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boxwinebaddie · 5 months

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do you support the marjorine-is-taller-than-kenny agenda

oh, 100%, babey! ( im the short kenny, tall marj agenda )

like do you know how BADLY i want kenny to give off tall, mysterious stranger energy, like dirtiest white boy in america, slimmer than jim, smirky, leaning over the hood of cars, chain link fence, chain smoking cigarettes, trailer park pretty, putting the slender in slenderman...

BUT THERE JUST AINT NO WAY BABY!!!!

the mccormicks are eatin wheathins as bread like if you whip out a ritz cracker around kenny that is Fine Dining for him, i mean that. like he is malnourished as fuck like probably barely missed fetal alcohol syndrome he is nooooooot...tall.

like he is giving Short King. like shorter than stan which is saying something because i made pep!stan like 5'8 and 3/4 ( listen those 3/4 mean a lot to him let him have those...its all he can reach xx )

like kenny is honestly giving 5'6"-5'7"

which at first i was...hm idk...BUT ACTUALLY I LIKE THAT BETTER? because i feel tall kenny could just give Well Thats Just A Tall Medium Ugly White Boy but short kenny??? i know that man has the moves.

like charms oozes out of every pore, everyones pants hit the floor, rizz level 10000%, like he cuts his hair with rusty kitchen scissors but it some how looks like mullet modern art, the little gap between his front teeth is like where most people want to LIVE, i feel like his voice is crazy oceanic levels of deep. like that shit ~REVERBERATES~

kenny was S TIER on the cfpom fight list ( one bc he could probably seduce u out of the fight or steal whatever he needs off of you ) but mostly bc i feel like he could probably knock u out in one go but will probably jump around and watch you swing and miss and hit yourself in the face before hes finally like i'm bored, sweet dreams <3 LMAO

i feel like anytime some douchebag is like yeah whatever ur short! hes like ok ask your girl how tall i was last night ;) KHDLKSHLD AAAAA

anyways short king kenny nation i could write Essays!!!! abt this

BUT TALL GIRL MARJ!!!!!! okay okay okay....so marj is def like 5'11"

like cfpom heights

kyle: idk i forgot how tall i said kyle was anywhere btween 6'1-3 TALL

*insert stan wowza noise* i maintain that style would have made out way more if drunk stan could reach kyles face...we were robbbed

marj: 5'11"

stan: 5'8 AND THREE QUARTERS SOMETIMES THE DOCS GIVE HIM LIKE AN INCH OR TWO IF HES 5'10 ITS A REALLY GOOD DAY FOR HIM TELL HIM HE LOOKS TALL PLS josh hutcherson energy

kenny: 5'6" i said what i said argue with ur mom, dad or grandmama

cartman: hes like 5'4" idk so much evil in that compact body

but i feel like marj hit a massive growth spurt in like 7th grade and shot up past EVERYONE and it was like...woah. and i think it just made marj really dysphoric unfortunately because i think she got a lot of random attention for getting tall but was very awkwardly fumbling around in that body, not confident, feeling all wrong :(

went on a lot of weird blind dates with bible studies girls...was really unhappy and felt kind of like a freak im so sad i love you marmar

also linda stotch i guess is petite satan and makes fun of women for being tall or not uwu small and dainty and men for not being super macho and masc ( stephen is probably scary tall ) so being tall was always this uncomfortable thing for her like it made her ugly :((((((

which is insane because kenny was like WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK BARK AWOOGA AWOOGA ONE CHANCEONECHANCEONECHNCE TALL LADY STEP ON ME PLEASE IM ON MY KNEEEEEEEEEEEES

he was...in heat for all of high school. i wish i was kidding.

kenny x stan x kyle x jersey x raven x horny boy max security prison

( off topic but i DO think pep!kenny has kissed both stan and kyle, uh stan we have SEEN [ too much, i do think they get a little handsy when drunk smh, physical touch kings ] and uh...a past kyle was trying to...test a theory...a queery...and kenny had a really good answer...stan is going to be jealous no one tell him about that OOF )

but after her transition i think marj is enjoying living large, being like 6 billion feet tall in high heels, picked kenny up by the scruff on the back of his neck and just carries him like a the world most beautiful knock off birkin bag and i support the simp short kenny agenda...i also think that marjorine is much scarier than kenny or even kyle

i think marj is nice and classy but if u try to grab her ass she will put you in the hospital and be like woopsie do! <3 SHES SCARY IN A BLESS YOUR HEART SOUTHERN LADY WAY I WOULDNT TRY IT

marj being tall is so near and dear to me, i just feel like kenny is always looking up to her and chasin after her and when they were little kids she was like smitten in love with him, he hung the moon if he looked at her once a month but in high school she was like im not playing these little games with you kenneth mccormick! no sir! when you're done runnin' around you can call me then but watch out i might not answer xx CLEEEEEEEEEEEEARED HIM LIKE WHEW!

( she also full names everyone like stan has never been stan, stanley forever, kenny is kenneth, cartman is eric, kyle is kyle...period. )

aNYWAYS! it worked she whipped the hell out of him amen...BUT YES SHORT KENNY TALL MARJ SUPREMACY OR AT LEAST THATS HOW IT IS IN MY FANFICS GET WITH IT OR GET STEPPIN

-uncle nina, short queen...unfortunately...i act 6'1" tho

p.s. kenjorine and style def do double dates otherwise known as marj and kyle taking their boyfriends out for a walk...woopsie do! <3

#i had too much to say abt this #HELL YA TALL MARJ SHORT KENNY #like something abt kenny being like 5 nothing and rizzing the hell out of everyone is so real #he is tall enough to ride that ride #i am obsessed w him #i also love tall modelesqe marj towering over everyone in heels hanging out w kyle #marj is like wow im so happy to be here and kyle is like everything sucks im going to kill everyone at the same height #theyre both at the function facepalming watching kenny and stan do messy party boy things and take turns dding #im talking too much i hope this makes sense #also i am sort of attached to dirtiest white boy in america mcwhoremick #but i DOOOO see the asian kenny panderverse vision and i might canonically change that in rm but im not sure #ITS THE REP WE DESERVE #also re: kenny and kyle kissing i think kyle was in like 8th/9th grade had not kissed another boy #and was like kenny...i think i may...be a massive gaywad #and kenny was like baby...i have been known...but yes u can kiss me about it SKLDHLKHDS #and he was like whEw yep THANK YOU i am sorry i called u stan and kenny was like disrespectful i have way more ass than that but ur welcome

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criminalamnesia · 2 months

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HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

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lunarduty · 2 months

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𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 𝘼𝙎 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀

☾ definition: dacryphilia refers to sexual pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | nsfw, smut, crying, mention of a safe word, f!dom, overstimulation, orgasm denial WC | 3,099

JOHN PRICE

… sees you cry and praises.

if john could see your eyes right now, he’d tell you not to be embarrassed. would probably coo at you like a prized horse. ask you what was wrong, and if there was anything he could do to help.

problem was, you weren’t sure what it was you were crying over - the bite of wood against your skin, or john’s tongue between your thighs.

both were agonizing in their own ways. both BURNED with something that hurt too good to admit. both demanded your attention, but as always, john eventually won the fight for it. the tiny little scrapes and bumps caused by the old wood of his desk had started to numb when the tears came. john’s fingers pushing into your cunt acted as a sort of balm. you couldn’t feel anything but him.

his broad shoulders had kept your legs spread for far too long at this point, so they eventually began to ache too. they tremble and quake around john’s shoulders. you know he feels it, and thinks it’s because of his tongue and fingers.

he’s not far from the truth.

and just as soon as john’s eyes shoot up, you’re throwing your head back. eyes squeezing shut, shuddering breath disguised behind a moan, hoping to just cum on his mouth and he doesn’t have to know he caused the tears that seem to burn your eyes. he’s kept you on the edge for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to simply focus on his tongue and let go.

there’s a burn behind your eyelids. more tears form when his fingers curl and his tongue flicks a certain way.

“john,” you breathe out, ending his name with a pant. “it’s… i-”

“look at me, love.”

it was an order. plain and clear. your head snaps up immediately, finding his half-illuminated eyes in the lowlight of his office. dark hair looking raven black, eyes blown up to match - but even then, you see them LIGHT up with amusement. even in shitty lighting, john catches the glimmer of tears. right on the edge of falling down your pretty cheeks - you probably don’t even notice. it only makes him harder.

he laughs in a low rumble. “so fucking pretty, aren’tcha?”

you nod; panting, writhing, crying.

john leans his head in closer, pushing in his fingers as far as they’ll go. “pretty girl gonna cum for me? all sweet and tight around my fingers? keep watching me, love - gonna cum now? yeah, go right ahead, dove. you more than DESERVE it.”

the orgasm hits like a truck when john grinds his tongue against your clit. just before your eyes squeeze shut again, a tear finally breaks free and glides down your cheek - warm and flushed from a climax that he’s sure someone must’ve heard.

john has always promised he’d never make you cry, but this is a damn good exception.

☾

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

… sees you cry and dotes.

gaz has always gone on and on about how much he wants to keep you separate from his work. to leave all the roughness behind when he’s with you. it was never really a problem until tonight - sweet and gentle and slow to a fault.

too sweet. too gentle. too slow.

kyle is careful to keep a STEADY pace - a careful rock of his hips, lightly grinding against yours when he’s pressed in deep, making you feel each and every inch of him before gradually pulling out to do when same thing over again. and you know he doesn’t do things without an express purpose - after extending your orgasm a few times, it’s safe to say that your safety isn’t the top priority for once.

he hasn’t gone much faster than this languid pace. selfishly listening to your stunted breaths and pained whimpers of his name.

if you ask him to go faster, gaz slows down. if you beg for something harder, he smiles and kisses you and tells you to be patient.

but what has all this patience gotten you? two incredibly drawn out orgasms that fucking ACHED when they hit and kyle stubbornly keeping his thrusts slow and torturous under his guise of being gentle. it’s all a little too much. too intense. your eyes squeeze shut, face nestled against kyle’s neck, hips shifting up when he buries his cock in to try and grind out another orgasm.

unfortunately, gaz knows you. knows your movements and knows your sounds - the shortening of your breaths and desperate whimpers and choked moans and… sniffles?

his pulls his head up immediately, eyes narrowing in on the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. and gaz grins - he can’t help against it. his cock pulses when a finger comes up to brush a tear away before it has a chance to fall down your face.

“poor baby,” he coos. if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve noticed how tight his voice sounds. “it’s alright. doing so well for me. gonna make you cum again, don’t you worry. just hang in there, yeah?” his words are breathed against your lips, and by some miracle, gaz picks up the pace. hips picking up speed, even rocking a little stronger and it isn’t until you heard the slap of skin do you truly realize how SOAKED he got you.

the initial tears were caused by kyle’s torturous pace. a new set follows the old when he finally fucks you properly. gaz doesn’t mind - he likes wiping them away.

☾

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

… sees you cry and teases.

“why’re you crying, bonnie? did you hurt your feelings or something?”

soap knows you won’t respond. not that you could.

the pace of his thrusts are too rough. too quick. too deep. using all his weight to slam into you again and again, not letting up for a moment. the worst part is, you know he has the stamina to keep going, even if you beg him to slow down. to let you breathe air that doesn’t taste like him.

your nails dig into the skin of soap’s chest as you shake your head. everything ached in a delicious way but it wasn’t your feelings that were hurt. soap moves his hand from his bruising grip on your hips to clasp around your jaw, shifting your head to look him straight on. he wants you looking at him, even through WATERY eyes.

soap grunts as he shifts into a better position to fuck you in. his hair is mussed from your fingers. skin blotchy and flushed from exertion. he still grins at you. “then why’re you crying? want me to stop? is that it?”

“no!” you cry out - half a moan and half a shout.

a thoughtful hum vibrates against his ribs as soap’s fingers release your jaw, only to come up and wipe away a tear that leaked from the corner of your eye. “ahh, i get it, lass,” he breathes out, continuing his rough thrusts with a deep groan. “you’re cryin’ so pretty ‘cause you like getting fucked so good. am i right? my girl loves getting fucked ‘till she cries?”

you’re silent. eyes falling shut, mouth agape, head tilting back to ignore soap’s teases and just feel the addicting slide of his cock. he slows his thrusts only to grind against your pelvis and it’s such a massive difference in sensation that you nearly cum on the spot. it works to make you cry out his name.

“fuck- johnny!” and you do. so, so prettily.

☾

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

… sees you cry and worries.

simon’s face still hurt - a spot right over his cheekbone, purple and swollen and it aches almost enough to make him forget about how sore the rest of his body is.

it’s easy enough to ignore. it’s not liquor or ibuprofen that dulls the pain. his old methods of healing after a rough mission seem useless in the wake of pressing you back on the couch. it’s the touch of your skin, the smell of your hair, the noises you make that really pull him back together. you’re careful not to tug at him too hard or touch any of his TENDER aches, even when he begs you to.

yeah. it’s easy for simon to forget how close he was to not be here fucking you.

his fingers dig into the armrest of the couch, forcing his throbbing body to move as fast as he wants it to. an impromptu fuck on the couch wasn’t exactly planned tonight - you went on and on about how much you wanted to take care of him. but you’ve been clinging to him all night. never letting him out of your sight. it was just a natural progression and simon sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

“fuck, lovie,” he groans out slowly. if you keep moving your hips like that, he’s not gonna last much longer.

and fuck, simon was so close, he could taste it. feel it building in the base of his spine and how tight his stomach gets and it all makes it a little easier to forgo his aches to simply drive into you again and again. your arms wrap around his torso, brushing against tender ribs - when simon hisses, he’s unsure if it’s the pain or the sudden tightness around his cock when you jolt. simon’s mind goes blank and he’s just so fucking close and…

you make a new noise. unfamiliar to the ones simon has memorized when he’s fucking you. his eyes are HAZY and unfocused when he looks at you, and he didn’t quite know what he expected to find. tears accompanied the sniffle he heard, and your hand comes up to wipe them away in haste.

simon’s hips freeze instantly. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? you okay?”

fuck, did he do something wrong?

to his surprise, you scoff. smiling despite wet cheeks and red eyes and simon blames his impending orgasm for how slow he is to understand. “i’m okay,” you reassure him. when your fingers trail up his spine, simon can barely breathe. “i just love you so much. don’t be so RECKLESS next time, okay?”

your legs tighten their hold around his hips. pulling him closer even when simon wants to pull back and really make sure you’re okay. you don’t allow it, instead grinding up against him at the same pace he’d been fucking you in - still sniffling and wiping a tear away on his arm.

simon swears he’s never cum so hard in his life.

☾

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

… sees you cry and stares.

morning has always been alejandro’s favorite time of day.

pinkish gold sunlight coming in through the window promises a beautiful day that he’ll likely be too busy to truly enjoy but welcomes all the same. alejandro hears the bustle of traffic outside - your place isn’t nearly as nice as his, but it’s closer to base and he’s never been known to waste time with you. alejandro is just a little tempted to rip his gaze away from you to enjoy the sunrise coming over las almas.

but he doesn’t. he never does. you’re just too fucking pretty.

alejandro kills two birds with one stone. pulls you out of bed and leads you over to the window just as the sun paints the clouds a deep gold. it saturates your skin in such a perfect way where alejandro can’t help but to touch it. touch your face, your neck, your shoulders, your back, your stomach, and well, he knows your pussy would look fucking HEAVENLY under the light as well.

“pretty fucking girl,” alejandro groans out. he usually likes watching his cock sink inside of you, but there was something about the glow of your skin pressed against the window that makes him just stare at your face. his thrusts are slow and deep, and your breath fogs up the glass, and you keep tugging your shirt down when alejandro pushes it up because you’re the one who has to face your neighbors every day.

when you came along, he didn’t think there could ever be a more beautiful sight than when you first smiled at him.

you proved him wrong with just a few tears reflecting the sunrise.

alejandro could’ve came right then and there. his hips did a little stutter and he grunted when you let out a little whimper while squeezing your eyes shut and he just watched a tear glide over your cheek. he almost pulls you away from the window to flip you around. fully face him so the glass doesn’t GREEDILY soak up all your tears because he’s fucking you so firmly against it.

“al- alejan- fuck, i’m so…”

“i know, baby. keep looking at me. yeah, lemme see those eyes. fuck…”

he kisses you. has a hand tangled into your hair and twists your neck into a better angle and kisses you to taste the salt on your lips and it’s like a bomb went off. alejandro’s hips pick up their pace and you rock back against him and fog up the glass even more when you shudder on his cock.

he cums with your tears wiping off against his own cheeks and salt on his tongue.

☾

RUDOLFO PARRA

… is the one to cry.

“it’s okay, rudy. doing so good for me. i’m almost there, you don’t have to cry.”

was he crying? fuck, he was. rudy didn’t even notice until you smiled at him fondly, bringing a hand up to brush away a tear that broke past his lashes and threatened to fall down his face.

rudy waits for the hot flash of embarrassment to hit him, but it never does. maybe it’s because this is you. but it's more likely because he’s so fucking close to cumming, he can’t focus on anything else but you. keeping his hands locked around your hips, strong enough to keep them moving back and forth even when you try to slow them down and draw out his orgasm.

you hadn’t even notice rudy’s big, wet eyes until you attempted to slow down. keeping a more steady pace in his lap to give your thighs a rest, and yeah, to wind rudy up just a little. he works so hard. he DESERVES to get fucked out of his mind now and then.

maybe you went too far, though. when you try to stall your hips, his hands make sure they keep their pace. his own hips buck up off the bed to get even deeper.

“i know you wanna cum.” it’s difficult to keep your voice steady. to not devolve into harsh pants and groans like he has. “but not before me, okay? make me cum, rudy. fuck, make me cum…”

he huffs - such a large demand for someone so fucked-stupid. rudy is so smart, so capable, and so fucking useless right now that maybe it’s too much to ask of him. so to help him out, you pry his hand off your hip. bring it up to your mouth and slide the whole length of his thumb between your lips, letting it glide across your tongue.

rudy instantly gasps and his hips jolt up. you can feel his cock throb even harder inside of you.

but with his thumb coated in saliva, you bring his hand down to where you meet. rudy takes it from there - give him a task, point him in the right direction, and he’ll complete it. he rubs his thumb in tight, DESPERATE circles while his other hand keep your hips in a deep grinding pace until you cum all over him.

it was good. fucking fantastic. but not your favorite part.

rudy knows he’s finally allowed to cum, and he does. so achingly beautiful in the way his jaw drops open, saliva stringing between his teeth. eyes hazy and wet with damp cheeks and a pink nose and when he groans, his voice is hoarse and choked.

eventually, when you fall against his chest, all you hear are rudy’s hard panting and his sniffles.

☾

PHILLIP GRAVES

… sees you cry and laughs.

graves can be a real asshole sometimes. sarcastic, arrogant, and you know him well enough to know that he kinda likes it. makes him feel larger than life. untouchable. now is no different.

“c’mon, hun. i wanna hear it. y’can’t cum until i hear you say it.”

your arms are thrown over your face, hiding the way your teeth grit together and your eyes screw shut and how your jaw hangs open to gasp for air whenever graves bullies his cock even deeper with each thrust. and to be honest, you barely heard what he said - it was all just white noise. still, you know what he wants. and you’re a little too PROUD to give in.

there’s silence. graves scoffs and you feel him lean forward to grip your arms in his hands. being ripped away from your face reveals a little tremble of your lips, tiny red splotches on your cheeks, and tears lining your eyes.

graves laughs as if it isn’t his fault. torturing you and playing with you. resetting the goalpost of what you need to do to cum.

the laugh is deep and GENUINE - the kind you’re treated with in the middle of the night away from his shadows, saved especially for you. the grin that accompanies it isn’t bad either. but the laugh is like a slap to the face (something graves might’ve inflicted if his hands were free - after all, you haven’t said your safe word.)

“my poor baby.” he says it so condescendingly. with a quirk of his brow and tilt of his head. as if he and his cock hadn’t caused the tears. “bet it’s gettin’ painful, huh? bet a good orgasm will make you feel right as rain.”

you slowly nod because god, you need to cum.

so graves hums, still wearing a smirk as he shifts on his knees. you whimper under the movement, spine arching, eyes solely focused on him. “then you gotta ask permission, right? c’mon, hun. sound off for me. i know you can do it,” he encourages while his fingers trail slowly down your body. going straight where you needed him the most.

normally, if you weren’t so wound up, you might’ve gotten smart with him. but as extra initiative, graves bends his spine a little. pushing his cock in just a little deeper and plainly getting off on how you gasp and your eyes finally push out hot, wet tears.

this has gone on for too long. everything from your pussy down is throbbing.

“shadow 0-1…”

“hearin’ you loud and clear, baby.”

“requesting permission to cum…”

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #call of duty smut #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudolfo parra x reader #phillip graves x reader

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lovifie · 2 months

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Darkfic!Gaz, nothing too extreme but this is not loverboy!Gaz, this is more of It-makes-me-want-to-laugh-at-you-when-you-cry!Gaz.

TW: emotional manipulation, a bit of dubcon, mentions of kidnaps

Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.

He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.

Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.

Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.

Too many casualties.

Too many lives lost.

Too many injured.

And he is fine.

Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.

He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be whole again.

And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.

As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.

But it seems you cannot get the memo.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.

He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you.

It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.

He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.

And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms.

Until it happens again.

He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room.

So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, and enters; smile quickly dropping when he sees you.

No. No. No. No.

His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown inside by you.

He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in.

You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle”

No, no, no, you can leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?

“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.

“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”

He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs something inside him. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name.

“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.

“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.

“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him back. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him.

Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late?

He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.

He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way.

His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.

“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more.

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

“Kyle…” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you.

“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin.

He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hands.

The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.

But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again.

A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.

He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed.

He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it.

This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.

He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.

You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.

He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more.

He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.

You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you.

He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.

It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again.

It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.

But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.

Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere.

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

And that will remain the same.

Whether you want it or not.

This was my first try at writing something more dark-ish. I'm not really sure if it even classifies as it, but. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway 🩷🩷

@waiting-so-long this is what you have done to me. I don't know if this fits the vision you had but I hope you enjoy it my dear! 🩷🩷

@sgtgarricks here you have it as well, wait no more 🩷🩷

T-List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts

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baby-jaguar · 6 months

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CoD Wedding Headcannons

Some sweet love for our boys, hoping to cheer anyone up after MW3. While the photos do have fem/wedding dresses in them, I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible!

I hope everyone can enjoy!

Price

Getting married to Price warrants an old Hollywood glamour, something more intimate and small for the people you both hold close, so you can make memories of the long-awaited night while being able to relax in good nature of the celebration.

You both decided to find a nice speakeasy for both the ceremony and reception, as Price had surprised you and rented out the entire venue. The soft and warm glow of candles and old lights casted a romantic light on you, showing the etheral glow to you.

Price is a traditional man, and decided to save his first look to seeing you walk down the aisle. As your eyes lock onto his, he sniffles and the distinct tell of his moustance twitching is what keys you in on him being able to feel comfortable showing his emotions as he hones his ice blue eyes on you.

He did in fact, make quite the show for your first kiss, taking you in his arms and giving you a gentle but deep dip, showing off the romantic (almost steamy) touch of your lips as you lock in your unity.

Your first dance is a slow sway in circles, focused on whispering sweet nothings to each other in between the kisses you reach up to give him. Saving the absolute last dance for both of you, as the clock strikes into midnight and the day is now Sunday, Etta James' Sunday Kind of Love plays out softly as you sway together before heading up to your honeymoon suite.

Vows:

"My angel, you have been everything I believed I never deserved. You have shown me what I have always been missing, the love that I never knew of. I know I will never be able to amount to the thankfulness of you sticking by me through and through, I will never stop thanking the heavens of the gold and glory that you are, as you run through my veins to find your home in my heart.

Just as I fought by your side on the field, I promise to fight for our love, to shield it from any harm that may come its way. Through the scars and wounds we bear, both seen and unseen, I vow to cherish every part of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your laughter, and your tears - they are all precious to me. Our love is a force that any creature made by god would fear, as I know we are forever to be unstoppable together, through every small and great task.

Together, we will conquer any obstacle that stands in our way. I promise to never forget the sacrifices made; honoring our fallen, for they have paved and protected the way for our love. They watch over us, guiding us, and reminding us to cherish every moment we have. I love you, with every last being of myself, and even past my last breath. Forever and always, angel."

Gaz

Gaz has a flair for the dramatics and also loves a fairytale and nature aesthetic. He requested a fairytale wedding, and it was an extravagant night for the two of you. Gaz values some traditions but was ready to blow those to the wind for his excitement to celebrate your love. You did a first look, and he was rendered speechless as he took in your form, tears already pooling and beginning to stream down his face.

Gaz took the time with you to learn a ballroom dance for your first song, impressing your guests and even yourselves with how beautiful and magical the two of you are. Cutting the cake was a very sweet moment for the two of you, as you both happened to have the same thought and booped each other on the nose with icing at the same moment.

Your wedding was held in a mountaintop venue, the night sky showing all the stars that shined brightly and reflected on a lake, approving of your love as if the faries make an appearance for your royal court of a wedding. As you danced the night away, Kyle was sure to keep a mix of whispering the most heart warming sweet nothings, and making sure to catch your reaction by the photographers when he murmured sinfully sweet thoughts in your ear.

Vows:

"Through the chaos and uncertainty, you became my anchor, guiding me with your strength and infectious spirit. Together, we have faced the darkest of days, and it is in those moments that our love has grown stronger. When I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of my hopes, dreams, and desires.

Your love has breathed life into my soul, and I vow to nourish that love with tenderness and compassion. I promise to be your confidant, your partner, and your best friend, as your happiness is everything that can and will continue to let my heartbeat to our special song. I promise to be the keeper of your dreams, the one who will protect and nourish you from any challenges we face, always together.

You are my life; I will walk beside you, hand in hand, supporting you in every step. You are the greatest reward life has ever, granted me. With every beat of my heart, I will love you fiercely, unconditionally, and without reservation, for you are the missing piece that completes me."

Soap

Johnny was all for having a fun and colorful wedding, and a maximalist and retro decor was decided on. Because for a MacTavish? Go big or go home baby.

He never stopped smiling the day of your wedding, his astonishment at the environment and scene of your unity never leaving his face. You decided to read your vows privately to each other, holding hands and having your backs to each other while waiting to have your first look down the aisle. Under disco balls, your first dance felt like something out of a movie.

Johnny was one to always show off, and he was sure to spin and dip you around, his strength holding you as he even lifted you and twirled you around. Now as a real MacTavish, you both knew how to throw a party and made sure that your open bar helped your guests get as wild as you two are.

If you did decide to wear a garter, or simply put one on for the tradition, Johnny made a damn great show of taking it off; crawling underneath your dress/between your legs and made you squeak in embarrassment as his stuble tickled your thigh.

Vows:

"Today, I stand before you, to pledge my undying love. You, my little sparrow, have held my attention, obsession, and heart from the moment our eyes met. I promise to always have your back, whether we're dodging bullets or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner. With you, life is an adventure, and I can't wait to tackle it together.

I promise to be your partner in crime for life, always up for exploring new horizons and creating memories we’ll never live down, But as long as we're together, every moment will be an adventure worth cherishing.

You bring laughter and lightness to my life, even in the darkest of times. Your smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. Life is too short to not enjoy the simple pleasures, and with you by my side, every moment is a treasure.

I vow to keep the flames of passion alive, As Our love is a fire that burns bright, even amidst the chaos. I promise to keep the spark alive, to always pursue you with the same determination and intensity that challenges the forces of this earth."

Ghost

Simon was enthusiastic to have a wedding that featured a dark and mystical aesthetic. He wanted something small and private, requesting that it be some of your closest friends and family to spend the special night together.

With a romantic and dark church, it was a powerful and mystical wedding that incorporates both of your energies. You both decided not to have groomsmen/bridesmaids and instead placed altars of your fallen teammates and loved ones under the arch with you two, feeling their love in your unity.

Simon waited for his first look down the aisle but began crying with a wavering voice during your vows. During the first dance, he lifted you to stand atop of his feet, holding you as he moved the both of you in a surprising fashion of a waltz, elegantly for the seasoned stealth veteran.

His eyes seemed to swim with tears, iris' almost as black as his pupils in the dark lit church and ballroom. His eyes were rarely straying from you, far to enamored with keeping every memory to be held in his soul- even in the next life.

Vows:

"From the darkness where death once consumed us, to the light that now shines through our love, I stand here today, my heart laid bare, to vow my eternal devotion to you. In the face of danger, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, our love has blossomed like a fragile flower, defying all odds. Today, I stand here, a silent guardian, to pledge my undying love and devotion to you. In our promise, my heart will always yearn for your touch, laughter, and the warmth of your presence.

Through the pain and loss we have endured, I promise to cherish every memory we share. Your laughter, your touch, your soul - they are etched into the very fabric of my existence. I will hold you as tenderly as the spirits did when creating you, as you are a gift that I will forever cherish. In this broken world, I vow to mend any pieces of your heart, to hold you close when the weight of the past becomes too heavy to bear.

I will be your strength when you feel weak, your rock when you need stability. With you, I have found a love that mends the scars of the past."

Graves

Phillip desired a venue within the wilderness and countryside, deciding that a farm with a Barn reception was perfect. His vows were as strong as his commands, his voice was deep and rich with honey, and maybe a few tears, as he spoke his heart out to you and let the crowd hear just how much you have changed him into a loving man.

You partook in “burying the bourbon,” planting a favorite bottle in the ground of your wedding venue, one month prior. Once dug out, you intertwined arms and took shots all night, the heat of the drink and your love enveloping you both. two-stepping through the night on the dance floor, he twirled you expertly and dipped you low to the ground before always leaving a kiss on your lips.

It was during the ceremony that he surprised you, having ordered a mechanical bull for you and the guests to ride. Taking you and himself on the first ride, you laughed so hard you cried at how silly, but fun it was.

Taking you to the airport after the wedding, he had a classic American car with a "Just Married" sign on the back. And of course, the Shadows were your escort to the airport.

Vows:

"My sweetheart, from the moment our stubborn hearts crossed paths, I sensed a connection deeper than what ties us to this life. I will be a guardian of our love, ensuring that it shines brightly in every step I take, and every breath I draw, as you are the whisper that breathes into my greatest devotion.

In the depths of my soul, and the depths of you, I promise to carry our love of shared laughter, whispered promises, and the unspoken bond that will forever be the piece that grounds me in this realm. I vow to live a life worthy of the love you bless me with, to carry forward the lessons you teach me, and to honor the sacrifices we have made to make it this far, together.

Your courage, compassion, and unwavering loyalty will forever inspire me, my angel, whom I vow to cherish and love and you beat your wings to the pulse of my heart.

As I walk this Earth with you by my side, I know that we will be forever united no matter the realm we are in. As our love knows no boundaries, and as we exchange these vows, we will be together, holding each other in a timeless embrace. To the moon and farther, you are my saving grace. ”

Alejandro

Alejandro was excited to celebrate your commitment and love to each other, already planning a massive celebration between each other's families, friends, and Los Vaqueros, who helped set up your beautiful wedding. In true Vaquero fashion, the Wedding Lasso Ceremony was incorporated.

By a thick cord of white rope, the priest tied it around you two in an infinity shape and blessed your unity to eternity. As he read his vows to you, Alejandro tried very hard to not cry but in the last paragraph (and from hearing his own mother’s soft sniffles in the crowd) he had a quiet sob while his eyes found yours, reciting the lines from his heart.

As the ceremony concluded, you and Alejandro rode your horses down the streets of the town, waving and smiling at all who had come out to shout and cheer for your parade of love in La Callejoneada, many throwing rice and flower petals towards you two in a token of celebration. Your wedding was held in an orchard of Mango trees, the meaning of affection and adoration not.

Vows:

"Mi Amor, as we stand together, I vow to be the person you deserve, to love you unconditionally, and to be a witness to your growth and transformation. Our love is a flame that burns brightly, illuminating the path before us, and I am grateful to walk it by your side.

In your eyes, I find the force that drives me to be what you deserve, as you are the most sacred thing to ever cross the path of my heart. Eres mi existencia, la luz que hace que mi sangre lata en mi corazón como siempre ha sido el tuyo. (You are my existence, the light that makes my blood beat into my heart as it has always been yours.)

Mi Vida, in you, I have found a sanctuary where I can be myself, unburdened by the weight of the world. I vow to be your shelter and support, and together, we will create a haven of love and understanding, where we can always find solace and rejuvenation.

Desde este día en adelante, caminaremos juntos por el sendero de la vida, enfrentando los desafíos con valentía y compartiendo las risas y los sueños. Mi amor por ti trasciende las palabras y se manifiesta en cada gesto, en cada mirada, y en cada latido de mi corazón."

(From this day forward, we will walk the path of life together, facing challenges with courage and sharing laughter and dreams. My love for you transcends words and is manifested in every gesture, in every look, and in every beat of my heart.)

Rudy

Rodolfo was ready for a celebration but wanted to keep it intimate to your closest family and friends, and of course, Los Vaqueros as well. You both chose a beautiful wedding venue next to the beach, having the white decorations tied into the beautiful white sand and blue ocean water.

Exchanging Las Arras matrimoniales proved to be heartwarming as the priest and los padrinos y madrinas made sure you felt the love as you became a Parra, a member of their family. You were surprised as Rudy managed to only have his eyes water during his vows but his voice wavered, and he had to clear his throat multiple times while reading them aloud.

That didn’t stop his voice from showing his conviction and devotion; entering the reception, Rudy placed you on a lone chair in the middle of the dance floor and lined up with his men and a mariachi band. Under the sunset, he serenaded you. His voice rang out richly and perfectly, causing tears to stream down your face as your hand laid over your heart to try and keep it still.

Vows:

“Mi Cielo, your presence in my life has been like a symphony, each note perfectly harmonizing with the next. Together, we have created a melody that resonates deep within me. You have become my muse, my inspiration, and the beat of my soul.

Mi Corazón, prometo nutrir nuestro amor como una flor delicada, cuidándolo con cuidado y devoción. Así como un compositor cultiva su obra maestra, yo me haré cargo de nuestro amor, colmándolo de cariño, comprensión y respeto. Nuestro amor florecerá, irradiando su belleza al mundo. (My Heart, I promise to nourish our love like a delicate flower, tending to it with care and devotion. Just as a composer cultivates his masterpiece, I will take charge of our love, showering it with affection, understanding and respect. Our love will blossom, radiating its beauty to the world.)

Our love is a masterpiece, and I promise to protect it with all my being. As we embark on this journey together, I vow to always walk beside you, hand in hand, navigating the twists and turns that life may bring. Our love will be the melody that carries us through, and with you by my side, I am confident that we can conquer anything. En este día y todos los días venideros, me comprometo a amarte con cada fibra de mi ser. (On this day and every day to come, I commit to loving you with every fiber of my being.)

Our love is a melody that sings of devotion and commitment, and I am honored to be the one who shares this beautiful symphony with you.”

König

While planning your wedding, König asked for a deal between you two for the ceremony. If you granted him a private elopement, he would deliver the wedding of your dreams. Deliver he did, as he picked a literal castle for your venue. An enchanting and historic architecture with plants adding to the mystical feel, he made you feel as decadent as two rulers who are together forever more and uniting two kingdoms.

He chose to speak his vows privately to you, with a camera pointed towards you to watch as you both had tears running down your faces at the words spoken softer than any feeling your heart has ever felt before. However, he knew that a party was needed to celebrate your love, so the reception was held in a ballroom that overlooked the forest.

As a man who values his heritage, you and König had a private ‘Brautraub’ where you hid within the castle, waiting for him to figuratively seek and kidnap you as a symbol of starting a new portion of your life with him as he (literally) swept you off your feet and into his arms.

Vows:

"Mein Schätz, our love is vital as the bond between two rulers has created a kingdom of love and unity that reigns within our souls. You are the crown of my life, the sun that illuminates my kingdom. With you, I have experienced the true meaning of love and devotion as you have captured my heart, forever I will honor and protect you, as you are my guiding star that will lead me to my heaven.

Mein Liebling, ich gelobe, unsere Liebe wie ein kostbares Juwel zu hegen und sie mit Hingabe und Aufmerksamkeit zu pflegen. Ich gelobe, unsere Liebe immer zu nähren und sie stärker zu machen als einen funkelnden Diamanten, denn niemand wird jemals meine Hingabe an Dich schmälern. (My darling, I vow to cherish our love like a precious jewel and to nurture it with devotion and attention. I vow to always nourish our love and make it stronger than a sparkling diamond, for no one will ever diminish my devotion to you.)

Meine Sonne und Sterne, I vow to cherish and nurture our bond with tenderness and care. Like a king protects his kingdom, I will guard our love fiercely, shielding it from harm. Our love will stand as a beacon of hope, one that is a testament of royalty, radiating its warmth and beauty to all who witness its majestic journey. Ich liebe dich für immer.”

(Meine Sonne und Sterne = My Sun and my Stars. Ich liebe dich für immer = I love you, forever.)

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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

11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS

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

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

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

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“I forgot how ugly he was.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Somethin’s on your mind.”

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

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

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

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

You blink.

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

“Sir –”

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

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

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

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

“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s, obviously, easier said than done.

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

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

It’s Price.

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

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

You take a breath.

And you nod.

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

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

It’s debilitating.

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

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

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

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

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –

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

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

Closet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phillip Graves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.

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

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

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

And you shoot.

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

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

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

Graves says something, sounding desperate.

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

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

The line cuts.

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

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

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

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

You answer anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

And…

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

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

It’s.

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

“It’s something better.”

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the-raindeer-king · 2 months

Text

The 141 and having kids with them :) This was fueled by a random thought I had at work, and it was written at like 3am. Pls be kind.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Due to his personal experiences, I think he probably would be against having kids in the beginning. Like he's seen and been through so much, and I think his main fear would be ending up like his dad. So he always just wrote it off as something he never wanted to experience

UNTIL YOU COME IN

And at some point, maybe after Johnny starts having kids, Simon sees you interacting with one of the babies. And something about seeing you with a baby on your hip flips a switch in his brain.

He wants a kid and he wants one now.

Anyway y'all definitely don't stop at just one kid. I like the idea of Simon with 3 kids, all girls of course. He just exudes girl dad energy.

He's a great dad too btw. Retires from field work after the second girl is born, and absolutely adores them. Encourages them to engage in extracurricular activities. Would coach their sports team if any of them join. Never misses a recital (totally doesn't try to get the other task force members to show up. 🙄 They just happened to be free lmao)

If any of the girls enlisted, he'd probably try to talk them out of it at first. War is brutal, and the idea of any of them going through what he did makes him sick with worry. But he comes around to the idea, and in the end, is so proud of them.

He's proud of them regardless. All three are firecrackers with big personalities, and he loves them so much.

John Price

I think, when he was younger, Price wanted kids. Liked the idea of a wife/husband, a house with a yard, and a couple kids. And it just… never happened. Life got in the way, and how could he bring a child into this world, with all the things he's seen? He made his peace with it, and moved on.

And then he meets YOU. And suddenly he finds himself hoping for these things again. Especially kids.

Give this man a baby, please! He exudes fatherly energy (in more ways than one ;p)

After y'all have the first kid, he retires from the military all together. He's paid his dues, and he's got something far more important now: you, and your sweet baby boy :)

I could see Price either only having one, or having a handful of kids. Probably no more than 3 (two boys and a girl)

A good dad. Maybe gets a little too invested in their sports games, probably ends up as a coach after correcting the old one too many times lmao

Would be so proud if any of your kids followed in his footsteps. If none of them do, I think he'd be quietly disappointed but proud of them nonetheless. The two of you raised some wonderful kids.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Probably never really gave it much thought. Like having kids would be cool. Not having them is fine too. Kyle definitely wasn't stressing it, he's got bigger things to worry about.

I mean that is until YOU come along. And now he's thinking about getting married and having babies.

Definitely talks with you about it in detail. He wants your opinion on it, what method to go about it, if you think you're ready for that. A very lengthy conversation that ends in a mutual agreement.

I think Kyle wouldn't want more than 2. Like you could convince him, if you want more. But he's fine with a small family.

2 boys. Twins. Absolutely a handful, and Kyle's there to help when he can. I don't think he'd leave the military until the boys are older, maybe 10/11. But he steps up when he is home, giving you a well deserved break from parenting.

Loves your boys. Play wrestles with them when they're little, brings them trinkets back from his deployments, takes note of their interests and different personalities.

Wouldn't mind either way if they enlisted or not. Kyle would be proud of them regardless. You've raised two fine boys, what's not to be proud of?

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Oh, Johnny boy here wants a big family. He's dead set on having kids. It absolutely is a deal breaker for him. His partner has to want kids too.

So when he meets you. And you want kids too, he's over the moon.

If you've got a uterus, the first kid definitely happens unintentionally. Y'all weren't actively trying, Johnny just can't keep it in his pants lmao.

If not, then it's all planned out and everything goes smoothly, whether that's surrogate or adoption.

Like I said, BIG family. I'm talking like 5 kids at the least. You cannot talk him out of it.

Also gives big girl dad energy. Probably ends up with 4 girls and 1 boy. And he's fine with it! Loves getting his nails painted and throwing tea parties, just as much as he loves playing soccer and wrestling

Like Kyle, Johnny doesn't immediately retire. Sometime after the girl 4 and the baby boy, he'd retire from field work. But he's always facetiming with the kids and bringing them stuff back. Being dad doesn't stop just because he's halfway across the world.

Would be so proud if any of them enlisted. Would probably cry unashamed. But he's equally as proud of them if they don't.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #i've never posted my own fanfic anywhere before so hopefully this does well #im actually quite proud of this one #task force 141

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strawberriescherrieskiwi · 1 month

Note

How would each character react if you slapped them + feyd. Love the dune 2 scene

I loved that scene as well. Chani is my girlfriend in my mind now

A lot of these got sexual so sorry if that isn't what you meant.

Paul

You were fighting about him letting the power get to his head. His mother had burrowed her ideas so far down you barely recognized Paul.

You were ready to leave and never return and he wanted to stop you so he used the voice on you. You both froze and then Paul is in front of you apologizing and you slap him. Once, twice, and then a third time.

He knows he deserved it and begs you to hit him again and again until you forgive him. Of course, the more you hit him and the more he takes it the more turned on you both become until you shove him to the ground tearing his clothes off and riding his cock.

Feyd

Feyd is being well Feyd. He's cocky and bragging about how anyone would be lucky to have him the way you do. And goes on and on about all the people he slept with. And he started to rank them.

You are mostly ignoring him, used to his self-pissing contest until he mentioned the name of someone close to you. and when you asked him just when he slept with them and he mentioned recently you slapped him. So hard his head turns. He chuckles and slowly turns to stare at you. "So you want to do that again?" It's a threat, partly playful and partly serious.

And you go to do it again, but he catches your wrist, twisting it behind your body and pressing you against the wall. "Fuck you fire turns me on."

"Fuck you," you said in anger. Which is the wrong thing since he is already pulling your dress up your hips and ripping your underwear down. "With pleasure. You know you outrank them all," he tells you as he thrusts into you in one go.

"I better be."

Laurie

Laurie is shocked, upset, and confused. He doesn't know what part of his words upset you but an apology is already on his tongue. "I'm sorry. Goodness, I'm sorry. Forgive me, my love."

You are still mad and your hand aches but so does your heart when you see the red mark on his face and the tears in his eyes. "I shouldn't have hit you," you said. "I am sorry."

He doesn't care because he knows if you hit him it is for good reason. He just takes you into his arms and mumbles apologies and forgiveness in your neck.

Hal

"Oh, I had no idea we were playing games today," he would say with a smirk, grabbing your wrist and pulling you until you crashed into his chest. "Is it my turn to spank you now?" The fight was long forgotten as his cock hardened in his pants.

"I'm mad at you. let me go," you say struggling against him but he doesn't let go just smirks down at you and swats your behind. "Your turn, slap me again." He would order.

Lee

He's stunned and turned on. He touches his cheek to make sure that actually happened. "Umm, I know you are upset, but I have never been harder in my life," he would blurt out. Killing all the anger in the room.

Wonka

It's during sex with you riding his cock and him moaning so prettily. He is flushed a beautiful shade of pink but you have the desire to see him red and without thinking you hit him.

You froze and are apologizing profusely. He, of course, hears none of it as he is taking in what happened and then he is throwing his head back moaning louder than ever between and cumming inside of you. "Again. Again. Again," he would beg.

Kyle

He nodded as he chuckled. He would be more surprised if you didn't hit him. "That's fair, really fucking fair," he would say before turning back to you. "Do you feel better, kitten?" He would ask grabbing your waist.

You would pout and look away from him but don't fight his hold. Kyle laughs again and pinches your waist causing you to yip. "You can hit me and ignore me. If we are getting physical at least let me your angry eyes. Do you want to hit me again. I'll let you. Just know that I will get a turn after, but you'll need to get across my lap for it."

"I hate you," you mumbled.

"I love you too," he replied.

Elio

Tears. There is nothing but tears when you hit Elio. He is hard and pressed against a tree, moaning too loudly to not get caught so you hit him and don't hold back. You know he likes the pain even if he doesn't admit it.

He moaned and sobbed you would hit him again but it doesn't help. Not until you have to take off your underwear and push it into his mouth, but his eyes are still begging to get hit again.

#timothée chalamet #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #prince hal x reader #lee x reader #lee bones and all imagines #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #kyle scheible x reader #kyle scheible #elio perlman #elio perlman x reader

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prodigal-sunlight · 7 months

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I think my favorite running theme in My Adventures With Superman is just… love.

Obviously the romance between Clark and Lois is pretty central, but I mean love of all kinds

Things like the Kents reassuring their young son that just because he isn’t theirs’ by birth doesn’t mean he isn’t family. The pride they take in his good heart and hard work. The way Ma Kent was struggling to not hate an army general for not thinking her son is the swellest guy around.

The platonic love shared by Clark and Jimmy—Jimmy knowing almost from day one that Clark isn’t human, Jimmy who obsesses over cryptids and aliens and conspiracies putting aside his own curiosity because he can tell its something Clark isn’t particularly comfortable talking about.

Mallah and The Brain’s relationship, starting out as the love of a creator and his project, turning into romantic infatuation, then the comfortable bickering of an old married couple. The fact that Mallah was the only survivor, but rather than leaving the site of trauma behind, staying to preserve his partner, and eventually creating a new body for him so even death won’t keep them apart.

How, despite the language barrier, the hologram of Superman’s biological father clearly wants nothing more than to love his son. They don’t understand each other—Superman’s father has never seen Clark’s life, has no idea how his son has lived—and Clark has been lead to believe he’s a weapon, not a refugee—but even despite that you can tell his father wants to be there. In the final moments of the last episode, he scrapes together what few English words he could pick up, begging in his son’s language for Clark to live, because that was all he’d ever wanted for the son he never got the chance to know

Kyle/Mist’s brotherly love for Siobhan/Silver Banshee, to the point of looking visibly guilty for betraying Superman when he was so willing to help. The general’s paternal love for Lois, complicated and strained by his old trauma but no less real. The love of the city’s people for the hero who will stop an armed robbery as willingly as he’ll help an old lady unload her groceries. Clark’s love for humanity, his faith that everyone deserves saving, even villains who refuse redemption again and again and again.

Every time people start fear Superman as a dangerous outsider, distrusting him because he’s different

The thing that changes minds is love

#perfect theming for a story about superman imo #i really loved it lol :)#my adventures with superman #maws superman #superman #dc

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constantmourning · 8 months

Text

Choke Me

Summary: The men of TF 141 figure out you like being choked.

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI! Choking, not too descriptive but still very much 18+!

A/N: GN!Reader for this one! Also did this on mobile at work, so it's not beta read. Sorry for any mistakes dhsbbs Let me know do you want one of these for like Konig or Alejandro or anyone else!

It had been a joke. Really. It was harmless. You got bratty when your boyfriend was upset with you. "What? Are you gonna spank me?" You questioned him. The look you received was one of shock, from everyone. One of your friends, who was also part of Task Force 141 took it into his owns hands to help you handle the situation. "I think you should choke them." He snorted. Your head snapped towards him. He continued, "Actually don't do that either... They would love that too."

While it had started as a joke. It surely would not end as one.

Captain John Price: He is in shock! How did he not know? Is a little confused on if it's really a joke so he asks about it later in the bedroom. Voice all husky and full of lust. Says he was gonna spank you, but could definitely choke you if that's what you're into. Even if you're being a brat, you deserve to get what you want after all. He wraps his hand around your throat while he fucks you and the way you come undone immediately is very hot. Price is very good at what he does. He is very skilled with his hands. You learn that quick.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick: Is probably slightly apprehensive when it comes to this tbh. At least the most apprehensive out of the bunch imo. Literally does not want to harm you in anyway, especially on accident. He asks about it and when you nonchalantly tell him you do like that he does want to try it, but is very careful with it. "Remember our safe word?" He asks, you sitting in his lap. When you nod and repeat it to him, he gives you a nod back. You are in his lap, riding him, when his hand finds a home around your throat. The way you immediately come undone, your eyes rolling back, clenching around him?? He is hooked.

John 'Soap' Mactavish: is a little freak in the bedroom. But didn't know you liked being choked. Is immediately up for trying it with you. He is tied as the least afraid of asking about it when you get back to the bedroom. "Is it true? Ya like being choked?" You nod. He is so down for trying literally anything. So as soon as you give the 'okay', he is on it. He has you pinned to the mattress, railing you, his hand slides up your chest and grabs for your throat. You react immediately. Mouth agape and mind blank. The way your whining and mumbling has Soap whipped for sure. Will definitely be going that again.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: Is surprised he didn't know you liked being choked. Like genuinely. Y'all aren't very vanilla in the bedroom, so that going under his radar was shocking. Is tied with Soap on who's least likely afraid to ask about the remark. Would spank you for being a brat earlier, and ask about the choking thing while spanking you. Simon is Very consent oriented so he will be getting all the consent before doing Anything. But as soon as he is given the okay? You are pinned to the wall, him plowing into you, his hand against your throat. He can't help but tell you how good you're being for him, causing you to absolutely lose it. Simon, like the other guys, is most definitely looking forward to more of that.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap smut #simon riley smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz smut #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #john price smut #cod smut #cod x reader #cod mw2

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multi-fxndom446 · 6 months

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Through your phone

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Reader

Summary: johnny 100% is the type to let his s/o go through his phone whenever they wanted.

Warning: angst at the beginning, cheating not from soap or reader, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending.

Word count: 2.4K

Just something short and sweet. I’ve been really into call of duty recently and I think Soap deserves more love that’s all. Kyle too so expect stuff for him. Horrible attempt at writing for someone who has a Scottish accent

It first started slow. Practically unnoticeable.

Your boyfriend would still wake up, still give you a kiss on the head when he woke up, still eat whatever small breakfast you prepared for him and still would tell you he loves you as he rushed out the door.

But he stopped kissing you goodbye.

You didn’t think anything of it at first because he still kissed your head when he woke up and the kiss goodbye seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things because he loved you.

Then he stopped kissing your head in the morning and was on his phone more often.

Again you thought it was strange but not enough to have you questioning his love for you. Maybe he was just stressed out? You hoped that was the reason.

But then he started setting his phone face down anytime you got near him. He was getting distant but still had date nights with you, still cuddled with you..until he didn’t.

One night after a day of practically not saying anything to each other at all, he went to bed and turned his back to you. You watched from your side of the bed as his phone lit up a few more times before dying out yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to look through it. Even if your entire body was begging you too.

Then the days would pass where he was out the door before you even woke up or if you woke up at the same time he’d be tying his shoes already with a quick, “I’ll be working late tonight.” As the door shut behind him, leaving you feeling suddenly cold in the place you once called home.

He grew cold and distant, there always seemed to be a space between the two of you wherever you went all the while he was on his stupid phone for “work related” issues.

On those nights he was gone for hours on end you would be talking with Johnny on the phone while you cleaned the apartment that seemed darker and darker every day. Johnny had begged you on multiple occasions to leave him, that you deserved better but you dismissed him because he loved you…right?

That night when for the upteenth time of him returning home at an ungodly hour just to crash into bed, faced away from you. This time though he seemed intoxicated and he fell asleep before he could even change and that’s when you noticed the girly perfume coming from his clothes.

Your stomach churned as you sat there staring at the man you once thought you loved and after a moment you leaned over quietly and took his phone before hurrying to the bathroom and locking the door.

When you sat on the edge of the bath you noticed he changed his lock screen from a picture of the two of you to some random Lock Screen. It made you pause to take a deep breath to try and control the tears threatening to spill.

Finally, you unlocked his phone. You were surprised it was still the same. As you looked through his apps you weren’t even sure where to start when someone labeled at ‘work’ texted.

“Had fun tonight😘 same time tomorrow?”

You honestly couldn’t even say that your heart was broken. You prepared yourself for this for way too long, endured his distance for far too long. You couldn’t feel heartbroken. You just felt numb.

Even when you went through the hundreds of text messages between him and his so-called work. It wasn’t until you hit the end and saw the date of when they first started texting each other that you realized just how done you were with this relationship.

They started texting a day after your 3 year anniversary. Everything was gone, all the feelings, all the promises..gone.

You walked back into your shared bedroom to where he was still faced away from you completely oblivious to your findings but you also had a feeling he wouldn’t feel too sorry about it.

How could he sleep so peacefully knowing he was willingly destroying your relationship this entire time.

You watched him while you picked up your phone. You brought it to your ear as it rang softly. “Hello?” You felt the sudden heartbreak hit you as Johnny's Scottish voice came through. “Lass?”

“Johnny.” You whispered and you could hear rustling on his end like he was getting out of bed. “Can you pick me up?”

That whole situation was what was playing through your head as you sat on the barstool in yours and johnnys shared apartment while you watched his phone light up every few minutes next to you.

Johnny was running around the kitchen preparing a dinner he had begged you to let him make when he finally took notice of his phone blowing up. “Can you check my phone fer’ me?” Your eyes shot up towards him but his back was turned towards you.

You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. You didn’t want to be heartbroken again not after you got over that stupid ex boyfriend. Hell it took you almost a year later for you to give Johnny a chance, you loved him you did but the wounds were still deep.

You knew he would never cheat on you. You knew it the moment he came to get you in the middle of the night, not trying to be quiet at all as he helped you pack as much as you could and loaded it into his car. You knew he wouldn’t the moment he had brought Ghost with him to take you back to said apartment for the rest of your things the next morning and they stood by like two brooding bodyguards while your ex tried to beg for you to listen, which surprised you.

You knew he wouldn’t cheat on you when he waited patiently for you to be ready to go out with someone again.

So why was your heart in your throat?

You grabbed his phone softly, his phone lighting up again and you were greeted with your two smiling faces and an onslaught of texts from his group chat with Kyle and Simon, whom after a year and a half of dating Johnny you finally just started to call them by their real names.

“Anythin’ important?” He asked after a moment of silence. His back was still turned to you.

“It looks like it’s from Kyle and Simon.” He hummed in response before asking you to read through to see what they needed. “Apparently your captain is planning to make you all do drills when he sees you next.”

At this Johnny turned quickly, a look of disbelief on his face while he held a spoon in one hand. You almost wanted to laugh, he looked like a real housewife with the apron and all. “No bloody way. For what?!”

“Ah,” you looked back at his phone hesitating for a moment before you started scrolling further up. “Something about a prank that was pulled and now he can’t find his cigars. Simon said ‘soap fix this’”

You looked up at Johnny again to see him visibly wince. “I thought he woulda found them by now! Bloody hell, can you text back and say I’ll figure it out?”

“You want me to text them back?” He nodded like it was the simplest thing he’s asked you to do and turned back to the stove. “Are you sure?”

“Yer just replying to them before they come murder me, no pressure.” He laughed before noticing your silence and you couldn’t see the way his smile fell a little bit when he realized why you were so tense. “I’m sure.”

After a moment He heard the click of his phone shutting off and being set on the counter before he asked you to do another thing. “Can you see if there’s anythin’ else I forgot to respond to?” In all honesty he really just wanted you to look through his phone, to show you you could still trust him and that he was head over heels for you.

“Uh, another group chat with Price included sent something. Can I check?” He hummed in response and you started scrolling through to see if there was anything important. You knew any mission details are on a completely separate phone that quite literally cannot be used for anything other than talking to his task force so you never felt inclined to even ask.

“Dinners almost ready, I’ll be right back just gotta change.” He told you before running to the bedroom while you scrolled.

Anytime your name got mentioned you felt your heart clench until you read them and it was just the boys asking how you were doing. It made you feel nice. Just knowing his friends cared about you.

You’ve only known them about the year and a half you and Johnny have been dating but you’ve heard of them on multiple occasions from when you first met Johnny almost seven years ago, a year before you started dating your ex.

You couldn’t help but smile at the goofy text messages they would send back and forth until you came across a few that had you frozen to your spot.

‘Have you asked her yet?’

‘Hop to it Johnny, I’m surprised you didn’t ask her long ago.’

‘Will you tell us what she says?’ That one was price and it was followed up by a quick “of course” from Johnny before they all texted him good luck.

That was about a week ago.

Almost as if sensing your silence, Johnny came out of the room quietly. He noticed the way your mouth was agape in shock while your eyes scanned the messages over and over. And it took him a moment to realize why.

“No! Ya weren’t supposed to see that part yet!” Johnny called exasperated as he ran to you, scaring the crap out of you as you dropped his phone like it was a hot potato. “Didja read everything?” He asked after a moment of stunned silence.

He sighed when you wouldn’t even answer him and walked over to a drawer in his kitchen where he pulled out a small velvet box. “I was gonna ask ya tonight.” He mumbled softly, opening the box to reveal the most gorgeous ring you’ve ever seen.

Upon seeing the shock on your face his blood suddenly ran cold. “I didn’t just spoil it myself did I?! You did get to that conversation right?!” He was frantic but you were still frozen to your spot. It wasn’t until he brought his hands to your cheeks that you realized you were crying. “Why’re you crying Bonnie? Is it something I said? Is it too soon?”

You just shook your head as tears fell harder. “Are you serious? You want to marry me?” His eyes softened instantly and he brought you into one of his famous hugs. “Are you sure?” You whispered

“Lass, I’ve been sure I was gonna marry ya when I met ya seven years ago.” He muttered and you almost wondered if he could feel your heart skip a beat. He pulled back after a moment and picked his phone up off the floor. “Let me show ya somethin’”

You watched as he typed in a few words in the search bar of his message app and pulled up messages he still had saved between him, simon and Kyle seven years ago.

‘I swear on my mother, I’m gonna marry this girl’

‘Johnny don’t you think that’s a little soon?’ Kyle had asked him but Johnny seemed to ignore him as he sent multiple pictures of rings next.

‘Which one do ya think she’d like?’

‘Couldn’t tell you we don’t know anything about the girl.’ Ghost replied.

‘You sorry lads are gonna regret this when I force ya both to be in my wedding when I marry the love of my life’

The other two just disliked the message and that was the end.

You looked up at him in shock. “For seven years?” You whispered and he nodded softly. “Even while I was-?”

“Especially when ya were with that prick. I wasn’t gonna leave ya hangin’ to spend the rest of yer days with ‘im.” He scoffed as if thinking back to those three long years where you were in someone else’s arms.

It made you cry harder. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did.”

“He never let me look through his phone.” You sobbed out and Johnny brought you into another hug. You felt silly, like this was such a childish thing to cry over but it just plucked all the right heartstrings for you.

“You can look through everything on my phone. I waited this long to finally be able to call ya mine. Why in the bloody hell would I screw that up?” He held on tighter. “You can even check my Snapchat, Gaz says I might have something called a snap score? Whatever the hell that means.”

He let a relieved smile come out when he heard you laugh softly before he pulled away from you and held the box back up to you. “We found each other, you just took the scenic route and that’s okay ya can make up for it by sayin’ yes.”

His eyes held so much hope in them especially when a big smile finally broke out on your face and you nodded softly, uttering a quiet ‘yes’

He felt like he could cry, “yeah?” When you nodded again he grabbed the ring and softly put it onto your ring finger, kissing your knuckles right after. “I love you.” He said pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you too.” You replied when you pulled away before a teasing smirk crossed your face. “Now let’s see what that snap score is.”

He laughed loudly as he pulled up the app, “I only really talk to Gaz and my family on there.”

“Not ghost?”

“Christ no. I’m surprised the man even has a phone.” He joked while watching you click your way through to his snapscore.

“Barely 1,000?!” You barked out laughing and he was frantic as he took the phone back. Looking between you leaned over laughing and his phone.

“What does that mean?!” He asked frantically he almost thought it was a bad thing until he noticed the way you clutched your side from laughing so hard. “Is that low?”

“So low Johnny.” You finally calmed down as you hopped off the stool. You kissed his cheek as you passed him. “God I love you. Now let’s try this dinner!”

He looked between you and his phone again before muttering, “Steamin Jesus.” To himself.

Yeah, you loved him.

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader

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heartshapedcigaretteburns · 3 months

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Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea.

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can. Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace.

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

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction.

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you.

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse.

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are.

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

#cod fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

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writeforfandoms · 6 months

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Call Me Little Sunshine

Find my John Price masterlist

You've had a bad day, but even from a different country, your husband knows how to make it better.

This is pure comforting fluff. Might give you cavities.

Warnings: Price needs his own warning, swearing, sweetness, established relationship.

John Price x f!reader

Word count: 1k

You had just thrown yourself on the couch for a bit of dramatic pouting when your phone rang. You groaned out loud, momentarily tempted to ignore it. It was probably something stupid, or a telemarketer, or whatever.

But… it could be your husband. He did sometimes call without warning.

You checked your phone. Unknown number. Could be your husband. Could be just about anybody.

You answered anyway.

“‘Lo?”

“Princess.”

You breathed out a soft sigh at the sound of your darling’s voice. “John.”

“You alright, love?” His voice was rough, like he’d been smoking recently.

“Well enough.” You shrugged, pushing yourself up from the couch so you could sit. “What about you? What time is it?”

John blew out a soft breath, amused. “It’s late, and I’m fine,” he reassured you. “No new holes in me.” The faint sounds of a skirmish came through from the other end, and you recognized Kyle’s voice.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked, amused despite yourself.

There was a moment of silence. “Nope.” John must have moved away from them, because his end of the line got quieter. “Now, princess. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You winced. “Nothing,” you protested, lifting one hand to rub your forehead.

“I know you better than that,” John murmured, voice pitched lower, soothing. “You can tell me.”

“It’s not important,” you tried. “Especially compared to whatever you’ve got going on.”

“Right now, all I’ve got going on is ignoring a couple idiots,” John countered. “Nothin’ more important than you.”

Your resistance crumbled in the face of that tone and those words. You sighed and gave in, telling him about your frustrations with work. You tried to keep it short, but he kept asking questions. Not letting you get away with giving him the bare minimum.

“Well,” he finally said once he’d gotten everything out of you he wanted. “Least you’re done for the day.”

“No kidding.” You huffed softly, once again thinking about getting a drink. You deserved a little relaxation, after the day you’d had. “Two more days and it’s the weekend.”

John chuckled softly. “That eager, hm?”

“John, I’m just preventing murder,” you told him, all faux-innocence. “Really.”

He snorted. “Noble of you,” he teased.

You smiled. It did not escape you that you felt better, that he was responsible for that. “I’m not keeping you up, am I, love?”

“No.” His voice softened. “Don’t fret ‘bout me, princess.”

“You know I always do.”

“I know.” Those simple words carried such weight to them. Regret that you worried, acknowledgement that he couldn’t make you stop, appreciation that you cared enough to fret.

You’d both talked this over enough times that you both acknowledged the stalemate. You’d fret. He’d ask you not to. Neither of you would give ground.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way. Your husband was stubborn, and it was something you loved about him, even when he drove you up the wall.

“You eaten yet?”

“No,” you groaned, making a face. “Don’t you start fussing at me from another timezone, love.”

He chuckled. “Can’t stop me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but paused. The boys would probably take his side. “I’ll order in,” you decided instead. Giving ground to him, this time.

“Good girl.” His voice dipped teasingly low, with that extra bit of rasp that he knew did things to you.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, sitting up again in alarm. “John.”

“What? Can’t I make sure my princess is feeling better?” He purred through the line.

“You are a damn tease, John Price.” But you couldn’t entirely keep your smile out of your tone.

“Mm. So you like to remind me.” John took a deep breath, slow and steady. “Go order your dinner, princess. Something special tonight, hm? You deserve it.”

You warmed, unable to stop the fond smile if you tried. Which you didn’t. “Alright, love. Get some sleep tonight.”

“I will.” His voice softened, gently affectionate. “I’ll call again soon.”

“When you can,” you emphasized. “I’ll be here.”

“Love you,” John murmured.

“Love you too.” You bit back the desire to ask when he’d be home, remind him to stay safe. He knew. And you knew.

But you still had to take a moment to blink back emotion after the call disconnected. Your wonderful, stubborn, incredible husband.

Huffing to yourself, you ordered food. Something nice, like John said. It was amazing how much better you felt after a little conversation and some food.

But the best came in the morning, as you were settling in to work. A knock at the door made you get up, cautious at first. Until you saw the flowers carried by a delivery man.

The bouquet was large, beautiful, with some of your favorites. You stroked a few petals with a smile before you plucked out the card.

Princess,

You can make it two more days. I’ll call again tonight. Chin up, sweetheart.

The note was not signed, but you didn’t need it to be.

But the thing that really caught you by surprise was the second card.

I’m not bailing you out or stopping your husband if you get arrested, so call me before you murder anyone. -S

Bonnie, you’re a right saint for putting up with that grump. -J

We’re on his six, don’t worry. See you soon. -K

Eyes watery, smile almost painful, you put both notes on the front of the fridge, flowers in pride of place in the center of the table. Today would be no problem, now.

#john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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

09 — I'M HIGHER THAN THE HOPES THAT YOU BROUGHT DOWN

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

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

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

<- previous part | next part ->

When you had taken down the organisation by Shepherd’s side, it was the beginning of everything.

The first time you had drawn someone else’s blood was with a rifle in your hand and a vengeance burning in your veins. A single order from your General – your only support – to kill anyone with the organisation’s uniform. Anyone who raised a scope to you.

It’s difficult, usually, to remember what had happened.

Sometimes, in your deepest of sleeps, the nightmares of your past came to haunt you. Flashes of blood on your skin, corpses underneath your feet, the crackle of a radio sounding in an empty room.

A congratulations from your General.

Congratulations for seeking revenge, and executing it like a soldier well-trained. Another cog in the military’s rusting machine. A weapon for them, more than a human with free will and determination.

You’d thrown up, after it all.

Heaving, sweating, crying, the endless guilt of what you’d just done. Were you no better than them? Sure, they’d killed your mother, but you had just carried out the same in turn. Tenfold. They had families that they’d never report back to. Families that they’d never get to say goodbye to. Dinner left untouched.

Shepherd had pat your back – then, he’d been in service, active duty. You hadn’t known it, but taking down the organisation was his last mission.

You never even learnt the name of the organisation. Shepherd had said that it was better that way, to detach yourself, not get yourself muddled with the logistics of it all. You weren’t meant for that. You were meant for weaponry and death and destruction.

That night, when you laid awake in the small camp set-up just a few klicks out from the organisation's site, you determined that you wouldn’t take another’s life without certainty. Unless it was for defence.

That night, you’d known that you would ask to be trained for field medicine.

Oh, how naive you had been. Young, aching for a chance to get revenge, to get what you felt you deserved.

Ten days later, you met one Phillip Graves.

A day after that, he offered you a place within the beginning of his mercenary company.

Half an hour after you signed the contract, General Shepherd announced that he was no longer suitable for active duty.

How naive indeed.

You think, in the very back of your mind, with the smallest grip you have on thought, that you’ve been carried to safety by men more than you have in your life, these past few days.

In and out, your mind wavers, senses completely gone, consciousness an impossible thing.

Minutes, hours, days. You’re not sure. How does time even work? What is time? Are you alive? Is this death? Another third, universally unknown state, an in between?

These past few days, the utter mess your life has become, has it finally worn you out? Destroyed you from the inside, shrapnel embedded into your flesh? A direct hit, a ticking time bomb gone wrong? A suicide mission with no preparation, no warning, no hope?

If you could, you’d cry.

Let tears fall down your cheeks, crystalline and pure against your dirtied and sinful skin. A mocking of all things good and right and beautiful.

Oh to be beautiful. To be right. To be good.

Heaven would taste like fairy floss melting against your tongue, you think. Sweet and pink and soft. It would furl around your tongue, season your mouth with the feeling of cotton and freedom.

White.

White blinds every inch of your body, the darkness of your eyelids lit with the shade. Chemicals fill the air, a stagnant, all too damning smell. Beeping, too, a constant background noise as you slowly come to.

Hospital – or, at the very least, a Med Bay. It’s something quite familiar, but the feeling of being a patient in one is a very rare instance for you.

That feeling of blood, sticky against your face and arm, has gone. Instead, the itch of fabric and bandage replaces it, an IV drip attached to your inner arm an annoying sting. Your hair feels as if it’s been carefully spread over the pillow underneath your head, a blanket wrapped over your form.

If your spatial awareness is at all correct, you think you can sense a few other people in the room, too. Soft murmuring chimes in over the beeping, now, as you return to full consciousness.

“Can’t believe all three of ‘em are down.”

Gaz – that honey-esque, smooth voice instantly has you recognising the Sergeant. From where his voice is coming from, he seems to be sat beside your bed.

“It’s not your fault, Kyle.”

Price. Captain. He sounds… softer than you’ve ever heard him. Lost, maybe, upset. Disappointed? It’s hard to place, his tone, but it seems almost forlorn.

“Had a whole fuckin’ team of Marines and we couldn’t make it to ‘im in time. If it wasn’t for her–”

“I know, Sergeant,” Price snaps, shutting down the younger man’s nervous, distressed rambling. A scrape of a chair sounds, the sound of pacing footfalls a moment later. “There wasn’t anything we could do – and it’s not like any of ‘em are dying, now are they?”

“Don’t act like this didn’t affect you either, Captain,” Gaz bites back in return, his chair, too, scraping against the linoleum floor. “I heard your yell clear as day.”

“I can and will write you up for insubordination, Garrick,” Price warns, stern and cold.

Gaz’s responding laugh is biting, grating. “No, you won’t, Price. Because if you do that, you’ll have to report the others too. You really wanna risk losing us all?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Thought you liked that about me, Cap.”

“Kyle –”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Both men turn, then, to look at you with wide eyes. With a small groan, you move to sit up, eyes burning with the sudden overhead lights. Your shoulder aches, your cheek, too, but not as badly as they had before.

“Be careful, don’t –” Gaz goes to say, moving towards you, before you show him your palm.

“I’m fine. I know my limits, Gaz,” you say, a small reprimand as you shift into a comfortable position. “I’ll be out of this bed within the hour if I can help it.”

“You dislocated your shoulder,” Price says, insistent, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, arms folded over his chest. “It’s in a wrap. You’re lucky, Colonel, that they could perform the surgery here.”

Your brows raise.

“Surgery? How long was I out?” You frantically ask, sitting up straighter, wincing when you bump your shoulder. Your mind races with theories, fear trickling down your spine like a cold vice. There was so much you had to do – had to investigate, now.

“Only about a day. You were under anaesthesia – and your body near shut down,” Gaz leans forward as he sits, elbows on his knees. “You were awake, under high-intensity stress, for nearly four days.”

Four days? Had it really been that long? What had only felt like a day – it had been four?

You must show your inner panic on your face, because Price takes a step closer, hand moving to rest comfortably on your shoulder. He has a calming, understanding tilt to his lips that you appreciate. His eyes examine your body, before his blue eyes meet yours.

“Graves is already planning his next movement,” he says, gruff and true. His hand squeezes. “We were playing checkers, seems like he wants to play chess.”

The beep of the machines sat beside your bed and the overall feeling of hospital and gauze and injury has you realising something. A flash in the back of your mind, a bell ringing for you like a dog on a leash.

“Where’s Soap and Ghost?”

Price and Gaz share a look, before Gaz flits a nervous grimace to you. “Ghost… refused to be treated unless he was put in the same room as Soap. Soap, is, well…”

“Get yer bloody hands off me, aye am fine, let me see ‘er–”

Soap’s voice carries down the hallway, the standard-issues curtains surrounding your small area doing nothing to block the sound. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, Gaz buries his face in his hands, and Price heaves a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under his breath about decorum.

“Sergeant, the doctor’s –”

“Tell Sarah tha’ aye can bloody well handle maself!”

A crashing noise follows the last statement, along with the sound of confused yelling, before the curtain surrounding you gets ripped open by none other than Soap MacTavish.

His grown-out faux-mohawk is messy, obviously having been laid on for a fair bit, his eyes wide and chest pounding in sweeping movements. Fist clenched in the scratchy fabric of the curtain, his frantic eyes focus on Price and Gaz, respectively, before landing on you. His shoulders loosen, and he lets go of the curtain as he trails down your form, analysing for any injuries or a single hair out of place.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding all too like that single nickname is a lifeline, “Yer alright.”

You softly shake your head, disbelieving and confused and shocked and.

And maybe slightly grateful. Lucky, even, to have someone care for you enough to act like your very presence is their saviour. Like your blood is as worthy as their own, your lungs virtually theirs, too.

“I’m not the one that nearly fell to my death,” you exasperate, voice as soft and vulnerable as you’ve heard it. At the very least, the most open you’ve sounded since your mother was around. “Did you just kill one of the nurses to get here?”

Soap’s creeping smile turns into a full, toothy grin as he shakes his head. “Nah. That’d be Lt.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price mutters from beside you, along with Gaz’s choked off laugh. You can’t help your own private smirk.

“And here I was, thinking you were the dog, Soap,” you tease, except for the first time, it isn’t with the intention of goading. Of poking the beast. You’re… teasing just for fun. Because it feels natural and right and.

Oh.

Soap scoffs. “Aye, ye did say that, didn’t ya? Ye haven’t seen a guard dog like Mr. Lt, lass,” He taunts, freckles dusting his nose, the hospital lights doing nothing to wash his tan skin out.

He says, as if your world hasn’t been flipped over, shaken about, and sat down on your shoulders like a snowglobe.

He says, as if everything is fine and normal and not cataclysmic.

“The nurse is fine.”

Everyone, including Price, jolts where they are situated, eyes darting to where Ghost leans against the wall opposite your bed, picking at his nails.

He’s.

Unlike the balaclava, of which is all you’ve known of the bulky man, the only thing covering his features is a standard black medical mask, covering his mouth and nose. No ink stains the upper half of his face, either, and for the first time – you see his hair.

Dirty blond.

It oddly suits him, the shortly cut mess, the strands hanging over his forehead and ears. What strikes you is the lack of scars from the skin you can see, the unmarred skin, the softness of it.

He’s pretty, in a rugged, unabashed way, and what a realisation that is.

With just a black compression shirt, sleeves cut to the mid-section of his upper arms, sleeves of talented ink cover his pale skin. A snake, intricately designed, covers his left, curving around the muscle. On his right, what looks to be a Greek god, its depth shadowed with blacks and greys.

“Good to see you in one piece, too, Lieutenant,” you say, and if it was at all possible, you’d swear that sparks shoot up your spine when his deep brown eyes catch onto yours.

He raises an uncovered brow – pale and soft. “I meant what I said,” he threatens, a glint in his eye.

So, you suppose, not all has been forgiven. Your memories are shaky at best, but a few words stand out from your confrontation – kill, belonging, rank. A promise of death, but a vow of protection, too.

“What’re you talking about?” Gaz asks, looking between the two of you with a confused expression.

Neither you, nor Ghost, break eye contact as you simultaneously say; “Nothing, Gaz.”

Both Sergeants share a look, a cheeky one, the type that no one else in the room can decipher. You had seen the way that the two shared comments, winks, hits up the back of their heads. Joking and full of life, but with an unbreakable bond between them.

Yearning was becoming too familiar of a concept for you, you were finding.

“Laswell found a hit on some intel,” Price breaks the tension of the room, hands bracing on his knees as he looks to the four of you. A grim expression settles on his face when he looks to you. “It’s in the home of one of your Lieutenants.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you swallow around a dry mouth. “What kind of intel?”

Everyone seems to collectively move in closer – Ghost’s hand rests at his belt, Soap’s at his back pocket, Gaz’s on the chain adorning his neck, a guitar pick attached to the gold.

“Intel on an ‘organisation’,” Price says. “A group of people wanting to overtake the military, one with a rising number of members.”

It’s as if you can feel nothing but the beat of your heart, the sensation of your fingers, the pain in your chest. The organisation. They were. You and Shepherd, you hadn’t eradicated them. Maybe stumped their growth, for a while, but you hadn’t.

You hadn’t realised they were still around. Growing, even, thriving.

The urge to just cry, pour out your emotions and weep is the strongest it’s been since your mother’s funeral. To just pull up the covers over your head and let tears fall down your cheeks, mourn in your misery, scream and claw at your skin and feel.

If only you could be that woman. Just for a day.

Instead, you reply.

“When are we going?”

Soap is, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, the first one to speak up. His hands land on his hips as he studies you with a narrowed gaze. “Ye need to rest, lass. Yer broken.”

You throw your unwrapped hand in the air, waving in their general direction. “Have you guys seen yourselves? How the fuck you’re out of your gowns is almost crazier than you storming into here gunsablazing!”

“We didn’t get a concussion, a wound on our cheek, a dislocated bloody shoulder,” Ghost challenges, and your hackles rise in turn. When he gives, you return. The moon and the sun – the two of you, always taunting the other with a bone just to see if the other will bite.

“I saved your ass,” you seethe back, and with only a small wince, you pull the IV drip from your arm. If Price or Gaz debate that move, you ignore it. “And his. I don’t seem to recall hearing a single thank you, either.” You rise on shaky legs, pushing through the ache, pushing through the thunderstorm in your chest. You turn to Soap, “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” you turn to Ghost, “And you don’t tell me what injuries deem me weaker! I’ve survived this long without the lot of you, and you don’t need to start babying me now.”

The silence in the room should dispel your nerves, but it only serves to increase them tenfold.

“We’ll scope out the area and decide what to do after. Five days ‘til we perform an undercover mission, I suspect.”

With a small tilt of your head, you look to Price, who rubs at his jaw, scratching at the hair lining it. He looks deep in thought – ever the calculating leader.

You sigh, quiet enough to not be heard. “Thank you, Captain.”

The wrapping around your set shoulder seems recently done, and when you move the ligament in small circles, the pain is nothing more than a dull ache. Your cheek, too, has been bandaged, but the sting is nothing if not prevalent.

Someone had spent the time putting socks on your feet, so you’re grateful for the small mercy as you move to the side table and swallow down mouthfuls of water from the plastic bottle placed there.

A thought comes to mind then.

“Where do I sleep? Or should I, um…” You trail off, because the idea of finding a shoddy motel in the middle of nowhere is definitely not a pleasant one.

Silence.

Slowly turning around, bottle in hand, your brows furrow when you see that none of them are meeting your eyes. Even Ghost, which is most definitely a first.

“Are you banishing me? Worried I have cooties?” You tease, bouncing on the soles of your feet. When no one responds again, you truly start to worry. “That was a joke,” you confirm, as if they didn’t know that.

“There’s no spare rooms,” Gaz blurts out, and your eyes go wide.

Of all the things that had briefly crossed your mind, a lack of space was most certainly not one of them. The consequences of that fact is the next thing to be brought to the forefront of your muddled ideas.

“Right,” Soap nods, as if this is a newly found concept. He gestures to Gaz, a smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks for offering to let ‘er crash with ya, lad.”

“I didn’t say that –” Gaz starts, expression slowly creeping into one of exasperation as Price interrupts with a slap to the Sergeant’s shoulder.

“Real generous, Garrick,” Price commends, moving to stand from his chair and leave the room. Ghost follows closely behind him, shooting a look between you and Kyle, simply saying, “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Gaz groans, head falling against the chair backing as he slides down the wood. Soap is quick to bound away from the room, too, with a cheerful, ‘See you tomorrow!’.

Gaz, eyes squeezed shut, seeming to try and melt into the floor, flutters one eye open to look at you where you stand. He grimaces, before slowly getting to his feet, too.

“Sorry for,” you bite at your lip, looking everywhere but at the man who seems to want to die more than host you, “Being a nuisance. Really, I’m fine sleeping at a motel, or whatever. Seriously.”

His hand grasps your chin, moving it so you’re forced to look up at him, his analysing gaze searching your own. The brown of his eyes glisten in the bright light, his features shining with it, and you’re hit with an overwhelming want to be cherished by this man.

How bad had your concussion really been, to be making you think this way? You should really talk to Sarah about it, ask what kind of side effects came with one.

Oddly enough, you don’t think that this realisation is as sudden as you’re forcing yourself to believe.

“I didn’t,” Gaz begins, quickly looking away and setting his jaw before meeting your eyes once more, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just. Embarrassing, y’know?”

“How? Got a secret collection of pornos you don’t want me finding?” You quip back, a soft tilt to your lips.

He chuckles, a soft, girthy thing, shaking his head. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. Just… havin’ a girl in my room on such short notice is a bit scary. Gonna kill them all when I see ‘em tomorrow,” he mutters the last few words under his breath.

“I really am sorry,” you promise, “I didn’t realise that I’d have to impose on you like this.”

“You’re not imposing,” Gaz says, stern, thumb brushing along your jawline. “My bed should be big enough, anyways.”

Your cheeks heat at the implication, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “Your – Your bed? I can just sleep on the floor –”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking your head side to side softly. “If anything, I’ll crash on the floor if you’re uncomfortable. I won’t let you sleep on anything but my bed.”

“Such a gentleman,” you lean in, whispering the words over his lips, a smirk forming on your face as you pull back. Heading for the door, you miss the way his fingers raise to hover over his mouth, gaze flitting to you before he follows behind.

“Do I need to see Sarah? The only reason I was really in there was ‘cause I was passed out, right?” You ask, turning around as Gaz meets you, opening the door for you to walk through. His hand falls to the small of your back as he directs you down the hallways.

He shakes his head. “Nah, Price messaged ‘er. If your pain starts up again, just take some pain meds or see her.”

“I like the way you run things here,” you hum, looking around at the concrete walls and linoleum floors, barren of personality. “No wasting time or resources.”

A draft carries down the hall, and you find yourself rubbing your arm, biting at your lower lip from the cold. Gaz’s hand wraps around your waist, pulling you into his body heat subtly, and you’re silently grateful. “I’ll give you some of my spare clothes to sleep in,” he says, thumb rubbing against where his hand sits in tight circles.

Your stomach growls, then, and you can hardly find the energy to be embarrassed when you haven’t eaten in four days. Yikes.

“Sorry –”

“I made you. Um.” Gaz looks away, bringing up his other hand to rub at the nape of his neck nervously. “I made you some wraps to eat, because the guys love ‘em, and Price kept getting pulled into meetings. So.”

The smile that pulls at your cheeks burns as you softly say, “Thank you.”

His grip around your waist tightens, the smallest amount.

You don’t comment.

“While you change, I’ll go get them from the fridge,” he says, as the two of you pause outside a standard door. The barracks look the same as every other corridor in this base, you’ve found, three other doors sitting close to this one. The 141’s rooms.

Unlocking the door, he switches on the light, and as you step in, you look around at the small room.

A double bed, narrow but long, sits in the corner next to a small window. Next to it, a wooden bedside table, with photos atop it, and a few random medals and gum wrappers. A single poster is stuck to the wall – and as soon as you see it, a laugh bubbles up in your chest.

“What?” Gaz asks, looking through his chest of drawers, looking to you with flushed cheeks. “It isn’t that bad.”

Your laughs continue, racking your body with each inhale as you point to the poster, eyes watery as you look at the man. “Didn’t realise you were into the Spice Girls, Garrick.”

He shoves his clothes into your face, only making you double over with laughter.

“It was from my mum,” he grumbles, and you grab for his cheeks, squeezing them as your eyes near-shut with the manic laughter bubbling from you.

“Mama’s boy,” you tease, pulling at his cheeks until he’s face level. He huffs, pushing you away with a hand to your jaw, making more giggles erupt from your chest. “It’s cute, Gaz, I’m not being mean, pinky promise.”

“I’m getting the wraps, you twat,” he tries to sound accusatory, but his dimples deepen in his cheeks, his mouth pulling into a stubborn smile as he shoves you onto the bed, slamming the door shut behind him as he goes.

The fondness in your chest aches, and as you pull on his clothes, taking off the medical robe, you realise something. A niggling, in the back of your mind, one you can’t seem to shake as you tie off the oversized grey sweatpants around your waist.

A singular realisation, but a damning one, nonetheless.

Your smile doesn’t fade.

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 6 months

Text

Secret Lovers Pt. 2

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley X Wife!Reader

Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasn’t prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did.

a/n:this was for everyone who voted in favor of an epilogue/part two to this fic i just want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who read and gave feedback! warnings:drinking, some slight swearing, mainly Simon being a huge simp for his wife

After everyone had found out about your marriage with Simon all hell had broken loose, from Johnny begging for more information, to John practically running out of the room when all eyes were on him. He’d been the first person you’d told about the engagement, asking if he would stand by Simon’s side when you became one. John was honored, knowing that you’d want him to be there for your special day. You’d expected to feel nervous when you walked down the aisle, Simon’s eyes shining with tears as he tried, and failed, to suppress his smile. Knowing that the love of your life was waiting for you, well it meant more than anything else in the world.

It had been Kyle’s idea to head out to the pub for some dinner and drinks, and who were you to tell any of them no? It’d been quite a while since you’d all been able to go out and let loose, and with everyone knowing about you and Simon it made things easier. So, after grabbing your purse and changing into more comfortable clothes you headed out with the boys. John downright refused to let Simon drive, saying he valued his life more than anything. You offered to drive everyone back home, saying you didn’t want to drink too much anyhow. John agreed, only after he’d gotten into the driver's seat with Kyle calling shotgun. Johnny whined as he crawled into the back, scooting towards the door to give you more space in the middle. Simon wouldn’t admit that he was a major manspreader, thighs wide open in the back seat. You offered to put your legs over one of his thighs if it meant giving Johnny more space to relax.

He simply waved you off, promising that he was doing perfectly fine in his own seat, even if he was definitely trying to seem smaller. You chuckled at his insistence, throwing your legs over Simon’s right thigh and cuddling into his side. It gave Johnny plenty of space to untense his body and relax. Once you reached the pub everyone would have ample space to spread out and relax, you just hoped Simon wouldn’t get too rowdy by the end of the night. He never tended to, too worried about making sure you were alright, but he deserved to enjoy a night out.

“Alright, we’re here, now remember that I’m not driving us back, Y/N will be, so when she says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.” John handed you the keys before getting out of the truck.

The rest of the men followed suit, Simon all but dragging you out and into his arms to keep any prying eyes away from you. Even though the mission you’d gone on was a success, Simon was still nervous that someone had seen you two leave together and word got to his enemies. You’d assured him more than a million times that if anyone had seen you, you had a great team to back you up.

“Thank you John! We’ll meet you inside.” You tucked the keys into your pocket, looking up at your husband.

“Mmm, you look gorgeous darling.” Simon cupped your cheek gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“As do you, dear husband.” You smiled into the kiss, pulling him closer to your body.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” His hands wrapped around your waist, bodies pressed flush together.

“I do believe we ran into one another while getting coffee, and since you’d spilt your tea all over my blouse you wanted to apologize.” It was a day you would never truly forget.

The sky was cloudy, giving off the aura that it could possibly rain, something you’d grown accustomed to after living in Cardiff for so long. You’d been transferred by your superiors, having taken a new job and been given your orders. You were working as a medic for the army, a necessary surgeon for anyone that got injured on base. So far they were few and far between, something you’d become almost thankful for.

When you’d turned to go into the coffee shop you ran straight into someone else, their tea spilling all over your brand new blouse. The hot liquid stung for a brief moment, cooling nearly instantly in the otherwise balmy air.

“Shit, ouch.” You tried to pull the fabric away from your skin as best you could, not wanting to cause any further damage.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.” A hand cupped your shoulder, a guilty expression slowly spreading across his face.

“It’s okay, I don’t think it was able to do any damage.” You glanced at the, now empty, cup in his hands.

“I had been on a call, and wasn't paying attention to where I was going.” He frowned, tossing the cup into a nearby trash bin.

You shook your head, it had been an accident and there wasn’t much you could do, but unfortunately now you were soaked and smelled like earl gray tea. Granted it definitely could’ve been much, much worse, but you were more annoyed at being cold and wet.

“If it’s not too much, can I offer to pay for your things as an apology?” It seemed harmless, but who were you to deny such a handsome stranger?

“Yeah, that would be lovely.” You smiled as you followed him inside.

You’d spent the entire time talking while waiting in line, and then sitting down to eat your scone and drink your coffee. You learned his name was Simon, and that he was part of the SAS. However you didn’t have the heart to admit to him that you were actually going to be part of his team, it wasn’t until John had introduced you to everyone. Simon was floored, he’d made the worst first impression a person could, and yet, you still agreed to the first date.

“That may be true, I’m still upset that I ruined such a pretty blouse on you though.” Simon had offered to pay for a new one, claiming it was too pretty for you to simply throw away.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gotten it back home at a thrift store, a lucky find that you only ever wore to help cheer yourself up. In some part you were thankful he’d accidentally ruined your favorite blouse, had it not been for that fateful mistake, you wouldn’t be standing there with him. Sure you were on the same team when needed, but Simon wasn’t one to truly open up to someone right away, you’d been an exception, one in a million.

“I’m not, if losing that blouse meant I got to meet you? Well, let’s just say I’d ruin that blouse a thousand times.” You giggled as his cheeks flushed a light pink.

“Such a charmer you are, why don’t we head inside, I’m sure Price is gossiping with Kyle anyway.” You were not proud to admit that you snorted at Simon’s admission.

Kyle and John gossiped like two old women with nothing better to do, they knew everyone that were in relationships on base, who’d cheated on who, who was stealing MRE’s. You name it, they knew it. You wrapped your arm around his waist, heading into the pub to find where the boys had all perched themselves. It should’ve been obvious they would choose the largest booth considering how many people were in your group. You scooted into your seat, leaving enough space for Johnny to your left as Simon plopped down beside you.

“Two weren’t shagging outside were ya?” Johnny already had a pint in front of him, Simon narrowed his eyes at the dark lager.

“Really? Guinness?” Simon had never been a fan of the lager, saying it left an odd taste in his mouth.

“I’ve seen the shit you eat, just because Guinness has more flavor than you’ve ever had in your bland diet doesn’t mean you can shit on it.” Everyone’s jaw dropped, Kyle choking on the sip of his own lager he’d been trying to take.

John hid his wide grin behind his hand, struggling to contain the laughter that was trying so hard to slip through. Unfortunately you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, it was absolutely true that Simon had quite a bland diet before you’d met. It had taken some time but he was actually eating food that didn’t look like it came out of the great depression.

“You’re really sitting there laughing at me?” Simon pinched your side, your squeal echoing across the table.

“He’s not wrong though! So, yes I’m going to laugh.” You grabbed Simon’s hand before he could pinch you again, pressing a kiss to his lips to help distract him.

“Lucky I love you little lady.” Simon pressed one more kiss to your lips and tip of your nose before relaxing in your hold.

John and Kyle had offered to get another round of drinks and food, pointedly ignoring the way Simon glared at Johnny’s now empty pint glass. It was simply a rivalry between friends, Johnny would order something knowing that Simon hated it and vice versa. They’d been doing it for years, both refusing to back down and admit it was silly. And now here you sat between the two, Simon wouldn’t do anything if he knew you’d get caught in the crossfire, he cared too much for your safety. A tray was laid out onto the table before Johnny, or Simon, could make any kind of retort, rendering them both speechless.

“Bartender gave us shots to go along with the drinks, so enjoy boys.” Kyle wouldn’t admit he’d totally flirted with her to get them for free, it was something about the Garrick charm.

Simon rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the glasses and tossing back the shot as if it was nothing more than water. God, something about that shouldn’t be so attractive but for some reason you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Okay, you needed to cool down and enjoy the night before you could take him to bed and enjoy yourselves. Then again if he got too intoxicated he wouldn’t be able to do anything, you could always wait until tomorrow when he was sober. Yeah, you’d wait until he was sober and then you’d have your way with him.

“Didn’t forget about my favorite girl either.” John smiled as he placed a shirley temple in front of you.

“You’re the best!” You happily took the drink, taking a large sip before placing the glass back onto the table.

Kyle was handing out the food carefully, making sure not to give Simon Johnny’s buffalo wings lest there be an argument amongst everyone. You snuck the plate of mozz sticks, digging into your snack happily. John shook his head once he realized what you’d done, grabbing one off your plate and replacing it with a few of his fries. You’d most likely have Simon get you something else later, they tended to drink a lot when they could.

The conversation was lighthearted and comfortable as you leaned into your husband’s side, relishing in his warmth as he wrapped and arm around you. Kyle was talking about his plans for their next leave, how he was going to visit his parents and catch up with his sister. John didn’t want to admit he was most likely going to have to skip his next leave, Laswell had him booked and busy. You’d noticed that Johnny was a little more quiet than usual, having finished his plate of wings, and cleaning himself up, it was more obvious how he hadn’t even spoken in almost ten minutes.

“You alright?” You rested your hand overtop of his arm, waiting to see if he would acknowledge you.

“Mmm? Yeah, I’m alright lass.” He smiled at you, but something about it seemed off.

“What’re your plans for when you guys go on leave?” You wanted to include him in the conversation, seeing him look so glum broke your heart.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, grabbing his pint and taking a large sip before turning his head to give you his full attention once more.

“I, umm, I’ll be on base the whole time, don’t really have a reason to go home right now.” That wasn’t what you were expecting, Johnny always left to go visit his family when on leave.

“Really? Well, if you’re not going home maybe you can stay with Simon and I?” It was a long shot, seeing each other on base was much different than staying at someone’s home.

Simon nearly choked on his own pint, setting down the glass to slap a hand against his chest to help clear his airways. Your head whipped around, hand raised to press against his shoulder before he shook his head.

“I’m alright hun, but what did you just say?” Simon was shocked, you were inviting Johnny into your shared home? The enemy?

“Oh, I asked Johnny if he wanted to come stay with us when we’re on leave, he’s not going home and since he won’t be working, unlike some, I figured he could stay with us.” It would be harmless, you had plenty of space to let one person visit.

Simon was hoping he’d heard wrong and that you weren’t extending an invite during the only time he actually got away from everyone. He didn’t want to tell you no though, you’d put up with so much already. How bad could it be? Maybe things would be fun and you’d spend the entire time showing off like you tended to do.

“If you really want, I don’t see why not.” This could either be the best decision he’s ever made, or blow up in his face entirely.

You clapped your hands excitedly, turning back to face Johnny who was currently grinning like an idiot.

“It’s settled, you’ll stay with us for your leave, and you boys are welcome too if you’d like to swing by.” You’d never refuse John, he was a frequent flier in your home.

It was mainly dinners, though you’d tried to convince him that he could visit on holiday if he was tempted. You hadn’t seen your parents since before you’d moved to England, they hadn’t known about your marriage either. You wanted to tell them, to tell all about the man that had stolen your heart within a single day. And yet you didn’t, choosing to pursue the relationship with Simon. It might have also been due to the fact your parents hadn’t wanted you to join the army at all. Your father had joined the army when he was eighteen, marrying your mom when they were barely twenty. He’d been adamant that you shouldn’t marry a military man, that they would only hurt you in the long run. Oh how wrong they were.

The boys had gotten well and truly drunk, laughing at the silliest things and ordering even more drinks and food. You were slightly thankful for the food of course, snacking on anything when the boys weren’t looking. Simon’s face was flushed, eyes half lidded as he laughed at another one of John’s terrible jokes. That’s when you knew that the boys had truly passed their limit, when Simon was laughing at dad jokes? He was definitely drunk.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for us to go so I can get everyone into bed safely.” You turned to look up at Simon, noticing in that moment just how drunk he was.

“Awww do we have to?” Kyle was ready to beg, even if it meant staying out for a little while longer.

“Yes you do, I still have to drive home and I can’t do that without you guys.” You pushed into Simon’s side, eyes widening at the giggle he let out.

Everyone else was too preoccupied to notice the noise your husband had made and in some way you were almost thankful no one else had heard him. It was adorable, and getting to hear something like that when he’d let loose? It was a win in your book.

“C’mon big boy, we gotta get up too.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, pushing him towards the edge of the booth once more.

“Okay, okay, ‘m getting up.” Simon slid out slowly, nearly falling onto his ass as the drinks caught up to him.

You scooted out quickly, grabbing onto his arm to help steady him so that he didn’t end up actually hitting the floor. John was more stable than anyone else, even when he was drunk beyond belief he still seemed sober. Kyle and Johnny were both leaning on one another, mumbling something about being too full to keep eating. You began to try and wrangle them all out to the car, listening to Johnny’s insane babbling.

Had they been a little bit more sober you might’ve found it adorable, but when you were trying to wrangle everyone into the car? It was going to take a while, especially if they continued to misbehave. You opened the back door before opening the passenger door and pushing everyone inside.

“I’d like to sleep tonight boys, so if you would be so kind.” You watched Johnny climb into the seat before nearly falling back out of the truck.

Kyle found it to be the funniest thing he’d ever seen, bent over in laughter as John righted the sergeant to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself. You shook your head, waiting until both Kyle and John were in the backseat before staring at your husband. His brow was furrowed, an expression you’d never seen on his face before. The two of you stared one another down as if waiting for the other to break.

“Simon, please get in the car so we can leave.” He huffed before getting into the seat, shutting the door behind him a little harsher than usual.

Without giving anyone a chance to protest leaving for the night you got into the driver's seat, locking the doors the moment you were settled. Johnny was already snoring softly behind you. He must’ve been more tired than he’d realized, and with the amount that he’d had to drink you were surprised he hadn’t passed out sooner.

The drive back was quiet, nothing except for the sounds of the wind rushing by, and Johnny’s snores, could be heard. Simon had his arms crossed, muscles bulging even under the thick material of his hoodie. You hadn’t seen him this drunk before, it was starting to scare you a little at how annoyed he seemed. Bringing it up tonight seemed like a bad idea, he wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation anyway. You were almost thankful when the base came into view, ready to get some sleep.

You’d parked the truck in John’s usual spot, slipping out of the car to help get Johnny and the rest of the boys inside quietly. John, while stumbling for a few steps, managed to make it into his room unharmed. Kyle was leaning against the wall, groaning at how everything was fuzzy and swirling around him at the moment. You were afraid he was going to get sick, but thankfully he made it into his room without any injury. Now all your focus was on Johnny who could barely keep himself upright, ready to pass out again.

“C’mon sweetheart, you need to lay down.” You did your best to keep him awake, nearly falling onto the floor with him.

“D’nt wanna.” Johnny collapsed onto the bed once you were in a safe distance, huffing quietly.

“Better stay, I have to get Simon into bed still.” You ran a hand down your face, if Simon was still acting weird this was surely going to be hectic.

Johnny began to snore almost immediately, snuggling with one of his extra pillows. Good, everyone except your husband was in bed. Time to wrestle a six foot four heaping of a man into bed and hope to god he didn’t give you shit. Quickly tucking Johnny in with his blanket to help keep the chill out you headed back out of his room. Simon was standing close enough that he would hear you when you walked out, but his shoulders still seemed to tense.

“C’mon, it’s time for bed.” You nodded towards your shared room, no longer having to hide that you stayed together.

Simon grumbled something under his breath, too low for you to be able to hear him properly and give your own retort. You wanted nothing more than to change into some pj’s and crawl into bed, a shower could wait until you had more energy. Stepping into the room you threw off your jacket, making sure it at least landed in a chair before grabbing one of Simon’s shirts. The room was nearly silent as you began to get changed, the shuffling of feet echoing. You tore off your shirt and bra, groaning at how good it felt to take off. Simon huffed slightly, the sound catching your attention.

Your brow furrowed as you turned to face Simon, standing in front of the other man in nothing but your jeans. He had his back turned to you, something that hadn’t happened in years.

“Si?” You reached over to grab his shoulder, startled when he suddenly pulled away.

“I’m sure you’re very nice miss, but I have an amazing wife and I’d rather sleep on the floor than beside you.” Your jaw dropped, Simon was so drunk he didn’t even recognize that you were his wife.

“I’ll give you a pillow and a blanket.” Pulling off your jeans and throwing on Simon’s shirt you giggled, grabbed one one of his pillows and an extra blanket for him to use.

He took them gratefully, laying down onto the hard ground as he did all he could to get comfortable. You knew he’d feel silly in the morning, having slept on the floor when he could’ve wrapped around you like an octopus. It was better than arguing though, Simon could be a mean drunk if it ever came down to it. Yawning slightly you curled up with Simon’s other pillow, breathing in his scent as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Morning seemed to come too quickly for your liking, the sun seeping into your room from the crack in your curtains. Reaching down you pulled the blanket up and over your head, refusing to admit that it was time to get up.

“Love, why am I on the floor?” Simon’s voice was still thick with sleep, it was definitely doing things for you.

“You insisted on sleeping down there, said that you had a lovely wife and didn’t want to sleep next to me because of it.” You couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped through, pushing the blanket back down to roll over and face him.

“Jesus, how drunk was I?” Simon rubbed his head, face pale as the hangover took over.

“All of you guys were pretty drunk, Johnny passed out in the truck on the way back.” Shit, if he didn’t remember much of last night, he wasn’t going to remember you inviting Johnny to stay with you. You wondered if the Scot remembered your offer.

Simon pushed off the floor, crawling into the bed beside you and snuggling into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his head. The rest of the boys could worry about themselves for a few minutes, right now you were going to care for your husband. And ponder how you were going to admit that his friend would be staying with you for nearly a month.

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