#cod x reader angst

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon Riley crying and praying for the first time in years bc you're hospitalized

(self indulgent as fuck, based off of personal medical history bc it'll be more accurate)

You hadn't ate or drank for 5 days, unable to keep anything down. You thought it was the flu at first. Fevers, puking, extreme fatigue. It didn't seem like anything out of the norm. Except for when your fevers started casing full body convulsions that made you look possessed. Chills and cold sweat turned to groaning and crying, muscles all over cramping and clenching, breathing becoming difficult. You figured it was because you hadn't had the flu in years. How wrong you had been.

Once your puke turned green, which was later found out to be bile from your kidneys, Simon rushed you to the hospital. Unable to stand, he pulled a wheelchair from the entrance and pushed you everywhere. Within 2 hours, the nurses had you admitted and on IV meds. Pain meds, IV Tylenol, and bags of fluid were hooked up to you, rehydrating you being high priority. Your body is in shock, resting heartrate being 140. He sat by your side the entire time, holding your puke bag in one hand, and your hair back in the other. The doctors drew blood, running blood cultures, searching for a more accurate answer.

The night you were admitted, they informed you that your kidneys were so infected that one got injured. The bile that was thrown up was caused but how hard you were puking, pulling it up from your kidneys.

He stayed the night, sleeping in the rocking chair, right next to your bed. He woke up when your fevers came back, holding your hand and telling you how good you're doing, calling in a nurse. The morning that followed, he had to go back to the house to make a bag of your immediate needs, clothes, deodorant, hairbrush, and anything else he could think of. When he came back, a doctor and a couple med students came in with important news.

"We ran blood cultures to see if there was possible an infection in your blood due to your symptoms leaning towards that. They came back positive. We are going to give you antibiotics and run cultures every 12 hours to track if the antibiotics are working" The doctor says as gently as possible.

The room begins to feel like it's spinning. Sepsis has a 68% mortality rate, and knowing how deadly it is, it feels like you're already being buried. Simon looks to you with a confused look, not knowing exactly what that it, but knowing it isn't good.

"I have sepsis?" You ask in a quiet voice, throat constricting.

"Yes" The doctor says softly.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna die" you whisper under your breath, tears forming.

Simon looks to you, eyes widening. 'Not again'

"Wait, the hell is Sepsis?" He demands, but not sounding confident, more scared than anything.

The doctor explains it to him, how it when your blood is infected, how the infection can latch onto your other organs and slowly kill you from the inside out. Once it reaches your brain, it's too late. His grip on your hand tightens. The doctor tries to give hope, but she can only do so much without lying. She leaves to give you privacy.

It's silent, neither of you speaking out of shock. The only noise in the room is the quiet hum of the IV machine and Simon's shaky breathing. Your thumb softly glides back and forth over the back of his hands, trying to ground him.

"Si" you softly call.

It takes hour to get him to loosen up a little. It's only when you manage to keep down a popsicle that he feels like he can breath a little easier. Like maybe you'll be part of the 32% that pull through.

That sliver of hope is crushed that night, being woken up by his arm being slapped repeated by you in a panic. His eyes meet yours, concern instantly written on his face. Your hand is on your chest as short, sharp breaths are the only thing you can manage.

"I,, can't,, breath,," you whisper between breaths, unable to say a sentence in one go.

"Baby it's alright, jus' try to breath wit' me, hm?" he tries to demonstrate slow breathing, mistaking it for a panic attack.

"not a,, panic,, attack,, please,, nurse,," you try to tell him.

He nods in a panic, running out to the nurse station and explaining. They rush in and take your pulse-ox just to see your oxygen percentage is at 86% when it should be above 95%. They try to do the deep breathing again before Simon interrupts them.

"It's not a bloody panic attack, she literally can't breath. Get her oxygen or somethin' before she fuckin' suffocates!"

They put you on oxygen until they can get you an X-ray. The nurses try to chalk it up to a panic attack until in the morning they see you still can't breath. They give you an X-ray and when the results come back, they send the doctor in. She informs you that the nurses gave you too much IV fluid and that caused your organs to swell so much that they pushed up on your lungs, collapsing them by 3/4ths. 1/4th of your lungs are still open and they're going to take you off fluid, start you on exercises to open them back up, and keep you on oxygen.

That's the last straw for Simon. Once you fall asleep for a nap, he heads outside to the bench area and punches a wall. His knuckles split but he barely feels it, ringing in his ears drowning out the surrounding noise. With no one around, he sits on a bend, elbows on knees and face in his hands. His breath picks up as his throat tightens and tears threaten to rip out of him.

"Why would ya let this happen to 'er? Aren't you supposed to be lovin'?" He whispers into the wind, looking up at the sky, "That girl in't like me. She's the fuckin' sunshine in human form and she's on death's bloody doorstep."

Tears cloud his vision, unable to keep it in any longer. He blinks them away, falling onto his clenched fists. Years of praying, to a god he later grew to resent, for him to fix his family. A child kneeling at his bed, begging him to get his family out of his father's grasp. Once he got to his teenage years, his desperation became resentment and anger. His jaw began to clench when his drunken father would spew bible verses at him to condemn him. He realized God wouldn't save him, nor would he when Simon's family was ripped from him.

Yet here he was, back to that same god, desperate that maybe, just maybe, he'd have mercy on him this time. He believed himself a rotten man, even if it was subconscious, unworthy of the angel sent to him. His light, reparations for the mistreatment The Father had destined for him.

"You sent 'er to me, it's gotta be for a reason. You've never listened to my prayers before but just this fuckin' once, please don't ignore me." His voice breaks, openly sobbing with no sound, "You sent 'er to me and now I can't live without 'er. She's fuckin' everythin' to me. Don't take back your gift, please" The end of his sentence slips into a whisper.

He wipes his tears on his sleeve and sniffles hard, trying to erase the evidence of his vulnerability. He stands and walks to the door, looking back at the bench before turning back to the door and walking in. 'Amen'

[youronlydarlin]

warning: HEAVY ANGST, Simon can't stop crying, Sad Simon, u die sorry :(

Simon holding your corpse and it's just. A mess. Jus' thinkin about him fully breaking down, hunched over your body. Growling out words of venom to anyone who comes close.

He's nearly shot Johnny when he tried to pry you away from him. Good thing Price managed to get some distance between them.

It shakes their very core. Seeing just how vulnerable their lieutenant is. He's shaking, and crying like a little boy. And his sobs sound painful. Like each tear, and breath is being ripped straight out of his throat. It's a heart wrenching sight, and not a single one of them has the courage to speak, or to comfort. And maybe it's their way of showing respect for you. For what's passed.

Meanwhile your Simon is just wracking with sobs. His tears are never ending, and not a moment later does he start to beg. Sounding almost possessed and hysterical as he goes on a tangent.

"My baby....my baby...."

He weeps. Voice cracking, trying to pull you impossibly close to his chest. As if he could share his heartbeat with you. You were his lifeline, and now it's getting harder and harder to breathe without you. His tears trickle down to your face, and it makes it seem like you're crying too. Like you're sorry for leaving so soon, for not being able to say goodbye, for not being able to say 'I love you. The thought shatters Simon and now he's shaking with a new wave of tears dampening his mask.

"Just wake up... please just–just come back..."

He whispers, and he hated how everybody heard. Except you.

a/n: uhhhhh, once again I am practicing my angst, and english skills! This also served as like, a character analysation?? I jus' wanted to see how far I could get at giving a character despair. Think I did pretty well, criticism, and corrections to my grammar are always welcome by the way! And I hope your taking care of yourself, my loves! Till next time!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[vampsquerade]

CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE US HARD DOM KÖNIG WITH A FEMALE READER i just need that big hunk of man meat to dominate me- dies

DOM KÖNIG YES I LIVE FOR DOM KÖNIG SO FUCKING MUCH UGHHHH I WANT HIM TO CRUSH MY HEAD WITH HIS THIGHS AND BICEPS UGHHHAVBAHSHSH THANKS ANON I KINDA WENT WILD WITH IT

(also pls forgive there might be some annoying mistranslations istg i’m learning german i promise also sorry for not answering dms and stuff you’re gonna have to give me a minute cause i’m very prone to anxiety after being off my meds for a bit)

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König x Female!Reader: Royalty’s Cruelty

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, dom!könig, sub!reader, spanking, bondage, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, asphyxiation, aftercare

Wanton and loud cries of pleasure for your beloved military boyfriend fell from your lips each and every time his large, callous hands came into contact with the skin of your ass. “I thought I warned you about what would happen if you teased me while I was on a mission—you know damn well you deserve this kind of punishment.” König scolds venomously, pure malice and sadism dripping as he speaks. “I-I’m sorry!” you cry out as his hand smacks loudly against your skin once more. “Halt deine Hurenmaul! I don’t want to hear you telling me you’re sorry!” He commands. Tears stream down your face pathetically, whimpering in pain as he stops momentarily. “The very knee you’re bent over is the same one I use to kill my enemies—do you want to hear just how exactly it is that I do it?” he says coldly.

“H-Hah…~ What do you do to them with this knee..?” you ask softly, not wanting to further incur his wrath. König’s hand then tightly grips at your flesh with the strength of a hawk’s talons, making your severely sore ass sting even more. A sob emits from you, turning your head slightly so you can look up at him, “I snap their spines and necks on here…I even go so far as to cave their heads in…” He says in a chilling tone, chuckling darkly. His eyes are shrouded with the mists of sadism, relishing in the sight of you pathetically bent over his knee. “Now tell me—just because you’re my cute little liebling, do you think I should offer any semblance of mercy to you? Do you think you really deserve it even after I warned you?”

You hesitate on what to say, swallowing your saliva hard. Your mind is racing as you try and get a hold of yourself as you hear just how evil König’s voice sounded. “Don’t make me impatient, liebling. Your punishment is just starting and you know how much I hate wasting my time.” König warns. Body tensing in anticipation, you just nod, “N-No…not even I deserve your mercy…I willingly put myself into this position…” You whimper softly, yelping loudly once he begins to fondle your flesh. “Good girl—not even my liebling deserves my mercy…” König says. His hand then travels off your ass and to your dripping cunt, gently stroking his hand from your clit down to your core that twitches with each and every movement.

“Mmpf..!~ König…~” you moan softly, not even able to hold yourself back. “I don’t think I gave you permission to speak. Not a single sound is to fall from those whorish lips of yours—you don’t want it to get worse.” König seethes. He then fully pulls your panties down and discards them somewhere across the floor, his gloved fingers then letting go of your ass and continuing to tease your dripping cunt. You bite your lip and smack your hand over your mouth, letting his large gloved fingers continue its work against your clit. “Unless that’s exactly what you want…” König whispers. You can hear the sickeningly malicious chill in his voice before he speaks again, “Want me to show you just how ruthless and unrelenting I can be? Does that thought excite you?”

You hesitate, unsure if you’ve been given permission to speak, so you nod your head sheepishly. Behind his sniper’s hood, you can just see how excited he is about this. You could see the sadistic smile he always gives whenever you misbehave; it’s a pleasantly frightening sight when you get the chance to see it. You practically drip more at the imagination you have, biting your lip harder as you stare up at him. “You do? Mein Gott, you really are a degenerate…to think I'd never imagine seeing someone as sweet and as caring as you to be into this kind of thing…” König breathes, degrading you. His hand then stops what it’s doing, as he brings his fingers up to inspect them. His eyes seemingly squint even more out of pure delight as his sadistic smile only widens.

“But yet here you are—bent over my knee and getting wet at the thought of me absolutely ravaging you…proving me wrong to think you would never be so depraved…” He chuckles, licking his gloves clean, “Such a naughty, naughty girl…” König then pulls his glove off with his sharp teeth after bringing it under his hood. He then spits it out of his mouth, and puts his hand back in between your legs. Now feeling his warm hand right up against you instead of the gloves, it makes you shiver at the sensation of skin touching skin. You try to moan as his middle finger strokes up and down your even wetter cunt, eyes screwing shut to focus on keeping yourself quiet as his finger drags itself up and down. “So wet…You have no idea just how addictive it is to watch you squirm and try to keep yourself quiet.” König purrs.

His middle finger soon dips inside of you and you can’t help but clench around him. Your eyes open wide at the feeling and it just gets harder for you to keep quiet. Agonizingly slow, König begins to pull his finger out before pushing it back into you with enough force to drive you crazy already. Your bottom lip was bleeding from how hard you were biting it, keeping yourself as quiet for as long as you can. You huffed out a puff of air with every other breath each time he teased you, pushing his fingers in a little faster with little effort before slowing back down. The limit was getting closer and closer every single time but right when you were going to reach it you were forcefully pulled away in an aggressive manner. And not even realizing, you had let out a loud whine from your bitten lips behind your mouth.

König stops his fingers after having just added a second one inside of you. The air becomes so thick it’s hard to breathe; either because of that, or because his other hand was gripped tightly around your throat. “Ich habe dich verdammt noch mal gewarnt – jetzt wirst du unter den Konsequenzen leiden, du dreckiger Degenerierter.” König seethes in a tone you had never heard before. Suddenly, you were lifted up by his right hand’s vice grip around your throat before he lightly let you go once you were safely over the mattress. “You had better appreciate me not downright slamming you onto the bed. That’s going to be the only time I’m nice to you tonight—I’ll fuck you until the only thing that’s on your mind is your broken obedience.” König seethes.

The towering man then climbs over you and rips off your bra before pulling you up by the nape of your neck. “Do you really want this? Once we do this,” his striking blue eyes hold bolts of lightning within them as he stares you in the eyes, “you can’t go back ever again,” König warns you. Though it doesn’t sound like it, he seems to be offering one last chance to save yourself from the wrath that’s coming. More intrigued at just what is in store, you decide to just open up Pandora’s Box. “I do…” you mumble. König then lets go of your neck and pushes you back down on the mattress. Sitting atop your abdomen, he unbuckles his belt and removes it from the loops in one swift motion.

He’s quiet and focused, gripping both your wrists tight before putting them between the bars of the headboard. König then tightly wraps his belt around them, “No escape for you, little rabbit—you’re all helpless and exposed for the big hunter. Aren’t you excited?” he asks. Feeling a sense of genuine fear, you can’t help but whimper softly. “Oh, don’t be so scared all of a sudden,” König chuckles, getting off of you to undo the button to his pants as well as his zipper, “you asked for this.” He then lifts your legs up and closes them, pushing them up to your chest. “As much as I’d love to fuck those cute thighs, I’ll settle for what you’ve got right,” König says as he pushes in already, making you cry out for him, “here.” he growls as he forces himself inside you.

You expected it to hurt because of how big he is except this time around, the pain makes you moan loudly. “A-Ah!~” you cry out. “You filthy degenerate…just listen to how loud you’re moaning for me already. Do it some more—let me hear you scream for me.” König demands. His large hands grip your calf and thigh on each of your legs tightly as he pulls himself out just so he’s barely inside of you. He doesn’t even look at you when you stare at him with wide eyes and shaking your head no; he’s purely driven by the desire to show you just how ruthless he can be with you if you misbehave. König disregards your silent pleads before pushing back in. “Mmpf!~” You moan, biting your bottom lip hard for a moment before opening your mouth again.

Each harsh thrust from him gets you a loud groan and growl, as he feels you convulse and quiver beneath him. Your eyes roll back slightly as the pain now completely subsides as the way he thrusts his massive cock in and out of you over and over again. “Tell me…how does it feel, little rabbit?” König asks. You try to look at him, but once the tip of his cock starts hitting your cervix you can’t even respond. He then strikes your thigh hard, forcing you to pay attention, “I thought I fucking asked you a question. “How does it feel, little rabbit?’” he seethes. You cry out, eyes rolling back down to look at him, “Feels so good!~ God—König!~ I already feel so close..~” you moan loudly. “Oh do you now?” König asks before laughing maniacally. His thrusts are no longer as fast as they were, much slower and more forceful.

He built you up so high and forced you back down, making you whimper and whine. “I’m not done with you quite yet. Hold it the fuck in.” König says. You whimper and whine even more now, and König appears to be getting annoyed by it. He then leans forward and as punishment, decides to only lightly grind himself against you before then wrapping a tight hand around your throat. You strain to breathe now, his crushing grip once directed to your legs has now focused on your throat. “Moan like this—I want to watch you writhe and squirm before you lose consciousness.” König says as he continues to grind into you. Even like this he manages to be forceful, his tip still rubbing right up against your cervix. This alongside the vice grip he had on your throat, it was just driving you further into the stars, moaning louder and louder despite rapidly losing consciousness.

Your eyes start to flutter shut as a dark vignette begins to surround the corners of your vision. Before you could pass out, König’s hand comes up and shakes you to make you come back. “Keep your eyes open. Breathe for now before I crush your trachea again.” he threatens. You nod, regaining your breath as best you could before he started again. “Güt?” He asks, his hand creeping up to grip your throat against. “Y-Yes…” you mumble softly. “Louder.” he says as he slowly begins to apply pressure. “Yes!” you exclaim much louder. “You’re very obedient—maybe I should let you see my face, ja? Or do you prefer the sniper’s hood while I’m deep inside you, pounding away at you like you mean absolutely nothing to me?” König asks as he starts choking you again.

“K-Keep it on…” You strain as his hand crushes your trachea. “Filthy whore…” König growls as he starts thrusting into you harder and faster than he was before. You wail and cry out on pleasure, being able to slightly breathe a little better as you do since he wasn’t choking you too hard. That previous build up to an orgasm was coming dangerously close, as you stared pathetically into König’s sharp blue eyes pierced into your own. Behind the sniper’s hood, his jaw was clenched tight as he growled deep within his chest and throat. His breathing was heavy, focused on just finally pushing you over the edge. “Want to cum, little rabbit?” He asks, unrelenting with his thrusts. It seems König was already at the edge himself, and wanted to finally get over it with you.

“Y-Yes! Please…please let me cum, König! I-I promise I won’t misbehave or be disobedient ever again!” you moan loudly as König’s grip on your throat becomes tight once again. “Then cum…cum for me…” König growls softly. As if right at his command, you scream his name so loud that it manages to catch him by surprise. His hips stutter as you start to cling to him tightly and he spills himself deep inside with a soft moan of your name. The two of you stay like this, catching your breath as your bodies seemingly melt into each other now. “Fuck…are you okay..? Did I hurt you too badly? I’m so sorry if I went overboard today…” König apologizes, breaking the silence. Seeing his demeanor change completely like this, it just filled your heart with a warmth you’d always held for him.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be really sore tomorrow…” you say softly, laughing breathlessly. König’s hands begin to gently caress your legs as he pressed gentle kisses against your calves. He pulls himself out of you slowly, sighing contentedly once he watches a bit of his semen drip out of you. “You did really good today…I’m so proud of you for holding it together…I’m still really sorry if it hurt…do you need water? A massage? I’ll give you anything to make sure the slaps and spanks I gave you earlier…would ice also help?” König suggests, praising you for how well you did. “Maybe a nice shower with my big boyfriend would be much more helpful…I feel so sticky.” you day, laughing softly. “And don’t be worried about hurting me too hard—if it was too much for me, I would’ve used our safe word. You did fine, alright? Don’t feel guilty about it. I love you, and I trust you, König.” You reassure, giving him a pleasant smile.

König nods before then removing his sniper’s hood, tossing it somewhere in your shared room. He puts your legs down to properly kiss you, his hand that once held a crushing grip on your neck now gently and lovingly strokes your cheek. You kiss him back, smiling softly as you bring your own hand up to caress his as he gently holds onto your face. After a bit, he pulls away and peppers your jaw, face, and neck in little kisses. “Ich liebe dich, kleines Kaninchen…” he whispers softly against the crook of your neck. “I love you too…now let’s go take a shower. We can come back and cuddle for as long as we need to,” you say, tilting your head downwards to kiss the top of his head. “O-Okay…I’ll carry you and make sure to hold you up, I don’t want to risk you falling over and getting hurt.” König says, giving you a soft smile.

[saturncodedstarlette]

🌟Ideas Dumping🌟

I always seen hurt/comfort fanfics where the character caused pain (emotionally) to the reader and still get a happy ending just bc the character confessed to the reader, I never understand that. I want to see the reader stands their grounds and be like

“So you think by confessing to me everything will be all happily lovey dovey? You caused me pain and embarrassment and then, you had the nerve to stand in front me and act nothing’s wrong? You don’t deserve my time & affection, if you were truly love me you wouldn’t make me go through all that suffering and humiliation! You’ve already lost me before you had a chance to be with me. You don’t deserve me.”

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[truetogaia]

just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.

he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.

“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”

he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.

“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”

cod masterlist

[empresskylo]

simon ‘ghost’ riley is a light sleeper. he’s so well trained to be on high alert that even when he’s not on duty he wakes at the smallest sound.

sometimes you’ll get up in the middle of the night and he immediately sits up. “you alright?” he slurs.

you make a small sound of discomfort or wiggle a little too much and his head is turning on the pillow, his eyes on you. and he always asks if you’re okay. you’ve told him he’s being silly and sometimes you just have to get up to go to the bathroom, but you gave up on telling him that—he’s adamant on checking on you.

and anytime he wakes up, no matter where the disturbance comes from, he’s looking over to your side of the bed to make sure you’re okay first.

and if you ever do need him in the middle of the night, all you have to do is whisper his name. he opens his eyes almost immediately and instinctively tightens his arm around you. “everythin’ alright?”

and one time you couldn’t sleep. your face was buried in his chest as he clung to you, the soft rumble of his snores letting you know he was knocked out. you didn’t want to wake him, but you were crying. you barely even moved as you teared up into his chest. suddenly, his hands squeezed you tighter. “whats’a matter?” he coos softly.

you tilt your head up to him teary eyed. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

he clicks his tongue. “tell me what’s wrong, baby.” his hand gently caressing your face, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

and he’s so protective. if you roll over and out of his hands he’s quick to pull you back into his grip. he likes having his hands on you while he’s sleeping. it makes him feel more secure knowing you’re okay.

when you fall asleep together on the sofa, your body pressed to his, his arms are wrapped around your waist, clutching you closely against him. it doesn’t even matter if he’s too warm, he wants you touching him at all times whenever he’s asleep.

it’s gotten to the point where he can barely sleep when he’s not with you. without you safely in his arms, without being able to physically feel you under his fingertips, it continuously wakes him up. he’s lucky to get two hours in a row without waking.

post that inspired this | my cod masterlist

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[youronlydarlin]

warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro

This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...

Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.

Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.

Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.

Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.

Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.

But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.

Simon who...

Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.

"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'

....

" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."

....

"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."

He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..

a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[vampsquerade]

i need some huge konig comfort because im so upset :(

dude of course! i’m so sorry for getting to this a little late, but i hope you’re feeling better being upset is never fun and how long i took probably didn’t help you :c wishing you the best and lord of love

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

König x GN!Reader: Righting Someone’s Wrong

Trigger Warnings: angst with a good ending, hurt/comfort, accidental stalking(?), scars, failed dates, kissing, embracing, anxiety, apologies, threatening language, use of Y/N

Life has a really shitty way of having to balance things within the universe for everybody in the world. Some people tend to get very lucky while others are given the opposite side of the coin. Day in and day out, every second, imaginary numbers would change sequence to infinite possibilities and change the probability outcome. You were convinced it would just stay that way for you forever; today was a day with some terrible odds. Everything somehow, some way, went completely wrong for you. You had been waiting for a date for a whole hour and a half, and they’d never arrived.

You felt so stupid for waiting there so long just for nothing. It made the man who was patrolling the streets very curious about you, even more so now that he saw your depressed facial expression. The man sucked up any thought that told him to not interfere and at a staggering 6’6”, walked into the café you’d been in. “Hey, do you mind if I join you?” the gentle giant asked. Your head whipped up and you wiped at your eyes with a napkin, “O-Oh…no not at all…” you say. The man nods and takes his seat in front of you, giving you a gentle smile from beneath the mask he wore over his mouth to conceal his identity while on patrol.

“Are you feeling alright? You seem very upset right now…I may be a stranger, but I do wish to allow you to have someone you can trust and talk with,” the man said as he tapped on the table with one finger. You remain silent, trying to recompose yourself for a moment before speaking. “I-I…I’m really not feeling alright…to be honest,” your voice has become a little strained as your throat tightens, “because my date totally bailed. And I feel so stupid.” The stranger looks at you with the most gentle, soft, and sad eyes you’d ever seen as he reaches out for your hand now. “That’s upsetting—I’m so sorry that happened to you…um…” he becomes bashful.

With his other hand, he fidgets with his hood for a moment before recomposing himself, “Would you mind if I was your date?” he asks, squeezing your hand tighter. Visibly flustering, you stare at him with wide eyes, “You want to make this a date? Truly?” The man nods, laughing nervously, “B-But if you don’t it’s okay! I will understand if you just need your time alone.” His voice, while anxious, is still as gentle as you expected it to be. A small laugh escapes your lips when you see how nervous he is, feeling a sense of ease at the sight. “Well, I’m not opposed to the idea,” you say, smiling.

Squeezing his hand, you see the man’s sad eyes twinkle with hope that he can actually make you feel better. He was determined to make you feel better and that’s what cheered you up a bit. “So…give me your name? I can’t just go on a date without knowing what to call you,” you say, teasing him a little bit. “O-Oh! Yes, okay…my name is König. A-And you?” The stranger you may now identify as “König” said, asking you the same thing. “You can call me Y/N…thank you for actually agreeing to be my date today…that’s really sweet of you for a stranger…” you say, complimenting him for being nice enough to be your date.

You could tell he was getting flustered, blushing enough to where his whole face was red. “W-Well, it’s my duty to be there for the people whenever they need me to be and…well, you looked like you needed someone to be there for you.” König says, wanting to make you feel appreciated and cared for. Now it was your turn to get flustered, and since he was able to see your face better, his perceptive sniper’s eye was able to catch the visible scrunch of your face as you pursed your lips for just a moment. “Heh…made you feel all warm, didn’t I?” König asks in a playful manner, tapping on the table again to see if you’ll repeat the rhythm like you had earlier.

Laughing softly, you shake off his flirting a bit and recompose yourself. Tapping against the table once more, the sad look in König’s eyes seems to go away now when he hears it and watches you do it. “Do you normally tap on tables like that?” The question is innocent nature, just wanting to get to know him better. “Ja, sometimes—it’s just a force of habit,” König sighs softly, looking at you with a different gaze now. One more, nervous and gentle at the same time. “Now I will admit…I have been watching you for a good bit…but not in a creepy way, okay?” he confesses, making your eyes widen just a bit.

Not a word comes out from you, and yet you decide to allow him to keep talking. Based on the expression he’s got, he’s desperately having a battle in his mind if he could keep saying what he was trying to tell you. “I was watching your expression change from so excited, to nervous, before becoming depressed once you realized what your date did��” König continues to confess. Hearing he had been watching you for the entire time and now seeing he was doing this to keep you company and make you feel better, all those feelings of dread washed away. This was a man you could feel safe with, despite his sudden appearance.

“I’ll admit, it sounded…pretty creepy, but—!” you begin to speak, stopping once you see König’s sad eyes somehow become sadder, “but, it was because you didn’t finish explaining. Am I allowed to ask what your line of work is?” you then ask, wanting to know more. He then perks up when you ask about him more, “I can’t give all the details, but we can just say I’m a soldier…from Austria. Where? It’s a surprise—well…” he trails off, laughing to himself a little, “more like a secret.” König teases before standing up. You’re a little confused when he does, but when König offers his hand to you, it just makes you smile.

“Come on, let’s change your plans up—last minute style. I know a good spot to enjoy someone’s company. It’s pretty romantic too, but a little far,” König says. Taking the chance with another random stranger today, you go for it by grabbing his hand and standing up. Taking your things with you in your other hand, you step out of the café together and begin to walk down the bustling city streets. You have no idea where König’s leading you, but for some reason, a lot of trust is being put into him right now. This man probably has the capability to fucking kill you considering his imposing stature…and yet he seems a little too nice to do so.

Maybe because you don’t pose a threat at all.

Eventually, König has led you to a nearby park, one you particularly liked due to its proximity to a forest with a trail that branched off into it. “Oooo, getting me to a secluded location, eh? What, gonna kill me?” You tease, making König look at you in disbelief. “What? Why would I do that? You’re too cute and nice to kill—you’re not one of my targets, so I’ll spare your life,” König says. His tone is a little too cheerful when he says this, making you feel a little nervous now. “Nobody should ever get that excited at the thought of telling someone they’re not the target he’s supposed to kill. Wait—he fucking said what?” Instantaneously, your brain speaks to all nerves and cells in your body; fight or flight seems to kick in.

“So your work is dangerous…” you whisper softly to yourself. “Not only that, but it’s a big secret. Be good for me and don’t say a word, okay?” König says, his voice still eerily cheerful. Your stomach drops a bit more once, making you stop dead in your tracks. “Hey, what’s the matter? Did I scare you? I’m sorry—truly I didn’t mean it…” König asks as he stops walking himself. In this moment, you turn yourself away from him to process what was going on. “Y/N…? Please look at me…” he pleads you softly, eyes filled with an apologetic gaze.

You slowly do as you’re told, your eyes meeting König’s. “l won’t bring you harm, okay? I can see you look scared but you’ll need to trust me—I’m a military man,” he speaks to you in a gentle tone, “and that’s all I can give about this. I have values, and don’t believe in the harm of someone who doesn’t deserve it.” König then cautiously reaches out for you, as if reaching for a frightened animal. Not a single muscle moves, keeping you completely frozen in place. Large, gentle hands then hold onto your shoulders in an attempt to let you know he was about to embrace you. He continues to move, pulling you into a hug.

You’d expected König’s body to feel cold and off putting as well as give you more reason to run away right now, but you don’t. He’s extremely warm in the cold autumn air, relaxing you enough to feel safe once again. You would stay this way for a whole minute, as König then tries to comfort you as best as he can to calm you down. “I promise you that I would never want to bring you harm,” he continues speaking, stroking the nape of your neck a little to reassure you. You then feel him take a deep breath before sighing shakily. It’s as if König was preparing to continue fighting for your trust.

“I…I was bullied a lot, as a kid. I can understand that fear of being hurt by people who barely know you…” He says, confessing to you a reason that would at least prove he won’t do anything to hurt you. You look up at König from his chest, and he looks down to meet your eyes. “If anything, I won’t let anybody hurt you. I want to protect you a lot, okay? I will do everything to make sure that nobody hurts you,” he says, voice filled with determination. König’s grip on you becomes tighter and more protective, clearly taking this seriously. Your body seems to heat up a little when he’s practically devoting himself to your safety.

Even if he had scared you, completely by accident, König wanted you to know you’re safe. “Th…thank you…I trust you to keep your word, alright König?” you say softly. König, feeling a little brave to trust you with his identity, then lowers the mask over his mouth so it rests on his chin to seal the deal. He’s got a few scars on his face, with one that lightly passes over his soft, plump lips. One of them appears to have just recently healed, scar protruding and a fleshy pink color. “Has anyone told you how handsome you are?” You suddenly flirt, making König blush a deep red. “N-No…because nobody’s ever really seen my entire face,” König mumbles, leaning down a little so you could get a better look.

His eyes were still soft and sad, giving you a look within what makes him care so much; pure affection. König feels a deep connection to you, and very much wants to keep it. “Meine Liebe…” he whispers in a hushed tone, plump lips slightly quivering from apprehensive breathing, “please let me be the one to care for you. I will comfort you and give you all the love and attention you deserve.” Your eyes stare into König’s deeply due to the proximity, yet only for a moment as they slowly flutter shut once you lean in to kiss him. His own eyes widen, becoming much softer as they fill with a profound sense of comfort for you. The two of you were only strangers, on a new date after your previous one failed, and yet you managed to have a heart to heart.

König’s eyes would flutter shut, breathing becoming slightly heavy as he kisses you back. His hands find their way to your back, pulling you into his body. Your own hands do the same, and the need for oxygen pulls the both of you away gently. Your eyes open simultaneously, and a soft breeze brushes past the surrounding trees. “I’ve never kissed on the first date before…that was sweet,” you whisper softly against König’s lips. He gives a gentle smile, “Good. I’m glad you liked it that much…are you feeling better?” König speaks to you in a delicate manner, concerned for how you’re currently feeling in the moment after what he had said. You smile simply smile and give him another peck on the lips, “Personally?”

“So much better.”

[hxltic]

bein yelled at by ghost. you’ve been in the army this long, been yelled at by sergeants and others alike, majority men—obviously—but none of them like this. The others you didn’t even flinch as they screamed directly into your ears, probably even worse than other men just to intimidate you as a woman.

You caught him in a bad mood and it seemed completely unrelated to work, but as his partner and soldier, he had to tell you things that you didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, I got your message Simon, didn’t mean for that to happen. Won’t let it happen again.” You place some things of yours down on the dresser as you enter his quarters. He’s standing there in thought, unreadable.

His mask is still on with his gear connected to his body.

“Damn right, you won’t.” He gruffs, heavy in his accent.

All you could do was question what this meant. Would he not let you do it again? Were you being thrown in a different squad?

“What does that mean?” You stop your moving for a direct answer. You almost took that personally.

He explains, “You made an impulsive decision that would have led to half our unit being taken out. The amount we sent to that building was more than usual.”

“I understand, and that was on me. In my defense though: it was a suggestion in the moment, one that the other members also formally agreed to. It wasn’t just me.” You giggle, even though you’re aware these aren’t giggling matters. You just needed to lighten the mood.

“There were 35 men in that building alone. Led by Gaz and König!”

He fully pronounced the words, turning to you aggressively. Had you known this was the severity of his mood, you never would’ve taunted him in any type of way. This was when he had to be your boss.

“I understand but-“

“It doesn’t matter who agreed! You are seen as a leader standing next to me and you introduced the idea. I cannot be there to stop you every time you do something stupid.” His eyes were laced with anger, an anger that arose out of the protection built for his squad over the years.

“Every time?”

He said that like you did something stupid every day. He’s had bad missions before too, and we should all just be happy everyone made it back safe. Well, maybe one or two. He quickly turns to you, but stays in his spot.

“Every bloody time. It’s the mission before that. Then that. You cannot keep jeopardizing this team.”

Despite the offense you took to his words, you understood him.

“I understand.” You speak. For the night, you split off into your own quarters, not wanting to anger him any more than you already have. You’ll just have to be better with your decisions. There’s more than just your life on the line now.

The next few days, you’ve been kind of stand off-ish, hoping he’d come to you when he was feeling so. Instead, you were all assigned a mission, one they’d put you in charge of. Naturally, you’d felt it best to prove yourself and win his attention back. He was still Simon, and you still loved him.

. .

You all returned back to base with a more than successful mission under your belt. This made you extremely happy, as it’s finally a good time to speak to him.

You approach his door, then knock. You never knock.

A deep, “Come in,” is all you get.

You walk in to him sitting at his desk, his back to the door.

“Hey,” is all you can muster. You’d had the balls to walk in, but Simon is still a scary man. Your hands come down from his shoulders to massage over his biceps.

“I’m sorry for the past few days. I hope I redeemed myself?” You try.

“Hm,” He grunts, standing from his desk and filing papers into the drawers. This made you a little wary.

“Are you feeling okay Simon?” You fiddle your fingers together as you watch him walk around to the other side of the table.

“Fuckin’ fabulous.”

Your hands drop. You’d expected something, or some type of praise. Instead, you got this.

“What’s wrong? I thought I did good this time?”

“Is there something you want?” He shoots back. You glance at him, then around the room, then the floor. “No? Alright then.” He continues on as if you aren’t there. You stand in disbelief.

“What has got you so upset Simon? You can talk to me.”

“Did ya come in my room with nothin to say? What are you here for?” he snaps back.

This was a knife in the heart. You’d been terrified of the business portion of your relationship engulfing the rest, but you didn’t want to believe it. Maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe it wasn’t you.

“Literally what is your problem?” You wanted to yell, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t in your nature. It didn’t feel right yelling at him.

You attempt to walk to his front, hoping that seeing your face would bring him some sense of calmness or bring him back down to Earth, but that was long gone. He’d lost all professionalism or softness.

Or maybe that was just it, and there was too much professionalism.

You reach him and plead, “Simon please, let me help y-“

“Fuckin’ hell, I don’t need your goddamn help!”

His head whips around, and that was all it took for you to realize the severity of everything going on. You’d physically retracted back and flinched. It’d been a long time since you’d done that.

“What do you want?” He throws the pen he’d held to the wall, and if you could see, you’d say there was a visible dent. That was your second step back, and you only took more as he came forward powerfully, his frame enlarging with each step.

“I-“

“Do you want me to praise you for your fuckin’ job? Now that you’ve decided to take it seriously?” He growls.

This was completely untrue, it wasn’t easy getting into 141, and it didn’t take anything but seriousness. Despite this, it didn’t take away from how his voice seemed to reverberate through your bones. You were retreating from him the best you could, but you didn’t want to look away, afraid it’d make him angrier.

Your hands felt around behind you as you got closer and closer to the wall, but not before detecting a small table that almost had you stumbling backwards when you knocked it over. Along with some more pens, a vase fell, shattering about and leaving tiny shards for your feet to step on the one day you decided not to wear the house slippers Gaz always made fun of you for.

He could literally take your breath away, but the piercing sensation under you couldn’t compare to the expression he wore that was dripping with malice. You felt like prey under a predator, caged to the wall with nowhere to go.

Your back hit with a thump, your hands flying back to the wall but close to your figure. You’d wanted to put them between you two, hoping it’d prevent him from coming closer, but it wouldn’t work. So now you search for separation by forcing your cheek against the wall, eyes frantically darting back and forth between nothing in particular and the raging man towering over you. You don’t think you could look at him anymore.

You whisper, “S-Simon. Please-”

He was so close his breath was to your ear as he leaned over. You were scared. In fact, you’d spoke it so lightly, you don’t even remember if you did or if it was just a thought.

“This,” he was referring to today, “is absolute bare minimum. Your job is to take orders, then get it done with the least. Casualties. Possible. Do you understand me?” He enunciates every part of the sentence, every word, so deep and low but strong that you had no choice but for it to be engraved in your brain. He was infuriated.

You didn’t want to breath too hard, afraid it’d also upset him, so your shortness of breath had you quickly nodding. The last words had you trembling.

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?” His words seem to shake the room, booming loud and clear enough to make you flinch again and your eyes squeeze shut. It was even worse than before—you were terrified.

He made you feel like a little girl again, answering to her father that she could never seem to impress no matter what she did. That’s why she joined the army. So she could be in charge.

But it didn’t stop because your eyes had to blink open to reality, and the time bomb called a response was ticking, just like his already gone patience. It also didn’t stop things from getting blurry, and before you knew or could stop it, there was a tear gathering that eventually released to your cheek.

“Y-yes sir,” you whimper on unsteady breath, Closing your eyes in prayer he would retreat. He was there for a little longer, but once you felt his presence leave back into the heart of his room, you still didn’t move an inch. You eventually shuffled uncomfortably to the door, not even feeling okay enough to close it behind you. You dashed as fast as one could go with millions of tiny glass in their feet, and before tending to it, you shut your door and fell to your butt with your back pressed against it and cried.

It’d been so long since you’ve cried over this specific issue; you thought you’d left it behind you. You technically had, but it was reawakened. The mission fatigued you, and you were so exhausted, but the only reason you didn’t lay your head down in the bed and fall asleep was the glass that would distribute painfully throughout your sheets.

You wrapped your feet and slipped into the night with the occasional sob.

. .

Sometime in the night, your locked room was intruded, assumingely by the one man graced with a key. Large hands scooped you up effortlessly, before bringing your head to one shoulder. You felt warm lips seep into your forehead.

He whispered things to you, things you couldn’t hear, but your head was held protectively with his strong hand over your ear. You’d been rested in another bed, one that smelled like him. He removed the tape from your feet and actually cleaned your wounds before tucking you in and sliding in beside you.

He felt like he didn’t deserve it, the guilt enough to bring him to tears, but he also felt like he didn’t deserve to cry. So instead, he tucks your head into his body closer, praying the sleeping version of you would recognize this as an apology until the morning.

©️ hxltic pt.2!

[v1x3n]

toxic fwb ghost x reader x johnny 'soap' mctavish┃ navigation part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 ୨୧ tags : angst, suggestive

simon 'ghost' riley who's one of your closest friends. he soon flirts with you and then you two decide to start shagging - no strings attached. just sex, a friends with benefits situation.

you had promised, even pinky swore to never fall in love with each other, he took the rules seriously and never fell in love but you couldn't last long.

simon knew you had liked him, hell, you fucking loved him. even before the casual hook-ups, and he still went through with it all. knowing you were in love with him. he took advantage of it.

he would grab onto you and fuck you whenever, you were his outlet, he knew you would spread or bend over whenever he wanted. he was your light and best friend, you would do anything for his love. yet the love never delivered to you.

simon soon regrets his choices after he caught you talking, laughing and checking out johnny 'soap' mctavish. Simons best friend.

comment to join main taglist!

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

[miserycanary]

BREAK MY HEART INTO TWO ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost has been feeling pissed off lately, and happens to lash out on you

tags: slight angst, misunderstandings, very slight mention of violence

He knew he was not in the right headspace. With the newly added task of training new recruits, the dead-end mission, and overall exhaustion. Ghost could feel his patience nearing nothing and he could feel it in his bones that he wouldn’t be able to control himself from lashing out soon— even if it was you. 

That’s why he started to distance himself and avoid you like the plague. Only responding with grunts or one-word answers. It’s not the best action but he couldn’t think of anything else. Despite the frustration clouding his mind, he still vows to never hurt you. He promised you that; reassured you that he would never ever raise his voice at you, his hand stroking your back and kissing your temple, after you told him about your past one drunken night. 

The first time Simon came home and didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, nosing the crook of your neck, you knew something was up. You didn’t push the matter though. Brushing it off as something trivial and proceeding to go your usual routine. You did notice things that you never brought up with him: heavy footsteps, the lack of teasing from him, and uncharacteristically never clinging onto you  

What finally pushed you to visit the base was when Si, your husband who would go through all levels of hell just to be close to you and never lets a night pass without you with him in bed, suddenly tells you he will be sleeping on the couch. It baffled you. This is the same man who wrapped all his limbs around to keep you from leaving after a big fight. The same man that acts like a big baby when you tell him you’re gonna be away on a work event. Suddenly, the idea of him getting bored of you and finding entertainment with another woman intrusively swirled in your mind. 

Were you too loud? Too chatty? Clingy? Maybe you didn’t satisfy him enough. Maybe he wanted a wife available to always cook for him after work. It scared you. You love him; love him enough to change just to keep him.

You needed to talk to him. Whether he likes it or not. 

“Price, please. Just call him for me?” The captain looks at you, hesitating. Even though he was aware of Ghost’s thinning temper and didn’t want to put his comrade’s wife in a position that could result in a fight, he also knew that you needed to solve this. He scratches his beard, nervously looking at you. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. The man.. he.. he hasn’t been the best these days? Maybe you should go home and wait for him—“. You cut him off, “he doesn’t want to talk to me! Please, just 5 minutes and I won’t even cause a scene. I promise!” With a sigh, he finally relents and tells you to stay there while he calls for your husband. You crack a smile, nodding and feeling a sense of relief wash over you. 

Moments after being alone, a new recruit (you assume considering you’ve never met this man nor did Simon ever mention him) approaches you with a low wolf whistle. His hands find your waist before you can even comprehend what’s happening, pulling you close to his chest. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” You freeze, and disgust starts to bubble up inside of you. You plant your hand on his chest in an attempt to pull away in fear that Simon would witness this and think differently. Before you could say to leave you alone, a voice booms out. A voice you know too well. 

“Y/N!” Simon takes three strides and he was near enough to pull the recruit away from you and land a punch. Scandalous gasps went around while the yells of other members went inaudible to you. You stood there in horror as Price stepped in, pushing Ghost away and yelling to stand down. This was not your Simon. Your Simon would never be this violent in front of you— he was too scared to frighten you and do something to push you away. These weren’t the same hands carried you as if a delicate flower he plucked as well. The hands that routinely offers to brush your hair every night and washes you every sex session while he kisses your shoulders, showering you with endless praise with a voice filled with adoration.

Ghost whips his head. His cold stare made you falter, taking a step back. Something you never thought you’d do when faced with him. You could see his mask move, undoubtedly hiding his disappointment and furrowed eyebrows. 

“What are you doing here?” He seethes, roughly gripping your arm tight enough to leave a bruise.

“I-I... I wanted to see you—“ Before you could even finish, Ghost groans with frustration. “I fucking told you to not come to the base. Were you even thinking? Use that pea-sized brain of yours once in a while! Just.. leave me alone and go home.”

Silence. The whole base quiets down with his words, a tense atmosphere building up. You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you notice Price’s contort with concern and hesitation if he should meddle. 

The pain you felt was indescribable. It was as if Ghost took your heart and crushed it with his bare hands. Your breathing got labored, your eyes flicked down, taking deep breaths to hold back tears. Before the realization has fully settled, you pull away from Ghost, mumbling something incoherent. In that moment, Ghost knew he fucked up. He hurt his darling flower. He hurt the only person he treasured. The person that stayed with him through thick and thin. The person he married, vowed in front of God to love forever and to never hurt. 

“No, baby— I didn’t mean to—“

You cut him off, telling him you were going back just like he wanted. You didn’t even call it your home. You always do. Saying it with pride to have something to call home with him. 

God, what has he done? 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: dare I say this man needs a break :} Second part is out. Little detail: I use ‘Simon’ during Y/N’s pov and Ghost for the rest, but used Ghost for her after he yelled at her. :3

dividers by @cafekitsune

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my little princesses <3