants, "Maybe I can help you do both?"
"Both?" He grumbled and hissed as you sat in front of his dick, "(Y/N), now is not the time."
"I read your file, Ghost," You hummed, undoing his pants, "Always perfect with everything you do, but such a hardass. When was the last time you relaxed?" You asked, glancing at his large dick that sprung out.
"Tch, now is NOT the time, (Y/N)" Miguel hissed, feeling himself lose concentration. You lifted your shirt, wrapping his dick between your breasts,
"I think it is the time," You hummed, holding your breasts as you started to massage his dick with them, "When was the last time you got to relax?"
"Fuck, I'm going to miss my shot."
"I thought something like this wouldn't affect your score?" You teased, leaning forward to lick his tip.
"(Y/N), you really...hn...really need to stop," Miguel groaned lowly, enjoying the feeling of his dick wrapping between your breasts.
"And leave you this hard?" You teased, gently sucking against his tip as your breasts did the rest.
"Fuck,"
Miguel cussed lowly as he fired his gun, shaking slightly from the pleasure you were giving him. Daring indeed. You had been single your whole life, so to do something like this, was surprising, but fuck, Miguel wasn't going to complain anymore.
Moving away from the window to reload, Miguel was panting and moaning as you kept sucking and pumping his dick with your breasts. How soft they were. Miguel felt the urge to pin you down and give you a reason to stop.
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You glanced up at Miguel, watching him melt under your touch. Honestly, you weren't planning on being this slutty, but you had to take the risk. You heard all about Miguel during your time in the military. You've seen his face and you knew that you wanted him.
But he was so difficult to approach, all the more reason why you came here. You wanted to be risky. You wanted him to notice you, and now here you were. His dick between your breasts and in your mouth.
Feeling his cock twitch in your mouth, you quicken your pace. Your panties were getting damp, eager to have this cock inside your cunt. Sucking against him more, you whimpered as Miguel started to grab your hair and move his hips along with you.
"Fuck, I'm c-close." He groaned.
You winced, tasting his precum first. His cock twitched against in your mouth, fucking himself deeper down your throat. You moaned from the feeling, and shook as you felt his hot, sticky cum flood your mouth. With a swallow, you coughed as Miguel pulled out of your mouth.
"How's...your shot?" You asked with a low chuckle. Miguel panted and picked you up, placing you towards the window,
"Why don't we test your shot now?" He asked, lowering your pants in the process, "Or can you only show off your breasts?"
"Mhm~"
You rested against your sniper gun, ass pressed up against Miguel. You shivered as you felt Miguel's dick rub between your thighs. His cock just rubbing against your damp panties, causing you to get even wetter. Oh how you wanted him inside you.
You went to fire against an enemy, moaning loudly as Miguel held your hips. The friction he was giving you was starting to burn. You moved your hips in response, nearly begging for him to stuff you full. Miguel must have noticed as slid his dick inside your panties, directly rubbing his dick against your folds.
"So wet. Don't miss your shot," Miguel groaned, trying his best to not shove his cock deep inside you.
No, that was for another time. There was only a few minutes left of the match. If Miguel was going to fuck you dumb, then it was going to be in the comfort of his own office or bed.
"Hah~ Ah~ M-Miguel," You moaned, attempting to fire your gun again, "R-Right there~ Ah~" You cried out.
Your body twitched as his cock feverishly rubbed against your wet walls and clit. Your vision began to blur as you felt yourself cum when he kept hitting your clit. Your panties were such a mess and you knew it.
"See me in my office after this match," Miguel whispered in your ear as he grunted lowly, "We need to go over your score for this round."
"Y-Yes, sir," You moaned as you felt him cum all over your panties.
You were a panting mess as you felt Miguel move away from you. He quickly fixed his pants as you did yours. You shivered at the feeling of his cum all over your pussy and not within. Glancing at his mask, you huffed your cheeks out and removed it.
"(Y/N)-"
You pecked his lips before fixing his mask again. A small smile against your lips as you trailed your hand down his chest,
"See you in your office."
"Match over. Top Score (Y/N)." The game spoke. You chuckled lowly and glanced at Miguel,
"I think I deserve an award for winning, again."
"Once I'm done with you, your winning streak will end next round."
You shivered in delight at his low, rumbling tone. Your pussy clenched at the thought, sitting right on your mess of underwear,
"I'm looking forward to it."
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Sorry if it's nothing like COD. Maybe one day I'll try and play the games, but I hoped you like the story none the less!!!
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jolapeno · 2 years ago
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you don't learn
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader (COD MW22) 18+, minors do not interact. WC: 1.2k A/N: Be nice, this is the first time I wrote for this man and my s*m*u*t is never my strongsuit. masterlist for ghost.
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You don’t learn.
And you don't listen. Least of all to him.
That’s all he's thinking as he chases you down, his strides far longer than yours. Not that you’re accepting defeat. 
Because, of course, you aren’t. 
Today, you didn't do it in the field. Your eyes see something Soap didn't, charging forward, almost getting a bullet through your shoulder. You saved his life, yes. But, you also ignored him.
You broke his order. Making him almost lose his breath for a millisecond as he stills, watching a bullet rush past you.
Now, you had the audacity to be pissed at him.
Even if it was you who told him once you arrived back on base, in a hushed whisper, so no one else could hear, "It's okay to admit you were wrong, Lt." Before lunging out the vehicle, storming off.
So, now he followed for many reasons. One of which was because you couldn't have the last word.
Your boots hammer down the empty corridor with as much determination as him. Ghost’s gloved hand is almost within reach, his door approaching his left, so he widens his stride. 
One. 
Two. 
Three. 
Ghost’s hand connects with your upper arm, gripping it with ease as he both turns you and opens his door, dragging you in before kicking it shut behind you both. 
Wrenching your arm free from him, eyes burning him as you step back. 
“You want to repeat that, soldier?” 
Your eyes scold him, or attempt too. Shaking your head, a fury of thoughts running through your head—he can tell. 
He can read you like a goddamn book. 
Which is how knows your palms will connect with his chest, brows knitted as you try to move him—even a centimetre. But he doesn’t. 
His frame remaining exactly as it was, swallowing, closing the gap as he captures your wrists in one hand. Something you clearly hate more than you expect from the look in your eyes.   
“Don’t be a fucking brat.”
“A brat?” you hiss. "I saved his fucking life. If anyone is being a brat, it is you."
"I'm warning you."
You lift your chin, straightening your spine. "Warn me then, Lt. Fucking warn me."
His spare gloved hand grips your waist, pulling you flush to him, causing you to squeak. Fingers spreading, digging down as you whimper, and he cocks his head.
You tried to blink it away, but he saw it.
He saw that you wanted this too. That the tension wasn't all in his fucking head. You felt it.
Testing his theory, he lets his thumb lifts the thin fabric of your T-shirt. And he feels you shudder, your eyes attempting to disguise how much your body is betraying you. 
Smirking, he drops his face closer, running the edge of his mask against your neck—scratching against you, making it known he’s there.
“Oh, I can warn you, princess. I can give you a fucking good lesson,” he says darkly, his hot breath dancing over your neck.
You try to shove him again, glaring more purposefully, finding him moving even less from where he stands. But, it's not as determined, he can tell. An act, a bad liar.
Ghost slides up his mask just enough to show you his smirk, that condescending smirk of his he knows you hate. The one you guess is there even in the field, even over the radio when you're not even close. 
“You know what, go fuck yourself, Ghost.” 
“Or,” he snaps, gripping your hip tighter, walking you back into the stone wall as you hiss, “I can fuck you.”
Your eyes blink, anger disappearing and he feels you shift. “W-what?” 
One quick glance, and he spots your legs firmly together, his smirk appearing more than it was before 
“Is that what you want, princess? Do you want me to fuck you?” 
You hold his gaze, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. 
“I think you do," he snarls, pulling your hips against his. "Use your words. That’s an order.” 
Swallowing, you jut out your chin. “Y-yes.” 
"Yes...?"
Your jaw tightens. "Yes, sir."
Fucking hell.
He’s quick. 
Hearing you gasp just as his lips capture yours, stealing the rest of your words. Lips sliding together, teeth close to lips as a hand roughly grabs your cheek, the one on your hip moving to undo your belt. 
All he focuses on is that you’ve stopped fighting and shoving, resting your fingers against his chin, sliding them up along his jaw as your kisses turn messier and more desperate.
“I shouldn’t—“
“If you know what’s good for you, princess, you’ll keep your mouth shut,” he utters, his deep voice vibrating through you as he pops the button open on your trousers. “I don’t want to hear another word outta you, you hear me?” His lips sliding up your jaw, breath dancing along your ear. “Not unless it’s because you’re begging or moaning my name.” 
Your eyes flick to his, and he hopes you see the warmth in them, the lust dancing in the darkness. 
“Which is Simon, if you didn' know.” 
His teeth bite his glove off before sliding his hand under your underwear, your whimper mixing with a breath as he smirks. 
“I know your goddamn name,” you bite, trying not to moan at his touch. 
Tilting his head, he tightens his jaw. 
“You want me to stop?” His fingers pausing, hearing you whimper, your eyes suddenly full of anger again. “I will if you don’t stop with the cheek.” 
You say nothing, swallowing your words. 
Ghost runs the tip of his nose along your cheek, the highest part of his face showing, before he feels you shake your head, and he presses a chaste kiss to the side of your lips. 
“Look at me,” he whispers, his finger descending until he’s sliding two inside you, feeling your slick walls tighten around him, “Now, soldier.” 
Your eyes are beautiful. 
The way your lips curl as he continues to pump them inside of you. 
“Fuck… You are something else, princess. Y'know that? Y'know how fucking perfect you are? 'Cause I don't think you do.”
"Simon..." you whimper.  
Your slick coating his fingers through his gloves as he continues to tease, hearing more whimpers, more moans. Your eyelashes flutter, his thumb capturing your clit periodically, hearing the hiss in your moan when he does. Your moans falling so quickly from your beautiful lips, feeling your walls tighten as you get closer and closer. 
His mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and nipping, leaving marks everyone—including you—will see. He feels how close you are, how much you’re still trying not to give in. 
So he wrenches his hand back. 
Smirking as your mouth parts, eyes digging into him.
His hand silences you as yanks your trousers down, letting them pool at your feet. You breath heavy, as does he.
“You want this?” 
Silence. 
Ghost pulls his glove from his hand with his teeth, staring, waiting. 
“Do you want this?” 
He adds your name at the end. Your real name.
No alias. No teasing nickname. No princess or anything.
Your eyes lower briefly before flicking them up to hold his gaze, a devious smirk on your face. “Yes, sir.” 
He removes his hands, sliding them up and around your thighs as be lifts you around his waist, twisting the two of you to seat himself on the end of the mattress. Your thin underwear and his cargo’s the only barrier between you and him, even as you grind your core against the tent of his trousers. 
A dark chuckle escapes his lips, his hand holding you in place on his thighs. “Poor, princess. So desperate for a fucking?”
You whimper, head burying into his shoulder. 
“What do you want?” Ghost asks, feeling your nails dig into the back of his exposed neck as he slowly rolls your hips against him. “Tell me. Now.” 
“Everything,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, eyes shimmering with need and want as they meet his. “I want you to fucking break me, ruin me, fuck me so I can’t even walk. That’s what I want.” His lips press against your cheek, jaw and ear as you talk. “Fuck… please can you just…” your hands coming around, gripping his mask-covered cheeks. “I need you to fuck me, Simon.” 
It takes a moment, just for his name to really register. 
His name from your lips.
It’s sinful. 
It’s fucking everything. 
Which is why he flips the two of you, pressing your chest and stomach down into his bed—smirking as you instinctively arch your back, the damp patch on your panties on show for him as he strokes his cock over his trousers.  
“Atta girl,” he says, undoing his belt with a crack, dropping his trousers and boxers to the floor with a thud. 
tag: @munsonownsmyass
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lady-boketto · 1 month ago
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Gaming Headcanons (Call of Duty)
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A/n: This is not canon at all and I thought it would be fun to think about what kind of games and gamer the CoD men would be
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Price:
Price does not have a lot of gaming experience but he likes to be included in game nights
He's the one who rages the most when he is playing games (but it's mostly when he is playing multiplayer games)
Price prefers board games rather than digital ones (likes the atmosphere that is created when gathering around the table with close friends to sit down and have some fun it)
Don't ever ask him to play poker because he can and will kick your ass (unless you are a poker legend or you manage to cheat without him noticing)
He has his own personal chess board to play with (it's a nice quality wooden one that's not too big so that he can bring it with him to pass time when he doesn't have access to the internet)
Gaz:
A true master of gaming, like there's no game out there that this man won't be good at
Also kind of a sore loser when someone finally manages to beat him, Gaz kind of lets out this big sigh and crosses his arms over his chest while looking off into the corner but he doesn't stay this way for long, it more of a 'in the moment' situation (Gaz is more frustrated that he wasn't good enough to win this round but knows there will be other chances)
Gaz equally enjoys playing digital games as much as he does when he plays a board game (his favorite board game to play is monopoly, since he can get very strategic while he plays and is very easily annoyed when he's sitting in monopoly jail)
Soap:
Johnny is the person who tries to tell stories over the mic only to realize that he's been on mute for the past ten minutes (the rest of the group was wondering why he was so quiet all of the sudden)
He also has a Nintendo switch ( He has a Nintendo lite in the color blue) but he loves playing Mario Kart or any of the Mario Parties and loves it when you get frustrated when he steals first place or star from you (he gives his famous laugh and pecks your cheek while telling you how much he loves you while committing the vile act)
Trolls/griefs a ton. He thinks it's funny when other players scream curse words at him and never misses an opportunity to provoke them even further. (he laughs his ass off when they rage quit or if he has to read their attempt to argue back at him in the game chat)
He actually likes spending multiple hours on a game. Grinding to get the best stuff just so he can brag about it the next day.
Soap also does occasionally broadcast his game play with others (because he likes to look back on the memories when he feeling alone or that he just needs something to cheer his mood up a little)
Ghost:
Ghost is the type of person who would say they only play multiplayer games but likes to secretly play the cozy single player games like animal crossing and Stardew Valley (he rant to you about how unfair Isabella is when rating his island a mere 3 stars or how he often forgets to go back to his house before 2 am because he was too focused on the monsters and loot in the mines.)
Even though he doesn’t mind online multiplayer games to play with the rest of squad 141, he also doesn’t mind to play co-op games with you (his favorites to play are it takes two or playing some version of call of duty zombies on a split screen, he takes pride in protecting you in co-op games or he shyly admits a thank you when you revive him)
He just likes strategic games in general, you will find him often playing chess with Price ( when you watch them play, they always take the longest time possible to make their move, it seems like they both go through every possible move until they find the best position to move forward but the game is always interrupted by something that needs one or the other’s attention)
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ghosty-writes-23 · 2 years ago
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Incorrect COD Quotes Part. 1
WARNING: Suggestive (Slightly spicy) & dark humored content.
A/N: some of these might be a little suggestive, so you have been warned, Also V is my own female OC but can be read as x reader if you prefer that.
Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️
-Ghosty❤️
----------
Ghost: *see’s Soap and V do something extremely dangerous and sighs* “God give me patience for these two.”
V: *overhears him* “don’t you mean strength there sir.”
Ghost: “if god gave me strength you both would be dead.”
Both Soap and V: *gulp*
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König: *gives V a beaded friendship bracelet he made* “so you can have a part of me, when your on your mission”
V: *is on the verge of ugly crying under her mask as he placed the bracelet on her wrist* “I will protect this with my life.”
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Alejandro: *pats Graves on the shoulder giving him a knowing look* “I hate seeing you like this.”
Graves *has a confused look on his face* “Like what? I'm not upset.”
Alejandro: “no in person, I hate seeing you in person.”
*Dead silence*
V: *covers her mouth to hide the fact she is laughing under her mask and fails terribly*
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V: *does something idiotic and stupid that Ghost warned her not to do.*
Ghost: *sees V get hurt* “I don’t care, I warned her that if she hurt herself I wasn’t going to help her.”
Voice over: “but ghost did really care as later that night he made sure her injuries were too serious and lightly scolded her before giving her one of his hoodies to wear and played with her hair until she fell asleep*
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Ghost: *takes off his mask revealing his face in front of everybody*
Price: “It's good to see you again, Simon.”
Soap: *lowkey checking ghost out*
Gaz: “not what I expected.”
V: “Why is everybody in this group so goddamn pretty, it makes me feel like a trash gremlin.” 
Ghost: *puts his mask back on*
Soap: “don’t worry V, you will always be our trash gremlin.”
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Price: *walks into the briefing room looking for V* "can I have my sweater back"
V: *looks at him innocently* "only if I can have my virginity back"
*Cue whole briefing room goes silent*
V: *laughs before sliding his hoodie off and hands it to him* "here you go sir"
----------
Soap and V are at the pet store, looking for collars for the new squad dog teddy.
Soap: “Okay we got everything, let's go already, wait where is V?”
V *is in the collar section, looking for a choker chain*
Soap: “why are you looking at choker chains, you don’t have a pet?”
V: “how do you know that sergeant” *smirks slightly under her mask and grabs the one she is looking for and places it around Soaps neck before giving it a slight tug*
Soap: *grunts and stumbles forward* “What kind of dog is it?”
V: *giggles soft before taking it off and grabs another in the same size* “ones that need to be house trained, now let's get out of here before Price rings us and asks why we are taking so long”
*Bonus*
*later that week in training Soap see’s both König and Ghost sporting what looked like dog choker chains around their necks*
----------
*The 141 men + V are in the common room, relaxing after training.
V: Spread me apart, lick me with your tongue, grab my sides, and eat my cream and that is how you eat an Oreo cookie.”
Soap: *chokes on his drink* “bloody hell woman.”
Gaz: *is laughing at soap’s reaction* 
Price: *gives her the disappointed dad look* “Really V.”
V: Oh come on captain it was funny.
Ghost: *is cleaning his gun but does chuckle at her joke*
----------
Gaz: “does anybody else notice that people that liked to be choked, hate being tickled.”
V: *feels slightly called out and starts sweating and nervously laughing* “haha, that's oddly specific there Gaz.”
Gaz: “It's like they are completely fine with you cutting off their oxygen supply, but as soon as you try to tickle them, they will kill you.”
V: *looks at him dead serious* “Maybe some people hate being tickled.”
----------
©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. Do NOT translate or repost my work, or make AI Bots without my permission.
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chngfrthwrst · 10 months ago
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‘09 Ghoap + Reader
fem reader
a/n: cod brainrot means making a whole blog dedicated to just cod fanfics 🤞 also i’m still new to posting on tumblr so if anyone has any tips to make this better pls lmk thanks 🫶
look at the tags b4 u read ❤️
♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎
Soap smirked down at you both, grabbing each of your chins and making sure you were both paying attention to him fully.
“Ghost. Fuck our darling girl, won’t you? Be a good boy now.” You felt a shiver run down your spine, the idea of Soap completely ignoring you and treating you like some kind of toy he could play with was doing things for you.
Ghost nods quickly and moves behind where you’re currently sitting on your knees. He softly touches your waist and gently pushes you to lean forward.
You obey his hands, moving yourself forward so you sit on all fours, presenting yourself to his prying eyes. He hums an approval before leaning forward and hugging you close to his chest.
“Good boy, Ghost. Now fuck her like you mean it.” You can feel Ghost groan against your back and his cock twitches near your cunt.
Ghost leans away from where we was holding you close to his body and takes a hand away. Before you can ask any questions or even make a sound of disappointment, you feel Soap’s boot pressing between your shoulders and you let him push your chest to the floor.
He keeps his boot pressed roughly between your shoulder blades, heavy and dirty against your soft skin. Ghost pushes into your cunt just as you try to protest your position and you moan loudly.
Soap had been teasing you both for so long and you were finally getting the reward you’d both worked so hard for.
Ghost wastes no time in rutting into you, hips snapping back to yours hard and fast. He hits all the right spots and leaves you a whimpering mess under the Captain’s boot.
“Such a good girl. You’re taking it so well, baby.” He coos, pushing his boot into your back a little harder. You clench around Ghost as he does this and you feel more than hear the resulting groan from the man behind you.
“That’s right, keep going. Don’t you want to cum for me?” Soap’s talking to both of you now, teasing you and degrading your efforts. He’s completely broken you. All you can do it beg and whine underneath them both as they use you.
“Fuck. So tight.” Ghost is mumbling behind you, groaning and panting each time he thrusts back into your cunt. You can feel him twitching more and more and you squeeze around him.
“Please fill me up, Ghost. God please it’s all I need- FUCK!” You yelp in pain as you feel a hand slap your ass, the skin tender from the previous spanking.
“Good toys don’t speak. Unless you aren’t a good girl like I thought you were?” You almost cry at the implication and you squeeze on Ghost’s cock in protest.
You do stay silent though, biting your lip to try and silence the pleas threatening to burst past your lips.
“She’s so fucking tight. Fuck. Please can I cum inside her please please.” Ghost is barely legible, begging and moaning as he fucks you like it’s the last time.
Soap digs his boot into you even further before muttering out an approval for Ghost to cum. Said man wastes no time in following his orders and stills himself deep inside you.
You whine, another denied orgasm breaking your spirit even more. Ghost mumbles unintelligibly into your back, a string of ‘thank you’s leaving his bruised lips.
“Make her cum, Ghost. Be a good boy and clean up your mess.” You can hear the smile is Soap’s voice and finally you feel his foot leave your back and instead rest next to your head.
“Now, Sergeant.” Ghost whimpers pathetically, but immediately flips you over and kisses his way to your cunt which is now covered in a variety of all of your mixed fluids.
Ghost’s fingers dance across your thighs teasingly and you groan in annoyance. He takes this as a sign to hurry up and puts his mouth to your core.
You throw your head back and make eye contact with Soap. He smiles fondly at you before squatting down so he’s closer to you.
“Does he feel good? Is he eating you out right, baby?” You nod weakly, throwing your head back a bit further when Ghost finds the perfect spot and starts attacking it relentlessly.
“So good, so good.” You blabber, grabbing a fistfull of Ghost’s hair and reaching your other hand to wrap around Soap’s boot.
“Good. You’re both so fucking perfect. You listen so well, don’t you?” You nod, completely dazed and holding onto them both for dear life.
Then Ghost is pushing his fingers into you instead of his tongue and you cum. White hot fire lashes at the edges of your vision and consumes your body as you finally get the orgasm you’ve been denied all night.
Slowly but surely, the fire flickers away and you come back to your body and you notice Soap is sitting on the ground next to you and he’s holding you close.
“You with me?” You nod, words escaping you completely. He turns to Ghost and he nods as well, probably feeling as boneless as you do right now.
You smile sweetly at him and offer a hand to him. He grabs your hand softly and leans in to cuddle with you both.
You stay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm and enjoying the warmth of their bodies surrounding you and drowning out the rest of the world.
“We should get you two cleaned up, hm?” You feel Ghost grumble and shake his head against your chest, effectively moving your tits to a less comfortable position.
“Ghost. My boobs hurt.” You grumble back at him and he sighs, lifting himself and looking at you both.
You can almost see the hearts in his eyes.
“Good. Come on now, both of you need a bath.” Soap gently lifts you before wrapping an arm around Ghost and leads you both to the bathroom.
He sits you down on the countertop and pushes Ghost to sit on the lid of the toilet. Ghost slumps against the back of his makeshift seat and you giggle to yourself.
He closes his eyes and leans back and you stare at him, taking in the soft freckles that litter his skin and the old scars that carve into his flesh. The dingy light in the bathroom makes it hard to make out every part of his face and you long for the daylight to touch his skin again so you can admire it properly.
You were too busy staring at Ghost to notice Soap had filled the bath and finally stripped off his jacket. He had also rolled up his sleeves and you could see his arms threatening to rip his shirt to pieces.
“Come here, you!” He playfully grabs you and you giggle, wriggling in his grasp. Despite your best efforts, he keeps hold of you and delicately places you in the large bathtub.
You pout at him, still very much in subspace and not willing to let him leave you alone any time soon. He looks at you knowingly and smiles again.
“I’ll come wash you soon, let me get this lump in there with you first, though, okay?” You roll your eyes dramatically and slump against the edge of the tub. Soap smiles and turns to Ghost who is now snoring softly.
“Wake up, baby. You need a bath.” Ghost groans and picks himself up only to sit back down almost immediately. His legs shake a little and you giggle again.
“Damnit.” Ghost groans. He always hated being helped but sometimes he really needed it. Soap knew this and simply picked him up and slotted him right next to you in the tub.
You smiled and crawled over to the opposite edge, looking into Soap’s eyes.
He was always so sweet after he’d broken you to pieces.
But he always knew exactly how to put you back together.
And you always knew how to put him back together as well.
You kiss him softly and lean back, letting him do as he pleases.
Ghost lets Soap clean him as well and hums softly when you start massaging the shampoo into his hair.
“I like this.” You say quietly. But not quietly enough as both boys smile and hug you tightly.
What a way to end the night.
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lisbeth-kk · 6 months ago
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The May prompts from @calaisreno continues! Today's prompt : box
Chapter 2 of The Luckiest Girl in the World.
Summary: John bans Rosie's teddy bear from dining with them, which sends the toddler into a tantrum of sherlockian proportions. Cunning women to the rescue.
Two Years Old
The teddy bear Mum had bought me before I was born, was my favourite plushie. That is to say, my favourite plushie to toss around and force to do things a plushie isn’t supposed to be forced to do. Eating, for example. Dad forbade me to bring him to the table after I’d smeared his face with Bolognese sauce. To this day, it’s still visible stains of tomato sauce on Ted’s face.
My temper as a toddler, was apparently just as fierce as Dad’s according to Sherlock, the man I named Lock when I was around 18 months old. The tantrums I pulled when Ted was banned from the kitchen table, could be heard all the way down to 221A and Nana.
“Are you two trying to kill my goddaughter?” she scoffed when she came up to investigate.
“Of course not, Hudders. I don’t commit crimes, I solve them,” Sherlock retorted.
Nana was totally unfazed by this statement, muttering something about a stolen ashtray, before she fussed over me, trying to calm me down. She was partly successful and sat down beside me with Ted in her lap, letting him watch me eat my fish fingers and carrots, but denying me to feed him. I’ve been told I pouted quite a lot during the meal.
***
My second godmother, Molly Hooper, came to visit the next day, bearing gifts. Nana had evidently sought her out for advice.
“It’s not her birthday yet, Molly,” Dad complained, not wanting me to be more spoiled than I already was.
“I know that,” Molly said affronted. “It’s not for Rosie, but for Ted.”
“You bought gifts for a stuffed animal?” Sherlock inquired astounded by this curious gesture.
“I did. Do you want to open it for him, Rosie?” Molly asked me.
I didn’t need any persuasion and ripped the gift paper to shreds in no time. Inside the box was a soft drawstring bag, and inside the bag were a variety of lively coloured foods made of plastic. Corn, carrot, cod, cutlet, grapes, potato, sausage, broccoli, cauliflower, tomato, pear, lemon and two bananas.
“Food for Ted!” Molly announced and looked expectantly at me along with Dad and Sherlock.
I beamed at her and gave her a tight hug, before I fetched Ted to let him look at all the delicacies he could look forward to at dinner that night.
Even Sherlock admitted that Molly was quite the genius after that clever purchase.
“I only surround myself with proper intelligent people,” he told Dad when he pointed it out.
“High praise, Sherlock,” Dad teased him.
“Don’t push your luck, John,” Sherlock huffed, but I heard the smile in his voice.
This can also be read on AO3
Tagging you guys in the replies, cause the tagging is failing at the moment.
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chrisredfield73 · 11 months ago
Note
hello! HRU?
I saw that your requests are open! How do you think that the COD men will react to their S/O writing poems for/about them?
Thank you :D
A/N: Hello! I'm doing well, thank you! I hope you're doing good too!! Thank you for the request. If you want any other CoD men added to this just lmk!
For König's part:
Maus: Mouse
Ich liebe dich: I love you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ghost:
He's not a super emotional man, at least not around other members of the Task Force.
He was sitting in his barrack room, scrolling on his phone. He looks up at you as you walk in, "Hey."
But as soon as you handed him the poem, he felt his heart flutter and tears brimmed his eyes.
He reads it and pulls you into a gentle and warm hug.
"I love you." He whispers, so quiet that you have to strain to hear it.
He's definitely looking forward to you making more poems for or about him in the future, he almost wants to beg for you to make more.
Soap:
He's definitely one of the more emotional men in the Task Force.
He's in the lounge on base, leaning back on the couch. His eyes immediately find yours when you walk in and head over to him.
He beams at you when you hand him the poem, his stomach doing flips as he blushes a light pink hue.
He reads it and hugs you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.
"Thank you, sweetheart. I love you so much." He says, not afraid to show his affection if others are nearby.
He's also looking forward to more poems about/for him. He thinks it's the sweetest and cutest thing ever.
Gaz:
Another one of the men on the more emotional side, a bit more teasing than Soap though.
He's in his barrack room, playing games on his phone. He notices you walk in and smiles softly. "Hey, love."
He looks at you in confusion when you hand him the poem, his heart fluttering.
He reads it and grins, looking up at you with a blush on his face.
"Oh? This is about me, huh?" He teases before pulling you into a hug. "Never knew you were the poetic type."
He gives you a kiss on the lips, and much like the others, he eagerly awaits more poems from you.
Price:
He's more of the stoic type, yet more emotionally open than Ghost.
He was having a rough day, stern look across his face as he reads his paperwork in his office.
When you hand it to him, he looks up at you before looking back down to read it.
That stern and tired look quickly gets wiped off his face as he looks back up at you with a loving and tender look.
"Thank you, love. C'mere.." He leads you around his desk and pulls you into his lap, hugging you and kissing your lips softly.
He's looking forward to getting more poems, especially when he's having a rough day after missions.
König:
He's rather stoic and stern faced, but behind his mask and emotional walls, he's a gentle giant who loves receiving and giving affection.
He's in the armory locker rooms, cleaning his weapons and putting them up in his locker. He turns to face you when he hears you walk in. "Hello, Maus."
He smiles under his sniper hood when you hand him the poem, soon his eyes widen and a blush forms on his face.
He speaks so softly and pulls you into a hug after he reads it, "Ich liebe dich, Maus. Thank you."
He lifts up his hood and leans down to press a gentle kiss on your lips, his cheeks tinged pink.
He can't wait to get more poems, and he even tries to write some for you.
Keegan:
He's also another stoic and tough guy, but he melts when you give him affection.
He's sitting on his bed, watching a movie, when you walk in. "Hey, honey," he says as his eyes dart over to you.
He smiles when you hand him the paper and he melts even more after he reads it.
He gently tugs you down onto the bed, cuddling you and peppering kisses on your face. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you."
He didn't expect the poem, but now he really wants more of them from you.
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emperor-palpaminty · 1 year ago
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Bed(side) Manners
Minors DNI- NSFW, but I am vanilla so eh. If your age isn't in your bio and you interact you're getting blocked, sorry babez. It does mention other callsigns hehe (also if y'all have Call Sign name ideas that would be awesome, I'm thinking each COD reader insert will get a call sign)
Female doctor reader ("Doc") x Ghost: part 1 here hehe
Comments/reblogs appreciated! Likes don't do much on Tumblr, sadly. My inbox is also currently open for COD requests if ya want more!
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Ghost's foot steps were steady down the hall, but he was moving quickly. He had about fourty-five seconds before his watch read six and he was going to ensure the doctor was off on the dot. He turned the corner, nodding politely at Banshee and Gaz passing by and kept his pace up.
Thirty-two seconds.
He exhaled a bit and glanced around the hall to ensure he was alone. If anyone else spotted him bursting into Doc's office after hours- he didn't really care about himself, but he didn't know how she felt about others knowing or not.
Fifteen seconds.
He dropped his watch as the door came in sight. It always felt slower when he was actually eager for something.
This wasn't his first time seeing the doctor- they had passed on the field and on base many times. She intrigued him. He hummed in thought, pushing aside anything other than lust out of his brain.
His hand pushed open her door with five seconds to spare, and she glanced up from her desk. Her head tilted and her red lips pressed into a smile. "Someone took 'six o' clock' very literally."
"I'm always punctual." Ghost stepped in, slowly, and listened as the door shut behind him. Doc looked back down at the manilla folder in front of her, and he could see her fucking red lips quirk into a smile.
"Half your file is redacted, you know."
"Snooping, doc?" Ghost chuckled, pausing only a couple inches behind her chair. He leaned over the back of the chair, eyes scanning between the top of her head and the open file on the desk in front of her.
Indeed, it was his- much was redacted. As it should be. She hummed noncommittaly as her hands skimmed the edge of the manilla folder, fingers smoothing around a corner of it before she closed it. "Strange man, Riley." She tilted her head backwards and looked up at him, her intelligent eyes skimming over his mask.
Ghost only raised a brow as he looked down at her. The teasing really got him- it was something he enjoyed. Playing with his food, for lack of a better phrase. "Snarky for a doctor. Doesn't make for a good doctor. Bedside manners and all."
She stood from the chair, turning and looking up at him- the same glint stirred in her eye as she looked him over, sizing him up. "Never been good about bedside manners." Doc shrugged off her medical coat, dropping it on the back of the chair. Her lips pressed as she leaned back on the desk, her hands resting on her thighs as she looked him over again. "The bed isn't a good place to practice your good manners."
Ghost managed a chuckle and stepped forward. His hands moved as he strode over, bracing them on either side of her body against the desk- his thumbs brushed the hips of her khakis. "Not even a please? Or a thank you?"
"Why, LT." Doc crossed her arms, leaning back rather comfortably. It was as though she was not sitting between two arms ready to grab, or speaking with lips that looked ready to be devoured. The tension between them was palpable, thick, as she blinked up at him. "You say please in bed?"
Hands scooting closer to her, Ghost leaned in. Eyes locked steadily on his own- concise as surgery, deadly as a wound. "One way to find out."
Her lips quirked again, bold eyes darting down to roughly where his mouth was under his mask. She smiled, sweetly stepping against his hands before guiding him to the door.
---
The bedroom was further off than the barracks- doctors were just lucky that way. Even as he had picked her up, her hands rushing down to his belt, his hips dug into hers and pressed her on the wall next to the door. They had just made it in- by the time they had reached Doc's hall they were all over each other, and now, in the privacy of her own little room...
Ghost's mask was rolled up over his mouth, exposing the fraction of his nose that the mask had come to know- there was a fold in the fabric there, waiting and ready to be pushed back for talking, eating, or using his mouth in other ways.
Her lips were addicting. Ghost could hear the small moans that left her whenever he kissed her or grabbed her, sounds he decided he could get used to. She was hoisted up between the wall and himself, her hands running over his shoulders, his mask, wherever they could to feel like she could steady herself. Ghost jutted his hips into hers, the jeans constricting him. The movement earned him a weak groan, and he pressed away.
"Feels good, yeah?" He mumbled, the gloved hand grabbing at her ass. Her trousers had been a blessing, showing off the shape of her, but they had just about served their purpose. "Wanna get a little preview of how I'm gonna use this body tonight?" Ghost grunted and turned his head, face and mouth digging into her neck. She smells faintly floral- feminine and soft. Breakable. A wanton whine left her lips as his teeth grabbed for her skin, and his hips moved in tandem. "Didn't hear ya." Ghost paused, then chuckled against her skin. "Maybe a please, doctor. Could work on those bedside manners of yours."
Doc sucked in a breath, managing a brief laugh. "You want me to say please? To you?" He heard her smile fade as he opened his mouth against the nape of her neck, tongue and teeth working. Her head tilted back and he groaned against the length of her neck, hands skimming up her skin from under her shirt.
"Yes. Would be-" His teeth pulled her skin into his mouth, and he sighed, happily, as she squirmed. "Impolite not to, yeah?"
The doctor sighed reluctantly, and pulled back far enough to look at Ghost. Kiss-bruised lips pressed into a playful pout, and she batted her lashes. "Please, then."
"Please what?"
Doc chuckled, leaning forward; she was close enough for her nose to brush against the mask. "Please bend me over and fuck me silly?"
Ghost purred in response, dropping her from his arms. "That's more like it." He muttered, yanking a hand up to his mouth and catching the two fingers between his teeth. Slowly, he pulled his hand out. Tattoos peeked out from the long sleeves he was wearing on the cooler base, touching his wrist or snaking along his skin and under the fabric. "Asking me to fuck ya."
Doc's eyes gleamed with greed as she looked at his fingers before the large hands slid up her body, calling her attention back to the matter at hand. She hummed and looked back up to what she could make out of his face as he grasped her, hands feverishly feeling for what he could of her, running up and down her body under the damn shirt. "Let's get these off, yeah?"
"Sir, yes sir." Doc purred.
That was all the affirmation Ghost needed. He yanked up the hem of her shirt, a soft grunt leaving him when he saw the bra- lacy and black, leaving something heavy with desire in the pit of his stomach. "Fuckin hell." Ghost dropped her shirt on the floor, fingers moving back up to her breasts. "These fucking tits. Stare at 'em every time you fix me up."
"I know." The words left her mouth with a little huffed laugh, mingling with a whine as his fingers trailed over the thin fabric before she leaned back on the bed, her hands tangled in the thick fabric of his shirt.
Ghost fumbled with her pants. "Gonna leave my gear on, yeah?" He managed against her mouth. He pressed a kiss against her lips. "Never know when I'm gonna be called for."
"If you leave me now I'm not going to forgive you." Doc chided, leaning on her back. The motion of sliding her pants down her thighs was graceful, well thought and well practiced. "I've been waiting for this." Her lips curled devilishly as she laid back on the bed, grinning up at him as her eyes wandered over him. "I thought you would have lost the clothes."
Ghost chuckled, standing still. He reached a hand down and smoothed it up her thigh. Doc hummed, the muscles under her flesh flexing at the contact. "Nah. The mask stays on minimum."
"I like the mask."
"Good."
Ghost's hands grasped her thigh, staring over her. The cargos were restrictive, he was straining against the zipper of them- but he had to decide what to do. "Wanna fuck ya in so many ways."
Doc propped up on her arms, the bed frame barely creaking with the movement. "Then do it."
"I will, love. Just trynna decide how I wanna do it this time." He had abandoned his jacket, but he was feeling oddly warm. "So beautiful, but not sure where I want ya." Everywhere, mostly. On his face, on his lap, on his bed.
Doc's thighs rubbed together, her hips rolling up in a sinful motion. Ghost fought off a sound in his throat as he watched her strain for him.
"Want me in ya?"
"The sooner the better." Doc grinned, her bare legs squeezing his thighs, eyes coaxing and voice dipping into a gentle coo.
Ghost grunted, hands dropping to his belt. "Just gonna keep that on for me, love?" His fingers pulled at the buckle, eyes trailing over her body again, a hum of approval leaving Doc. She chewed on her lower lip, eyes glinting with greed. "Wanna fuck ya in that."
It was good that her dorm was so far- being a doctor on base gave her the privilege of privacy. Ghost shoved his jeans down and hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his boxers. Doc began to sit up and looked down towards his dick, a smile curling on her lips. "All for me?" She teased, her hips scooting towards the edge of the bed.
Ghost bent his head, spitting on the tip of himself before stroking himself. "You know it." He exhaled, nerves tangling over themselves in anticipation. She told him earlier that she had the arm implant and had a supply of Plan B- all he had to do was get the fuck in her.
Ghost slid his fingers up Doc's thighs- they were soft, the skin supple under his hands. Warm. His eyes darted towards her face, watching her lashes flutter as he tugged her panties aside. She let out a sound at the brief contact, the way his knuckles nudged her core open, a noise that could only be defined as craving. Ghost reached up with the hand that had been on his cock and tugged his mask back down over his face.
Doc's hips writhed up, searching for him, only for his fingers to barely stroke between the fleshy folds. "Patience, Doctor." Ghost grunted, his hand stroking himself again. Even if he stood here, this being wanting and moaning and vulnerable to him and jerked himself off, it wouldn't be enough. "'Boutta wear thin on mine, though."
A whine, a mewel really, wordless, escaped her, as his fingers dipped in- she stuck to him like honey, like sin, and he knew better things lie in her.
Ghost forced his hand away from his own dick, the edging throb of coming ebbing away, the feeling dissipating into annoyance. He exhaled, pushing her thighs open, fingers keeping the panties off to the side. He could smell the sex as he prodded at her opening with the tip of himself, inhaling heavily through the mask as she opened her legs for him, more, encouraging him with soft sounds of seduction.
"Ghost-" She strained to sit up, eyes darting down to where their bodies met. Her lips parted and she gave a whine, urging Ghost to push himself in more. She took every inch like a champ. Warm. Eager. Wanting. It radiated off her as he pushed the rest of himself in, shuddering at the seeping warmth all around his dick.
He was glad he wore the mask, at least. His eyes just about rolled to the back of his head as he bucked his hips once, his jaw tightening under the fabric. Her skin was hot against his cold belt buckle, her legs squeezing around his white tee. His eyes shut as he leaned forward, angling over her and grasping the cool metal board of the unforgiving bed. "That's it," He heard himself say as his huffs of breath were slightly muffled from the mask. "Pretty girl, I've gotcha." He rasped, eyes still closed, focusing on the heat creeping through his veins.
Doc managed something akin to words under him, Her hands raked over his arms, the fabric of his shirt and his mask, trying to grasp something. "This how you pay-" She turned her head, breath warm against his mask. "All those medical bills?" She laughed but it was lost between a moan and sigh as he moved, quicker, her body tensing.
Ghost spread his hands on her thighs and shoved them open, pressing them as flat as possible against the mattress. "'S it working?"
Her body rocked under him, finding solace in the contact. He could feel her shuddering under his hands, her thighs tensing. "Yeah." her breathing quickened and she turned her head against his mask, right by where his ear was hidden, and let out the softest moan. "You're- I'll-"
Ghost nodded, pushing himself to keep his hands on her body, eyes still shut. "Do it." He mumbled. "Whatever ya need. Just-" He grunted. "Soon."
The doctor's back arched, her legs snapping up and nearly shutting around him if his hands hadn't been spreading them open. She whined, a sweet and pitiful noise, and he felt her pulsing around him. A high pitched whine poured from her lips, and Ghost saw stars mounting behind his eyes.
"Fucking hell-" Ghost mumbled, hips snapping into her orgasam. "So fuckin' good, you come so pretty, fuck," Ghost leaned back, breath caught in the knit of the mask, the motions feeling more frantic.
Control- that was what the missions, the wars, he lacked. Here, in bed and behind closed doors, he could at least control himself and his dick. He could finally bring some pleasure, not pain. He buried himself in her, chanting quietly- fucking beautiful, love the sounds of that wet cunt, attagirl- until he was at the brink. He knew Doc could see his eyes open, just see the whites of them as he came, hips stuttering at last.
He leaned over her, Doc's pussy still nestled around him, her spasms slowing as his high began to ebb off. He nudged his masked face into her shoulder, exhaling slowly.
They took a moment. It was a rare few seconds of silence.
"You good?"
"Yeah." Ghost grunted. "Just- been a minute."
Doc chuckled. Her laugh was coy and inviting. In the dark room there was only him and her. Some normalcy, perhaps. "Been a bit for me, too."
Ghost blinked, wriggling his hips slightly. The sound of the suction as he pulled out was wet, needy. "For a pretty thing like you?"
She shrugged under him, doctorly hands running over the mask. "Yeah. I know. What a coincidence war keeps me busy." Doc chuckled, her eyes meeting Ghost as he pulled back.
She couldn't see his flushed cheeks, the way his lips twitched into a post-coital lazy smile. Just his eyes. Sometimes that was all he wanted people to see. "Seems like we're busy at the same time."
Doc's legs dropped from him, folding lazily onto the bed. "Mm."
"And not busy when we happen to be on base at the same time."
Doc's brows raised, and her lips curled into a smile. "What a coincidence," She purred, and even though she didn't know it, her smile matched his. "Maybe the next time we both aren't busy, you can swing by again for another appointment."
Ghost nodded, relief mingling with eagerness, his hand sliding up her body, memorizing the pattern of her skin and the warmth of her body, the deep breaths she took to calm herself and her nerves down. "I like the sound of that."
She grinned, laying back flat on the mattress as he leaned over her, bracing himself. Looks like he had standing appointments with the base doctor for the forseeable future. Not that he minded at all, as long as they all ended like this.
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constant-mason24 · 4 months ago
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Security
David Mason x Reader (COD: Black Ops 2)
Fem reader, she/her pronouns.
(Y/n) is a nurse caring for Frank Woods. The sudden arrival of an old enemy throws her life upside down.
PART 2
“Nurse Batshit! Where’s my fuckin-”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes, moving down the hallway towards the voice. The man yelling was Frank Woods, an ex-marine who has been causing hell here for over a decade. He had a reputation amongst the staff and residents for being difficult and unfriendly to most people. He did have his favorites, and thankfully (Y/n) was one of them.
“Frank, would you stop calling Kelly that? We’ve talked about this.” (Y/n) holds the door to his room open with her hip, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at him like a stern mother scolding her son. 
“I’ll stop calling her that when she stops acting like a damn psycho.” The man grumbles, rolling his wheelchair over to the window. “I wanted my damn drink.”
“I’ve got it here.” The woman sighs, handing a glass over to him. “You know, Kelly would be a lot nicer to you if you were nicer to her.”
“What’ll it take to get you to be nicer to me?” 
“I’m the most pleasant motherfucker here.” (Y/n) smiles as Frank snorts at that. She takes an orange medicine bottle out of her bag, carefully checking over the label to ensure it’s the correct one. Satisfied, she set it down on the low-standing dresser, next to another near-empty bottle. “Refills came in.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” The man nods. “You gonna stick around here today?”
“As much I love spending time with my favorite asshole, I have other residents to see today.”
“You know, one of these days you won’t run off before my nephew gets here.” He turns his chair to face her fully. “I’ll introduce you two all charming-like, and then you can tell the story at your wedding.”
“I look forward to that day.” (Y/n) plays along sarcastically. “But for now, I have a job to do.”
“Yeah, get the fuck out of here, miss independent.” Woods waved her off, turning back to the window. “Go clean up the piss and shit of a million other old farts.”
“You’re so gross,” (Y/n) whines, leaving his room. “Keep it up and I’m not dropping in to say goodbye when I leave tonight.”
“You’d miss me.” The old man laughs as she waves and closes the door behind her. She chuckles to herself as she moves down the long hallway to her next stop. The Vault is never a bustling place, usually quite empty and lonesome. Occasionally a nurse will pass by, sometimes with a resident alongside them. Even rarer are visitors coming to see loved ones who resided here. As (Y/n) turned a corner away from Woods’ room, she wasn’t expecting to see anyone there, much less run face-first into them. 
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She backs up, catching her balance, and holding out a hand to support the man she just bumped into. 
“No, don’t be sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going.” The man also reached out to steady her. He smiled kindly, though something about him left a chill trailing down her spine. He spoke in a thick accent, and his right eye was milky white and scarred.
Suddenly lost for words, she smiled awkwardly and nodded at him, sidestepping out of the way. The man returned the nod, continuing down the hallway where (Y/n) had just come from. The woman brushed off her blue scrubs, picking up the pace to drop off the next bottle of meds she was tasked with delivering this morning. 
She knocked on the next resident's door, smiling her hellos and leaving the bottle of medicine in its place. After a bit of small talk, she moved to leave the room, and her hand grazed what felt like another bottle in her bag. She pulled it out as she stepped back into the hall, glancing at the label and reading the name. 
Frank Woods.
Oh, did he have two bottles of medication? Shit. Shaking her head at her obliviousness, (Y/n) started trekking back to Woods’ room. At least she hadn’t gone too far when she realized her mistake. And it was an excuse to say hello to Frank again. (Y/n) smiled softly. She was rather fond of that old man. 
As she turned the corner of the hallway, the same one where she had just bumped into that man, she ran face-first into yet another person. This time the body she collided with was harder. She bounced off of this person, landing on her ass with a grunt. It was the eerie sound of a gun clicking in front of her that brought her to focus.
“Hands where I can see them!” The man yelled, covered head to toe in tac gear. He was holding a very intimidating-looking rifle, pointed straight at her.
(Y/n) threw her hands up with a yelp, wincing as another man behind the first came and roughly grabbed her arm. He lifted her to her feet, and she cried out. 
“What the hell is going on?!” She asked, and before the men could answer, a familiar voice called out down the hall. 
“You better not be fuckin with the only competent nurse we have in this hellhole.” Franks Woods wheeled himself out of his room, looking down the hall at the men with a glare of fury. “Let the girl go, she ain’t a threat to you dipshits.”
“At ease.” Another voice spoke up, moving to stand behind Frank. The two soldiers let go immediately, and (Y/n) moved to rub at the bruise already growing on her arm. 
“Why don’t you come here?” Frank beckoned, moving back into his room. A third voice spoke up from inside.
“This isn’t a matter for civilians to be involved in-”
“Will you just quiet down, already? Jesus fucking christ.” Frank groaned. The man standing in the doorway nodded to (Y/n) as she got closer.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, letting her enter the room. She stood there, looking at the suddenly crowded space they were occupying. The third man, who was also dressed head to toe in tac gear, was scowling behind Frank, who looked absolutely unbothered. The other man behind her was dressed casually. He stepped in front of the door, blocking (Y/n)’s way of leaving if she wanted to escape.
“I uh,” She reached into her bag, grabbing Frank’s second bottle of medicine with shaking hands. She was trembling so hard that the bottle audibly rattled as she removed it from the bag. “I forgot these earlier, Frank. Came by to drop them off.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Frank nodded, taking the bottle from her. “Don’t let these fuckers scare you, they look meaner than they are.”
“Listen, old man-” The guy in the gear started before Frank interrupted him.
“I told you someday I would make you meet my nephew?” Frank wheeled himself closer to her, gesturing to the man standing behind her. “This is David. I was hoping to introduce you two a little nicer, but..”
(Y/n) awkwardly turned back to look at David. She raised a still-shaking hand and whispered out the most pathetic-sounding ‘hi,” she’d ever heard.
David nodded. “Sorry again for startling you, miss.” 
“It’s alright. May I ask what happened? Is everything ok?” Her eyes moved to Frank as she said this. 
“Yeah, they’re looking for some asshole who just stopped by. Could’ve done it without disturbing the goddamn peace around here.”
(Y/n) wanted to joke about how there was no peace with Frank around, but she wasn’t feeling up to the joke with the given company. 
“Someone was here?” Her thoughts floated back to the man she had run into the first time. “The uh, guy with the eye?”
“You saw Menendez?” David asked, moving to stand in front of (Y/n). She flinched back just slightly. 
“Is that who he was?”
“What did he say to you?” The man in the gear spoke up, and she shook her head.
“Nothing, really. We bumped into each other earlier, I mean I ran right into him. All we did was apologize for that.” The two men shared a glance, but Frank looked pissed. 
“Is that all that happened, (Y/n)?” he rolled his chair right up to her, looking at her with a grave seriousness she hadn't seen before. “That fucker is a dangerous man. He didn’t do or say anything to you-”
“No! I bumped into him, we both apologized, and that was that. I went back to doing my job.”
Frank visibly relaxed, but the other two men seemed more on edge. David stepped closer, lifting a hand towards her.
“I need to search you real quick, miss.” 
“Search me?” 
“Menendez may have planted something on you when you bumped into him. Just a precaution.” The other man spoke.
“I’ll try to be respectful.” David tried to look comforting, but instead, he just looked uncomfortable. Breathing deeply and bracing herself, (Y/n) dropped her bag with a nod.
It felt incredibly weird, having a strange man put his hands all over her. She felt tense under his moving touch, but she tried to remind herself it was for an actual reason and not just some dude feeling her up. Frank let out a low whistle.
“I knew I liked the idea of you two together, but Jesus Christ, you only just met!”
“Frank.” (Y/n) hissed, sending him a glare.
“Alright, sorry!” He laughed, clearly not apologetic in the slightest.
Sure enough, David reached his hand into her pocket and pulled a small black… thing out of it. Her discomfort was quickly replaced with shock.
“How did he put that there? I didn’t even feel it.” She mumbled.
“He’s a tricky bastard.” David squeezed it, popping the thing like it was a bug. (Y/n) supposed it was. “Unfortunately, that means Menendez has his eyes on you, now.”
“Why me?”
“He knows who you are, kid.” Frank looked down at the ground with a huff. “He knows I like you, and he wants to use that to get to me.”
“Wait, what do you mean-” (Y/n) can’t finish her sentence before David looks to the third man in the room. 
“Harper, tell Briggs we’re bringing a plus one back.” The third man, Harper, nods, and David looks back at her. “I’m sorry, I know this isn't how you planned your day to go. Come on, we’ll get you settled for the ride.”
“But what about-”
“Don’t worry about any of that, kid.” Frank waved his hands. “You go with David, and do as he says. He’ll take care of ya.”
Before she can argue any further, Harper leads her out of the room and into the hallway. David and Frank start up one last conversation behind them, one that's drowned out by the rustling of many soldiers filing through the hall. (Y/n) wonders where her quiet little job went to.
“We’ll get you settled in somewhere safe, Miss (L/n),” Harper speaks, guiding her onto a small aircraft parked outside the vault. “Someplace as comfy as we can manage, alright?”
“You, uhm,” (Y/n) tries to let her mind catch up to what's happening around her. More soldiers are moving back and forth. “You know who I am.”
“Yeah. Frank Woods has mentioned you to Section in the past.”
“Section?”
“David Mason.” he clarifies.
“Oh.” She says lamely.
“And I’m Mike Harper.” He holds out a hand to shake hers, which she accepts. “I hear you’ve made quite the impression on the old man.”
“Frank?” She practically has to yell to be heard over the aircraft's engines. “I seem to be the only person he can tolerate. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fond of him.”
“That’s sweet.” Harper smiles. “I’m sure Section would be glad to hear it.”
Then David Mason exits the vault, making his way up and onto the aircraft as well. He settled in next to her, glancing to make sure she’d properly fastened in with a nod. The ramp closes up, and it becomes much quieter aboard the craft. (Y/n) grips onto the edge of her seat as she feels it lifting into the air. 
“You ever flown on anything like this before?” David asks. She shakes her head. “It’s a smooth ride. You’ll be just fine.”
For some reason, (Y/n) felt anything but fine.
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the-californicationist · 5 months ago
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twenty questions for fic writers!
thank you for the tag @crashtestbunny 🩷 i've been looking forward to this questionnaire!
here's my AO3 link if anyone needs it
1. how many works do you have on ao3?
91
2. what's your total ao3 word count?
503410
3. what fandoms do you write for?
Call of Duty (AO3)
Game of Thrones (AO3)
Blacklist (AO3)
Doctor Who (Private)
True Blood (Private)
Firefly (Private)
Star Wars (Private)
4. top five fics by kudos
Guile & Guilt (COD: Soap/Reader)
The Window (COD: Poly141/Reader)
Gunslinger (COD: Price/Reader)
5. do you respond to comments?
Yes! I try to respond to all my comments. I miss them sometimes, but for the most part, I try to get to every one.
6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Budapest (COD: Price/Reader) TW: Major Character Death
7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Good Fences (COD: Price/Reader)
8. do you get hate on fics?
No. I would cry. Keep the hate to yourselves, please. I'm like an unguarded marshmallow of a person.
9. do you write smut?
I think that's the only thing I can write.
10. craziest crossover:
Gravitational Shift (COD/Star Wars: Price/Sith Female OC)
11. have you ever had a fic stolen?
No, luckily I'm not famous enough for that.
12. have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! Gunslinger (COD: Price/Reader) is available in Russian.
13. have you ever co-written a fic before?
The Sin Eater (COD: Monster!Price/Reader) is co-authored with the illustrious @vampirekilmerfic. When our lives calm down, we'll be finishing the damn thing. 🩷
I am also working on a Regency!Price fic with @ofdivinity01 TBA soon. 🩷
14. all time favorite ship?
SanSan
15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I will finish them all.
16. what are your writing strengths?
Dialogue
Descriptions of dicks
17. what are your writing weaknesses?
Pacing. I'm always in such a hurry.
Lack of variety. I'm addicted to the HEA.
18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?
I have my PhD in Linguistics, so any chance I get, I love to include languages and dialects different from Standard English.
I spent about a month researching the difference between German and Austrian for Guardian (COD: Konig/FemOC). Probably should've spent some time researching the actual video game, but I was too horny.
When I read fics with other languages in them, it makes it feel more realistic to me, and I really enjoy it when authors throw in any locale-specific socio-cultural information as well.
19. first fandom you wrote in?
Harry Potter
20. favorite fic you've written?
Goldfish (GOT: Sandor/Sansa). I love it. I'm so proud of myself for what I was able to accomplish with that fic. Horrible reception, though.
In my COD collection, it would have to be Gunslinger, but I think Ursa Major might give it a run for its money.
NPTs: @vampirekilmerfic // @kit-williams // @deadbranch
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