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gauloiseblue · 2 months

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You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.

He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.

Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.

Until he gives you permission.

The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.

At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.

His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.

He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.

"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.

"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."

"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.

You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.

"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."

And so, you complied.

You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.

"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive a fighter jet ride."

He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.

Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.

"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."

"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."

"Did you take care of it?"

"No."

"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."

He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.

"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."

He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.

"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."

You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.

They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.

He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.

It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.

"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.

"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"

You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.

"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."

Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.

He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.

Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.

When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.

The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.

#i wrote 2 konig fics in one day there's something wrong with me #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #konig mw2 #is this cannibal core?#idk girl #yandere konig #there's something about fingers in a mouth...........#i'm normal i swear #I've fixed the 3rd person pov. just noticed it now. oopsie my bad

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faceofpoe · 16 days

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the evolution of:

"being a sniper is about more than looking through a scope" to this moment-

"It's about patience" - waiting for Omega's cue

"Reading the environment" - steadying himself on Hunter's shoulder, jointly stabilizing his shot

"Knowing when you've got eyes on you" - the acknowledging looks he and Omega exchange

#This moment was a great loop from Aftermath but also a great loop from Return #tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #Flashing

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 2 years

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thinking about Missy climbing into bed at like 4:30am and poking our faces to wake us up, and Sniper just mumbles to me “she gets that morning person stuff from you”

#cue her poking sniper’s cheek and whispering ‘do you wanna hear about my head movies?’#she means dreams but calls them head movies until she’s like 9 #otp: guns and buns #mundy fankid #bad for crow

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tawaifeddiediaz · 1 year

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you died, buck

(or, eddie managing buck’s pain while also facing a little bit of his own)

[Image ID: ten gifs of Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1 episodes 5.13 and 6.12. Except for the first gif, all the gifs are in black and white.:

GIF 1: A side shot of Eddie in Frank's office, listening to his therapist say, "You're a man who spends all of his time managing other people's pain. Army medic, firefighter, father. But not a lot of time facing your own." His expression is contemplative, lip pursed.

GIF 2: Eddie opening the door to Buck, smiling when he sees who it is. The caption reads, "happily opens his door to let Buck escape the chaos of neverending guests and questions."

GIF 3: Buck kicking his feet up on Eddie's coffee table, making himself comfortable. The caption reads, "Offers Buck a beer instead of asking him if he's okay because Buck asked him not to."

GIF 4: Eddie walking back into the living room with two beers in hand, stopping short and pursing his lips when he sees Buck fast asleep on the couch. The caption reads, "doesn't wake Buck up from where he's fallen asleep on the couch, letting him rest."

GIF 5: Buck sitting at Eddie's kitchen table while Eddie pours him a glass of water. The caption reads, "Pours him a glass of water, following Buck's cues while appeasing his own need to do something."

GIF 6: Eddie peeling the crusted edge of the bologna off, glancing up at Buck periodically. The caption reads, "Patiently waits Buck out, silently encouraging him to talk if he wants to, but not pushing."

GIF 7: Eddie glancing over at Buck as he recounts his experience during the sniper shooting. The caption reads, "Shares his own traumatic near-death experience to give Buck the direction he's looking for."

GIF 8: Eddie abandoning the sandwich to focus completely on Buck, asking intently if he can ask how Buck's doing now. The caption reads, "Creates a safe, vulnerable space before asking Buck how he's actually doing because he needs to know."

GIF 9: Eddie peering down at Buck as he gives him advice. The caption reads, "Offers personal advice to match the lost look in Buck's eyes, while validating him the whole time, even when it's painful to talk about Buck dying."

GIF 10: Eddie smiling encouragingly, nodding to Buck as he tells him that one day he'll be less surprised that the world's still there. The caption reads, "Gives Buck hope, while still being honest and confident that it will get better."

/end ID]

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rorichuu · 9 months

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Hello Rori!! <33

May I request Sniper, Medic and.. hmm, maybe Scout or Pyro with comforting the reader?

To be more precise, if it's alright:

Reader is sweet and always trying to keep everyone happy as well as the vibes up around the base- always making sure everyone is appreciated and cared for, but maybe they're starved for affection themselves? Maybe they're afraid of being too overbearing or 'bugging' everyone. So one day they go up to (merc) and ask if they're being too much and that's when they get comforted? Maybe some comfort cuddles and such- whatever you think suits the character!

A drabble would be preffered, please!

-@simp999 ♡

(Also, thank you for being so kind and sweet to interact with!! I'm so glad I found your blog- lots of respect for all the effort put in as well!)

shy away ; mercs x reader

pairing: sniper/medic/scout x gn!reader

authors note: hello! and thank you!! your words mean soso much, i love this ask!! - also i apologize for posting so late :(

disclaimer: none! pure fluff, mentions of spy/engi in scout's. :)

SNIPER:

The battle neared its end, BLU considerably pushed back this time around and it was unbearably visible. Y/n was shooting around; running up to any merc who needed the assistance they needed. Sniper took a seat at the table in the rec room, observing you. You had just gotten water for Heavy and were conversing with Demo, his slurred mouth pouting from their loss as you kindly spoke praises to lift his mood.

Of course, everyone noticed how sweet and considerate you were, it was your best trait... and they appreciated you deeply for it. But Sniper had always wondered if you had been taken care of all the same.

As the room began to file out, you let out a heavy sigh, knowing you did the best you could. Sniper stood, making you turn your head; you send a smile at him. "Didn't notice you were here," you say. Sniper nods, sending a small smile in return. "I have some water I grabbed from the supply room. I know today was... rough. Is there anything that you need?" You asked with your eyes pointed up with question. The New Zealander shook his head, shifting the rifle on his shoulder.

"No, roo. I'm alright," With his head tilted down, he about walked off before you opened your mouth; the sound of you shifting your shoe against the pavement lifted his ears. Sniper looked behind him, eyes on yours. You stood small, shoulders low, and eyes the sweetest he's seen. His eyebrows furrowed now. "Well, on with it then..." He spoke, turning his body to you.

"Am I too much sometimes?" Sniper was caught off guard by this. "Like, when I'm always checking it... I can understand if it's annoying or overbearing when I'm always asking." With every word you spoke, Sniper felt his heart sink just a little bit more. The team needed someone like you. They needed your tender heart when the battle was unforgiving. Your gentle hand when the rough of the gun scarred and tore theirs. They needed someone like you.

Sniper huffed, walking over as he placed both hands on your shoulders, leaning to meet your eyes. "You've never been," you gulped, feeling your cheeks warm. "You mean more to this team than ya' believe, mate." You dip your head to hide your face, Sniper smiles before wrapping his arms around you.

"This is… nice." You laughed as you melted in his hold, comfort washing over you.

"You deserve the care and attention just as much as we do."

. . .

And as time passed, he rubbed your back as you held him. Frequently, he'd sway, but only to find your eyes closed. Sniper then took that as his cue, one hand on your shoulder and the other taking his hat off. The Aussie laid it on top of your head, leaving you looking up at him.

"Let’s go watch a movie.”

MEDIC:

You were helping Medic pick up, politely asking where goes where and what does what... curiosity always found in the dusted books and pristine tools that scatter his room. It was nearing the end of the day; time had settled and nearly everyone was asleep. The clock is sung at 12AM, letting you know it is time for you to head to bed as well.

You have always helped clean up and provide assistance to those who need it... especially with Miss Pauling. Always lending out a hand when it's needed. The day was long, the mercs were exhausted, and you sure as hell were too... but you could always get sleep the next coming hour, right?

Medic let out a hefty sigh with a rub at his temples, your instincts kicked in. "Medic?" You hummed in question, the man looking up with tired eyes.

"Ja?" His voice croaked, his eyebrows now raised with inquiry. As you started to place his surgical tools neatly on his steel table, you began:

"Are you alright?" You look up at him, and the man huffs a small smile. His, then leaned stance, against his operation table was left to approach you.

"Yes, mein freund," (my friend) he puts a hand on your shoulder as he takes the rest of his tools from you. "Go get some rest. You need your 8 hours!" He chirped despite his sluggish posture, not convincing you enough. You noticed the eyebags that slumped, the movements that slowed, the yawns that escaped... undeniably, he was tired.

"Well... what about you?" You ask, leaving Medic slightly confused as he turns his shoulder, glasses falling to the tip of his nose.

"How do you mean, Y/n?" You take a deep breath and cross your arms. Medic raises an eyebrow, his free hand pushing his spectacles up to their original place.

"You should get some sleep... I can pick up the rest. I know it's been a tough week, so I can help!" and in response, Medic's lip quirks humorously. "Really, I can!" As much as you try to persuade him, he doesn't budge.

"I know you can," fondly, he looks at you. "But doctor's rules, Y/n." He walks past you and continues to aid to his unkept office. You were left biting your lip, hands clasped together in front of you as you continued to let your mind race. Perhaps you were pushing Medic towards something he didn't want? Maybe he was annoyed with your continuous advances of lifting the heavy load of his job... what were you to say about what he can and cannot do?

With a knitted brow, your mouth gapes open with the intention to speak. "Hey," you nearly whispered, intimidated by your own question. The German man's head pops out from his desk, a small 'Ja?', making you aware of his reply. "Am I too much sometimes?"

"Wie bitte?" (Excuse me?) Medic, caught off guard entirely, lifts from the floor with his palms leaned against his workspace. You swallowed hard, his tone higher than usual.

"Like... when I try to help or ask if you're doing alright," you timidly voiced. "I understand how it can be draining with my constant check-ups and stuff." The doctor sent you a small smile, whether you saw it or not with your chin tucked close to your chest... he let out a laugh, walking towards you with both hands now placed on your shoulders. You look up at him, cheeks flushed with his sudden hold.

"As a doctor, nobody checks up on me. I'm always delighted by your check-ups, Liebling." With every word he spoke, your lip curled into a pout, your heart softening. Medic patted your head. "You always do the best you can for everyone, but remember to take care of yourself, ja?" Suddenly, Medic is met with a breath-losing hug. Though his chuckle is shallow, his arms wrap around you just as tightly.

"Thank you."

"No," he shakes his head, hands now cupping your face. "Thank you!" He cheeses, leaving you a small laughing fit of his big smile. "You're help is always deeply appreciated, schatz." (Treasure).

Coo

"Ooh, even Archimedes thinks so!"

SCOUT:

Scout was... undeniably, very beat up. He groaned and whined as you gently pressed alcohol swabs against his injuries upon his arm. "Ow! Y/n, is this really necessary?" You sighed, throwing the swab in the trash and retrieving a large bandaid in turn.

"Yes, Scout... I can't have you getting infections or something, it's a pretty big gash," You spoke as you placed the wrap on the lower part of his elbow. "I can't have you whining all hurt like this."

"And Scout, please keep drinking your water."

The man scowled as he took a large sip from his cup, the swirly straw found from the back of the cabinet in the kitchen. (Scout likes the swirly straw, wink wink... but tell no one.)

. . .

As time passed, and Scout continuously cursed at the sting of the alcohol... he was finally all patched up. You lifted from your arched position, back cracking as you stretched. "Alright, you're done." You huff in exhaustion. This boy knows no boundaries when it comes to the battlefield...

The Boston boy leaped from the couch and placed his cup down, water splashing out with a plat; Scout was thankful he was done. "Are you feeling okay? If not I can get some painkillers, I bet Medic has some..."

"Y/n! C'mon man, I'm good!" His balled fist hits your shoulder playfully, rolling his eyes as he checks out the bandaids on his arm. "Stop worryin' over little ol' me, it'll save you from getting greys... take Spy for example! He's just as bad as Engi being a helicopter mom... god, how did they even become a thing."

You chuckled softly, hand holding your shoulder as you listened to him ramble on again. For as long as he talked, he hadn't realized you weren't listening, your eyes spacing off. The boy tilted his head. "Y/n?" ... "Y/n!" Your head perked up at the sound of your name.

"Hm? Yeah?" You hummed. Scout read you like a book; your hand placed at your shoulder, spacing off, sad face... that's 'anxious Y/n face'; he somethin' was up.

"You good? You seem kinda off." He asked, furrowed eyebrows as he leaned forward... arms crossed as he looked you over to see if anything was upsetting you.

You shook your head, waving a hand as you backed away. "Oh, yeah! I'm good, just. Oh, just thinking." You turned and immediately started to pick up the first-aid supplies and his half-finished cup. But before you could lift the glass from the table, Scout's hand surrounded yours to keep the cup where it was.

"Talk to me."

Scout was a sweet boy. He may talk a lot, and may not think much of what he says... but when he knows when to listen, he does. You take a deep breath, pulling your hand away from his. "Do you ever get annoyed by me? Genuinely..." You ask, biting the inside of your cheek nervously. Scout blinked.

"Huh?!"

"Well, you know what I mean!" You exclaim in response, shrugging. "Y'know I'm always making sure you're alright and if you need anything... people can get annoyed when I'm always checking in." You frown, and Scout places his hands on his waist now before approaching you.

"Which people?" He asks and you tilt your head.

"Wha-?" Your nose scrunches in confusion.

"Which people find you annoying when you check up on 'm?" There was a moment of silence, your head slowly lowering in thought. The boy lifted his hand and tapped your chin, motioning for you to look at him. "Y'know I'd beat them up in a millisecond if someone said somethin'!" With a swift lift of his arm, he flexed. You huff, worry still washed over you. Scout eased up, turning to slump down on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. "C'mon, sit."

You sighed and followed, sitting down next to him, only to have an arm wrapped around your shoulders... You were now leaning completely against him. Scout shook you slightly. "You really don't know, do ya?" he finally speaks, your head turned to look at him. You blink. "Oh boy..."

"'Oh, boy,' what!" You frown, your heart picking up a pace as you tense in his hold. The Boston boy chuckled.

"Everybody loves your help!" He chimes, looking up at you brightly. "You remember the other day when Pyro was yabberin' off about something?" "Yeah..."

"They were upset because they messed something up on their drawing. They immediately thought of you, Y/n." Your heart begins to warm.

"Oh, and Spy needed your help on whatever the hell he was doing. Kept saying, 'Where's Y/n? Where's Y/n?' It was like he was a broken record, pfft, embarrassing."

"That was... you, Scout." Your lip curls into a smile, and Scout blushes.

"Well, whatever! Moral of the story," he waves his hands in a dramatic flare. You chuckle. "People love ya! And we're always there for you as you are for us." He pats your shoulder as you lean against him once more. "But that also means you gotta take care of yourself too... you're just as important. Ya always will be."

Sniffle.

"Aaalright, c'mere," swiftly, Scout grabs the blanket from the arm of the couch, wrapping you up. "Take a nap, Y/n. You deserve it."

And you did. With a warm heart and a proud Scout, life was pretty good.

rorichuu!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 mercs #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #sniper x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #medic x reader #tf2 medic x reader #scout x reader #tf2 scout x reader #rorichuu!

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euovennia · 1 year

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short and sweet | ghost/soap/könig

sorry to the anon that it took me so long to get out, i've been dealing with some stuff but here it is! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairings: ghost x reader, soap x reader, könig x reader

warnings: bigotry, misogyny, people just being jerks, canon typical violence

summary: in which three buff military men become all too aware of your struggles. (based on this request)

simon 'ghost' riley

when the idea of simon having a crush comes to mind, i feel like he's one of those people who prefers to observe them from afar rather than have direct interactions with them

so that paired with the fact you're not in the 141 and you're mute, it's gonna take a very long while until you two start interacting, at least a few months after he realizes he's taken a liking to you

they'll usually be pretty short and sweet, but not in the typical sense you may be thinking of

i'm thinking something more along the lines of giving each other a small nod of acknowledgement when you pass each other in the shooting range; him having already practiced and you just barely walking in to start practicing

and honestly? he's completely fine with this arrangement

in fact he prefers it

he still gets a chance to give you a once over without getting distracted from the things he wants/needs to do throughout the day, he considers it a win

but when your target practice slowly begins to overlap with his, he's a bit surprised to find that he doesn't really mind it all that much

there's something oddly comforting about knowing you're just a few stalls down from him

and of course there's the added benefit of him getting to see you and your signature sniper rifle in action

for those of you wondering, yes, he's become quite aware of your talents

how could he not when soap made himself comfortable at his table during meal time and went on about, "a real cute girl and her impeccable aim."

soap's words, not his

and it continues on like this for a while, you two continuing on with your unofficially official meeting times

it becomes comfortable and familiar, two things simon isn't quite used to, but two things that he's quite content with

so he can't help but feel a little empty when you stop attending your unofficial meetings at the shooting range

he's more frustrated with himself than anything cause, let's face it, he's not the type to let himself get comfortable/familiar with just anyone so he's honestly more annoyed that he let himself get attached when he hasn't even made a move to properly talk to you (what a silly goose)

anyway, in true simon fashion he decides to deal with it by not dealing with it

in other words, he just kinda continues on with his routine because he's become so numb to the idea of people leaving his life (no matter how big or small of a role they played) that he doesn't bother acting out on any emotion he has if it does happen

and i think after a while he'll just kinda end up pushing you out of his mind (despite the fact his eyes are fully glued onto you whenever he sees you around base)

so when you walk into the range and make yourself cozy at your usual stall, he's a bit frazzled

so much so he ends up packing up his equipment and making a beeline for the exit

but it's at this moment he bumps into a particularly bratty group of recruits they'd gotten not too long ago

he has to practically hold himself back from snapping the poor kid's neck when he asks simon if he'd seen you enter the range

call it extreme, but the mocking smile that stretched across the recruit's lips as he said your name just ticked him off

simon is a man of intuition and so he can already tell something's not quite right so, curious, he just gives off a gruff, "yes," before waving them off

he's surprised that he manages to bite his tongue when he can hear of the recruits whisper a small, "what a fuckin' arsehole," as they walk away from him

anyway

cue him silently stalking after the group and being met with the sight of them crowded around you as you lay flat on your stomach, hands still steady on the rifle

he watches as you line yourself up to take the shot before eventually resting your hand on the trigger and pulling it, only to miss when one of the recruits purposefully kicks at your shin

another recruit makes herself comfortable beside you with a grin spread across her lips as her voice rings out in a mocking tone, "aw, poor thing missed her shot again. it's a wonder she's made it this far."

while his eyes narrow in confusion at your lack of response, it only eggs the girl on as she nudges your shoulder

"still can't talk, i see," she lets out a wistful sigh, "that's a shame. i think you'd sound really pretty screaming out for help on the field."

another recruit takes this as their chance to jump in, "guess we'll just have to leave her stranded. better for us anyway, no dead weight."

the girl by your side rolls her eyes, "we probably won't even get the chance to abandon her, she's so tiny. she'd probably get squashed like an ant before we could even try anything."

her remark elicits a laugh from the small group of recruits, but ghost certainly isn't smiling when he approaches the group and stares down at them with his trademark glare

they can definitely feel their souls leave their bodies when they look up and see him standing over them menacingly

it gets even worse when he opens his mouth, "that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"

they all just kinda stumble onto their feet at his words, not bothering to say anything as their eyes remain pretty much glued to the floor

he's not having it though so he'll repeat his question, tone louder and meaner than before which causes one of the recruits to just let out a meek, "no sir."

too bad it was the one who insulted him earlier cause he immediately steps in front of them and just kinda, "what? arsehole not good enough an insult for ya?"

you, still lying on the ground and watching everything unfold, can't help the small smile that tugs at the edge of your lips as you witness the way the man's face visibly pales

upon receiving no response from him, simon straightens out his posture before point over to you and speaking once more, "you better pray that girl is more forgiving than i am, because if it were me, you'd all be covering your own asses out on the field."

he watches with great joy as they each begin to shift on their feet uncomfortably before dismissing them in a gruff voice

after making sure they left, simon makes his way back over to you who is still lying on the ground with your rifle as you line up your shots once more

he feels a small wave of pride overcome him when you hit your target perfectly

so much to the point where he walks over to you and spills out a quick, "good aim," to which you'll look up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and give him a small nod of acknowledgement

his eyes narrow, "you don't talk much, do you?"

you simply shake your head

he'll give you a quick once over before looking down at his watch and realizing the dining hall will be closing soon

tempted as he is to just walk away, he can't help but wonder if you'd already ate

so he speaks again, "dining hall is closing in a bit. you're free to join me if you haven't eaten yet, was just on my way."

you pause for a bit and give it a bit of thought before nodding and packing up your stuff before eventually walking out of the range with simon by your side

you don't have the heart to tell him you already ate

but when you look up and see him quickly avert his eyes from you and onto the pavement beneath your feet, you don't see why you even would

john 'soap' mactavish

when i tell you this man was gone the moment he saw you, i mean he was GONE

he genuinely couldn't believe someone as sweet and lovely as you could exist in the same space as him

but the moment he sees you shoot that gorgeous little rifle of yours with a precision that could only be described as pure, raw perfection? it's over. he's all in.

i'm talking, 'fuck me up and send me straight to heaven. this is how i die.'

he's so down bad for you it's insane

and i imagine soap can be quite confident and charming when he wants to be so best believe he'll have no problem in walking straight up to you and trying to strike up a conversation

i'd like to put emphasis on the 'trying' part of that last bit because it becomes quite clear quite quick that you're don't talk

well

maybe the 'quite quick' part isn't so accurate because it probably takes him a minute or two before he finally catches onto the fact you don't talk

in other words, it takes you pulling out your phone and looking up a volume muted symbol and pointing at it before motioning to yourself for him to catch on

he just kinda makes an 'oh' face before letting out a small chuckle and saying something like, "i see now, why didn't ya just tell me that before?"

and you're just looking at him like ???

but he's looking at you like :)))

yeah he's being a little ridiculous right now, but he just got back from a long mission and he's quite sleep deprived so don't mind him he's just being a silly goose, ok?

but truth be told, that dumb little first interaction doesn't even really matter in the long run because it's the bold initiative on his part that makes it so easy for the two of you to become friends

you spend a lot of time hanging around one another and your once carefully planned, scheduled days turn into unpredictable blurs that are jam packed with soap getting the two of you into trouble

i imagine you've become quite familiar with the stoic face of captain john price

but really, how could you not?

especially when soap catches onto the fact that price is more inclined to let soap off with a warning for whatever trouble he's got himself mixed up in whenever you're around

he may be older than the rest of his team, but he knows that dopey grin soap's got plastered on his face whenever he's around you means he's extra sweet on you

and who is he to stand in the way of his boy's happiness with some extra chores?

he's a total dad <3

anyway

because you spend a lot of time around soap, i think it's fair to say that you sometimes end up pushing off work in favor of hanging around the scotsman

and really who could blame you?

he's got a dazzling smile, a charming accent, and a sparkling personality. you'd be a fool not to soak up all the time you can get with him

but that just means whenever he does end up leaving for missions, that's when you really buckle down and start getting all your piled up work done

it can be frustrating and a bit of a bother, but knowing your schedule will be completely free (at least for a little bit) as soon as he gets back is more than enough to get you through the tedious work load you've allowed yourself to accumulate

only this time it's a bit harder to remember that

and it's all because of your newly assigned CO

he's a bit of an older man, which isn't a bad thing

at least until you find out that his mindset lines up with the ideology of a 1950's working husband

you know, the kind of guy who believes it's a man's job to go out and work a job to provide for his family while his wife stays home and takes care of the children, house, and meal prepping

in other words

a complete and utter bigot

so between trying to complete all the work you'd so foolishly neglected in your time hanging out with soap and trying to stop yourself from snapping your superior's neck every time he grabbed your rifle from your hands with a condescending, "careful! wouldn't a small thing like you hurting yourself with this," it's no wonder you couldn't remember that today was the day soap was returning from another one of his top secret missions

in fact, the thought doesn't occur to you at all until soap pulls up a chair beside your desk and makes himself comfortable while you're looking over some paperwork your darling CO had left you because he, "works too hard and needs a break."

more like a break in his skull, but to each their own

anyway i can definitely imagine soap carrying around a small notebook that you use to communicate with him when you can't be bothered to watch him try and fail to decipher your hand movements

and yes, he totally brings it on missions with him just so he can open it up and trace over your handwriting with a gentle touch and a soft smile and oh my god imagine confessing to him like that (i'm kinda dying to write an imagine based on that now (mute or non-mute reader, i'm down for either tbh) so lmk if you're interested!)

anyway

when the two of you break apart from your usual 'welcome back' hug, he'll slide the notebook over to you as a simple question falls from his lips, "since when do you do paperwork?"

and this just prompts you to let out a huff and roll your eyes before snatching up the notebook/pen combo and writing out all your frustrations on the pages

it's safe to say this man is absolutely floored when he reads through it all

frustrated and angry as he is, he doesn't outwardly express it

he simply grabs the heap of paperwork sitting on your desk and promptly tosses it into the nearest recycling bin before grabbing your hand and leading you off to something completely unproductive and time wasting

it's exactly what you need

the night will eventually end off with him walking you to your room and offering you a sweet hug with a small lil kiss to your head

it's adorable, really <3

what's not so adorable is the way he barges into price's office with the notebook in hand before tossing the pages where you'd detailed your CO's behavior onto his desk

price reads through them and best believe all this man can see is red

as someone who takes pride in becoming a role model for those who work under him, he can barely believe of the things he's reading

he's so ready to throw hands

but he can't sadly

so he settles for the next best thing

COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS

with how ruthless price is in his mission to humiliate this man, it's really no surprise when you eventually find out he's been fired

the moment you and the rest of your unit get the news, you practically run all over base to find soap

and the moment you do, you've pretty much tackled him to the ground in a hug

and he simply wraps his arms around you, that same dopey grin price teases him for stretched onto his lips because he knows and he couldn't be happier

he's just happy you're happy <3

könig

so because of his affiliation with KorTac, i like to imagine that you're part of another PMC group that tends to help each other out on missions whether it be due to mission overlap, or just needing some extra support

but despite this, i imagine it would take quite some time before you and könig even meet simply due to the fact that you're almost never assigned to be sent out on the field

and if i'm being honest, i can definitely see not a single member of KorTac having even the slightest clue that you exist until you're randomly brought onto the field one day during a particularly tricky mission

long story short, könig and a few other of his team members got ambushed and they needed all the help they could get which is where you come in

granted they don't actually see you until you all meet back at base, safe and sound as can be

while könig and his team are surprised by the new face, they're even more surprised to learn that you've been part of the team for nearly eight whole months

when asked about why they've never seen you on the field before, the answer is simple; "she's been doing other missions," which you've come to learn essentially means, "she's still in training because we don't trust her to be on her own yet."

and while the other members of KorTac seem to just take that simple explanation at face value, könig can't help but notice the way your face falls and shoulders slump upon hearing it

and it's at this moment he realizes he hadn't seen you anywhere on the field at the time, so where the hell were you?

he decides he needs to be more attentive

so the next time KorTac calls on your group for some extra assistance, he's keeping a sharp eye out there in hopes that he'd see you

but he doesn't

even so, he still holds out hope for next time

and the next

okay this is ridiculous

where the hell were you?

he knows you're going on the missions with the rest of the team because you're always there when everyone gets back to base, still dressed in your tactical gear and wiping off the dirt that seemed to cling onto your uniform

so why did he never actually see you?

he's a tall guy so surely, he, out of anyone, should be able to pinpoint your location on the field with a few simple turns of his head, right?

well apparently not

you're practically a ghost (hehe see what i did there)

his frustration with not knowing where you're at on the field has him going mad

he so desperately wants to just come out and ask you directly, but he's convinced himself that you'll somehow take offense to such a question so he decides against it

so he decides to settle on the next best thing

which is pretty much just endlessly staring you down on the field before you eventually disappear off to god knows where

it's not the smartest idea he's ever had if the way you seem to squirm under his piercing gaze is anything to go by, but he just can't seem to help it

especially not when he comes to notice just how pretty you really are

the soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way your cheeks puff out so cutely when you're finally able to get your hands on a much needed snack after a particularly long mission

you're stunning, how could he not stare?

yeah he's definitely got a little crush

but he'll never admit it

especially not with the amount of teasing horangi throws his way whenever you enter the room

anyways i think i'm getting ahead of myself here, let's get back on track lol

i imagine it all comes to a head on the battlefield

one moment könig is going at it with no more than three enemy soliders, but it seems within the blink of an eye those numbers have nearly tripled as he sees a sizeable group of enemy soldiers heading this way

he knows he's more than capable of holding his own in close combat, but with this many people? he can't help but feel a little uneasy as he sees the group grow closer and closer

that is, of course, until the unmistakable sound of a rifle fires through the air and the group of soldiers who were previously approaching him steadily begin to fall to the ground, a pool of crimson blood flowing from their heads

könig's eyes catch onto a bright red laser making small patterns on the ground in front of him so, curious, he looks up to find the source of the light coming from under a pile of rubble located on the roof of a building

upon making eye contact with the small area, the red laser pointer goes dead and you quickly poke your head out from your self appointed hiding spot and offer him a small 'ok' motion with your hand before concealing yourself back into your spot once more

he swears his heart soars at the sight

satisfied with himself and your stellar aim, his mind becomes preoccupied with the mission once more, a newly placed sense of vigor in his attacks

but when everyone is cozying up in the common area after the mission's been completed (with the exception of you bc you're taking a shower), könig decides he can't hold himself back from asking a certain question that's been on his mind for a long time

so he simply decides to go for it and ask, "why hasn't she been assigned to our missions before?"

your teammates all look at each other for a few moments before one of them pipes up, "didn't think she was ready."

another one decides to offer their input, "there are times we still don't think she is, but our captain told us to bring her in anyway."

könig and the rest of those present from KorTac's confusion must be apparent because one of the other members of your team decides to speak out, "she was still a bit rocky when she first came to us. we just wanted her to polish up on her skills before we sent her out on an official mission. it's more out of worry than anything."

the explanation calms the small bout of worry that had infested his mind when they first offered their reasoning for not including you on missions, but he can't help but feel a little pit grow in his stomach

so he decides to speak up once more, "well i think they're capable. perhaps it's time you trust them more."

one of your teammates brows raise, "you think so?"

he nods, "took out a whole group of soldiers that were coming at me, i'd probably be done for if it weren't for them."

he finds the look of shock on their faces amusing as they ask, "how?"

könig leans back, "they were hiding in some rubble on one of the buildings. took them out with a sniper."

he watches a look of realization come over their faces as one of them exclaims, "i thought they were running around the field, not hiding!"

horangi decides to pipe in, "you didn't know? she's always running around the rooftops. i see her all the time."

your teammates practically implode on themselves at his revelation before they start hounding him for questions, ones he graciously answers

könig watches with a small smile hidden under his hood before he can see a small movement of the corner of his eye

he turns his head and sees you peering over at him with a small smile and he watches as you sign out a quick, "thank you," with your hands

he sucks in a sharp breath before bringing up his hands and signing back a shaky, "you're welcome"

his hidden smile widens as he watches your eyes glisten with delight, "you know sign?"

he's quick to respond, "since i was little."

horangi is the one to give his arm a harsh nudge when könig all but freezes upon seeing what you sign to him next

"would you like to join me for dinner?"

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b33zlebubz · 3 months

Text

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SEVEN - dogfight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Suddenly, everything is a blur of red lights and yelling and running.

Price ushers you to your room with a stern: "go go go." You grab your pack and shove what you can into it as he guards the door, handgun firm in his grasp as he shouts orders to soldiers as they dart up and down the hallway grabbing gear. Your heart pounds in your ears and you barely have time to zip up your rucksack before he's urging you out again.

Sandwiched between everyone with your head ducked down, you run. Gunshots ring out over your head and under your feet, and you yelp whenever Ghost grabs your arm and yanks you away from a sniper hit just as you're leaving the building; urging you along. Price is yelling. Soap is yelling. Nikolai is with your small group—sharp, Russian orders shouted over the loud buzzing of a helicopter as you're all but pushed inside.

It's off the ground the second your back hits the wall. Suddenly, Price is in front of you again—but you can barely see him through the panic that floods your senses.

"Breathe. Deep breaths, kid. C'mon," he says as he coaxes a headset onto your head. You try to help, but your hands are too shaky. The others are yelling, and Ghost is leaning out of the side of the helicopter as it bobs and dips, returning Shadow Company fire with abandon. The sound, as well as the raspiness of Price's voice, are both muffled by the earphones around your ears until Price's voice comes through on the comms. "You're safe with us. Y'hear me?"

You swallow the bile that threatens to rise in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to force your breathing to regulate. You nod, but your hands squeeze at his sleeves anyway—knuckles white as you use his presence to ground yourself.

"Okay," you force out. "Y-yeah. I hear you."

"Good. Keep breathin','' he looks over his shoulder to where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are all fending off the others. "Does anyone have a visual?"

"They've got their own helos after us, sir!" Gaz shouts. "Things might get ugly!"

"Helos?!"

"There's five of 'em!" Soap clarifies, reloading his weapon. His arm is bleeding, but he doesn't seem to notice. "The cunt isn't fucking around this time! It's either we go down, or they do!"

"Yeah, well, that's not fuckin' happening," Price all but growls, bracing you against him as the helocopter lurches to the side. "Give 'em hell!"

"Yes, sir!"

You press yourself back against the wall, watching as everything goes to shit around you. A line of fire dents the wall of the helo right by your head and you yelp. "Price—"

As if on cue, there's an explosion.

You're knocked sideways. Your vision blanks whenever your head hits metal, a ringing in your ears exploding from your senses. In a split second of quick thinking, your hand wraps around a metal railing as the helo tilts. Curses and yells of surprise fill the small space as everyone scrambles to the side.

Except one.

"Soap!"

He slips with a yell and you grab his wrist before he can slip out the side opening. You watch boxes and supplies slide out and into the snow maybe twenty stories below as the Earth below you tilts and spins. Shocked, he looks up to meet your gaze—your eyes meeting his with nothing but sheer panic as he lifts his other arm to grab your wrist in both hands, legs flailing.

Nikolai is quick to right the helo again and you're launched back onto the floor at Soap's side. Disoriented, you pant as your shaky arms pull yourself upright to meet Soap's gaze. He's shocked, eyes wide as he blinks with you—as if he really didn't expect you to save him.

He nods his thanks before Price pulls you to your feet again.

"We lost Gaz!" Nikolai's voice explodes over the comms.

"Fuck's sake!"

"Again?!"

"We'll have to go back—"

"No time!" Nikolai calls over his shoulder. "You want to stay alive—no turning back. Not now."

"Gaz," you huff, scrambling out of Price's hold. "No—no we gotta go back!"

Price grabs you before you can get too close to the opening. "There's no time, kid!"

"We can't leave him behind!"

"We have to!"

You shove yourself free just as there's a loud blast and the helo lurches again. This time, you're too late to grab something.

There's yelling before there's silence. A bright light and the feeling of something large knocking into you before there's nothing but blinding white and bright blue sky. Your headset flies off your head, getting swept away in the wind as you watch the helo spin out of control from afar.

You're falling.

You're screaming, you think, but the ringing in your ears drowns out everything else. Your body spins in the air as you flail and air rushes into your eyes and lungs.

The ground gets closer.

Closer.

Then, your body breaks ice with a smash and everything is loud again. The water roars as the breath is punched from your lungs. You know you should move, flail, kick your legs—but your body doesn't respond. You watch the bubbles fly past the dog tags around your neck as the light of the surface sinks past your fingers.

Calm. Quiet.

Your body goes limp. For the first time in weeks, the panic ebbs way to peace as the freezing cold numbs your senses. You think, maybe, you could sleep like this—silent, undisturbed, as your eyes sink shut and your nerves die.

Then, a hand grabs the front of your jacket, and you're yanked to the surface.

Simon gasps when he breaches the ice with you in his arms. Not that it supplies him with much air to begin with; as the sopping wet cloth of his mask seems to choke him with each breath. Waterboarding, a torture he's grown very familiar with over the years—and it sends an extra surge of adrenaline through his veins that helps him drag you up and onto the ice before climbing up beside you.

He turns on his side and it feels like the world tilts with him as he sputters and coughs up water. The ringing in his ears is bright and loud as it seems to leak into his vision, blurring everything into smudges of white and black that are nearly incomprehensible. Be it blind panic, or just his natural instinct to get up, keep moving—drilled into his brain after years and years of experience—but he shoves himself to his knees anyway.

He hears what sounds like coughing, gagging. Panting. His eyes flit over just as the sharpness in his vision returns and you're the second thing he sees: on your hands and knees, curled in on yourself at his side as you spit bile, blood, and water onto the ice with an arm curled around your stomach. It's then that everything rushes back to him. The alarms, the gunfire, the helo, Price's shouting, the Shadow Company.

He reaches out with a hoarse and quiet: "Kid..."

Your breathing doesn't settle. Instead, it seems to speed up as you scramble backwards and the ice cracks underneath you. Your movements shake, arms and legs dumb, slow, and useless as you force them to move you backwards; away from him. Blood coats your face and your eyes are bleary and unfocussed. He recognizes the look you give him—one of panic, confusion. It's identical to how you looked at him whenever you first met, with a dead man's blood splattered on your clothes.

"No," you mutter, your breath coming in fast puffs. "No no no no."

Simon stumbles over, grabbing your shoulder, "Easy now—"

Startled, you kick him away. "Get off me!"

"Keep your head on, kid, it's me!"

"Fuck off!"

In a split-second decision of disparity, Simon reaches up and yanks off his mask. He grabs your shoulders, keeping you still as you freeze—the figure of your nightmares gone and replaced, instead, by something more human. Something sopping wet and equally as freezing. He watches the fear in your face give way to confusion, and then the confusion give way to shock.

"It's me," he huffs out between breaths, the cold air stinging his skin, "It's me."

He watches your mis-matched pupils scan over his face, the furrow in your brows smoothing over as a rivulet of blood drips down your temple from the gash on your forehead. There’s a split on your lip, too, and all the blood mixes together as it drips off your chin. Simon can’t imagine he looks much better as you take in his facial features for the first time.

Then, he watches your eyelids flutter as your head lulls forwards, and he catches it in his hand.

“Don’t,” he commands, immediately shifting into action again. “Stay with me."

“How…” You rasp as he turns, leaning you against his geared chest to free his hands—each breath fogging up into the freezing air as he keeps you in a sitting position. He reaches for the comm on his shoulder. With shaky hands, he switches through channels until he gets to one that's dead silent. He swallows thickly before he speaks.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7, do you copy?”

The radio sputters. The only thing that greets him is the silence of the snow and your shaky breathing. He tries again, more urgently.

“Ghost to Watcher. We fell out the helo. Kid’s injured bad do you copy?”

Again, silence. Ghost hears your breathing hitch and he purses his lips together. Just as dread begins to settle deep in Ghost’s stomach—a voice comes loud and clear through the speakers.

"Watcher to Ghost. I hear you. Any word on Price?"

You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Laswell's voice. If Ghost didn’t have a probably-broken rib, he’d do the same.

"No," Ghost grunts. "We fell in a lake. Helo is nowhere in sight."

"Are you injured?"

Ghost tastes copper in his mouth when he breathes. "I'm upright."

"And the kid?"

You go to speak, "I'm fine—"

"Hit and in shock," Ghost interrupts. "Probably concussed."

Then, Price's out-of-breath voice cuts through the comms. There's shuffling and other voices in the background. “Ghost, this is Price. You’re safe?"

This time, Ghost does let out a breath. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ve crashed but Laswell's sent a team out to grab us. We’re coming back for you two, you hear me?”

You grab Ghost's arm, "But Gaz—"

“Loud and clear, sir.” Ghost breathes, “loud and clear.”

“Good man. Get to safety, stay warm. We'll be there A.S.A.P."

"Solid copy."

And, with that, all was silent aside for the sound of you and Ghost's combined breathing. He places a hand on your shoulder, easing you back to look up at him. "You still with me?"

Your eyes squeeze shut. You shake your head as if trying to shake something out of it, your countenance flushed and dazed from the freezing cold. He rubs your shoulders, trying to restore some warmth to your body.

“Keep talkin’. Tell me what hurts.”

“Can't…” You swallow thickly. Your hands fumble to grab at your leg. “Fuck, c-can't think…I can’t…”

“Stand?”

“Yeah.”

"You fell out of a helicopter, Mutt. It would stand to reason if you were a bit shaken,” he huffs, shifting into a kneeling position with his back to you. “On my back. We gotta keep moving.”

The shock fading a little from your system, you slowly push yourself upright enough to settle against his back.

"Mutt?" You question as your arms fall around his neck. His gloved hands grab under your knees, keeping you secured to his back as he hypes himself up to stand.

"That's what Soap called you, ain't it?" He breathes as he stands. "Some mutt the C.I.A. dragged in."

"Don't tell me…don't tell me that's what I'm stuck with now, after all this."

He scoffs a little, righting himself. "What sticks, sticks, kid."

He barely takes a step forwards before his leg unexpectedly gives. You gasp whenever he stumbles, falling to a knee in the snow.

"Bloody hell…"

"Ghost?" You prompt, worried, as he breathes in and out. The world spins sound for a moment, and his eyes go dazed. Your voice, however, pulls him out of it and your bloodied hand tugging at his ruined vest grounds him back to reality. "Ghost if you're shot, we're fucked."

"I'm not hit," he wheezes, a bold-faced lie. He's been hit in the calf in all the chaos, but it missed any major arteries so he chooses to ignore it for now. Instead, he forces himself shakily back to his feet again. He takes a few wobbly steps before he's walking steadily once more, his limbs feeling heavy as they waft through the freezing snow. "Just old. Can't take a fall like I used to."

You let out a breath that fogs up into the air, quivering from the cold as water drips from everything.

“Okay…okay, good,” you breathe, your hold around him tightening. “Where are we going?”

Simon looks up. The cold bites at his bare face and he squints through the eye black and water that clings to his lashes to look up at the snow and the trees around them. He swallows thickly, his mind cycling through S.E.A.R. training as he fights to stay focused, get to safety.

Safety. Shelter.

You needed shelter.

His gaze sweeps the empty forests with a newfound determination now that he has a goal to focus on; something to work towards. His footsteps slow to a stop as he looks around, the only sound in the forest being the crunching of snow and the buzzing of a far-off A-10 that makes his stomach twist.

But you were alive—and that’s all that mattered to him.

So, he picks up his pace. He presses onwards.

“I don’t know,” He huffs. “But we'll find somewhere."

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben @enfppixie @lyd14k4y @tlkonthestr33t @raye2000 @shinchanboi

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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thewriterg · 5 months

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.2

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; easiest sail of your life or standing on the line of death

word count; 2.1k | chasin chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n; We made it passed finals,

04:00 came too quickly for your liking you felt like you hadn’t got an inch of rest even if the feeling was nowhere rare nor new to you as you crouched near one of the normals you had decided to recruit for the mission the rest scattered all around the roof of the main building one eye shut another wide looking through the scope of your sniper a silencer attached to the barrel finger scattering to squeeze the trigger as the body of a shade dropped dead it was ironic you thought when you went over the file and quickly made your distaste known to the knock off shadows it was a second too late you were off your usual statistics even if it was pitch perfect to the average eye it was off to you

“Gaz what’s your visual?” You hear Prices gruff voice over your coms waiting out to hear the next move while your normals wait on your word you can see the harpy hybrid further away perched on a satellite talons digging into the disk his strong weighted wings perched well over his shoulder only for the fact you were looking for him because you wouldn’t of known he was there if you didn’t

“It’s sunny out, we’re looking peachy.” The rich warm skinned man replied trucker hat fixed fitted around the perimeter of his head protecting his eyes from the blaring sun that was beginning to set and when the new set of shades came to take over shift from their comrades to see a good chunk of them fallen the game of silence would be over and you’d be able to make noise

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Ghost?”

“Heard. I’ll clear the rest of the way, I’ll keep things under wraps.” The wraith stood next to Soap back pressed against the side of a building gear all black and fitting covering all skin opposite of himself who had on a short sleeve, bulletproof vest, and cargo pants that dipped in the back from his well weighted tail his voice still carrying even through his hard skull mask and a hood that covered the back of his head along with his back side exactly what he would expect the grim reaper to the brunette thought pulling his bottom lip between his teeth

“Then clear the way. When there’s an opening, that’s your cue Soap.”

“Copy. I finally get to see ya strut ya stuff Lt.” The Scott grinned at his superior canines on full display practically gazing into skull even though the man didn’t requite the eye contact himself paying the sergeant little to no mind his own gaze focused elsewhere that being on his gloved hand the subtle sound of Velcro straps being undone a sound that the soldier didn’t quite focus onto

“Ain’t a runway Mactavish”

“No? Could’ve fooled m-” The small sound of fear mixed with ambition slipped from Johnnys lips blue eyes two times as wide and pupils shrinking twice in size when Simon snatched the thick fabric from his fingers nails slightly pointed representing claws even if they were shorter than your average hybrid with claws or talons the tips of his pale hand dark slowly getting lighter as it traveled up his arm shadows singing a similar sound to when you cracked open a two liter of soda and got the first cup even though the ‘fisssss’ and ‘shhhhh’s wasn’t the least of comforting to those on the opposing side when the brunette went to open his mouth the blonde denied the request before even looking it over

“Shut it.” He responds placing his hand deliberately over the worn reddish brown bricks smoking shadows gently traveling from the tips of his fingers before the brown eyes lieutenant applied more pressure veins straining against his flesh even though he felt no discomfort the amount of shadows doubling as they traveled up and around the building hissing gently as it went to soon cause chaos and destruction

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The site of shadows slipping through the floor of the enemy base was quite literally a smoke signal in itself as you see soldiers fall black wraps engulfing them the act of struggling to untangle themselves utterly useless it stunned you a little even though you weren’t yourself affected the sight of shadows out in the field was a sight in itself you fight a grin off your face settling for a smirk and make sure to mutter into your coms ‘show off’ before jumping down from the side of your building along with two soldiers abandoning your post the rest of six according to you headcount still cover ground from above but it’s not enough shades are crowding all around with guns that put hybrids down after one hit at least you knew now that they didn’t have any hybrids of their own forcing you to press your back against a wall after bullets fly past your temple one of your soldiers Red in the same position behind you and the other Tank crouching up against a wall across from you both you curse underneath your breath muttering into you mic

“Gaz, it’s flatline.”

“I know deity, what do you need?” The voice rings back not two seconds later and across the field Soap perks up the sign unfamiliar to him he’s interrupted before he can pounce on it

“Their coming faster than my privates can throw em, need a window to get my soldiers to the main building”

“Go now.” Ghost speaks up from beside the shadows on the wall are darker than before and their are even some slipping through the slits of his eye holes from his mask and when the lieutenant finally turn to face the sergeant his eyes are fully black and along with his eyes there’s shadows seeping from his covered lips this was more than the grim reaper this was death Soap didn’t know his expression carried shock until he went to grin almost unphased yet his voice told a different story

“Shit Lt… yer gonna be a tough act ta follow. But watch me alright?” The brunettes clothes begins to rip as he hunches over the sound of bones creaking and snapping as his canines make themselves known the act almost to swift for the blondes eyes to follow before he’s three times bigger in size ears shifted to sit almost atop of his temples, thinner coats of fur placed on the fronts of his arms traveling down to his hands yet not reaching his palms mohawk a bit longer and beard a bit thicker

“I’ll put on a good show”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Run they’ve got a wolf!” You move out of the shadows quickly watching shades scatter around as things clash and shake you take your window without a thought pushing until you’ve made into the building alarms blaring yet it’s fairly empty only few soldier remaining that you could see you give your sergeants a look signaling them over with a tilt of your chin and they obey

“For now, we’re one in sync.” They nod look of confusion shining beneath the look of loyalty as you hold your palm out placing it on the area of their foreheads until their faces is covered now mirroring yours the body of a bird sitting in between the area of your eyebrows and the beginning of the nasal bone the head resting in the middle of the forehead one wing stretching around the eye the tips of the wings burning red yet it’s inner body a bold orange and the other stretched over the opposite one tail kicking out to swing over the area of the cheek down to the chin a true sign of the phoenix

The three of you split Red takes out two shades with nothing but the wield of her fists the act of the neck bones cracking under her fingertips while Tank opts for his pistol no matter is its bashing the butt in someone’s skull or shooting a bullet between their eyes the shades don’t know what the hell hit them but it fucking hard as you walk down hallway your fingers drag alongside the wall and you stop gently at the sight of shadows crawling over the wall the timing is almost perfect as an unwanted crowd stand across from you before you can even open your mouth bullets spray your shoulder is grazed as the rest of them are suddenly stopped in mid air black smoke wrapped around them as you and the shadows interlink and hold hands

“You have, exhausted my patience.” You state lowly with a twirl of your fingers before sharply pinching the bullets into makeshift spears pushing them out with force the shades try to retreat but at the end they are still, lying dead on the cold cement floor a burnt red and orange bird mask covered face the last thing they see

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Rats are jumping ship… keep a few alive we need the intel. Gaz, eyes on Soap?”

“He’s makin’ a scene in the center yard” The crow hybrid huffs out a chuckle a small grin resting on his face perched on a side of a building brown feathered wings spread across his back while the werewolf huffs a grin on his face before responding into his mic connected by the collar around his neck defending his honor to his lieutenant

“Not for nothin’. Destroyed the drive captain.”

“Good, get to the extraction point.” Price speaks up before dying out just as quickly while Gaz dives to the ground his wings strong going against the current of wind with a ‘swoosh’ and the canine baring hybrid didn’t stutter in steps making his way over to the harpy with a smirk before it dropped confusing the brunette as he inched towards the skull wearing lieutenant

“Haven’t heard from Deity Lt.” Gaz muttered eyebrows furrowed and Ghost’s shoulders are up and tense more than they were before and as he turns to switch on his coms Price beats him to it having overheard the harpy since he left his own line open

“Deity, what’s your status?” With not a slip of the tongue for you the captain repeated into the radio

“Deity how copy?” The complete silence on your end made them wary you weren’t an easy one to take down let alone to be took down at all so why the hell weren’t you answering your damn coms to your captains calls

“Deity” The wraith growled out now order direct and firm even if you were his downright equal you could hear the hulking echo slightly and before Gaz is taking off to cover ground from above they see the silhouette of your mask before they see you your feet a somewhat dragging behind you as you carry the weight of a three thousand pound missile over your back with a body hunched over your shoulder while you lug them both finally able to drop what you came here for, your mission you set the body on its feet staring sharply into its eyes Tank it was Soap recalled yet the position of the soldier standing up straighter with every passing moment until he was letting out a breath nodding his raven colored head of hair confused the Scott was he not just injured? Did he not just look like utter shit slung over your shoulder mere minutes ago? And was that blood smeared around his lips? The uncertainty of it all made him itch while Kyle was quick to come to your aid that you waved off before he could inch to close it confused him it was unusual to say the least I mean sure you’d roll your eyes to the point he’d tease they’d get stuck but outright refusing was rare he didn’t push it though chalked it as the adrenaline from the mission hadn’t gone yet

“Can you lug around three thousand pounds, half a mile” Your eyes were hooded yet sharp as you turn to question the mohawk wearing mutt gaze piercing through him that reminded him of a skull wearing lad and he stares at you for a second before cracking that grin nodding his head but you don’t spend an extra second before murmuring to your privates who go to regroup with the rest of their equals before you begin the walk trailing besides Ghost reaching to give him something that Soap can’t quite see before he realizes it’s a part of gloves when he’s shoves them over his fist the sight of you both with black hoods that sway behind your back the side view of the the Grim reaper and Phoenix was truly ethereal and by the look in Gaz’s eyes

He agrees

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

www.everyoneiscoocooforcoacopuffsbecauseofdeity.com//

I’ve been on break since Tuesday @ 2:30pm we’re gonna act like im not posting this on Saturday @ 9am 😊

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mykneeshurt · 2 years

Text

Knock knock

I knocked this bad boy out in an afternoon 😭 wee Simon has me by the throat. I loved writing this one, came together nicely. Again feedback and comments welcome 🥰

Warnings - 18+, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sub Simon, switch Simon, gored, expected cod violence minors DNI

The Sarah joke got told to me years ago and it still makes me piss. This gif has me in a chokehold, it was really hard to try and describe but I tried! Enjoy

This was going to be a long mission, blistering heat, few too many safe houses and Simon ‘Ghost’ fucking Riley. You and Ghost were paired together often, you’d actually become quite close over the last year. But one thing about him? He was a fucking wind up merchant.

You took it as a compliment though, he didn’t show his sense of humour to just anyone. But Jesus Christ he could be irritating when he wanted to be. You both worked together well, he’d often be on the ground with close range weapons. He was deadly with a combat knife. And you, the silent killer from the skies with your sniper rifle, looking out for him and protecting him when needed.

Which is how you found yourself here, a top a disused warehouse in bum fuck no where. ‘You’re good to go Riley’ you signalled.

‘Affirmative’ came his dead pan response. You gave him half an hour before he started with the shit jokes, he just couldn’t help himself.

You kept a sharp eye on the rooftops and windows as he worked his way through the favela. Ghost being ghost you knew he’d try and opt for the silent method, knives first, guns later. Every now and again you’d check in, make sure he was ok.

‘Why did Sarah fall off the swing?’

Fuck sake, right on cue, letting out an audible sigh into the radio you replied ‘I don’t know.’

‘Because she had no arms.’

‘Jesus Christ …’

‘Knock knock’ he interrupted.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Not Sarah.’

‘I fuckin’ cant with you, I swear to god if they don’t kill you, I will.’ You snickered, trying to hold back a chuckle. ‘I’ll hold you to that’ he retorted. Rolling your eyes you continued to scan the buildings, bingo. ‘Riley, tango one of the roof of the apartment building to the west, tango two on top of the school. Want me to take em out?’

‘If you’d be so kind’ he cracked through the radio.

Squeezing the trigger twice you took them down with ease, your nick name in Task Force 141 was the ‘Angel of Death’. Due to your ability to effectively and silently take down enemies when needed. ‘Tangos down.’

Shifting in your snipers nest, you quickly stretched out your legs behind you before resuming your position. It was sweltering, sweat dripped down your face, your cap failing at capturing the little droplets that threatened to enter your eyes.

‘Knock knock.’

Smirking to yourself you answered ‘who’s there?’

‘Interrupting sheep.’

‘Interrupting sheep wh … ‘

‘Bahhhh.’

‘That was fucking awful Riley, great sheep impression though’ you said as you rolled your eyes. ‘I can hear you roll your eyes from here love, pack it in’ he chided. ‘Oooh gonna have to make me Riley. Now shut the fuck up, two tangos spotted.’ You quickly dealt with them with no issues.

No issues that was until you heard a grenade go off close by to your nest. Fuck, you thought to yourself. Had you given yourself away? Had they spotted you? You quickly scanned the area with your scope, nothing glaringly obvious. But it went quiet, too quiet. ‘Riley, I might have an issue. Potential compromise’ you murmured into the radio. ‘Copy. Come to the church, I’ll meet you there.’ Grabbing your items together you slipped into your tactical gear and threw your rifle over your shoulder. ‘Be there now in a minute’ you replied. ‘English’ he barked. Laughing to yourself you radioed back ‘On my way, see you in 10.’

As much as Ghost would wind you up with stupid jokes, you’d do the same back to him. You were from Wales and had a few sayings which really wound him up. The English vs Welsh banter got got old between the two of you. You’d try to teach him Welsh but he was awful at it, he loved learning the swear words though. Obviously.

You slid down the ladder at the side of the warehouse and began to creep your way through the cramped but deserted streets. The streets almost felt claustrophobic as you weaved your way around corners. That came to a blinding halt as you heard men approaching. You dived into an abandoned flat and ducked behind the window, listening intently. They were murmuring to each other, too faint for you to hear properly.

You stayed out of sight until you were sure they were gone. ‘I’d fuckin’ love a tea’ his voice made you jump as it rang through the ear piece. Pinching the bridge of your nose you replied ‘really? Now? I’m risking life and limb and you’re thinking about tea? Dickhead.’ You knew he was sat in that church just thinking up different ways to piss you off, smirking to himself. Wanker.

Once you were sure the men had gone, you peeked out the door to the abandoned flat and took in your surroundings. You needed to get up on the rooftops to see where the church steeple was. Running up the stairs in the flat you soon found a ladder to the roof top. Once above ground again you were able to see you were a few streets away from your objective. ‘I can see the church, trying to make my way on rooftop now’ you informed him.

Scaling rooftop to rooftop you tried to keep a listen out for any hostile that could appear at any time. That was until you lost your footing, as you jumped onto some corrugated iron you misjudged it and fell a story onto your back. The fall took the wind out of you, gasping for breath you scrambled into a local shop. ‘Fuck was that?’ He chimed through on the radio. Readjusting yourself you took in a deep breath ‘just fell of a roof, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just gimme 5.’

Except you didn’t have 5, a man snuck around the corner before pouncing on you, wielding a knife. Using your forearm to stop the knife from being plunged into your eye, you used your free hand you gouge at his eye. You dug your nail in just enough for the man to shriek and lose balance. As he did you used your weight to push him off you before managing to climb on top of him. Lucky bastard got a sly right hook into your face, with your lip now split open you spat blood back into his face. Giving you enough time to reach for you knife which was strapped to your thigh. As you gripped the knife the man tried again to get a hit in, unsuccessfully. Knife now in hand you drove it into the man’s throat, severing his carotid artery. You drove the knife into the left side of his chest, just for good measure. Gurgling sounds left the man’s throat as you got to your feet, wiping the blood on a rag near by.

If there was one in the building that surely meant there was more near by. You needed to get a move on. You could see the steeple from the ground now, just a little further. Rounding the corner a convoy of enemies stood between you and the church. Backing off you radioed to Ghost. ‘I’m right outside, approximately 6 men in a humvee though.’

Ghost let out a long sigh on the radio. ‘Disturb you did I? Give me a hand!’ You demanded. ‘I’ll take the 3 on my left. Ready in three … two … one … go.’

With that he expertly took out the three men with his silenced pistol from the church doorway. As you unloaded three rounds from your own gun into the remaining men. Quickly checking it was clear you scurried over to the church barging past Ghost in the process. ‘Took your time’ he greeted. Whipping round you pushed him in his firm chest ‘suck my dick Riley.’

You walked over to a mirror on the wall to examine the damage to your face. ‘Ergh, I think my nose is broken.’ You sighed. Ghost approached you from behind ‘let me see.’

Turning to face him you showed him your busted nose, dried blood caked around it. ‘Yeah looks that way love. Needs resetting.’ Staring up at him you grimaced ‘oh and you’re gonna be the one to do it I imagine?’

‘Affirmative.’

Sighing you nodded your head and placed your glove between your teeth. He took off his gloves to feel for the cartilage and bone in your nose. He stared intensely at you, the black paint around his eyes illuminated his blue eyes. He wore a skull over the top of his balaclava which made him look even more menacing. Giving a moan of permission from your mouth he nodded back at you. Without warning he shifted your nose back into place, eliciting a guttural moan from you in the process. ‘Ah fuck!’ You cried, ‘Jesus, a warning would have been nice!’ Shrugging he said ‘nah, you would have flinched. Looks better though.’

‘Ghost you copy?’ Soaps voice rang through the radios. ‘Go ahead’ he replied.

‘A convoy of tangos about to enter the favela. Not safe to come to the evac zone. Hold up there till mornin’. Get some shut eye and we’ll get you out tomorrow.’

‘A broken nose, and now I’m stuck with him for the night? Any good news for me Soap?’ You chuckled.

‘Naw, sorry hen.’

‘Don’t you hen me, you shit.’ Soaps laugh filled the ear piece before signing out.

It was getting late and your head was beyond pounding from your broken nose. ‘There’s a bedroom upstairs, can sleep there.’ Ghost said as he started walking to the staircase. Following him closely you took your hair down out of the bun it was in to try and release some tension. Luckily the sink still worked in the bathroom, not hot water but it would do to freshen up and remove the dried blood.

As you entered the bedroom he was sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning his gun. He’s removed his skull mask so only the balaclava remained. The floorboard creaked as you entered the room, he lifted his gaze slowly. He scanned your body, his eyes finally resting on your face. His head jerked a minute amount as he registered your face, while you two were good friends he’d never seen you with your hair down. His gaze almost seemed to intensify as you looked back at him with a soft smile. He quickly looked away and back down to his gun again.

‘Thanks for setting my nose. I’ll buy you a drink when we’re back’ you smiled. You walked over to the corner of the room and took off your tactical gear, placing it on an old chair. Glancing round the room you noticed there was only one bed. ‘Bunk mates tonight is it?’ You asked nodding towards the bed. He tensed his shoulders slightly before answering ‘looks like it. Don’t mind sleeping in the chair though.’

‘It gets cold as fuck here at night, it will be fine. Anyway you’re like a radiator and I’m always cold, you’d be doin me a favour.’

He nodded in silence.

A few hours passed, both of you engaging in the odd conversation. He seemed more tense than usual, and while he’s a pretty intense guy this felt new. Darkness crept into the bedroom, the faint light of the street lamps illuminating the bedroom in an orange glow. The bedroom door had been barricaded just incase and you’d sussed an escape route out one of the windows if needed.

You removed your boots and t-shirt, leaving you in your cargo pants and your vest. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into your back as you folded up your clothes. ‘Problem Lieutenant?’ You asked, without even turning round. ‘Negative.’ He said plainly. Smirking to yourself you walked over to the bed and slid in under the duvet that was left. Never ideal to sleep in used duvets but in these situations you had little choice. ‘Come on Riley, get in’ you beckoned.

He removed his shirt revealing a sleeve tattoo on his left arm. He stayed in his base layer, jeans and left his boots on. He sat in the chair opposite the bed, ‘you sleep, I’m not tired.’ Rolling your eyes you led down and pulled the duvet over you. ‘If you wanted to be a creep and watch me sleep all you had to do was say’ you laughed. He glared back at you, he was good at that.

You must have slept for an hour or two before you woke up hearing a noise outside. Sitting bolt upright you saw he was already at the window checking to see what it was. ‘Stray dog’ he said before turning around and sitting back on the chair. Sighing you swung your legs out of the bed and ran your hand through your hair. ‘Alright?’ His deep tone cut through the silence. ‘Yeah’ you sighed looking up at him ‘can I try something?’ He narrowed his eyes at you, curious.

You stood up off the bed and walked over towards him, he was sat in the chair, leg spread. Leaning on his thighs with his forearms. As you approached him he looked up at you, silent. You pressed your hands into his muscular shoulders and pushed him back into the chair. His breath visually hitched in his chest, his forearms becoming tense, the muscle rippling under his taught skin. You straddled his lap, hand still encasing his shoulders as you stared deep into his eyes. He let out a sigh of approval.

‘I’ve seen how you look at me Simon. Believe it or not, you cant hide everything you feel.’ You dragged your nails down bis base layer, feeling every dip and crevice of his toned body beneath. You placed his large hands on your hips, as you knelt up over him. ‘I know you want me’ you drawled. He remained silent, but not objecting. ‘Touch me’ you whispered into his masked ear. With that he slowly worked his hands underneath your vest. You hissed at his touch, thick calloused fingers gliding over your bare skin.

You hands worked your way to his neck, slowly pulling up his balaclava. You only pulled it up to nose, respecting the only boundary he put before you. You bit your lip slowly, your hair framing your face. With a smirk you bent down and placed your lips lightly on his. He slowly but firmly returned your kiss, gentle at first but soon became heated. ‘Yes’ you moaned into his mouth. He gently jerked his hips up, his hard cock grazing your pussy through your cargo pants. You placed your hands at the sides of his neck cupping him further into you.

‘Fuckin’ hell’ he moaned beneath you. You smiled into his mouth, slowly inserting your tongue. Your tongues danced together slowly but full of passion and need. You brought his hand to your breast before snaking your hand into his as the base of neck. He let out a small hiss. ‘You like that?’ You moaned at him. He grunted in approval. You brought your hand from the back of his head to his neck and applied pressure. You weren’t strong enough to hurt him, but it was enough to show him who was in charge here.

‘You’re gonna fuck me Simon. Aren’t you?’ He nodded slowly. ‘Mmm good boy’ you purred. You climbed off him and stood up, undoing his belt before your own. You pulled down your trousers and stepped out them revealing your tight boxer shorts. You beckoned him over to the bed where he undid his trousers and pulled down his own underwear. You led on your back on the bed, legs spread and beckoned him towards you. A filthy grin on your face.

You spat on your hand and rubbed it along your slit, mixing it with your arousal. He stayed silent, drinking you in, his cock rock hard as he approached you. He stood in-between your legs, looking down on you as you rubbed your own juices on the tip of his cock with your fingers. He hissed through his teeth before slowly sinking into you. You both let out a gasp as he stretched you open, filling you with his cock. Letting out a breath filled giggle you threw your head back exposing your neck. He slowly withdrew his cock before slamming it back in again. ‘You feel so good Simon’ you praised.

His eyes met yours, seemingly full of adoration at your praise. He descended into a brutal pace, heaving breathing emanating from beneath his mask. He gripped at your thighs, leaving marks beneath his fingers. His pupils were so dilated with pleasure all you could see was black in the space where his irises would be. ‘Don’t stop, please don’t stop’ you begged. You brought your hand down and started to circle your clit as you watched him thrust in and out of you.

‘I wanna ride you, lie on the bed’ you moaned. Doing as he was told you slowly pulled out of you before lying beneath you, you climbed on straddling his thick muscular thighs. You slowly sank down onto his cock, the stretch filling you with pleasure. You began grinding your pussy, building up a rhythm, small moans escaping you. You grabbed his neck, a whimper fell from his lips. His moans becoming more frequent and breathless. You pulled his hand to your lips, biting and sucking his thumb as you chased your orgasm.

Just as you were about to cum his eyes rolled back in his head has he moaned ‘fuck this.’ He used all of his force and rolled you underneath him, you shrieked with excitement. ‘There you are. I wondered how long it would take you’ you smiled. He planted a kiss on your lips before entering you again. He slammed into you, you’re cum dripping out of you onto the bed below. You started rubbing your clit again, chasing your high. Your walls began tightening ‘F … fuck, I’m gonna cum’ you groaned. You arched your back as you rode out your orgasm, gripped onto his forearms. You dug in your nails, leaving small crescent shaped marks.

His pace became sloppy. He was close too. ‘Such a filthy Fuckin’ bitch’ he moaned. Just as he was about to cum he pulled out, ‘open your fuckin mouth.’ Doing as you were told you opened your mouth as he pumped his cock, miking every last drop of cum onto your tongue. He leant down as he grabbed your jaw, before spitting in your mouth ‘now fuckin swallow.’ Eyes lighting up you closed your mouth and swallowed. Licking your lips as you did so.

He helped you to your feet, checking you over. ‘You’re summin else girl’ he said a smirk present under his mask. ‘So I’ve been told, we’ve still got a few hours to waste’ you said with a wink. ‘Fuck me, you’re gonna be the death of me’ he growled leaning his head back with a sigh.

#fan fic smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x you #call of duty #smut

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the-laughing-lunatic · 15 days

Note

OH MY GOD TF2 WRITER!!! You are my savior.

ANYWAYS I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE MERCS (more specifically Scout, Spy, Sniper & Engineer if you don’t wanna do them all) WITH A MALE S/O WHO IS CONSTANTLY DYING OR GETTING INJURED DUE TO BADLUCK?

(Of course! Hope you enjoy, thx for reqesting!)

Scout, Spy, Sniper & Engineer x a m!s/o with bad luck (ROMANTIC)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆Scout☆

Holy cow is it hard for him to get used to

You die at least once a day but he still cries like a baby whenever it happens

Denies it every time though

“Oh god, it never takes this long, what if my baby’s gone for good? That ain’t gonna happen, you’re bein’ stupid Jeremy. But what if it does? *sniffle* I mean, I- I dunno what I’d do, an just—”

“Hey babe! I grabbed some sodas for us on the way back from respawn, the vending machine was being a pain though. …you alright?

He’d immediately hug you and wipe away his tears. “ ‘m fine. Just glad you’re back, doll. Missed ya.”

Though this guy knows nothing about first aid, he’ll do what his ma always did when he got injured:

“Prince, stop freakin’ out and let me kiss your boo-boo better, kay?”

“Jeremy, I’m not ten, I can handle a tiny bullet wound.”

“Don’t care, c'mere sweetheart. You need some kisses from your hot-ass boyfriend to feel better.”

“What I need is a Medic.”

“C’mon, please?”

“...fine.”

☆Spy☆

Like Scout he’s also dramatic as fuck when you die

Falls to his knees and cries silently over your dead body kind of dramatic

He’s lost one of his lovers before, and it kills him to see it happen in front of him everyday

He’s absolutely terrified that one day you won’t respawn

Doesn’t like to talk about how he feels though, he wants to be strong for his lover

He will require a lot of quality time after you get respawned to calm his mind down that you’re okay

Cuddling, holding your hand in his smoking room, he just needs to be close to you

Helps you when you’re injured, though he does chastise you

(cue homoerotic fixing injuries scene)

“Mon amour, it was simply irresponsible of you to go into the sewers with your luck, it was reckless,” he’d say as he patched you up.

“But you dropped your watch down there, I had to get it back for you.”

“You are insufferably eager, my beau…but it is sweet. Never do anything like that again, though, I worry about you enough as is.”

“Awww, you worry about me?”

“Of course I do, je t'aime. Now shut up and let me help you.”

☆Sniper☆

We all know this guy is hella protective, so of course he’ll protect you even more with how much you get injured.

He’d want nothing more than to keep you in a locked room with nothing to hurt yourself with all day so no harm could ever come to you, but unfortunately that’s “weird” and “illegal”

He constantly wants to be around you to at least try to prevent the inevitable

Even during battles, he tends to double-check where you are on the map to make sure you’re okay, and if you’re not, see who hurt you so he could kill them

He may not have the most traditional sense of first aid training, he mostly knows natural tricks when you’re injured to help you.

“Love, love, calm down, I got some razor strop for your cut there, ‘s like a bandaid. Fix you up real quick, spunk.”

He wants to take you camping but he knows he’d just be anxious about his boyfriend the entire time

“Mick, c’mon, I can handle one tiny camping trip.”

“You burnt yourself on the coffee kettle twice today. It was unplugged.”

“No coffee kettles in the forest though.”

“Can we just stay here where I know you’ll be okay, love?”

“But you wante—”

“I know, but anytime I spend with you makes me happy, okay? If you’re safe and with me, I’m grand.”

☆Engineer☆

This poor man

He’s worried sick about you all the time

You’re not allowed into his workshop anymore after a few too many incidents with the machinery

During battle he’ll constantly do what you want if it’ll keep you safer

You need a dispenser by you even if the rest of the team needs it somewhere else? He’s putting it by you

He makes you wear a spare hardhat of his in case an anvil falls on you or some shit (with your luck it probably would happen)

Since you’re not allowed in his workshop it kind of forces him to be less of a workaholic so he can hang out with his boyfriend

Will stay by your side when you’re injured

“Dell, it’s sweet of you to stay while I have a broken leg, but wouldn’t you rather hang out with the rest of the team instead of here? I mean, it’s gonna be really boring.”

“Darling, I’m staying. I’d rather be here with you than at the snazziest rodeo out there.”

“Ach, young love. Now my patient, here is your paste you must eat. It is good for you, it has plenty of nutrients in it, and definitely not drugs you need to take. And your straw, now tschüss!”

“.....are you still sure you wanna stay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, sugar.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #scout tf2 #scout tf2 x reader #spy tf2 #spy tf2 x reader #sniper tf2 #sniper tf2 x reader #engineer tf2 #engineer tf2 x reader #fanfiction

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ohforficsake · 1 month

Text

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk.

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth.

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June.

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.”

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out.

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break.

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips.

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket.

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her.

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table.

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders.

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe.

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.”

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet.

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes.

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie’s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers.

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #the margay #ohforficsake

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green-eyedfirework · 25 days

Text

Dick groaned as soon as he registered the flash of orange-and-black on the rooftop, automatically changing his trajectory to engage. It had been a long night, two gang busts and several muggings foiled, and he was not in the mood to fight with Deathstroke until the mercenary gave up on his objective.

Unfortunately, the mercenary was peering through a sniper scope and Dick wasn’t about to let anyone get assassinated on his watch.

A couple of wingdings and Deathstroke abandoned his position, twisting up to face the new threat. Dick drew his escrima before he landed on the rooftop, and went on the attack. “You know, we really should stop meeting like this,” Dick said with the flash of a smile.

“I don’t know, I definitely appreciate the view,” Deathstroke said, dodging a strike and somehow managing to stay still long enough to do a leering scan over Dick, obvious even through the mask.

Banter was good, banter meant that Deathstroke was not in a bad mood and Dick had a significantly higher chance of escaping without injury.

“Really? I think you’d appreciate it a lot better without that mask,” Dick said breathlessly, dropping underneath Deathstroke’s guard and lashing out with an escrima, straight at the mask. “And in better lighting, too.” It connected with a crack and Deathstroke stumbled back with a grunt, hand raising to his broken mask.

Dick took the opportunity to spin towards the sniper setup—with one kick, he sent the whole apparatus crashing off the roof and to the ground several stories before. He looked back up and gave the mercenary a bright smile.

“Oops,” Dick said.

Deathstroke regarded him for a long, stretching moment, ice blue eye narrowing as he tossed the mask aside, before exploding into movement.

Dick backpedaled, but there was only so long he could outlast a superpowered mercenary and Dick wasn’t surprised when he ended up pinned against the wall, his escrima sticks having followed the sniper rifle off the roof, staring up at that snarl.

“Someone should really teach you a lesson about how to treat other people’s stuff,” Deathstroke growled, fingers squeezing around Dick’s wrists.

Dick licked his lips, grinning when Deathstroke’s gaze dropped to the movement, and tried to stomp down on the mercenary’s instep. “You want me to ask nicely?”

“I want you to beg, little bird,” Deathstroke said darkly, leaning down until their faces were scant inches apart. “I want you to scream and cry and wail until you finally give in and promise to mind your own business.”

“Make me,” Dick retorted.

That was normally his cue for wriggling out of Deathstroke’s grip, throwing back a few more quips as Deathstroke’s faux flirting stalked deep into the territory of sexual harassment, and stall until the police got here from the tip he’d called in, but Dick was aching all over and not really in the mood to gain a few more bruises before Deathstroke cut his losses.

So instead he pushed up on his tiptoes to close the scant distance between them, and pressed his lips to the mercenary’s.

As a distraction technique, it worked. He felt Deathstroke grow rigid in surprise before kissing back, grip loosening slightly on Dick’s wrists. The mercenary deepened the kiss, pressing Dick back against the brick, so close that Dick could feel the seams of his armor.

It was a damn good kiss and Dick felt breathless and dizzy when Deathstroke disengaged, only to have to bite back a sharp moan when the mercenary sucked at the curve of his jaw, stubble scratching against his neck. Slade chuckled, diving back in for a kiss, and Dick could feel parts of his body perk up in interest.

The distant sound of sirens faintly registered and Dick couldn’t help the smile curving against the kiss. Deathstroke withdrew, giving Dick a suspicious look. “What did you do?” he growled.

“Me?” Dick blinked his eyes innocently. The effect was hidden by his domino, but Deathstroke still narrowed his eye.

The sirens got closer.

Deathstroke cursed and abruptly released Dick, stalking to the edge of the rooftop. Dick followed him and peered over the edge. A pair of police cars was already there, and there was an officer shining a flashlight over the pile of gear that lay in pieces on the ground.

Both of them ducked back before the officer could look up.

“Don’t worry,” Dick grinned, “I’ll make sure the BPD takes very good care of your toys.”

Deathstroke merely snarled at him. Dick rocked on the balls of his feet, ready to jump back if the merc decided to lash out, but Deathstroke spun around and walked away, grabbing his broken mask and heading to the other edge of the rooftop.

“We should do this another time!” Dick called after him, still smiling, and stretched in satisfaction at a job well done. He hadn’t even gotten punched.

It was a good night.

~#~

The next time he ran into Deathstroke, it was by complete accident. Dick was sneaking into a warehouse when he caught sight of someone else moving in the rafters and it didn’t take more than a glance to identify what their target was.

Starting a fight up here would alert Deathstroke’s target, true, but it would also alert them that Nightwing was here, and Dick hoped for a little more discretion tonight. So instead of barging forward, escrima out, Dick kept his weapons sheathed and slinked forward more quietly.

Of course, there was no such thing as quiet enough when it came to Deathstroke the Terminator, so Dick was still a few steps away when the man growled, “What do you want, Grayson?”

“Ideally, for you to stop taking contracts in Bludhaven,” Dick hummed, watching the merc tense up as Dick moved closer and finally sidled in front of Deathstroke, blocking his view of the meeting happening on the warehouse floor. “But I’ll settle for a kiss.”

Even through the mask, Dick could feel Deathstroke’s unimpressed look. “Get out of my way, kid,” he said tersely.

“Rude,” Dick pouted, letting Deathstroke back him up against a cross beam. The mercenary loomed above him, a hulking figure in the semi-darkness, and Dick felt something skate across his nerves.

“Don’t test my patience,” the man growled.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Dick said, grabbing hold of a crisscrossing strap on Deathstroke’s armor to prevent the merc from turning back to his target. Deathstroke snarled and yanked off Dick’s hand, but Dick had already jumped up, wrapping his legs around Slade’s waist before his grip was removed. Dick smiled at the mercenary, face-to-mask, like he wasn’t currently holding them together with the strength of his thighs.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Deathstroke said flatly. He didn’t move to tear Dick off, but Dick was under no impression that it wouldn’t be ridiculously easy for him to do. Dick just moved forward with the half-ridiculous plan he’d formulated.

“We left things a little unfinished last time,” Dick said, dropping his voice as he slowly, gently placed his hands on the mercenary’s shoulders. The mask was an obstacle, and he lifted his fingers to the knot, loosening it carefully, heart hammering in his throat as he did his best to keep his movements slow and unthreatening.

Deathstroke let him slip the mask off, standing stock still on the rafter beam. Beneath them, the meeting was beginning to finish up. Dick looked into the mercenary’s impassive expression and smiled, trying to ignore how everything was fluttery from trepidation. “It’s not nice to leave a guy hanging.”

The mercenary made some kind of snort, but Dick didn’t let him get anything more out, cupping one gloved hand against that strong jaw and meeting his lips. Deathstroke let him set the pace this time and Dick took his time in exploring, curling the fingers of his other hand in Deathstroke’s hair as he lost him in the kiss.

He didn’t even realize that Deathstroke was gripping his ass until the man gave a deliberate squeeze.

“Is this what you want, little bird?” the mercenary murmured as Dick broke the kiss with a muffled gasp. “Do you get off on playing cat-and-mouse with villains?” Nightwing’s armor was made of high-quality kevlar fabric, but it felt like tissue paper right now—he could feel the slow, deliberate movements as Slade kneaded his ass. “Did you want the big, bad mercenary to hold you down and make you scream?”

Dick rolled his hips forward, re-wrapping his legs tight around Slade’s waist. “I don’t know,” he said, voice breathless, “you tell me.”

He dove back into the kiss, feeling arousal spike higher with every press and squeeze, his suit becoming uncomfortably tight. Dick was so consumed that he almost forgot what he was here for, but he remembered when he heard the quiet slide of a gun slipping out of its holster.

Dick broke the kiss but kept his forehead pressed to Deathstroke’s, reaching out to grab the gun before the mercenary finished aiming it. He didn’t try to wrest the gun away, just curled a hand over the muzzle and waited.

“You truly are a pain in my ass,” the mercenary grumbled.

“In your ass?” Dick said pointedly, wiggling against the tight grip Deathstroke had on him.

The mercenary merely huffed, not engaging as he let go. “Get off of me. They’re gone, anyway.” Dick darted a quick glance to check before he let go of the gun and unwrapped himself from Deathstroke.

~#~ ~#~

“I trust you,” Dick said with a smile. It didn’t sound like a lie. He was too exhausted and injured, and maybe it was true. Maybe this was what trust felt like.

Slade’s face closed down, slipping straight into Deathstroke’s idle efficiency. Shit. That didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Okay,” Slade said, “Go to the bedroom. Take off your suit. Kneel next to the bed, hands on the blankets. Now.”

Dick was already regretting this. This wasn’t going to be gentle. But there was no point in protesting. Dick did what he was told, and knelt, bruised knees pressing painfully against the ground as he laid his arms out flat on the bed. He buried his face in the blankets, and let out a ragged breath.

Slade’s footsteps were deliberate, and Dick heard him walk to the closet. He didn’t look to see what he was doing, but he heard the harsh swish of something long and thin whistling through the air.

It’s worth it, some part of his mind attempted to soothe, it’s all worth it if it saves lives.

Slade had never been this rough before, but he was clearly trying to prove something. Dick hoped that he didn’t break skin—that wouldn’t be fun to deal with, or to try to explain to nosy siblings.

Slade walked back to him, and Dick could feel the long, thin stick press against his back. A cane. Or a staff, maybe, it was too dense to be a walking stick.

“You’re sure about this?” Slade asked, voice emotionless.

Dick pressed his face further into the blanket, and nodded, a quick jerk of his head.

“Say no,” Slade said, “And I’ll stop.” The cane pressed deeper against his back, before Slade drew it back.

Dick quickly calculated how hard Slade could hit, and bit down on the blankets. The agonizing part would be enduring without begging Slade to stop. Dick really hoped that this satisfied Slade, that he got whatever he was looking for, that this wasn’t going to be the tone for the rest of their encounters—Dick had enjoyed himself before, but this was only going to hurt—

He couldn’t stop the tears spilling out, and he tried to keep them silent. As long as he didn’t say no. That was all he had to do. Just keep his mouth shut.

The floor creaked, and Dick fought not to flinch. He waited for the whistling strike, the snap of wood against skin, the growing burn, the—

The hand on his shoulder, drawing him away from the bed, and Dick had to unclench his jaw before he pulled the blankets off the bed. Slade was crouching next to him, staring at him with a blank face and a narrowed eye.

“You don’t want this,” Slade said levelly, and the words felt like a death sentence.

“No,” Dick breathed out, because he could recognize that glint in his eyes—Slade was pissed, and Dick had no idea who he’d take it out on. “No, Slade, please, I want it, I—”

“Dick,” Slade said, cutting him off, “Stop.”

“Slade, I do—I trust you, I swear—” Dick could feel the tears streaming down his face, and he tried to wipe them away, but his hands were shaking, and Slade was angry, and—

And now he was sobbing into an expensive shirt, strong arms around him, careful to not put any pressure on his ribs, and Dick couldn’t stop crying. “I’m sorry,” he hiccupped, feeling the despair clawing at his heart, because he’d failed, because Slade had set up a test and Dick couldn’t pass it, and he abandoned that line of conversation entirely. “I’m sorry—don’t—don’t kill them, I’ll do anything, Slade, please—”

“I’m not going to kill them,” Slade said, something pained in his tone, “I told you, my job is over.”

“I—I’m sorry, I—just give me a minute, I’ll s—stop—”

A heavy sigh. “Kid, you don’t have to stop crying,” Slade said quietly, and Dick instinctively tightened his grasp on Slade’s shirt as the man stood up, carrying Dick fluidly.

~#~

“I know what consent is,” Dick said irritably—he wasn’t an idiot, and Bruce had been thoroughly obsessive in designing powerpoints to cover the Talk. “No means no.”

Slade observed him, his expression placid. “Yes,” he said levelly, “But consent means saying yes.”

“I said yes, Slade!” Dick snarled, unsure of what picture Slade was trying to paint but knowing that he didn’t like it. He knew that Slade would stop whenever he told him to. That had never been an issue.

Slade continued to stare at him silently. “If I held a gun to your head and told you to beg me to fuck you,” Slade said quietly, “Is that consent?”

Dick had absolutely no idea where he was going with this. “Of course not.”

“What if I held the gun to your brother’s head, whichever one pops up in your mind first,” he said, and Dick couldn’t help the shiver at the mental image of Deathstroke training a gun on Robin. “And told you the same thing?”

“It’s not consent.”

“How about a random civilian off the street? A drug lord? A cop? A—”

“Forcing someone to say yes isn’t consent,” Dick said through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Slade agreed, “And what if I didn’t force you? What if I had a gun trained on a target and a thirty-second window to shoot, and you knew that dropping to your knees and blowing me would distract me?”

Dick went still. Slade’s face was no longer expressionless.

“Having sex with ulterior motives doesn’t automatically mean it’s not consensual,” Dick said slowly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Slade agreed. “But everyone draws the line somewhere, kid, and you’ve crossed mine.”

Dick felt that strike through his bones. “Slade,” he said, unsure of what he was going to say but desperate to say something, “I don’t—”

“You were ready to let me beat you bloody,” Slade said flatly, “Not because you enjoyed it, not because you thought it might be fun to try—both answers I would’ve accepted, by the way—but because you thought I was going to murder someone if you didn’t.”

“You—you didn’t say that you would kill someone if I didn’t have sex with you.”

“No, I didn’t,” Slade agreed. “But it’s clearly what you heard.”

#my snippets #sladick #dubcon #dick tries distracting slade #and then gets too caught up in it

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vashtijoy · 1 year

Text

something suggestive about balls: pool table proxy wars in akechi's confidant, rank 7

There's only one thing you really need to know about rank 7 of Akechi's confidant, and it is this: it happens on the day of the incriminating murder phone call.

We know this for several reasons:

It can't be locked for the name change ("family-name-kun" to "given name")—Akechi never calls Joker by name in conf 7. In fact, unless I miss my guess, he never calls Joker by name during the confidant at all, other than when you say hello in Kichijoji—probably because his term of address changes on 10/31;

Futaba will later tell us the call was recorded "a few days" after she bugged Akechi's phone on 10/29. From 10/29 to 11/2 is four days;

Given the importance of confidant 7, especially the rivalry discussion at the end, it's inconceivable that it happens before Joker hears the phone call. He goes there in full knowledge of what Akechi is, and what he intends.

Lastly, 11/2 can be summed up as "absolute chaos":

First, Akechi meets you on the train platform before school. He tells you he "won't be seeing you privately like this any more", once your deal is concluded—well, of course not, you'll be dead.

But this chat is so important that it appears to have two forms, unlike all the rest of Akechi's train platform appearances. One, the one I got in my playthrough, is quite gentle in tone. The other is much less so, much more dismissive, almost third semester in its bluntness. Assuming they're both in game, I'd guess the first is if you have the confidant levelled, and the second is if you don't. It's not legacy dialogue from vanilla P5; this scene looks to have been added for Royal. IDK, I don't know what triggers the two different chats, or if the other is even in game—but I'd like to.

If you haven't yet been to the hideout since 10/29, Morgana will force you to go after school. That's to say: you must have done Akechi's first hideout meeting, the first hideout of the Sae's Palace mission, by this date;

Last of all, Akechi texts you in the evening, for confidant 7 and its violent change in tone. "After all, losing doesn't sit well with either of us. Am I right?"

If 11/2 isn't the day of the phone call, I'll eat a nest of wasps.

boys and their toys

So. Joker walks into Penguin Sniper for confidant 7, in the a. full and b. very recently acquired knowledge that Akechi is a two-faced killer who's gleefully planning his murder. And what does he do?

Akechi has a lot of revealing things to say about balls in this scene, but we're not really here for him. Because look at how Joker is standing.

[screenshots below the cut, yo]

That's his usual "I have a pool cue" stance, with the cue held in front of him. Here he is doing it with the squad (plus one traitor):

See the difference? When he's with the others, Joker's facing the table—like you would at a billiard table, like Akechi is doing in the picture at the top. But in the confidant, when he's just learned exactly how malicious Akechi's intent is, Joker's not facing the table at all. Joker is facing Akechi. And that means he's keeping that cue firmly between them—whether as a shield or an impromptu weapon.

Now, like we said before, that's a standard pose—if Joker is holding a pool cue, he will hold it in that way. But it's the strange angle he's standing at, facing Akechi and not the pool table, that turns it into a message of sorts.

What happens next? Akechi leans down to take his shot, laying out his extended listen-I'm-going-to-murder-you-soon-and-I-haven't-fully-rationalised-it-yet metaphor all the while. Joker's eyes follow his to the table to watch. But he never turns to the table. He stays facing Akechi, and he still keeps the cue between the two of them:

The next thing is that you answer his question—"Hm, that sure sounds like a psychotic breakdown to me"—and Joker uses his hand to gesture....

... but then he gets the cue back between the two of them again, lickety-split:

The next thing that happens is that Akechi—probably deliberately, as part of his extended metaphor—misses his shot. The two of them pause to stare at the cue ball—in the Japanese text, Akechi has explicitly mentioned it as the ball you strike that starts everything unpredictably rolling. But Joker still keeps the cue between them, and still hasn't turned to the table:

(BTW, here's our old friend the sad sprite—there are some really interesting uses of it in this scene, that are worth watching out for.) But now we get to the point. "But even knowing all of that, you're still not going to quit, are you?"

Their eyes meet; the cue is still between them....

You can say "I've made up my mind" or "I won't miss my shot"; both mean, essentially, "fuck you"; both get the same result.

But now. Only now, as Joker goes to take that shot, does he finally turn to the table, exposing himself to Akechi. (coughs)

He nails it. And then they head out into the street to talk about rivalry. But take a look at their positions now:

Note that Akechi has not moved; only Joker has moved. But now the picture looks different. Now, it looks like Akechi is the one defending himself.

Joker has moved in and taken his shot, dropping his defence and opening himself up to attack in the process. Akechi hasn't moved or altered anything he was doing, yet now he's on the defensive.

And Joker's shot was successful, of course. Just like it will be on 11/20.

this is reaching, you should be ashamed

I see your point! Let's go back in time and have a look at confidant 2, for comparison. Here are the boys in happier times:

See? Joker is facing the table. Even though he's talking to Akechi, and looking at Akechi, he's turned to the table.

Here's another. This one's more dubious because of the angle, which means he does have the cue in front of him—but again, you can see Joker is pointed at the table, not at Akechi:

Funny you should say that, kid. Rank 7 Joker is on to you.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #goro akechi

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