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ghosty-writes-23 · 1 year

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Incorrect COD Quotes Part. 2

!WARNING!: Suggestive (Slightly spicy) & dark humored content.

Ghosty's Notes: Some of these might be a little suggestive or contain dark humor, so you have been warned, V is my own female OC but can be read as x reader if you prefer that, also thank you so much for the recent support, I was a little hesitant to post these, but seeing how people have been liking them, I promise to make more in the future :)

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

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V: *is watching Ghost workout with König* “They are so big and so dumb, and one day I'm gonna top them.”

Soap: “you and me both Lass.”

*both V and Soap highfive*

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Gaz: “I pull women”

Soap: “I pull men.”

V: “i’m gonna pull the fucking trigger in a second.”

Price: *is looking at V horrified*

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*V is in Price’s office after a successful mission*

Price: *pats V on the shoulder* “I'm proud of you kid.”

*Alexia play daddy issues by the neighbourhood*

V: *holds back tears and voices cracks slightly* “T-Thanks sir.”

Price: *processed to give her a papa bear hug gently patting her back*

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Task Force 141 men: *sees V covered in blood, laughing with an almost psychotic grin on her face*

Ghost: *looks at V with almost hearts in his eyes* “I'm gonna marry that woman one day.

Soap: *chuckles* “Not if I do it first.”

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V: *is being help captive by Valeria*

Valeria: *is standing inches away from her face* "tell me everything you know."

V: *giggles like a school girl and would be twirling her fingers in her hair, if her hands weren't tied to the chair* "your eyes are really pretty."

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*Task force 141 + V are at their local pub after a mission well done*

Soap + V: *are sitting at the bar slightly intoxicated*

Ghost + Price: *are playing a game of pool, but are keeping an eye on the two at the bar*

Soap: *finishes his drink* “I bet you can’t do a wheelie on your motorbike right now.”

V: *gasps and looked at him offended* “I will have you know sergeant, I bet I can, watch me.”

Gaz: *who is the most sober out of the three* “Guys, I don’t think that is a good idea.”

V: *is already pulling out her keys and is slightly stumbling to the door* “Oh please Kyle, what could go wrong.”

Gaz: *is slightly worried she is going to try and actually do it* “maybe you killing yourself for one.”

*Before she makes it out the front door V’s keys are suddenly pulled out of her hand*

Price: “I'm taking these until you are sober.”

V: *pouts but nods*

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*Both V and König are in his room, V has her legs resting comfortably on his broad shoulders as she brushes her fingers through his hair and König is cleaning his knife from his previous mission*

V: “How is your hair so soft?” *keeps running her fingers through it, pouting slightly*

König: *is thankful she can’t see his face at the moment as it would be the same colour as a tomato* “I don’t know.”

V: *smirks slightly to herself, deciding to tease him slightly and gives his hair a soft tug*

König: *lets out a groan like moan before looking up at her his eyes wide*

V: *is smirking widely before placing a kiss on his forehead* “Cute.”

König:

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Price: *takes the task force 141 men + V out on a camping trip*

Gaz: “how much further.” *is close behind Price*

Price: “not that far.” *steps over a fallen log*

V: *rests her head on Ghost shoulder as she is getting a piggyback, because she sprained her ankle standing in a rabbit hole, not even 20 minutes into the camping trip*

Soap: *decides to tease Ghost* “Do you want to switch there L.T, your looking a little tired.”

Ghost: *scoffs quietly under his mask before tightening his grip on V’s thighs slightly* “I’m fine.”

V: *starting humming a tune* “Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty”

Ghost: “You watched that TV show with Johnny didn’t you.”

V: *smiles wide and nods* “The song is catchy.”

*By the time they got to the campsite, the whole group was sing toss a coin to your witcher*

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❌Please don't repost, translate or copy any of my work without permission.❌

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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Man-sized Part 1/9 Dance For You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC Tags: Explicit content, only for +18 audiences. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics). CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters. Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He was always there, every night for a week, and then disappeared for months.

He was there a few moments before she began her show, and left right after it ended. He never watched the other girls, the ones who she only warmed up for, the ones who actually stripped and were professionals. He never had a lap dance, a private show, nothing. He just ordered one scotch, watched her little pole dance show, and left.

She used to pick someone from the audience, just one single guy who looked more or less harmless. She was performing to that one guy only — it was more comfortable that way. She could concentrate better, and it was easier to try and be seductive. To be in control.

But he wasn't harmless. And she wasn't in control.

But ever since he started to visit the place, she always picked him, and it required no effort whatsoever to appear seductive. She was wet after every show she performed for him.

When she danced for him, she could feel his gaze on her, as goosebumps and flames that licked her skin. He didn't look at her like she was a goddess. Or a whore. He looked at her like she was a woman, like she was his woman, and they were the only ones in that club. She knew she was being nonsensical — after all, he was just another guy who came to watch an exotic dancer.

But she wasn't one of the stars, she didn't even strip.

At some point, she realized she started to do choreographies just for him. She started to check the calendar, count the days, because he was usually gone only a month, maybe one and a half. Then he came back, every night, for a week or so. She could see that he liked it when she did inversions and shoulder mounts on the pole. Perhaps he could tell that it demanded a huge amount of strength. She liked it that someone admired that — her strength and agility, not her outfit, not even the way she arched her back or threw her hair around.

He was looking at her like she was an artist and an athlete.

She could tell he was an athlete too, but what kind, remained a mystery. He was a big fellow, a muscled fellow, and she always tried to catch what it was that he had tattooed on his forearm.

In the darkness, his eyes were like burning coals, even if the rest of him was pale and blonde, almost like a color that was worn and washed out. He was the most tired, exhausted man she had ever seen, especially on the first nights of his week in town. But that didn't take away an ounce of his power. The whole club could've been full of big, dangerous-looking men, and he would've still been the most intriguing person in her eyes.

At some point, the heated gazes and the tension built up to such heights that she walked to the bar after her show. She rarely did that — she was here to dance and that was all. Get some money so she could study. Some of the girls liked to hustle, but she only wanted to go home after her show, which was draining, especially when he wasn't there to watch her.

She knew he was going to leave again soon. This was one of the last nights if she had her calculations right, if not the last. She already knew she would miss him and copy-paste his image to the audience every night until he would finally materialize on one of those chairs again.

She saw he saw her approaching him. He raised his chin, drew his shoulders back, and turned slightly on the chair, angled his body towards her. She slowed her walk as she reached him, enjoying the way he was forced to look up at her from where he was sitting.

"Are you gonna buy me a drink?"

A smile rose to his face, just a tiny one, one that didn't even bare teeth. It was simply an acknowledgment.

He rose from the chair, took his coat, and left.

---

The next time she saw him was only half a month later.

She climbed the pole, and he watched, had that tiny smile playing in the corner of his lips through the whole show. Her choreography had started to resemble something she would've chosen to perform in a pole dance competition rather than in this kind of place. She had ditched the heels, and danced like she was both Tarzan and Jane; flexible, strong as fuck, showing off what she could do with just one stiff vertical object. He didn't look as tired as before, and when she came to the bar like a bitch in heat, sniffing around a strong, virile male, she saw he had two drinks in front of him.

Perhaps she was making a fool of herself… But she walked toward him again, almost walked past him, then got stopped by an outstretched hand that held a Long Island iced tea.

"Took your time," she said as she grabbed the offered drink.

The man didn't answer. Her heart was thumping faster than when she was exerting herself up on that pole, now occupied by the first true star of the evening.

"May I sit?"

He nodded, and she could feel her palms get sweaty. She didn't usually do this kind of stuff... but when she did, it certainly did not go like this. Like she was the one trying to woo the man.

"So, what do you do?"

He still didn't say a word, and she was beginning to think that the man was actually a mute.

"Are you a professional boxer?"

Finally, a chuckle came. Dark, and husky...

"No."

He had a hoarse, gravelly voice, a voice she could listen to for forever if he only would speak.

"MMA?"

A shake of the head. She peeked at the forearm placed on the table between their drinks, and she saw the inked skull, a helmet, some kind of a bomb…

"You in the army?"

"Somethin' like that."

She barely caught the Manchester accent. Shit… This man was just… He was sexy as hell. Probably picked up ladies like berries wherever he went. She took a sip of that Long Island — why would he buy her a drink with so much hard alcohol in it? It was a bit suspicious. She hadn't seen him buy it, hadn't seen if he had put something in it…

"Oh, I get it. You're James Bond."

He was amused, but something in his eyes told her that she had hit a bit too close to home this time.

"What's your name?"

She was starting to get tired of listening to her own voice, tired of prying for information. But her heart rate spiked as she saw how his interest seemed to die immediately after her latest question. He looked away, his eyes swept the club, and she had a feeling that she had just played poker against an actual Bond and lost it all. Had been a good player until she blew it by asking his name.

"Simon." He rose, reached for his coat, and was leaving again…

"Are you gonna ask my name?"

Fuck, stop speaking.

"It was a nice talk, Sarah."

---

He came back the next day. This for sure was the last time she would see him before he vanished again. But it was impossible for her to go to the bar because she suddenly felt like she had to put on a whole other show after the pole dance performance.

A show of playing hard to get.

So after the lights on the stage died, she went straight to the backstage and got herself ready for a walk home.

"Sarah… there's some guy out there asking for you."

But the show worked. She took her stuff, glanced at the mirror to see that everything was like it should be, then went to get her shoes.

"You got a fan?"

She didn't answer, because it was suddenly hard to pay attention to anything else than the guy named Simon, the guy who had watched her dance for months and was now waiting for her at the back door, the one used by the staff.

A fucking spy, indeed..

"Just be careful, ok?"

"Yeah."

As if she needed a reminder that the brooding James Bond looked like death and danger.

"Hi."

He looked her up and down, didn't say hi back, but gave her a few dark red carnations.

"Oh. Thanks."

The fact that a guy like him was giving her flowers at the back door of a strip club shouldn't have affected her the way it did. Should definitely not make her weak in the knees like he was a high school crush asking her out. Well, he was good at what he did, she had to give him that. Perhaps not the most original move, but still… to her, original enough. She had never received flowers from anyone.

"How long are you stayin' here?" His voice was both smooth and rough, and she wondered if he was as stoic off his feet as he was on them.

"Actually, I was just leaving."

"I can walk you home."

Yet again, it shouldn't have been this way. She was accustomed to pulling the strings, calling out the shots. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe with him… It was just that she didn't feel in control. At all.

They had walked only a few blocks when he lit a cigarette. So much for not hooking up with smokers… And somehow that cancer stick managed to make this man even sexier. Manly.

It was stupid — he had all the traits of a modern cowboy, and she should feel repulsed, not hooked.

"So, how's the James Bond thing going?"

"It's tiring."

"Yeah, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Not what I had in mind for you tonight, but still…

He really was a man of few words, but she had a hunch that he wasn't shy. Perhaps Simon only spoke when he had something groundbreaking to say.

"Why do you watch my shows?"

He inhaled the smoke deep and long before giving his answer.

"You move well. Strong 'n' sharp, trained… Could be a fighter."

His compliments made her blush in the cool night air, but she wasn't surprised. He admired and respected toughness, just like she had suspected.

By the time they reached her apartment, she was almost shaking with excitement, and he had filled himself with that smoke.

What the hell… It couldn't taste that bad.

"You wanna come inside?"

The amber eyes looked at her with a flash of amusement instead of hunger.

"Sure."

He suddenly seized her, pinned her against her front door with his body, and kissed her. The flowers dropped to the ground as her hands shot out to clasp his neck; to feel the raw muscle there.

He didn't taste bad at all.

He could've taken her right then and there, in the middle of that sleepy, quiet, dark street, and she wouldn't have said no. Her last time with a man had been everything but mysterious and exciting, months and months ago, and Simon felt like a perfect match right now, a perfect, tall, dark stranger. He was just the kind of man she had always found nothing short of disgusting: an overconfident heartbreaker who couldn't commit.

But this evening was different. Her morals were deep asleep, and she was ovulating, and, well, it was a first time for everything…

He broke the kiss only to pant a question, his second ever, in her mouth.

"You accept credit or cash?"

The slap was way harder than she had meant it to be. Her palm lashed out in pure, hot rage; for having thought that a man like him was nothing but another chauvinistic jerk.

But what he'd implied wasn't even the worst thing. It was the laugh that followed her.

She heard it even after she had shut the door, brushed her teeth; after she climbed into her lonely bed to get some sleep. The tears that emerged were born of shame, not disappointment.

---

He came back after a month.

She knew she shouldn't go down there, to roam among the filth and give him the satisfaction and the mercy.

But those eyes drew her to him like a snare, beckoned her to have another round in the ring with him.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Come on, dove. Don't back away when it just got interesting."

He gave her a full smile this time. She had a feeling that this man didn't smile often, and that flash of pure, bold contentment charmed her right off her feet. Simon wasn't a mystery or a puzzle, he was a whole Rubik's cube.

"I could show you how to do a proper right hook instead of that bitch slap you gave me."

"Wasn't painful enough for you?"

He laughed, darkly, and it went straight between her legs.

"Slept on my right side for a week."

She found herself smiling against her will.

He had thought of her for an entire week when going to bed and was now back for more.

Fuck… The way he just spun her around his finger in mere minutes was despicable. She turned around to leave so that she would win at least one round, but that gruff, dark voice stopped her.

"It was a test. Apologies."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned.

"A test?"

"Yeah. A test." He downed his scotch, and she found herself thinking whether Simon had an addiction to the taste of smoke instead of tobacco per se.

"You got more tests for me?" She tried to appear mocking but only ended up sounding like she was asking for it, asking for more tests and humiliation and… whatever they called it these days. Toxic relationships.

"I was thinking about asking you out."

"We are out."

"Suit yourself."

That fucking accent… It was responsible for this, at least for the most part — that Manchester gruffness was why she was so wet and weak for him. As was the tattoo and his ominous strength, his height and that lone wolf mentality… But why the hell was he harassing her when he could get some pussy even more easily? Why stalk her for months and months and deliberately insult her just when he was about to get laid?

"You know... You're not the first guy who's tried this tactic. And I'm telling you now that it won't work."

The smile turned into a slight smirk. "I doubt you've ever met a guy like me."

Jesus Christ, this man was annoying.

"Wow, you really are a Bond…"

"Dangerous and good-looking?"

"A womanizer who's full of himself."

That fucking laugh. She should leave now when she still had the chance.

But she didn't.

She didn't sit down… But she didn't leave either. He looked at her with those infuriating dark eyes, slightly bloodshot, like he was not only having a rough week at work but a whole rough life as well.

"And you got all the characteristics of a Bond girl."

She didn't take the bait of asking what exactly did he mean by that.

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Bond?"

He licked his lips, narrowed his eyes, and all in all, looked like he was estimating whether she could handle what he was about to tell her.

"I kill people."

Well fuck me…

Ok. Fuck.

"Oh, okay. So you're in Hells Angels or something?"

He smiled and shook his head slowly.

"You're a merc?"

He gave him a vague nod of the head, a shrug of the shoulder, a gesture that said: "Kind of".

"Why would you want to take me on a date?"

Why don't you just say it how it is, that you only want to fuck me?

"'Cause there's something here. You feel it, I feel it."

"You're looking for a relationship in a titty bar?"

He laughed again, and even she had to smile. He matched her boldness, her unapologetic straightforwardness. It couldn't kill her to live a little. Even if it meant tumbling into bed with a cowboy. Even if it meant living a little with a killer.

"You never know," he offered.

"You're a bit too cocky for my taste."

"You've barely even tasted me yet."

Fuck, this man would soon make her drip all over the floor. The tall, dark stranger tilted his head and left her with no choice.

"Shouldn't you at least give it a try before you say no?"

PART 2:

#ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x original character #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod fanfic #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 1 month

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Because I love them and they deserve happiness after everything they've gone through (and everything I put them through lmao)

(@vasyandii my love, this was your influence)

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 3 months

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A first (very insecure) Valentine's

It's Natasha's first Valentine's Day with her girlfriend, and she struggles more with the concept of love and romance than she feared.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!OC (Katya Petrova) (the ''Forgotten Ghost'' series) Wordcount: 3.9k No warnings (except maybe Natasha being adorably helpless at love)

A/N: here to make your Valentine's Day a bit less miserable: our two favorite murder wives :)

The door of Clint's room had never looked more intimidating than on this Monday night, in the empty, dark hallways of SHIELD HQ. Everyone who lived on base had gone to find their beds, exhausted from the busy workday. But Natasha knew her best friend was still awake by the faint light coming from under his door.

Had she known that love was this embarrassing, she would have thought twice before letting Katya back into her life. Simply the thought of what she came down here to ask made her want to scratch her skin off. It was a completely new feeling that she struggled to get a grip on. This whole 'in love' thing really messed with her mind and body.

Every time she heard or read her girlfriend's name, saw her in the hallways or the cafeteria, or simply thought about her in the middle of a boring briefing, her head got fuzzy and the world faded away. All her thoughts would get consumed by Katya until she was mentally on cloud nine and felt warm all over.

It was a very odd development for a woman who never lost focus. Last week, Maria chucked a file at her head when she'd zoned out once again in the middle of their conversation.

It was embarrassing. People teased her about it—especially Fury. If he made one more joke about her keeping her head on her neck and not in the clouds, she was going to cut his off his body. The last thing she needed was other agents taking after him and realizing she had a heart. She still struggled to accept her soft side.

"Are you gonna come in, or do I have to bring a pillow and a blanket out while you think about it?"

Once more, Natasha pulled her thoughts back to the here and now, her cheeks flushing red. She had no other choice but to push the door handle down and sheepishly step into Clint's room, closing the door behind her. What was happening to her? She used to be so confident and unbothered all the time.

Clint didn't look up from his spot on the couch, buried in manilla-colored files and papers, an empty pizza box on the floor. His apartment represented his mind. Cluttered, unorganized, yet somehow cozy. If Laura saw him like this, she'd scold him for his unhealthy lifestyle.

"What relationship question do you have for me today?" He asked casually, scribbling something in a notebook. When Natasha stayed silent, he looked up, chuckling at her expression. "Come on. If this was about work, you would have barged in like you own the place."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, looking at the horrible handwriting in his notebook instead of his face. It was difficult enough to get the words out of her throat. "The fourteenth, how serious do people take it?"

Clint was too taken aback by the question to form an immediate answer, leaving her to cringe in the short silence that followed. The nail of her thumb painfully scratched at the nail bed of her pointer finger.

"You mean Valentine's Day?" Amusement flashed briefly across his eyes, but he was too considerate of her struggle with herself to tease her about the way she worded her question. He closed the folder in his lap, straightening his hunched back. "It really depends. Some people think it's just capitalism bullshit, but most people like showing their loved ones some extra love anyway."

Natasha definitely considered herself a hater of Valentine's Day, of capitalism and money-hungry companies in general. But it wasn't about her, was it? "Do you give Laura something?"

"Flowers. Every year." Clint's face lit up at the mention of his partner. "She says she doesn't want anything, but that's the least I can do. And I try to be home if I can." He tilted his head. "Do you plan on giving Katya something?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know if she cares about stupid holidays," she mumbled, prodding the linoleum underneath her feet with the heel of her boot. Why was a relationship so hard?

"I can feel her out for you?" Clint offered kindly, but she immediately shook her head.

"She'll know." And Katya knowing that she asked Clint for advice was even more embarrassing.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, if she says something, I'll let you know." Natasha sent him a thankful nod, reaching for the door handle behind her, but Clint wasn't done yet. "But between you and me, I think she'll really love any gesture from you."

"Thanks."

She left his room feeling only a tad bit better. Clint's advice wasn't really useful and gave her no insight on what Katya would prefer, but it helped to know that even he participated in the holiday. And that said something, given he wasn't the most romantic person she knew.

As she walked back to her own room, Natasha once again wrecked her brain for everything she knew about Valentine's Day, but she didn't get much further than it being a red and pink color vomit with hearts everywhere. Flowers, cards, chocolates, that she also knew. But her knowledge stopped there.

Every year when the day came around, and the stores started to fill up with the nauseatingly sweet colors, she went out of her way to avoid it. Hating it was easier than digging into her soul to figure out why she hated it so much.

Anyone talked about Valentine's Day? She pulled a grossed-out face. A love song came on the radio? She turned it off.

Now, for the first time in her life, she was forced to face it head on, and she was at an absolute loss.

What did people do on Valentine's Day? What was considered a good gift? What would Katya like to receive?

She really loved the roses Natasha brought her for their first date, but the redhead hadn't given her anything beyond that that could indicate her preferences.

Natasha's face paled, a nauseating feeling of failure rising in her throat as she stopped in her tracks. Should she have gotten her girlfriend more gifts in the past months? Her heart started to race. Had Katya been waiting on something to follow the roses?

Oh god, Natasha knew she wasn't up for this. She was doing this all wrong. Her romantic instincts took much longer to resurface than she thought they would. And even worse, what if they were gone, forced out of her at a young age? What if she would never get that natural feel for romantic things?

She didn't even know if it was customary to get your partner gifts often. Every week, every two weeks, every month? She thought that gifts were only for milestones, and birthdays, and the occasional holiday. Never did she stop to think that she could give Katya presents on random moments, just to be sweet. What dumb, inexperienced idiot didn't know that?

Her thoughts were spiraling.

Twice as fast now, Natasha legged it back to her room, stopping herself from frustratingly slamming the door behind her.

She needed to calm herself down, taking deep breaths to ease the anxiety as she paced back and forth in her room, the one next to the woman ruining her nights. Valentine's Day was supposed to be fun, exciting, an opportunity to spoil her girlfriend as she deserved.

Shaking out her arms, Natasha pondered what she could get Katya, what she should do, determined to make up for her lack of romance. Flowers were nice, but that was too simple and repetitive. Chocolates were too cliché, and Natasha would rather throw up than write something romantic in a card only to have Katya read it in front of her. Maybe someday.

As her feet wore out a path in the floor, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't stop. The fear of doing something wrong, of losing this fragile thing they'd built over the last few months was strong. It was the best thing in her life, and if she lost it, Natasha already knew she wouldn't be able to go on.

So lost in thought—once again—she almost missed the sound of her phone. Absent-mindedly, her hand fumbled for the device in her pocket, expecting a SHIELD message or an email. Instead, her heart skipped a beat at the name displayed on screen.

Katya: Go to sleep.

Katya: I can hear you pacing.

Katya: Do you want to get something off your chest?

Yes. Natasha had several things to get off her chest, in fact. A million. But Katya was also the reason those things were there.

She wanted to crawl into her girlfriend's arms and put it all out there. She wanted to be reassured until all those worries floated out of her head, leaving only silence behind, the kind of peaceful silence only Katya could give her. She wanted to just exist in her embrace for a while.

The yearning caught her so off-guard that it took her a second to answer the texts. It was only lately that she'd started to crave physical affection, and it seemed her body was trying to catch up on all the years she didn't have it.

Natasha: I'm alright. Thank you.

Natasha: Go to sleep yourself.

Katya: Can't. Some idiot is pacing next door and it's keeping me awake.

A genuine smile broke through her frown. She'd been doing that so much more often. Smiling, laughing. Natasha didn't even remember the last time she genuinely laughed at something before Katya came around.

She deserved something on Valentine's Day, Natasha decided. But what?

Grabbing her laptop, she sat down on her bed, opening her internet browser to the search bar. She contemplated the right way to go about this, chewing on her bottom lip in thought as her fingertips hovered over the keyboard.

First, Natasha typed things like, "Valentine's Day gifts woman", and "Original Valentine's Day gifts", but she quickly realized this was not at all what she wanted. The gifts were far from original, and she was pretty sure Katya didn't want a pillow with her face printed on it.

Aggressively deleting it, she tried other keywords, more specific ones tailored to Katya, but the internet didn't seem to understand her. All it showed her was mass-produced and cheaply made junk. The same things a thousand other New Yorkers would be getting from their loved ones.

No, it had to be something more personal. But Natasha wasn't crafty enough to make anything the lists suggested, and getting Katya a knife for Valentine's Day didn't give off the right message.

She got more frustrated by the minute, slamming the keys harder than the agents down at IT would like. Nothing that passed her screen felt right, and she didn't have much time left to find something. She'd already avoided dealing with this for as long as she could.

The taste of iron flooded her tongue, and Natasha realized she'd bitten through her lip in her desperation. She licked the blood off as she aggressively closed all the tabs in her browser. The internet had turned out to be entirely unhelpful once again.

With a quiet groan, she fell back on her bed, staring at the blank ceiling. What did she know about Katya? What did she like? They were still learning each other, getting to know each other again. A few months was nowhere near long enough to know everything about her, especially with all the guards they had up. They were definitely moving twice, if not three times, as slow as the average couple.

But there had to be something. Something Katya mentioned—

Natasha shot up at once, her fingers flying over the keys this time.

On New Year's Day, the cafeteria had chocolate bonbons for the agents that stayed on base. They'd done that the years before, nothing special. But she remembered bumping into Katya in the hallway just outside, the blonde munching on one of them and having a couple more in the palm of her hand. When she had asked if they were any good, Katya had nodded but said they would never compare to her favorite Russian bonbons, filled with vodka liquor.

Natasha had never been so happy with her good memory, thanking the gods for saving Valentine's Day for her. Typing the brand in the search bar, she managed to find a store in the city that had the chocolates. From there on out, it was simple to order a box and have it delivered.

Beyond relieved, Natasha shut her laptop, grinning to herself. It was the perfect gift. Thoughtful, personal, it showed that she paid attention, and it fit the Valentine's Day theme. She couldn't have picked anything better. The only thing left was for her to run to the local florist and pick up some roses.

~~~~

On February 14, Natasha was awoken at 5:30 by the nervous churning of her stomach. It was such an unfamiliar feeling that for a moment, she thought she'd caught an illness. Restless stomach, feeling jittery, cold tremors; all signs of the flu. But then she remembered the date.

Slowly, she got out of bed, trying to ignore her bubbling stomach as she showered and got dressed. It wasn't easy. She would have liked to drag the process out forever, hide in the safe shower, but she needed to catch Katya before she left. No way was she waiting all day to give everything.

Only when she was satisfied with the way she looked did she open her closet again, crouching to pick up the vase she'd hidden there the day before. Last night, she brought it in, the bouquet hidden in a big cardboard box that she carried through HQ. No agent had spared her a glance.

At 6, Natasha no longer allowed herself to hesitate. She gave herself a mental kick under the butt, grabbed the chocolates and flowers, and headed for the door. With one last deep breath, she slowly opened it, sticking her head through the gap to check left and right. The hallway was empty.

She felt like a coward, sneaking around like she was dropping off drugs instead of flowers, but her reputation here within SHIELD is what saved her when she first started out, and what kept people respecting her as someone not to mess with.

Her reputation was precious to her. One day, she'd happily sacrifice it for Katya, but before that could happen, she needed to do a lot of work on herself. Growing and evolving took time.

Swift like a cat, Natasha slipped into the hallway, silently closing her door behind her. Again, she listened for footsteps, but the only thing in her ears was her own heartbeat. Her hands were clammy around the box of chocolates.

The thing she was nervous about wasn't seeing Katya. In fact, she looked forward to seeing her again. That smile that greeted her every morning when she pulled her door open was the thing keeping her alive right now.

No, what she was nervous about was the gesture itself. Her head was filled with only doubts. Had she chosen the right things? Was it too much? Was it too little? Did Katya think Valentine's Day was stupid? Natasha thought she'd like it, because Katya liked New Year's too, and that was also a dumb holiday in her eyes.

Much like last week, Natasha found herself staring at a wooden door. It had a small dent in it, she realized, right at eye-height. Maybe a previous resident had accidentally knocked their forehead into it.

Her heart pounded in her chest when her fist raised to knock, but she did it. Four, quick knocks, her hand retracting like it had touched fire. She shuffled in her spot, adjusting the things in her hands as she listened to Katya's shuffling on the other side. Even if she wanted to flee, it was too late now. Footsteps were swelling on.

The door swung open, a pair of blue eyes and a kind smile replacing the brown wood. Natasha's heart skipped a beat for other reasons now. Her girlfriend looked so beautiful, her hair loose and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep.

"Good mo—" Katya's voice cut off, her gaze shooting to the things in Natasha's hands.

Natasha couldn't find her voice. How could she have forgotten to think about what to say?! Her clothes, her hair, the gifts, when to give it; it had all been given thorough consideration. But not once had she thought about what she would say. Not once!

"For you," she threw out, her voice sounding ten times more calm and collected than her brain was. The smile on her face was supposed to be gentle, but it felt insecure and nervous on her lips.

Katya's beautiful eyes widened in disbelief. "Nat…" She gasped softly, carefully taking the flowers from her hand. Her nose disappeared between the rose petals, taking a whiff of the fresh scent. Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at her girlfriend again. "That's so sweet of you. Thank you so much." Another gasp flew off her lips once she clocked the bonbons. "Oh, my god. Are those the chocolates? I can't believe you remembered."

Natasha could tell how red her cheeks were based on how warm they felt. Receiving compliments had never been her strong suit. But she felt so relieved, too, realizing all her worries were for nothing because Katya would have probably been happy with a simple kiss. She'd made this way too big in her head.

Her head, that seemed to be the main problem in her life.

"Maybe don't eat them all at once. Don't think Fury would appreciate it if you're drunk on the job," she joked, feeling her usual confidence come back to her.

Katya shrugged, carefully opening the packaging. "Don't care. I'm having one right now."

Natasha chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy her gift was received so well. "It's six in the morning."

"I know." Katya grinned. "Come in, I'll make coffee." She pulled Natasha into her apartment by her sleeve, closing the door behind her.

They didn't have time to chat or drink coffee, but for once, Natasha didn't protest. She felt light, like she could handle whatever the world was going to throw at her today. She was proud of herself, too. Taking a romantic leap was terrifying, but it clearly paid off. Her eyes followed Katya closely as she placed the roses on the coffee table, adjusting them so they looked nice.

"I didn't know you'd get me anything. I would have gotten you something too." Katya smiled as she turned around. "I thought you hated Valentine's Day."

"I do." Natasha paused. Did she still? "Kinda."

"Yet you got me something." Katya's eyes took in her appearance. A brown leather jacket that she saved for special occasions, her hair neatly styled. "And you look really put-together too. Put in extra effort to look nice?" She teased lovingly.

Natasha scoffed, looking away to hide the blush on her face. "No." Were her efforts really that obvious? If so, that was so embarrassing.

Katya hummed skeptically, closing the distance until she stood right in front of her. It was impossible to stay stubborn and not look. The pull of her bright blue irises was too strong. Natasha tentatively glanced their way, relaxing at the gentleness in them.

"Well, either way, thank you. I really appreciate it," Katya said honestly, smiling softly. Natasha offered her a smile back, the closeness making it feel like she had to whisper.

"You're welcome."

The redhead's breath hitched in her throat when a pair of warm, rough hands cupped her cheeks. She barely had time to process before Katya stepped even closer and pressed a kiss to her lips. More than a couple dozen times they'd kissed, but it never failed to make her body react like the first time.

Before she could move her hands to hold Katya's waist, the woman had stepped back, her cheeks a light pink as well. "Consider that my gift." She teased.

"It'll do," Natasha chuckled breathily.

It was already a better Valentine's Day than all her previous ones combined.

"Did you really expect nothing?" She asked after a moment, watching Katya make coffee in the small kitchen. It was only then that she realized her girlfriend wasn't fully dressed yet. Her cozy, fluffy cardigan wasn't work-appropriate and hung loosely over her tank top.

"I suspected something when Clint suddenly asked me about Valentine's Day last week," Katya said, looking over her shoulder as she poured some milk in her coffee cup. "You know that look in his eyes that he gets when he's trying to be nonchalant?" She chuckled.

Anger flashed through Natasha's body. "I told him not to ask," she grumbled through clenched teeth, turning her head away. Clint was an incredibly kind, selfless guy, but he was also so annoyingly stupid sometimes.

One thing. She asked him one thing, and he couldn't keep his trap shut.

A smug grin overtook Katya's features. "So you did go to him for advice? I was just fishing."

Natasha's head snapped back to her girlfriend. Her glare did nothing but make her smirk wider, and Natasha couldn't even be mad, because she walked right into that one herself, didn't she? "Don't ever mention it again," she threatened.

Katya laughed softly, handing her her cup of black coffee. "Do you want to go out for breakfast? If you're not busy."

Natasha was, in fact, busy. But her meeting at seven also included Maria, and she could give her the details later. It wasn't any more important than spending Valentine's Day morning with her partner. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to."

Katya's smile widened. "Give me a minute to finish getting dressed."

Pressing her coffee cup into Natasha's empty hand, she grabbed something from her dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. As the water in the sink ran, Natasha had the urge to drink Katya's coffee just to get her back for teasing her so much, but before she could actually put the cup to her lips, the blonde was back.

Natasha nearly choked on her drink. "What are you wearing?"

Black clothing was the way to go in SHIELD. Black, dark blue, navy, the occasional dark red or green if anyone felt adventurous, but it always stayed near the darkest side of color shades. What Katya wore right now, a cherry red turtleneck, was very outside of the clothing norms. Natasha had never seen her wear anything other than black.

"What? You don't like it?" Katya asked, looking down at herself unsurely.

"It's… red." Natasha blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the sight in front of her. "Very red."

"Yeah. But do you like it?"

To her own surprise, the answer was yes. Katya had never looked so… soft. "It's alright." So alright, in fact, that she felt slightly disappointed when she put her go-to leather jacket over it.

"Thought I'd go with the theme." Katya smiled, chugging her coffee before grabbing her wallet and keys.

They filed out of her room, the hallway still empty and quiet as most agents were only now starting to wake up, snoozing their alarms for five minutes more sleep. Natasha should be heading right to prepare for her meeting, but instead she followed Katya to the left, to the elevator heading for the underground garage.

It didn't make her any less of a good employee. It made her more human.

And as she pressed the elevator button and felt Katya's hand slip into her own, she knew she was going to allow her to hold it a little bit longer today.

#katandnat #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff fluff #valentine's day #natasha romanoff x katya petrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff x oc #natasha romanoff x original female character

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maryangelex · 9 months

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To Be Alone With You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Original Character

A/N: Hello!! This is my first time writing fanfiction ever and I'm so obsessed with Ghost I thought I'd give it a shot. This is written with an OC in mind, but I'm writing it with nothing descriptive so it can be read as reader-insert, only mentions callsign "Angel" and some character background for plot purposes. Unless y’all would like to read about my OC! Anyways, enjoy, and let me know what ya think!!!!

Summary: A new member gets added to task force 141, and Ghost can’t keep himself together for long.

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Third-person POV, Smut, p in v sex (fantasy), masturbation, strong language, horny ass pining, descriptive language, combat injury, blood, military inaccuracy, game inaccuracy, OOC Ghost (?), not proofread, first fic

The 141 Task Force was a well-established team, led by Captain Price, Lieutenant "Ghost" Riley, and Sergeants "Soap" MacTavish and "Gaz" Garrick. As a team, they dove head-first into danger, every risk necessary to be taken, and they did a damn fine job every time. Regardless, Laswell thought this new mission in Las Almas called for new additions to the force.

"She goes by 'Angel'", Laswell states, sliding a file across the table to Price.

"Right," he responds, opening the manila folder with extensive records and information on the new member. "I can see why with a face like that. Looks like a sweetheart," he scoffed.

"She was top of her class in the Naval Academy and a Navy SEAL, one of the handful of women on the job," she started, "She's just as skilled as your boys Garrick and MacTavish, maybe better. She's taken down guys the size of your Lieutenant"

Laswell would've only noticed someone with actual talent, and Price knew this, he trusted her well enough to know she was a no-bullshit kind of woman. And given the information in the file in his hands, Angel sure was an ironic callsign.

"I trust you, Kate, so I know this dove's not gonna disappoint", he said glancing up at Laswell.

A lot of hope and expectations laid on her shoulders on Price’s behalf. Ghost had been notified about the new member upon his arrival with Soap in Las Almas. The two of them emerged from the evac and touched down on their new base. Friendly introductions were made between their other two new members for their time being in Las Almas, Rudy and Alejandro; then she came along, introduced by Price to the task force.

Soap looked like a kid on Christmas morning, fawning over her all giddy and jovial. It was like he’d never seen a girl before, she thought. He made multiple charming and flirtatious remarks at their first introduction, no shame in that one that’s for sure. But she liked the amicable dialogue, she knew they’d get along with him bringing some light to being in the suck.

Meanwhile there was Ghost, stoic and rigid. He shook her hand and gave her a cold yet approving handshake and introduced himself. Of course she already knew all about him, or at least what the gossip and folktales about him said he was; a direct, quiet, intimidating bloke that could kill with a glare and had an arsenal of skills, absolute killing machine with only his whit and sick dry humor saving him from being nonhuman. All she did was gawk at all 6’4 feet of him and get sucked into his expressive yet mysterious eyes. She’d never been so starstruck by a man before yet she kept her composure in front of him. Yet her mind couldn’t help but wander like a high school girl catching the first glimpse of her crush.

Ghost was a man of few words in general, but especially with people he’d just met or started working with. He kept it professional and distant, mainly because he never knew how long they’d last in a mission, so he kept his expectations low for everyone. Angel was an exception though, she piqued his interest. He had read her file handed over to him by Price prior to meeting her, and they both shared the same interest in her and her skills on the field: sharp sniper, close quarter combat expert, trained medic, the list went on with what she was capable of. The difference was how much more intensely Ghost had looked at her file. He would never admit it, but in reality he was captivated. In a professional level of course, nothing else.

Missions together went smoothly. She proved her skills and more time and time again. She made a good pair with Soap since they were out to work together the most often. Same as her with Gaz, they were a match made in heaven when it came to recon and agility missions. The three of them were insufferable, though, pestering and bickering with each other like triplets both in the field and off duty. Ghost was being driven mad, he already had enough with MacTavish annoying him through the radio, now he had to deal with Angel adding fuel to the fire. She did make him smile, though, sometimes even made him hold back laughs but God forbid anyone in the team knew he was a bit keen on her. Thank God for his mask hiding that away from everyone.

The team was cohesive with her as a new member for the months to come. Ghost didn’t think much of anything, not much of her besides quiet admiration and camaraderie, especially since she mainly worked with Soap. No big deal.

Except, after a mission gone awry and things getting sticky making the team struggle to get out alive, and Price having to chew out Angel and Soap for being careless, he decided it was best to change partnerships. Now, Soap was assigned to work with Price, and Angel with the Lieutenant, to teach her a thing or two and keep both of them in check under better supervision.

This is when shit hit the fan for Ghost, when he first stepped into the murky waters that were his feelings, the ones he didn’t even know he had.

Working with Angel was odd to him. He expected for it to be like how he worked with Soap, coordinated with the occasional friendly and comical banter they shared over radio. And it was like that with Angel in the beginning, the two made an amazing pair given their similarities in skill, traits, and resourcefulness.

It was too good of a match, though. Things were starting to get heavy for Ghost. He was starting to care too much about her, to get too protective of her in the field, the distance was getting shorter between them each mission.

On a supposedly easy intel mission, shit had gotten ugly really fast and really badly for them.

“Fuck, L.T.,” she panted, the two of them hiding behind a column of the building they were trapped in, getting shot at from all directions. “I’m hit, get my med pack will ya?”

“Fuckin’ hell, kid, you’re the medic, not me” he growled, rummaging through her gear for the first aid kit.

“No worries L.T. it’s not even that bad” she said with a breathy chuckle. The wound was oozing and spurting blood from her abdomen, her hand pressed against it keeping the pressure as best she could. She looked up at Ghost, who was fumbling with the kit finding a bandage to replace her hand on the wound with. He returned the gaze but his was colder and reprimanding, as if saying this is not the time to fuck around.

He pressed his much larger hand on her abdomen and although not visible he was concerned, a bit scared even. What the fuck was this? He’s never been this scared about a partner. He’s lost enough to not care as much anymore, to be used to it by now. So why was he so breathless and shaken by this girl’s injury?

“I’ll guide you, Ghost. The bullet went through. It looks real ugly with all this gushing but it hit my flank. See? Nothin’ important got hit” she said to him reassuringly, lifting herself up from the floor and lightly twisting to show him the hole the bullet went through on the right side of her waist. The two meet their gaze, his softened by her reassurance.

The two made it out of the building and back to the evac. Angel had guided Simon to tend to the wound and patch her up, and in return he basically carried her out of there.

That night back in HQ had Simon stressing, not because of the mission, not because of Angel’s injury, but because he was so god damn confused about what was clouding his mind so much. This new feeling he had. He felt restless and dazed by it. He felt like he failed that mission entirely by allowing Angel to get hurt, a new instinct to protect awoke in him. That night he couldn’t sleep, no amount of cigarettes out the window of his dorm calmed him down or made him make sense of these newfound feelings and fears.

From then on he was her shadow, and their distance became shorter as a result. Cheeky remarks, overly friendly banter sometimes escalating to flirty insults and jokes. Then came the light touches between the two, accidental of course. And his symptoms got worse each day.

His sleepless nights went from worries and memories of the battlefield to that of what a teenage boy would worry about.

He wanted her, and it was so hard for him to admit that to himself. He wanted her closer to him, he wanted the light touches between the two to become more comfortable, heavier, needier. He wanted her carnally. He thought about the times she was paired up with Johnny, how the two of them clicked and it sent him into a spiral. What if she laid awake at night the same way as him, but thinking about Soap? Or Gaz? Hell, even Price? Or none at all, and he was just horny and pining for her like a creep.

He thought of the softness of her skin when they touched, when she tended to his wounds how feathery her fingers felt in comparison to his calloused ones or the cold ones of any other nurse back at the base. How he hair swung in a braid when he was watching her back during missions. How she smelled when she was close to him, she smelled womanly with the salty tinge of her sweat from busting her ass on the field. It made him feral to think of her at the hands of another man, but he felt so stupid for it because it was the most plausible thing to happen, more so than for her to reciprocate his feelings, or at least for her to let him fuck her, at least once to get it out of his system.

Simon’s new nightly routine was of pacing around HQ finding something to busy himself with like paperwork or a smoke outside. He made his way back to his dorm after enough busywork and attempts to tire himself out. When he went to open the door to his room, she was there, leaning against the arch, and standing there as if waiting for him, with a sly smile plastered on her face.

“Can’t sleep?” She questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing”, he said, standing parallel to her.

She moved from the door as if inviting him to open it, which he complied with.

“Maybe we can help tire each other out”

Next thing he knows she’s sitting naked on his bed, baring herself to him. He’s standing at the foot of the bed looking down at her, admiring the sight in front of him. She’s putting on a show for him, caressing her breasts, down to her stomach and the space between her legs.

“Open your legs, sweetheart,” he says huskily “I know you want me to see.”

She spreads her knees, exposing her soaked cunt that she tenderly and slowly strokes. He’s salivating at the sight, as she slides her fingers through her folds, teasing herself, with her other hand massing her breast, taking a nipple between her index and middle finger. He watches her moan and throw her head back as she circles her clit, slowly, applying the right amount of pressure that sets her body alight.

She goes at it for some time before dipping her fingers in her hole, saturating them in her slick before reaching out to his unmasked mouth which he takes in with a low hum at the taste of it.

Except none of that actually happened, which is proven by Simon waking up alone in the darkness of his room in a cold sweat. He’s in pure terror, his face hot and red under his mask. Fuck, did he just dream that? He’s even more mortified by the tent his rock hard dick is pitching under his sheets.

Fuck, this can’t be fucking happening.

He gets up from his bed immediately, beelining for his en-suite. There’s no fucking way he’s caving into dreams like that, he feels like that’s disrespectful to his teammate, like his body’s betraying him. He removes his mask, turns on the cold shower and steps in, ice cold water hitting his scalding skin. His head sinks between his shoulders, hands placed against the wall in front of him as he lets the water hit from above, as he looks down at his erection.

It’s not helping, it’s not going down.

All he thinks about is the image of Angel sat pretty and baring herself to him in his bed. Of her hands traveling over her body. He brings two fingers to his lips, imagining hers, imagining how sweet she must taste. He closes his eyes and he’s taken back to his dream.

Fuckkk, he thinks. Now it’s not just his body that’s betraying him it’s his whole damn self, he’s giving in completely as he wonders what’s next. As he wonders what would happen if he took those dainty tender hands with those pretty painted nails and wrapped them around his thick throbbing cock. What would happen if he let her stroke him slowly with a mix of her slick and his spit.

Simon brings his own hand in the shower down to his cock and he strokes himself with that scenario playing in his mind behind his closed eyelids. He relishes in the feeling of his hand stroking himself, slowly at first like he pictures Angel would, then increasing the speed.

He thinks about what it would be like to have her mouth on it instead. Oh her full juicy lips, red and smooth, how they’d stretch around his girth, inching down from tip to base.

“That’s it, pretty girl”, he whispers with his eyes still shut and his hand still relieving his cock in the shower.

He thinks about her gagging on his length as he’s encouraging her to take more and more in until the hilt, until it’s encapsulated by her throat. He squeezes his dick thinking about it as he strokes it some more, picturing her bobbing her head at the same rhythm and speed as he’s using on himself. He’d put his hand on that braid she’s always got and grasp it firmly as he commands her head and dictates how deep and fast she can suck him off.

He’s a mess in the shower, moaning lowly and groaning to himself. He lets his head rest on his forearm against the wall, the water running down his back and his hand squeezing and pulling at his cock. His mind wanders some more and now he’s picturing his spit-covered cock lining himself with her pussy, slowly spreading her open, loosening up the tightness of it, molding her to his length. She’d make the cutest noises, they’d drive him insane. Her moans and mewls shooting straight to his cock, making him twitch inside of her. She’d feel so warm, wrapping his dick in her sopping cavern, making him feel whole like she’s a missing piece to his puzzle.

Simon’s stroking himself faster now, panting under the water, cupping his balls with his other hand as he imagines pounding into Angel, imagines the sounds he can pull from her and thinking of the sight of her splayed out under him as his dick is buried deep inside of her, then pulled out and rammed back in, keeping up the speed of his hand.

He’s at it for a few moments more, moving his hips and thrusting himself into his own hands as if he was fucking her. Until he starts to feel that burning pressure at the pit of his stomach, as his balls feel tighter with his release about to happen. And then he snaps. White hot ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, dripping into his hands and out onto the tile of the shower, flowing down the drain. He’s gasping and groaning, cursing at himself as his thighs vibrate from his orgasm. His mind a haze but fuck, he feels good. Like a moment of catharsis.

Now the struggle is gonna be looking at Angel without thinking of his late night activities. Now he’s given into his desires and carries more of the burden of wanting her without being able to have her.

A/N: WELP… Please leave some thoughts if you got this far, thanks for reading <3 divider credit to @cafekitsune

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emmster · 1 month

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Some self indulgent Ghost x YN/OC doodles because I am cringe

#she’s French Canadian btw #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2 #my art #digital art #art of tumblr #procreate #artists of tumblr #procreate art #art on tumblr #original character

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 18 days

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😌😌

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thebutterflyofthemojave · 7 days

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Diana and her Big Dada HC

(moodboard made by me)

Ghost in the Fallout AU with baby Diana. The stress about to stay away for weeks, the return at home where Laswell and her wife takes care of her after the death of his wife after the birth(its the wasteland unfortunately).

She is the only thing good in that world of death and pain, I imagine her first word “Dada”. Because she loves her big Dada so much.

When she says the first word he was returned after a request to assassinate some Gunners in a nearby factory, all covered in blood and sand, him tired, and sees his daughter of one year who tries to walk helped by Kate's wife and who keeps saying "Dada”

His eyes full of tears, the constant feeling of guilt in having to raise his little tangerine in such a world that are dissipated in that sweet "Dada" while he promised himself "to protect you little tangerine from this disgusting world”

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luciferscowgirl · 10 days

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Okay, let’s make this a ✨masterlist✨

My most recent/ongoing work:

Never to Return - Catholic virgin fem OC x Cardinal Copia (let’s call it a slowburn maybe?) // most recent chapter here

(If you want to be included in a tag list concerning this ongoing series, hmu!)

Dom Cardinal Copia:

In the name of Distraction - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he is a brat tamer in this.)

La piccola morte - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he helps you deal with a bad dream in his own ways.)

You and Me and the Devil makes Three - 2nd person fem POV x fem oc x Cardinal Copia (he likes to watch you watch him. A threesome.)

“This might’ve been a little bit too much” - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (Copia is not amused and he’s going to punish you for it.)

“Mangiamo!” - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he’s a bit switchy in this, but that’s your fault.)

One Morning with Cardinal Copia - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (he’s a soft dom in this, and he woke up horny.)

Lay all your Love on me - 1st person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (flash fic. He’s a soft dom and makes sure to kiss you properly before he goes all the way)

Sub Cardinal Copia:

An ice-capped Fire - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (Copia is a whiny, pleading little whore in this short one shot.)

Fics with more than one chapter:

If I could turn back the Time… - 2nd person fem POV x Cardinal Copia (my first fic ever. Never intended to write more than one part. I add to them whenever I see fit. // Reader basically meets her old flame after ten years of not having been able to see him.)

Until you’re Mine - 2nd person fem POV x Dracopia ! (Reader goes on an adventure to meet the Cun-, the Count and it’s oddly Bram Stoker’s Dracula coded.)

Never to Return - 3rd person catholic virgin OC POV x Cardinal Copia (Alice is a catholic woman who lives a pious life, well, does she really? Because one errant night, she meets a mysterious, satanic man who’s gonna help her with exploring new shores…)

My Wattpad account:

I’m slowly but surely transferring all my fics from Wattpad to AO3 so there might still me some which I haven’t uploaded on AO3 yet, like this one for example.

Copia is quite the violent dom in there.

Thank you all for reading my silly little stories! 💓💓💓

Here’s a photo of the man I am definitely not obsessed with 🤥:

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yawnderu · 2 months

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I do think Simon would respect a reader who would try her best with him (maybe like her sister in law did with his brother).

He would respect her... Not love her that's the difference

Yeah I'm an angsty soul that likes emotionally unable simon 😔😔

Ahhhh :((( ngl I was tearing up while thinking about this fhjbehbfj

As much as I love a Simon who was born for soul-crushing devotion, I can also see him as someone easily emotionally unavailable after all the trauma. He sees you trying your best to be patient and loving with him, maybe even going as far as to allow himself a little moment of weakness and end up in your bed more than once— yet not a single trace of him is there the moment you wake up, only the faint scent of his shampoo in your pillow, something you hold onto when he's deployed.

Simon doesn't hate you. No, far from it, he fully respects you and the way you're doing rotten work to try and get him to love you back despite all the warnings he gave you. Maybe there's even a little part of him that wants to love you back, a part that gets ripped out of his body and stomped out the moment he remembers what happens to the ones he loves. The moment he realizes that his job will only end up with one of you dead, and if tearing your soul apart with fake hope means that you'll be the one living, he'll gladly take a bullet to the head for you.

They say everything has cracks for light to break in, yet his heart has been sealed away over 20 years ago, long before he even met you. Oh, how he secretly longs about the idea of you meeting Simon rather than getting your life ruined by loving Ghost.

#stray answers #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #cod original character #character analysis #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley

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melit0n · 7 days

Text

Delicate Is The Flesh

- Chapters -> Prologue

- Chapters will be updated as they are posted.

- Obsessive! Demon OC/Reader

- Word Count: 2.7k

- Warnings for chp: None

- Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55444003/chapters/140685856

Like the early morning star, your phone sends a bright, artificial light flooding throughout your darkened room. With each notification, it buzzes and hums against the wood of your nightstand, echoing against your four walls like a swarm of bees in the otherwise quiet room.

Being a light sleeper, something you picked up from years of waking up early to your parent's alarm to try and get a glimpse of their faces before 5pm, you’re easily awoken by the constant stream of messages pouring light into the tranquil, warm room.

Under the covers, you lie comfortably and in a drowsy state of drifting in and out of the dream world while the consistent noise pulls you like ocean currents back to the reality of your dim room. Your body begs for more sleep, but your mind whines at you to check your phone; this amount of notifications at what has to be the middle of the night must mean something important is happening, right? But you’re so warm…surely this can wait ‘till the morning when you’ve had a little bit more sleep?

To your sleep-deprived delight, the notifications seem to cease, and your room returns to its darkened state. Happily, you turn over, away from your phone, and cosy yourself further under the covers. A small, pleased grin graces your face as you slowly drift back into the warm, inky hold of sleep.

Bzz...bzz...bzz

But, much to your chagrin, the notifications keep on coming.

“Shut up…” is mumbled into your now warm pillow, your eyes snapping open to stare blearily at your ceiling before rubbing your face and closing them again.

Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…bzz bzz

Each damning notification wakes you up further and you become uncomfortably aware of how warm you are. Of the sweat on your face and trickling down your back. Your muscles groan and ache with the odd, uncomfortable position you’ve found yourself in as well; legs and arms twisted in on yourself like a pretzel.

“Okay! Okay…fine, I’m up…” Groaning loudly, you unfurl yourself and grasp fruitlessly at the air next to your bed stand, before accepting your fate and finally opening your eyes and finding your phone. A slew of notifications, all from a very familiar group chat named ‘The Loggers’ meet your strained eyes.

With a grimace, you recoil at the bright light of your screen before turning down the brightness and squinting at the messages that your half-awake brain can barely compute. Quickly skim-reading the conversation you were not yet privy to, you find your friends, well, two of them, fangirling over some abandoned site that they had ‘found’. By found, they mean there are multiple extensive articles written about it, a surprising abundance of YouTube videos and at least 4 threads of it on Reddit, all of which you can’t be bothered to read through at this time. You wouldn’t remember jackshit in the morning anyways.

As you’re about to put your phone back down on your nightstand and attempt to go back and get your dearly needed sleep, a message directly addresses you:

Jeanne: @Y/N read this:

It’s followed by a long link which, after clicking on it with a tired sigh, you’re half sure may or may not be a virus from the number of pop-up ads crammed into the site. You shuffle yourself further upright on your bed, back cracking with the movement. Carefully, you eye the small words in the article, reading:

On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit almost mummified after being deserted for so many years.

Neuhaven, a rebuilt mining town founded in the 1950s, sits unoccupied after a factory break out of, at the time, unknown, harmful toxins released into the air that made it uninhabitable for human and animal life alike on the 11th of June, 1972. The toxins caused irreparable damage to the human respiratory system, inducing almost plague-like symptoms of coughing up blood, extreme drowsiness, blueish colouring on the tips of fingers as well as auditory and visual hallucinations…

Below the paragraph lies a series of gory photographs; blackened lungs, missing fingers and bedridden children. However, one of the more disturbing photos that catches your eye is of multiple people with missing eyelids staring into the camera, or rather, staring right past it. Even through the pixels of your phone, you can see the utter terror contained inside their pupils.

You frown, almost clicking out of the article before your eyes glimpse the next paragraph.

…Unfortunately, the harmful chemical breakout was not noted to citizens of the town at the time. The full extent of the damage done only became fully clear when many of the aforementioned citizens became chronically ill; exhibiting signs of mental hysteria. Continuous hallucinations, paired with a debilitating illness no one seemed to be able to figure out the cause of, led many of the people of the God-fearing town to believe that this plague was a punishment from The Almighty Judge Himself. Or, perhaps, something more malevolent.

Well, your friends always had an interest in the morbid and macabre, didn’t they? All of you grew up inhaling online creepypastas, pixelated ARGs and horrifying LiveLeak videos like it was Oxygen, so, it was safe to say all of you were desensitised.

At least, to an extent.

Still, with the images of missing eyelids burned into your mind, which something inside of you told you were self-made, had you questioning why exactly your friends were so interested? Even from the few paragraphs you read, something put you off of this place.

It seemed less of an abandoned city and more of a mass graveyard.

Growing unnerved by the perturbing history of the town, you scrolled down further in hopes of skipping any more grisly photos.

After the official closing of the city in late June of the same year, the old town quickly became a hotspot for violent crime and drug dealings.

Oh. Brilliant.

Bodies of missing persons from across the country found their way down the river that flows between Rosholt and Neuhaven, almost like souls travelling down the river Styx, along with what morticians noted as ‘perfectly preserved’ corpses appearing and disappearing in the series of apartment blocks that Neuhaven houses and is, to this date, now most famous for.

Okay. Not worrying or terrifying at all.

However, across recent years, it has become a hub for urban explorers and true crime junkies alike. As well as this, the old town has begun to gain traction across social media due to its supposed ghost sightings.

At the word ‘ghost’, you perk up a bit, shifting upright in your bed. The covers rustle loudly in the light silence of your room.

Popular Urban Exploration videos turn into ghost-hunting videos that garner thousands of views. Despite this, many people believe that the ‘ghost’ sightings are simply hallucinations from possible leftover chemicals in the air (although a study of the area’s air by the state in worries of this shows no such thing) and the few that are caught on video are a result of electromagnetic waves coming from the radiation plant that provides power to Rosholt causing issues with any recording gear. Or, quite simply, many videos are believed to be edited. Nonetheless, they still make their rounds on social media.

Even with its recent boom of popularity, the city lies cornered off most months due to continued police investigation over drug dealing and by order of the local council due to plans to further expand Rosholt and demolish Neuhaven. Nevertheless, people still find a way to get in…

Another notification hangs over the top of your phone screen, which you tap on, only to see one of your friends sending links to YouTube videos, all with similar thumbnails of ‘Ghost caught on camera!’ or ‘Dead body found!’.

For the sake of your sanity, you go against watching any of them.

Jeanne: thoughts @Y/N @Helen? We're on break and we need something to do

Helen: Looks fun but the drug dealing, dead bodies and the whole being patrolled by the local council and police is a bit of a no-go for me. Has Noah already said yes?

Noah: Yeahh, it looks interesting from what I’ve seen, it isn’t every day you get the chance to see an abandoned city anyways. Plus, I’d rather Jeanne didn’t go alone and get done in by cops again lmaoo

Jeanne: Id be just fine on myself asshat <3

Jeanne sends a quick-fire response to Noah's 'insult' before attempting to convince Helen again.

Jeanne: I get u but when are we ever gonna be able to explore a whole abandoned city? Even if we only do certain buildings per night?

Helen: There’s so many other abandoned towns that aren’t patrolled by half a city’s police force. Plus, didn’t one of the other articles say that that town was radiated from a leak at the power plant in the big city as well? Getting radiated so I can’t go out in the sun ever again is putting me off a bit.

A video, a screen-recorded one instead of a link, is then sent over of some dude wandering around with what looks like a very damaged Geiger counter as he roams what you guess to be the shell of the city. Not a single bit of what would be considered dangerous radiation is picked up; at least nothing over the typical 20 counts per minute.

Noah: That fix your worries? Lololol

Helen: It’s still picking up something?

Noah: I know I help you out with Science sometimes but were you MIA when we did radiation or something? That’s just natural radiation, same amount you probably give off

Helen: Is that meant to be an insult? Lol.

Noah: No?? Of course not

Jeanne: @Y/N, what do u think? Stop looming over the convo Batman I can see ure online

Shit. You completely forgot they could see that.

For a couple of minutes, you go back and forth, trying to type a digestible response that doesn’t look like you just keyboard smashed, and, y’know, also contemplating if you really do want to go see an abandoned city and run the risk of seeing a corpse. Or, even worse, get tied up in watching someone become one.

You: Looks cool but the dead body thing definitely isn’t. Plus, if people are talking about there still being chemicals in the air, I’d rather not run the risk of getting whatever the fuck those people back in the 70s got

Helen: Thank you.

Jeanne: u two are such pussies! U know how articles like that like to blow stuff out of proportion, and anyways that stuff with all the dead bodies was ages ago, nothings happened for years

You frown at the response. Dead bodies are still dead bodies, even if they did appear years ago.

You: I’m still not too on board with walking around in what is basically a massive grave site

Noah: It’s only an hour and a half’s road trip away, closer than anything like Pripyat or Pentedattilo, and they said they plan to demolish it soon as well

Another lengthy article you don’t bother to click on is sent with the cut-off title of ‘Rosholt’s expansion plans for…’

Jeanne: by the time our break has ended that shit might be gone and we’d never be able to explore it. And its so fucking close to us as well!! Would just be a shame if we didnt get to see it

A few seconds of silence permeate the groupchat before Helen speaks yet again.

Helen: I still don’t know about this.

You take a moment to think it over, staring at the wall opposite you in bleary contemplation. Admittedly, your plans for the break had consisted of sleeping, bingeing films, rotting in bed and maybe going out to see a film or going shopping if one of your friends tried hard enough to convince you.

Your group had been going urban exploring ever since you can remember. You were half sure it was only because it was one of the few meetups you’d almost always easily agree to, but, either way, it was your Thing, so to speak. Abandoned malls, old diners, broken down farmhouses, you name it, your group had done it.

However, an abandoned city was new. Even with the threat of dead bodies and chemical poisoning, you were quite frankly intrigued. Maybe your friends would even let you off having to go somewhere with them for the rest of the break if you did this with them.

Don’t get it wrong, you don’t hate your friends, not in the slightest; there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep them for so many years if you did. Quite simply, you just aren’t one for extensive social interaction, especially when it means leaving the comfort of your apartment. Your friend Jeanne called you a homebody for it, Noah called you a ‘shut in with unaddressed social interaction issues’, which, way to hit you in the gut, and your other friend, Helen, simply called you reserved.

So, maybe, going here could get them off your back for a bit.

You: What date were you thinking?

Jeanne: I was thinking tomorrow? That sound good for everyone?

Another message is quickly sent.

Jeanne: I mean later today lmao, didnt realise it was that late, everyone good w/ that?

Noah: Good 4 me

Jeanne: nice! Helen?

Helen: I think I’ll be sitting this one out.

Jeanne: come onnnnn we gotta do it with the whole group! Won’t be the same without uuu

A few seconds pass with radio silence from Helen, and you watch with an odd amount of anticipation as the words ‘Helen is typing…’ disappear and reappear on your screen.

Helen: Fine.

Jeanne: WOOOOO

Noah: YESSSS

Smiling widely at your friend's reactions, and typing a response of your own, you put your focus back on the date. Tomorrow. You glance over at your alarm clock; 2:49am. Tomorrow as in...today. Tomorrow as in today where you’re currently getting a very minimal amount of sleep. Like a balloon, you feel your whole body deflate at the thought of having to spend part of your afternoon, and most likely all of your evening, in this abandoned city while running on a few hours of sleep....with one of the most energetic extroverts you've ever met; Jeanne.

You: Can we do it any other day? How about next week?

Noah: My brother and I are going on holiday with our parents after the end of this week for the next two weeks :’((

Helen: I’ve got to go back and forth between school for final coursework, remember? I don’t know when I’ll be completely free other than tomorrow and the day after that.

Jeanne: so its set, tomorrow yeah? That good with everyone?

Helen: Yes.

Noah: Yup

Sighing dramatically, you type out your answer.

You: Okay :D

A few more messages are sent through which you don’t bother to read through. You glance yet again at your clock and groan, praying that they don’t decide they want to go at the crack of dawn. Unlike you, your friends were all morning people if anything. Noah was a night owl who could run on three hours of sleep, down a shot of caffeine, wake up at 5:30 and spend the rest of his day fine. Helen naturally woke up early, body still half stuck in a different time zone, and Jeanne liked having every minute of sunlight that she possibly could.

You, on the other hand, suffered through never having enough sleep, body and mind consistently refusing to let go of the past and sending you through reams of vivid nightmares that seemed to have haunted you ever since you were a kid.

Plus, you certainly didn’t have the money for a therapist to prescribe you melatonin, or any other sleeping drug for that matter, let alone the prescription itself.

With a frown of disdain and yet another glance at your alarm clock, you gently turn your phone onto silent and place it back to charge on your nightstand.

Plans can wait; you’re too damn tired for this shit. Two weeks off from school promised you at least a better chance at getting a full eight hours of sleep, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you wrap yourself back into a warm blanket burrito, already knowing you’ll regret how warm and sweaty you’ll be by the morning, and slowly but surely fall back into the warm arms of sleep. Hopefully, with no nightmares.

Well, at least you’ve actually got plans for Winter break now. And hey, what could go wrong, right?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #oc x reader #yan!oc x reader #obsessive behavior #obsessive love #original characters #original writing #demons #ghosts #light angst #psychological horror #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #fanfic #mel's musings

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