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l0v3tast3 · 1 year

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141 men finding out military!reader is only 19 after they break down from being overwhelmed and overworked??

✎ this idea bounces around my head a lot actually and now i have a reason to write it down finally :) i wasn't sure if you wanted them altogether or separately so i did it separately because it's easier lol. i kept it platonic and sfw!

✎ tags : gender neutral!reader, reader has a panic attack, descriptions of violence/injury/death, swearing, hurt to comfort, all platonic relationships, only half proofread

you're barging into the safehouse where he had said to rendezvous, gasping for air that your closed throat won't let through. the rifle held in your dominant hand is dropped as soon as the door is shut behind you, and you're clawing at the straps of your helmet and chest armor to get them off because it's too tight and it's too much and you can't breathe.

this wasn't your first mission. it wasn't even the bloodiest one you'd been on thus far. you could handle the gore and the death and the pure misery of the victims of these situations, because at the end of the day, you were helping them, right?

unless you were too late.

the family had been huddled in a corner, two children laying underneath their parents. there had still been two other rooms to check in the house, but you were running out on shaky legs.

he's in front of you now, looking down at you and asking if you're injured. you're sitting on the floor, heaving for breath and tears pouring from your glassy eyes.

"it's not- it's not fucking fair!" you cried out finally, trying desperately to wipe your face dry on your sleeves, but it only worked to redden your skin further. "why are these people doing this? how could someone be so cruel?"

he sighed softly, not knowing how to respond. the team didn't show emotions like this, they didn't deal with them, not like this. but they had all been here, where you are now. they had all asked why, again and again and again until the word lost all meaning.

"i mean, are we even really helping? god, these people are all already dead! why are we here? why- jesus fucking christ, why am i here?" you rambled; you weren't talking to him anymore. your voice was fizzling out, getting quiet enough that he had to lean closer to hear your unsteady words.

"i can't help these people," you sobbed. "i'm just a kid, i'm only nineteen, i can't- i don't know what i'm supposed to do! they said i was special! they told me- said i was so much better and smarter than everyone else, what a fucking joke!"

☆ simon "ghost" riley

he knew you were young, but fuck, if that didn't break his heart, there was nothing left that would. simon didn't talk to you more than any of the others on the team, but you were special, like a little sibling to the team, to him. always having enough energy and kindness to make up for the rest of them.

seeing you like this was a first, even for him, the man who had seen the worst of the worst. it wasn't like he was immune to emotions, but he had spent so long pressing them all down until he couldn't feel them that this was new to him again. all he could do was offer a hand on your knee that he hoped resembled something like comfort.

"we're almost done here. the heli will come for us soon," he said quietly. "you did good, like always."

he watched and waited with you while your sobs whittled away to sniffles, never moving his hand from your knee, where you had grabbed onto it with one of your own. most people knew not to touch him, that they'd end up with one less hand if they did, but you were an exception.

☆ john "soap" mactavish

at first, he doesn't do anything, just kneels in front of you and stares in shock. you're nineteen? you had always danced around the question that the team would tease you with, asking if you still had to work on your homework, but it was always a joke. now it wasn't.

instead of dwelling, john shifts and sits in front of you, almost hovering over you awkwardly as he tried to figure out what to do. sure, he was one of the more open people on the team, but when you're standing next to ghost, just smiling makes you look emotionally vulnerable.

he takes your hands away from your face and into his, placing them on your lap before gently holding your shoulders. "look, we're almost done here, alright? we'll be far away before you know it." that didn't help much, so he paused again.

the almost-distraught look on his face forced a giggle out of you. his worry turned to confusion, why are you laughing now? you probably shouldn't have been, but the big, scottish military-man fretting over you was kind of funny.

"alrigh', lass, at least something cheered ya up," he grumbled, but turned serious again right after. "higher-ups were right, ya know. you are smarter than the rest of 'em. maybe even smarter than us, yeah?" he said with a smile.

☆ kyle "gaz" garrick

it wasn't that long ago that kyle was where you are now, fresh out of school and eager to prove himself in the military. except it had taken him several years longer than you to reach where you both were now; he had had plenty of time to come to terms with the horrors he saw.

now he realized that you hadn't, because you were smart and you were better than most other people, so they had thrown you in, like a minnow in a piranha pond. by all means, you were doing wonderfully for your circumstances, but you could only keep going for so long.

he sat down beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and wrapped an arm around you to bring your head down to rest on him. he sat with you quietly, giving you the time you needed to just get it all out.

eventually, once you're more calm, he breaks the silence with bad jokes that he definitely stole from simon.

"why do twitter users make bad soldiers?" you lifted your head to stare at him incredulously before he continued, "because, they're too quick to retweet."

☆ john price

the captain knew how young you were. he never told you, but he hadn't wanted you on the team at first; the second he was handed your file and saw your birthdate, he started protesting. but it wasn't up to him this time. he couldn't spare you from this, and he knew that it would always weigh on him. he knew he would always remember this, you, crumbling in on yourself in a heap on the floor.

john came down on one knee in front of you and started telling you a story about when he had started, how one of his first missions had gone so terribly wrong. you honestly thought he was just going to tell you to "suck it up" until he told you about one family he had saved during that mission, one that was still alive today. they still sent him letters, even.

"all you need is one good save, kid. and you've got dozens already," he murmured. he wouldn't say it outright, but you really were one of his best.

you remembered the child clinging to your back as you ran out of a collapsing building, the woman who's leg you had managed to get unstuck from fallen debris, the man you had stopped from being executed just in time.

price smiled once he saw he had gotten through to you and helped, at least a little, and roughly patted your shoulder. "evac will be here soon, chin up now."

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riverbutghost · 8 months

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Can I get who did this to you + you could’ve died with ghost ? With injured reader ? I love ur writing !

Omg stopp I love you <3 I love angst so I hope I’ll deliver the bestttt. Please keep up with prompts like this guyss I love it.

Here are some angst prompts !!

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

Summary: You accidentally came face to face with Graves after his betrayal, and he attacked you. Ghost wasn’t happy that you kept this a secret.

Warnings: military stuff, wounds, Graves stabs your hand, slight torture, we hate Graves in this one lol…

You were tired, exhausted. You could barely walk. The mission was almost done.

You gripped your gun tighter, hardened your gaze and pushed through the fire. It was hard for your to walk with an injured leg, but that wasn’t important. You were going to get checked out anyway.

There was a noise coming from behind. You turned around, fingers dancing around the trigger.

“Well, well, well… Look who’s here.”

You turned around again, the voice was familiar.

“Graves…”

You clenched your jaw after remembering his betrayal. He had betrayed you, your team. Your anger was getting worse.

Your hand automatically moved to your comm, but Graves pushed you to the ground. You gasped and looked up to him. He crouched down.

“Yeah, no need to inform anyone here. We will just have a talk.”

You grimaced as he kicked your gun harshly.

“Fuck you, Philip. I thought we were friends-“

“Oh, really?”

He laughed and smirked sinisterly. You furrowed your eyebrows. It was like he was someone else.

A sudden pain jolted through your hand as you screamed. You looked down, and saw that Graves had a knife in your hand. A fucking knife was deep down inside your hand.

“Stop it fucker!”

You yelled at him, trashed and turned but he didn’t pull it out.

“You’re naive, to think that we were friends. I always hated you to be honest.”

You gritted your teeth in pain. You couldn’t concentrate on his words as your hand throbbed. It was worse than your leg obviously, and it made you forget about your leg.

“Oh for fuc-“

You gripped your side and screamed as he kicked your ribcage quite forcefully. You curled up in a ball, and whimpered.

“Shut it. You stole something from me. Give it back.”

He wasn’t playing around anymore, he was serious as fuck. And you didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I don’t know-“

He stepped on your injured leg, making a noise coming from it. You yelled and trashed. You started hitting his leg, but he wasn’t budging.

“Please- Please!”

He eventually let go, but your leg was still throbbing. You whimpered again as you looked down on the ground. There was blood everywhere.

“Give. It. Back. Or else, I swear-“

His attention immediately went to the noise that came from his comm. Your breathing was getting better and you prayed for him to leave.

“You’re lucky, next time I won’t play games. I will kill you immediately.”

He kicked you one last time before leaving. You laid down for a moment, with closed eyes. What did he want? You absolutely had no clue.

You tried standing up, but whimpered at the way your hand and your leg throbbed. Still tensed up, you held your breath and got up in a swift motion.

“Aghh, fuck!”

Your face scrunched up and you cursed yourself, Graves, war and everything.

“We found Graves, meet us in front of the heli.”

You sighed.

“Hey, you okay?”

You turned towards your Captain and smiled.

“Yeah, all good. Need a few stitches, though.”

You chuckled with him. You swiftly looked at Ghost to see how he was when the helicopter touched the ground. His eyes met yours instantly, but he averted them again and gritted his chin.

You found this pretty weird, but shrugged it off.

You got up, body focusing on your injuries as you walked out of the heli. You waited for one of them to turn around. Why would they though?

“Give your old pal a hand !”

You jokingly said as Simon turned around and lifted you in his arms. He put you on your feet and continued his walk.

“Uhm- thank you..?”

You mumbled and tagged along. What was his problem now?

“Come with me,”

You held your breath and cursed. You had to get checked out but Simon was asking you to come with him.

“I’m gonna take a sho-“

“Come.”

He left no room for a reply and you followed him, a little annoyed. When you realized that he was actually taking you to get checked out, you furrowed your eyebrows.

He opened the door an closed it back after you two got in.

“Did something happen..?” You asked him with a shaky voice.

“You tell me.” He grumbled, eyes never leaving yours.

“I-“

You stopped mid sentence, sucked your bottom lip up and looked up at him. His gaze softened a little and he took a step closer. His hand came towards your waist, but you whimpered in pain. His hand was pulled back immediately.

“What-“

He mumbled and took a deep breath. His hand made contact with your vest, and he pulled it off. You didn’t say anything.

He looked at your bruised ribcage, and opened his mouth to speak again.

“Where else?”

You pointed down to your leg, dried blood was still there. He ripped your pants of within a second, and you gasped lightly as the sudden contact with air.

Simon looked up at you with…disappointment… which then turned into anger. He took your arm and inspected it as well. After a few calming breaths, he opened his mouth. He took a few steps back.

“Who did this to you?”

You took a deep breath. There was no denying now.

“Graves… He attacked me.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows and took a step towards you.

“What..?” He asked in confusion.

You just swallowed and pursed your lips. Simon’s confused face suddenly turned into an angered one, and he took a step back.

“Why didn’t yo- Why the fuck didn’t you tell us-me?!” You looked down in shame and held your tears in.

“I can’t believe you! You could’ve fuckin’ died!”

He slammed his fist into the medical cabinet, and the glass shattered into pieces. You flinched.

There was a loud silence for a few minutes. Only the breathing of Simon was heard. You opened your mouth to speak.

“I didn’t want you to think..low of me.”

Simon averted his eyes away from you and shook his head slightly.

“You could’ve died. That’s what matters. You matter.”

A choked sob left your throat as you buried your face to your hands. Your arm was throbbing, but you didn’t care.

“Hey, hey- It’s okay. Don’t pull that shit again, yeah?”

Simon rushed towards you and lifted your chin with his thumb.

“We can’t lose you. I can’t, lose you. Not you, okay? just want you to be more careful with your life.”

You looked up to him with big broken eyes and his gaze softened even more if that was possible.

He sighed after a minute of you staring at him with pleading eyes.

“C’mere, pretty..”

You pulled him closer to you and threw your arms around him.

“Gotta check on your wounds too, love.”

Simon mumbled against your head, breathing deeply into your hair while thinking of ways to make Graves suffer for almost killing you.

You just sniffled and held him tighter. Simon didn’t know how to approach you, but one thing he knew was, Graves was about to get fucked, that was sure.

#call of duty #call of dooty #cod mwf2 #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #call of duty modern warfare #cod mobile #cod men #request for riverbutghost

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull.

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all.

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal.

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural.

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios.

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal.

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline?

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up.

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!”

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house.

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment.

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter.

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents.

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?”

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh.

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest.

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark.

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse.

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt.

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.”

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’”

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it.

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment.

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself.

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair.

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades.

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek.

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night.

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice.

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone.

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well.

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background.

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong.

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash.

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter.

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes.

Dad’s home.

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like.

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen.

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time.

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously.

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured.

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor.

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried.

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.”

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.”

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin.

But John didn’t care.

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you?

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form.

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present.

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.”

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe.

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen.

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose.

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling.

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.”

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could.

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation.

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street.

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut.

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?”

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl. “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn

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wandanatsthings · 1 month

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

Hey guys, this was a request that I got last week, I'm sorry it’s taken me so long to get it out for some reason I was struggling to write. I know this isn’t amazing but I hope you all enjoy it and feedback is always welcomed.

Disclaimer: This is set in the age of ultron but wanda and pietro are a little older.

(P.s im dyslexic i'm trying my best)

Warnings: Character death, cheating, cursing, grief, sneakiness, angst. I think this is it but please let me know if you see any more.

Summary: Wanda cheats on reader because she feels they are responsible for her brother's death.

Word count: 2.6k

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“Bet you didn’t see that coming,” Pietro says with his signature smirk as he slowly falls to the ground. The bullets that were meant for you pierced through his skin. “No!” you screamed as you watched his body fall. You ran over to him in what felt like slow motion. “Pietro no come on stay with me.” You say with tears in your eyes while falling to the ground where he lay. “Come stay with me please Piet, please Wanda needs you.”

He looks up at you with his crystal blue eyes.

“My dear sister will be okay, for she has you her love.” He says slightly choking from the blood coming out of his mouth knowing that this was probably the end. “No I won't be enough, she needs her brother.” You say pleading with him to stay. “Yes you are and you better take care of her or I will haunt you.” He says jokingly.

You chuckle a little at that, finding it endearing that even in his last moments he was still cracking jokes like he normally would. “I- I will, I promise.” You say taking his right hand and squeezing it. You knew that he was tired. With all that he had been through with Hydra and losing his parents. You knew all he wanted was rest, but couldn’t until he knew his twin sister would be well taken care of. “I will do everything in my power.” He looks up at you nodding.

You nod back at him letting him know that it was okay for him to go to whatever afterlife he believed in. You watch his eyes close and wait for his last breath to leave his body. When you feel it, You hear this earth-shattering screaming. You knew it was Wanda.

With her powers and the strong bond she had with her twin, you knew that she would feel that they were no longer in this world together.

You're heartbroken at the sound, never ever wanting to hear the woman you loved scream in agony like that.

As you're collecting yourself trying to figure out what you should do about Pietro you hear Tony come on the comms. “Hey guys we’ve saved all we can here we have to leave.” You sigh knowing that he was too heavy for you to carry by yourself but not wanting to leave him there. You make the tough decision to leave. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.” You say walking away, your voice mixed with sadness and regret. Sadness because Wanda would never see her brother again and regret because it was all your fault.

You make your back to the heli-carrier all you can think about is Wanda. How were you gonna tell her that you were the reason her brother was dead? That just because you weren’t paying enough attention to your surroundings you didn’t see the bullets heading straight your way but her brother did and took them for himself? What kind of shit is that? You thought. You walk up the stairs into the cabin of the heil-carrier.

When you walk in you see Wanda sitting in the corner with an empty look in her eyes. You walk over and sit down next to her. As soon as you sit down she falls right into you sobbing. “What happened?” You hear her say as you wrap your arms around her. You sigh, deciding that it would be best to just tell her. “Um there were so many bots everywhere and we were both fighting some but I guessed one was getting ready to shoot me I had my back turned so I didn’t see…but he did and he ran in front of me.” You reply trying not to break down. Wanting to be strong for Wanda. “I'm so sorry, I tried to help him but there was nothing I could do.” You say grabbing her hands almost pleading with her not to be mad at you.

All she does is squeeze your hand back with a nod. You were about to say something else when Clint walked on board. “Hey, where's speedy?” Wanda breaks down crying again with the mention of the nickname the boy had been given. You look up at him through your glossy eyes as you hold Wanda tighter and shake your head. Feeling sorry for the man because you know he had taken a liking to the boy. He nodded his head, “I’ll let the others know.” He said as he walked away feeling heavier than he did when he approached you both.

A few weeks had passed since that mission. The atmosphere in the compound is still very heavy. Feeling the weight of not only a hero lost but the casualties as well. You tried to make Wanda feel any kind of “better” you could. Her routine was the same every day. She’d sleep til almost noon when she woke she would cry for a while and wouldn’t eat until you damn near forced her.

On occasion, she would talk about him with you or ask you to watch what were her and her twin's favorite sitcoms.

You would do it all if it meant that she would feel at least a little better. You didn’t want to be selfish but if you were telling the truth you just missed your old Wanda. You knew she would probably never be the exact same again but if you could you would give anything just to see her little nose squench up or to hear her little giggles again.

That’s exactly how you felt when you noticed her hanging around Natasha more. Wanda had always taken a liking to the widow so you didn’t find it weird when you found the 2 sitting at the kitchen table with smiles on their faces. You were very happy to see Wanda showing any other type of emotion besides sadness. It felt very good to see her smiling even if it wasn’t directed at you. As the weeks went on the two started to spend even more time together. Whether that was eating, movie nights, or training it just seemed like they were always together.

You were starting to feel a little jealous at the fact she was spending more and more time with the avenger and less time with you but she was starting to become brighter in a sense. Again you didn’t want to be selfish even though you were feeling a little jealous and missing your girlfriend, especially because she was finally starting to become more like herself again. You decide to bring it up though, not as accusing her of something you believed she wasn’t even capable of but just as she seemed like she was starting to feel more like herself.

When you walked up the stairs into your shared room. You saw her sitting on the bed smiling at her phone. “Hey, baby.” You said sitting down next to her and kissing her forehead. You realized when you sat down she quickly took her phone and put it under her thigh. “Hi, is there something you want?” She said, Her accent is still very strong, not having left her native country not that long ago. You were taken aback by the tone she spoke to you with, her not ever even raising her voice at you within the year you had been together.

“No not really, just wanted to talk, you know see how you’re doing with everything.” You said. She looked at you and nodded, “Well I’m doing fine, I’ve just been cleared to go on missions again, I’ll be going on one in a few days actually.”

You were surprised at that and a little worried not that you didn’t think she could take care of herself but thinking she would want to take a break after everything that had happened. “Are you sure? I mean are you ready?”

You questioned with nothing but concern for the woman you loved well being although she didn’t take it that way.

“Yes! God you’re always trying to smuggle me, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you besides Natasha’s coming with me.” Her harsh words hurt you but you didn’t let her know that thinking that it was her grief making her react this way.

“Okay, okay I was just asking, I know you can take care of yourself, I’m glad someone’s coming with you. You and Nat seem to be getting closer, that's good.” You say.

Wanda sighs, “Yeah she’s an amazing friend.” She says with a smile. Almost the same smile she used to give you.

“Well that’s good I’m glad you have another person in your circle.” You say walking away with a gnawing feeling in your chest.

A few days had gone by and it was time for the 2 to go on the mission together. To say you had a bad feeling about it would be an understatement. You didn’t know what it was, you just felt like something was going to go wrong within the couple of days they’d be out. Not necessarily with the mission but something.

As you walked up to the landing pad with Wanda to send her off. Natasha was already there waiting for her, as soon as Wanda saw her she quickly let go of your hand and almost ran to hug the Russian. This made you feel some kind of way but you didn’t bring it up right then, not wanting to upset the girl right before she left.

Before the 2 got on the plane you reached out to Wanda’s hand. You noticed that she seemed very eager to leave but you thought maybe she was just excited about the mission. “Be safe please, come home to me.” You say going in to kiss her but instead, she dodges it. “I will be okay bye.” She said as she got up into the jet with the help of Natasha.

Right before the door closed the spy winked at you.

When you made it back to the compound you decided that you would take a shower to try and get rid of the awful feeling you had. You got on the elevator and walked into your room. While you were getting your clothes and stuff for your shower. You heard someone’s phone go off. You knew it wasn’t yours because you always had your phone on vibrate. You looked around and saw the phone that rang was on the dresser. You realized that it was Wanda’s phone, she had always left her phone at the compound when she went on missions.

Now you knew that you shouldn’t look but you just couldn’t help but to check and see who or what it was. You picked that phone up and opened it, you saw that she had a few messages that were unread. When You clicked on them you saw most of them were from this person she had in her phone as “N” You clicked on her contact and your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach at what you saw. There were multiple messages but not just any kind of message. They were flirty, there were pictures and voice messages of Wanda and whoever “N” was. You soon found out when you came across a photo of what looked like another bedroom in the compound. The picture was of just what you were guessing to be “N’s” chest. The woman had on a red push-up bra and when you looked closely you could see little red hairs. You looked even more closely at the photo, and that’s when you saw the little black widow emblem Natasha wears on her suit. That's when you knew your suspicions had been true.

It all made sense now. The two were spending more and more time together, and getting closer and closer. You couldn’t think of a reason why she would do something like this. You never even thought that she was capable of cheating. You were so upset you couldn’t even cry. You knew you needed to figure out what you wanted to do.

You decided that you would think more about it over the 2 days that she would be gone.

The two days had gone by and you finally knew what you were gonna do. You had it all planned out all you needed to do now was wait for her to arrive which by your calculations would be any minute now. You were in the common room when you heard laughter. It was time that your plan started.

You got up and walked over to them only acknowledging your girlfriend. “Hey love welcome home I have a surprise for you if you would just follow me.” You said reaching your hand to her. You see them both look at each other and only one of them speaks. “See you later?” Natasha says smirking at Wanda. “Yeah see you later,” she replies. Natasha walks off. “So what’s happening later?” You asked while leading her to where you have a nice dinner set up with her favorite Paprikash. “Oh nothing, we're just gonna do our mission reports together.” She replies. “Well isn’t that nice?” You say pulling her chair out for her to sit. “This all looks amazing.” She says already picking up her fork to dig in. “Thank you, I worked very hard.” You said smiling on the outside. On the inside, you were absolutely dying.

You were halfway through dinner even though you could barely stomach your food when it was time for the next part of your plan. “So I made up a little short film we could watch while we finish up eating.” She looks up from her plate and nods. “Okay play it.” You get up and grab your phone, having downloaded everything you need. You airplay your phone onto the TV and press play on the little video you made.

As she’s watching it you can see all the emotions on her face and not one of them is regret. When the video is over you unconnect your phone. “Well that was a good little film, wasn’t it?” You asked, the look on her face is priceless. “When’d you find out?” You chuckle a little at that. “That’s what you're worried about? Hmm interesting but to answer your question the day you left. You left your phone on the dresser-“ “So you looked through it!” She said yelling, cutting you off. “Yes as a matter of fact, I did, you have been acting off for weeks.” you say calmly back “Oh well maybe it had something to do with the fact my fucking brother died-“ “NO it has been more than that. In fact, you’ve been acting weird ever since you started hanging out with Natasha on the date.” “OH, what happy??!! I’ve been acting happy. That’s because she actually makes me happy because she’s not the one who killed my brother!” She cried.

You were stunned at that. You knew that she had to blame you at least a little bit because hell you blame yourself, but you didn’t think her resentment would lead to this. “So that’s what this is about.” You say almost crying yourself. “I’m sorry but I just can’t do this anymore, every time I look at you I just think about him and I just can't. I'm sorry I do love you, I do but just not enough anymore.” She walks away, with you feeling heartbroken and guilty but knowing what you knew to be true from the beginning, You wouldn’t be enough.

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Comment if you want to I love reading them!!!

This was the request ☟︎☟︎☟︎

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under-the-dirt · 5 months

Text

whispers.

HIIIII i just ate dinner #i also showered the other night which was super difficult #doing better but anyways this is a continuation of this and i might turn this into a full series who knows! the whispers series does sound cool asf. anyways, i feel drunk although the last time i drank was new year’s a few years ago (to my knowledge) but wtv

taglist: @mechmoucha @cloudyeventss

pairing: john price x fem!reader (no gendered pronouns, only like names eg. beautiful or lass)

tags: john price is so sexy, fingering, military inaccuracies, cum eating ig? john price smut, forced proximity, i can’t write accents, UNDER 13 DNI RAH

To say the next few weeks were awkward was an understatement. Every time you’d see Price around the base, you’d find yourself blushing and running off to do something else. He must’ve gotten tired of it, because the next time you were on a mission you were paired up with Price.

You guess it was a decent pairing, Gaz and Soap, You and Price. Except for the fact you could barely look at him, let alone have to share a safe house. He stood guard behind you while you worked on getting into the camera system to ensure Gaz and Soap’s safety.

“Soap, how copy?” You ask through the radio, hearing static before Soap’s smooth accent rang through.

“All good down here, same with Gaz. Splitting up now,” He replies, and you smile as you finally get into the camera systems, watching Gaz and Soap split up and go different directions.

“Alright, I’ve got a visual. Gaz, you’re going straight til’ the first right, then to the second door on the left. There will be a couple of hostiles, nothing you can’t handle,” You explain, and the static begins again before Gaz replies quickly.

“Roger that.”

“Good. Soap, you’re going straight until the second left then to the first door on the right. You should only have one man in there. Both of you radio silence unless there’s a problem, let me know when you’re there.”

“Sir yes sir,” Soap chuckles, and you watch both the men traverse the halls.

“What’s next?” Gaz asks, and your eyes widen slightly in surprise before quickly recovering.

“There should be a couple computers in there. Go to the ones in the back, plug in a USB to the 4 on the top row, and let me know once the intel has been fully downloaded. Soap, how copy?”

“Not good,” Is the brief response you get, and on the cameras you can see a group of men swiftly approaching him.

“Broom closet to your right, get in and stay quiet. Gaz, hurry up,” You tried to keep your words steady and calm, but you knew they probably picked up on the little bit of panic in them. When you saw more men marching towards Gaz, you knew you had to get them out of there. “Gaz, about 10 hostiles approaching. Take those USBs and get out of there.”

You shook your leg nervously as you watched Gaz grab the USBs and try and leave, being met with multiple hostiles. You stopped breathing entirely when you heard the gunshots, not daring to look. Price gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Soap, get your ass out of there!” Price yells into the radio, and you can hear the sounds of shuffling feet. It wasn’t until Price began rubbing your shoulder to assure you the men were okay did you open your eyes. They were uninjured, sure, but they were being chased by at least 20 hostiles.

You lost sight of them as they hopped onto the helicopter for exfil. There was no chance of you and Price getting on it, despite how close you were. It had already taken off.

“Shit,” You sigh. You tapped out of the cameras and walked to another room to take a breather.

A couple minutes later, price knocked on the doorway. “Good news ‘s we’re not trapped ‘ere. Bad news ‘s the base ‘s clogged up, and they can’t get a heli out ‘ere til’ tomorrow,” He says, and by his tone you can tell there’s more.

”And the worst news?”

“There’s no tea.”

“Not to quote soap, but Fuckin’ brits,” You laugh softly. “What is it?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“Oh,” You sigh, and shake your head. “I can take the floor.”

Price walks out, and you’re left to your own devices until the sun begins to set and you feel exhaustion begin to settle deep in your bones. Taking this as a sign to get ready for bed, you hop up and walk to the bedroom, where price is sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and his green cargo pants. God, that outfit made him look so good.

“‘S rude to stare, lass,” He purrs, chuckling softly.

“Oh, sorry,” You quickly look away and begin stripping your extra gear, all that which you hadn’t previously. You were now in a tank top and black cargos, and you shivered slightly. You definitely underestimated how cold it got at night here. “Is there any extra blankets?”

“Not that I can find,” He shrugs, tossing you an extra pillow. You fake it and toss it onto the floor beside the bed, curling up to preserve warmth as you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. You hear Price flick the lights off and climbs into the creaky bed. You shiver. “Cold?”

“Very.”

“C’mere, lass,” He coos, pulling the covers away from himself and inviting you into his arms. After a little hesitation, you crawl into his arms and press yourself to his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and his body heat warms you up far better than any amount of blankets could. But still, it’s terribly cold, and not even the living furnace that is John Price can warm you up fully. “Still cold?”

You nod. “It’s alright though, I can manage.”

“No.. Let me help you..” He purrs, running his hand down your side, quickly helping you realize how he means to. He sees no discomfort, so he runs his hand down to tour ass and gives the plump flesh a squeeze.

“Captain..” You sigh, melting into him and his touch, and he hums. His hands caress you gently before sleeping beneath the hem of your pants and panties. He runs a finger through your slick folds, chuckling when he feels the wetness gathered on them.

“Ah, what have we got ‘ere,” He laughs, pressing his thumb to your clit, causing you to let out a hushed moan. “Don’t keep quiet, I wanna hear ya.”

He rubs your clit gently, before pressing a single finger into your wet hole. The stretch of his large finger makes you gasp and rock forward gently, closing your eyes to soak in the pleasure. He hums in approval, gentle thrusting his finger, curling it to rub that spot inside of you that had you arching your back and moaning for more. He obliges, thrusting another thick finger into your desperate cunt.

“Ah- Captain.. God-“ You moan breathlessly, rocking your hips to meet his brutal thrusts. He returns to attacking your g-spot, causing that knot in your stomach you barely noticed to snap and send you toppling over the edge, moaning and gripping his shirt tightly. He rubs your clit gently to let you ride out your orgasm before slowly removing his fingers and sucking your juices off.

“Much better, no?” He chuckles, gently pushing away the hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. Your eyes are already closed as you regain your breath, falling asleep quickly.

The next day you pray that your guilty smile didn’t reveal last nights.. actions. But the odd look flicked at you from Mactavish told you that it hid nothing, and it was written in neon lights exactly what happened. That would be hard to explain.

that was sm fun to write and i can’t wait to see how this series progresses. i’m gonna make a masterlist, comment to be tagged in the next one! <;3 @cloudyeventss

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #captain john price #captain price #john price #call of duty x reader #john price x reader #john price cod #captain john price x reader #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 #mwii

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rvjaa · 10 months

Text

You know I love you, right?

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary; You lost him. But what if you two are destined to meet again? And your paths lead you straight back to each other?

Warnings; angst?, mentions of death, slight fluff i guess?, / soft!simon, happy ending.

A/n; I hope you enjoy this fic! I really liked writing this and if you like it maybe i could do a second part? :)

Word count; 2,4k

You had known Simon since childhood. He and you met in a park when you were little, you had hurt your knee and he noticed, walked up to you and helped you back to your mother. Your mother adored Simon, she took him in like her own and it was the same with Simons mum. She had loved you so dearly and after she was killed, you were destroyed from the inside. They blamed Simon for his mother death, and the second you found out about it you knew it couldn’t be true.

Simon adored his mother and you knew he wouldn’t do anything like that. So after the incident you made it your mission to find him again. They all said he was dead, they said he wasn’t going to come back. You didn’t believe that.

You had enlisted for the army not long after Simons mothers passing. You couldn’t stay home and wallow in Manchester forever so you decided to join the military to help people and maybe with a lot of good luck, find Simon Riley again.

Its been many years since that and you’re still here but now you’re higher rank, one of the most respected women in the bases and if you can say so yourself, a hell of a sniper.

You like working alone, no distractions or awkward conversations and no unnecessary attachments. But now you’re being transferred to Task Force 141, a special operations unit. You have heard about them yes and even though you tried to resist— Kate Laswell said the Captain desperately wanted you on his team.

You gave in and said yes to the offer, so now you’re on your way to their base. You feel nervous, you haven’t worked with a full team for ages and you’re pretty sure your people skills aren’t very good. But you knew that the 141 is a big deal so why not? New opportunities you think.

You’re getting out of the heli and you see a man with a bucket hat jogging towards you and waving. You guess this is the infamous Captain Price and move towards him.

“Sergeant! Happy to have you here. Captain Price” He welcomes you and offers you a hand to shake. You shake his hand and answer “Captain, thank you for having me.” You smile to him and he nods.

“You must want to meet the team yeah? Walk with me.” He says and you start walking towards the base. You walk beside him and listen when he asks something, “so sergeant I hear they call you Dove, is that right?” He asks your callsign and you nod.

“Yeah Dove is good” you answer and he nods at you. You’re having a conversation with the Captain while walking and now you’re here, standing in front of the door conference room.

“Ready Dove?” Price asks you and you exhale. “Yes, lets get this over with.” You answer and he goes first and keeps the door open for you and you nod as a thank you.

“Alright men, this is our new sergeant. Play nice and introduce yourselves please” the Captain says and you look at the first man standing in front of you. “They call me Soap, nice to meet you lass” the mohawk haired man says in a very Scottish accent.

You nod “nice to meet you Soap, they call me Dove” you say repeating his words and he flashes a grin. “Dove eh? What for?” He asks and you smile slightly. “You’ll find out” you raise your eyebrows playfully and he chuckles and moves so the other men can introduce themselves.

The next man is— You don’t know how to describe him. He has a slight boyish charm to him “hey love, I’m Gaz nice to have you on board” he says and smiles at you.

You like him already, he has a good vibe attached to him. “Pleased to meet you Gaz, I’m Dove” you tell him and flash him a small smile.

Then at last but definitely not least a skull masked man comes to your view. Man he is BIG, you think. All you can see from his face is his eyes and they slightly look familiar but you can’t place why they do.

“Ghost” is all he says and you nod at him, not everyone is social and you can respect that. “Dove” you say and you see a weird emotion flicker in his eyes, he only nods and thankfully Price interrupts your weird eye contact.

“So now that we all are introduced you’re dismissed. Dove lets go to my office yeah?” Price says and you finally peer your eyes away from the skull faced man. You nod and step around Ghost to follow Price. Maybe he’ll show you their files finally you think. You had been refused when you had asked for the team’s files before and you’ve been itching to find out who your new teammates are.

“Here we are” the Captain says and you step inside of his office behind him. “So I’ve heard you had been asking the files of our team yes?” He asks you while setting himself down on his chair and you walk to the chair opposite of him.

“Yeah I just wanted to know who I was going to be working with you know.” You say to him while sitting down on the chair and he nods at you and he smiles.

“Well this is your lucky day sergeant. Of course they have seen your file too except the Lieutenant because he hasn’t had any time yet but he will eventually” Price explains and then he opens a drawer on his desk and pulls out a stack of files.

“Here you are, take your time and read through them. I will do some paper work in the mean time.” He hands you the stack and you open the first one and its Gaz— Or Kyle Garrick.

You read through his file and move on to the next one. Its the Captain’s file, John Price huh? It makes sense, his name fits him you think. The next file is Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavishes file and you furrow your brows, John and Johnny? Huh. You smile at the coincidence and go through his file quickly, because you know who’s file the last one is and you’re curious about him.

You place the last file on top and the first thing you notice is that there’s no picture? You brush it off and open the file.

You freeze.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

It can’t be him. No no— You can’t believe this. Yes one of the reasons you joined the military was Simon and his sudden disappearance but you had lost hope many years ago— You had shed tears for him and for what? Him to be alive?—

You look to his birthday and you know its him. Bury the feelings, bury the feelings, shove them as down as possible! Whatever— maybe he doesn’t recognize you. Its been years since you last saw each other, you were young then and now you’re older, and definitely not the same person you were 10 years ago and you bet he isn’t either.

“Sergeant? Are you okay?” You hear the Captain ask and you lift your head to look at him and nod. “Yeah I’m almost finished” you answer and he just nods and goes back to his work.

You keep reading Ghosts— Simon’s? File and your eyes widen. He went through hell and you almost can’t believe what you’re reading. Buried alive? Family murdered and staged to look like it was him? Oh god.

You close his file and hand the files back to the Captain “here sir, thank you for letting me read through them.” You say and force a smile.

He nods and stands up “shall we finally take you to your room?” He asks and you nod eagerly. “Yes please” you say and he chuckles.

You’re walking with Price through the halls when you hear a voice calling for him. You instantly recognize it and you tense up “Captain!" Simon jogs up to you— more to the Captain but whatever—

“Can we talk?” Simon asks and you avoid eye contact with him. “Sure just a minute, go to my office I’ll be there in 5” the captain says and you hear a gruffy ‘copy.’

The Captain showed you your new room and then dismissed himself to go meet the Lieutenant. Now you’re sitting on the floor, leaning to your bed— which is surprisingly big.

What are you going to do?

Avoiding him all together would be the best plan but you work together so you don’t want to make it more difficult. Acting clueless? No. He will see through it, you know he would. Maybe just avoid the subject? Yeah. That seems the most reasonable idea.

You sigh and press your face to your hands. You don’t know Simon anymore, so you don’t know how he would— will react.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock. You think to ignore it but then the person on the other side of the door knocks again— but this time softer.

Then you hear your name being called and you freeze at the voice. It’s him— it’s Simon. You slowly start getting up from your sitting position and start creeping towards the door.

Your hands are shaking while you slowly reach to the door handle. You open the door and see him. He looks as anxious— if not more than you. You swallow “Simon.” You exhale and suddenly you’re being pushed back inside of your room, he steps in and slams the door shut.

You don’t know what to expect. Him to yell at you? Maybe.

But no. You’re being pulled in to an embrace.

“I couldn’t find you—“ Simon rasps out while he’s gripping you for dear life. You sneak your arms around his torso. “I thought you were dead” you say

“I thought you were GONE, Simon.” You choke up and suddenly your legs are giving out and he grumbles to the floor with you. He presses his hand on your head and you sob to his chest “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” You yell at him and hit his chest over and over again.

He grabs you hand and brings it on his heart. “I’m sorry.” Is the only thing he says to you. You can’t say anything to him, you’re just leaning on him. You shake your head in disbelief, you still can’t believe he is alive.

You need to get away from him, you can’t— You can’t do this again. You have already lost him once you can’t risk to go through the pain again. You are both in the military, the job doesn’t promise you coming back from the missions. You’re soldiers, its not allowed to love another soldier. Especially when he’s your lieutenant. But you do love him, oh how you love this man.

The first night you heard he was dead you couldn’t sleep, you threw up all night. The heartbreak was suffocating, you can’t do that again.

You push yourself away from him and get up. You turn your back to him and try to take deep breaths. You hear a small thump on the floor which you assume is something he dropped but still don’t turn back to look.

He calls your name. You shake your head “I can’t do this Simon. I can’t lose you again, i can’t go through that pain again— I just—“ You try to explain but you can’t think straight.

He says your name again but softer. It makes you look at him and you freeze. He’s still on his knees but he took his mask off. You haven’t seen his face in years, oh how he has grown in to his features. Scarred face but still so so handsome, your fingers twitch to touch his face.

A tear slips down your face, you’ve missed him so much. You take your gaze from his face to the wall and close your eyes. You exhale and furrow your brows.

You open your eyes again and turn around. You cant resist the temptation to go to him. You walk towards him and he just stares at you. “Si” you whisper, mostly to yourself but emotion in his eyes flicker when you say his nickname you called him through out the years.

He’s looking up at you, not much because he’s so damn large hes almost to up to your chest even though you’re standing up and he’s kneeling on the floor. You are standing in front of him, smiling slightly you reach your hands towards his face to touch him. You brush over his features and all his scars. He leans in to your touch and closes his eyes.

“I missed you, Simon” you say to him and his eyes open again. The emotion is plastered in his eyes “I know” he says and you frown in confusion, how could he know how much you’ve missed him?

“I missed you too, Dove” he says and smiles to you. You freeze, the nickname he had used for you is now your callsign and you know he knows why.

You sit back down next to him. He raises his arm to loop around your shoulders and you lean back to his touch. Pressing your face on his chest you breathe him in.

“You know I was going to propose you.” He says and you flinch up to look at his eyes in shock.

“I mean not right away, I had this plan. I was going to ask you to a date with me, with good luck you would have said yes, we would’ve dated for a few years, maybe move in together some place nice like you deserved. Then I would’ve taken you out on to the beach you loved so much, have a picnic and ask you to marry me.” He tells you and you feel tears building up.

“I would have said yes you know.” You tell him and he looks surprised. “I’m sorry I gave up on you Simon.” You apologize and look down to avoid eye contact.

“No. I should’ve had worked harder to find you.” Simon shuts you down and tilts your head back from your chin to look at him. “I saw your mother.” He tells you— oh.

“How was she?” You ask and he smiles. “She was shocked to see me, cried a bit. She told me that she hadn’t seen you in years.” He says and you frown.

“I just— I couldn’t go back. There was too many memories it was too painful.” I explained looking to the wall frowning.

He exhales “sweet girl” he says to get your attention back to him. You look back to his eyes, he holds a comforting look in them.

“I can’t lose you again Simon.” You tell him trying to swallow your tears. His hand goes to your cheek “You won’t. I promise you” he says sternly.

“You know I love you, right?”

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty imagine #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x fem!reader

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ofstarsandvibranium · 1 year

Text

My You-niverse: Santiago "Pope" Garcia

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: some violence

A/N: sorry it's been a while. my heart hasn't really been into fic writing, but im determined to finish this series eventually so here you go

Series Masterlist

You felt a little bit more like yourself in this universe. It seemed like you were in some sort of military group? The only woman, surrounded by men. The men, your colleagues, seemed to respect you and valued your opinion, which was very nice.

When the hostiles were taken care of you, you all met at the rendezvous point where you all piled into a heli, piloted by your friend in the Standard Oil hat.

'Pope' plopped beside you, nudging your knee with his, "You good? You look a lil' dazed."

You give him a lop sided grin, "Think I hit my head too hard when you tackled me to the ground, but I've had worse."

Pope lets out a hum and leans back in his seat, "You called me Marc back there. Who's Marc?"

You shook your head, "I-Someone I knew. Guess I just got confused for a sec."

Pope pulled out a flashlight and pointed it towards your eyes. You tried swatting it away, "What're you doing?"

"Trying to make sure you're not concussed."

"I'm fine!"

"What's my name?"

"Pope."

"My real name."

"Santiago." His name rolls of your tongue and you're surprised that you know his name.

He hummed and narrowed his eyes at you, "You're still getting checked when we get back."

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever." You let out a deep breath, but the action made you hiss.

Pope cocked a brow at you, "What's wrong?"

You rubbed your side, "I think I got a few cracked ribs."

He snorted, "'I'm fine' my ass."

You stuck your tongue out and Pope tried to grab it. You started swatting his hand away, but you were interrupted by a fake gagging noise.

You look across the heli to see Will fake gagging.

"What's up with you?"

"You guys are such a fucking couple it's disgusting."

"You're just jealous you haven't found your person yet," Ben smirked, nudging his brother.

You shrugged, settling in your spot, resting your head on Pope's shoulder. Your eyes started fluttering close, sleep taking you a lot quicker than you expected.

"Rosie," Ben nudged your foot and you slowly woke.

"Hm?" you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You looked around and noticed that the helicopter had landed. You were back on the airstrip and the only one left.

"I told you I'd get her," Pope flicked Ben's ear and pushed him to the side. He then looked to you, "You need help getting out, baby?"

You slowly maneuvered out of the aircraft, trying to keep your breath steady as your ribs screamed at you in pain.

You winced as you stepped out, Pope catching you as you fell forward, "I gotcha, baby. I gotcha." he turned to his young friend, "Help me out, Ben."

Both men wrapped your arms around their shoulders and escorted you to the van. All of the men insisted on getting you to the hospital first before heading home.

"We take care of our own, remember?" Will reminded you as he started the drive to the hospital.

_______________

You definitely had a few cracked ribs. You were prescribed some pain meds and plenty of ice packs. After making sure you were okay, the group of you headed back home.

Well, you thought you and Santi were, but he wanted you to heal more to ensure you're okay to travel back home. So he graciously reserved a room at a nice hotel on the beach. There, he played the dutiful boyfriend; making sure you iced your ribs, you took your medication if the pain became too much; and overall made sure that you were comfortable.

You couldn't be completely active, but he did take you on walks on the beach. He kept his arm around your hip to keep you up and he matched pace with you.

"This is nice. Kinda like a mini vacation," you say as you slowly lower onto a beach chair, "Sad we'll have to leave this place soon. Back to reality." You sigh, rubbing the side where your ribs were injured.

"I know," Santi decided to sit behind you on the beach chair, you settling between his legs, your back against his chest, "I wish we could stay longer too. Maybe in a few months, we could ask for some time off. Come back here or go somewhere else? A romantic getaway?"

You look over your shoulder, "Romantic getaway? Who are you and what have you done to my stone cold lover?"

"I'm not stone cold," Santi says with a snort.

"You kinda are, babe. It's okay," you pat his shoulder, "I still love you."

Santi chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, "I love you too, my beautiful rose," he kisses your neck and proceeds to rest his chin on your shoulder.

You close your eyes, relishing in the warmth of your lover, the slight breeze of the beach, the sound of waves crashing. You take in the moment. For once since this whole universe thing started, you felt truly content and at peace.

______________

You hear the sound of your name and you open your eyes. You look around and notice that you're in a jail cell.

You sit up and look at the door. A man, familiar, similar to your previous loves, but more plump, held out an envelope to you, "Your cousin wrote to you again."

You stood up, walking over to your cell door and taking the envelope from him, "Thank you, Officer," you eye his name badge, "Garcia."

His lips go into a mini pout, "I told you, Y/N, call me Richard."

You nod, "Richard."

He nods back and continues on to hand out mail to other inmates.

"Interesting," you say to yourself. It seems you're an inmate at a prison in this universe and your husband's doppleganger is an officer at said prison. Very interesting indeed.

#santiago garcia x reader #pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #marc spector x reader #marvel au #steven grant x reader

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gh0stlyfixation · 1 year

Text

Promises

Paring: Simon Riley x reader

Warnings: none besides betraying a loved one and your team 😠 probably writing issues because tumblr kept deleting stuff I wrote when I saved, double 😠😠

Summary: graves betrayed the team and you. Ghost finally admits his feelings for you in the heat of it all.

“Phillip? How could you?” You say inching closer to Ghost for safety.

141 had no idea of the betrayal, not even his fiancé. Ghost is quick to pull you against him and John stands in front of you, shielding you from the chaos that is about to happen.

And when Alejandro lunges for Phillip that’s when hell breaks loose. Ghost lets you go and he elbows two men coming up from behind you both. You are in a daze as you watch your surroundings not realizing each member of 141 is protecting you.

You see Soap gets shot in the shoulder and feel Ghost grip your arm and moving you behind a truck. He’s speaking to you but everything is muffled and feels like time is moving slowly. You don’t start to come back until Ghost starts shaking your body, “we have to go! We have to run.” He’s yelling at you when you look up at him. You simply nod before he’s pulling you up and running.

Ghost holds your hand as you both run for your life. Your breath is uneven as you struggle to keep up with him. Your eyes are blurred, “I can’t! I can’t do this!” You finally scream out. You tug away from Ghost's hand but it doesn’t let you let go.

He loves you too much to let you give up. He’s angry at him, he’s angry at you for never taking his “jokes” of leaving Graves. He stops and pulls you closer to him, both hands on your cheeks, “yes you can! Get it through your pretty head that you can! Okay? We need to go, and we need to hide. I am not letting give up!” He shouts at you. Tears fall down your face as he tries to wipe them away. “I am in love with you. Those jokes I used to say? I meant the truth. I want you. I love you and I need you to keep fighting. I know your hurting and feel broken but fuck I am not letting you go now.” He says and it brings more tears from your eyes as he leans his forehead on yours. You nod as you hear Graves's soldiers come closer and you begin running again with more purpose.

You and Ghost find a church and pick off stray Shadow Company soldiers. You grab one of the dead men’s radios listening out for what they say, “find her alive.” One radios in. You grip the com so tight it breaks. “We need to get you out of here.” Ghost says.

“No,” you say as you let the pieces fall on the floor.

“You're not safe here. We don’t know what he’ll do.” Ghost says coming up to you.

Your voice breaks, “no,” you say again looking blankly at the floor stray tears fall. You know you can’t stay, you know you're a liability. You can’t even see the floor because you can’t stop crying. “You can’t leave me.” You choked out finally realizing the feelings for Ghost that you stuffed away in hopes they go away forever once you and Graves were married. Now hear Ghost is, professing his love in the most unconvinced time.

—

Two whole months have passed by. You kept hidden at Ghost's private home, on an island, that was heavy on security. Who knew he was loaded and a great interior designer? You put a large T-shirt on and you found yourself on a lawn chair in the sand sitting in the sun every day around the same time thinking about recent events.

You had time to cry your eyes out for the hurt and betrayal, you also had time to think about Ghost's confession. It was in the heat of it all, and through your blurred vision you could see the truth and passion in his eyes, he meant every word.

You hadn’t heard from him after he got you safely on the heli, you assumed they took care of Graves and then set back out on their original mission. You stood up and walked towards the ocean breathing in the air. You got knees deep in the water before stopping and looking around the endless sea.

You didn’t know how’d you break the news to his family. You didn’t know if you should tell them the truth or just say he died in battle. You didn’t want to go back to America and back to the house you and Phillip built together and see the memories you two created, but you had time. You had time to learn and hate the man for making you cry for a month straight, you had time to scream and yell, you had time to be angry and now you are content. Your heart hurts but it also feels better.

At that moment, running from Phillip, you wanted to die. You wanted your heart to be torn out and thrown on the dirt-covered ground and stomped on. The feeling of heartache slowly faded, Ghost-, Simon, was all your brain thought of.

You think back to the day you decided to shove your feelings for him back, “come on, I’d be way better than Graves.” He joked, or so you thought. “Yeah, r- right.” You stuttered, he would be. Graves and you had your fights but lately, things were worse. It’s just nerves, you’d tell yourself. The love in Ghost's eyes screamed how much he loved and adored you and you knew you were fucked, but you loved Phillip, so you thought.

You hug yourself not hearing the footsteps coming behind you until they hit the water, you jump and turn to see him, Simon. You don’t give him time to speak before you slam your body on his wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. You let the tears you’ve been holding in for him go. He’s alive and he came back for you, just like he promised.

He rubs one hand on your back while the other arm wraps around the back of your neck holding you close to him. “I love you.” You say to him. His heart swells at the sound of your voice saying that.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need to heal. When we start, I want to start right. I’ll be here for whatever you need.” Simon says to you. Waves crash below you knocking you out of balance and pulling him down with you in the water. You giggle through your sniffles feeling genuine happiness for the first time in a long time, even with Phillip around you never giggled like this.

“Your right, I need to heal first,” you admit. You tug at his mask, “may I? I want to see your face again.” you ask with a smile. He can't help but hold a smile on his face when you tell him you loved him, those sweet words coming from your voice are all he wanted. He nods and when you pull off the drenched mask you see his wild blond hair wet and sticking in all directions and a smile on his face. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” you say kissing his cheek.

“Never. I'll wait years if that's what it takes to be with you,” he says

May write a part two, idk

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost fanfiction #mw2 2022 #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #mw2022

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neyswxrld · 2 months

Text

this is heliv!

story

Heliv, also called Heli, grew up in a little village on a planet, that is overgrown with trees, bushes and weed, and has an incredible nature. She always only had her grandmother, who started to show her what it means to value the nature from a young age on and taught her various effects and healing powers of different herbs and plants.

When Heli was about seventeen years old, the Clone Wars began. It didn't take long, until the enemy troops invaded her home planet. During a shoot-out, her grandmother's house was caught in a heavy explosion. While Heli escaped with severe injuries, her only attachment figure died.

Soon after the incident, the Republic came to help, and the planet was freed from the separatist forces. Still, the fact remained that the young Togruta felt left behind in a world, that seemed too big and cruel for her.

As a reaction to that, Heli departed from the society and started to live a secluded, lonely life in a small cottage in the woods.

Now, almost three years later, she still takes interest in the nature and different medical plants and produces her own medicine. To earn herself some credits, she brings the medication back to the near village and tries to help the people there.

details

making of

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

#star wars #sw the clone wars #the clone wars #star wars original character #star wars oc #star wars oc heli #togruta #togruta oc #oc character #oc sundays #oc sunday

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babygirl-riley · 8 months

Text

Okay okay listen, if you are a Greys Anatomy fan you know what I will be talking about. So I was watching the episode where George dies and Izzy is flatlining as well so both of them are in the middle part of the “afterlife.” If you haven’t seen it here is a link to go look at it.

Anyways it got me thinking about what IF you and Simon got hurt during a mission and that happens. Both flatlining, your souls still searching for each other but only one makes it out. Here I shall write it for you and here is the song to go with it:

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

It was suppose to be a simple go and grab but instead it was a ambush. Simon and you got trapped in the middle of the cross fire. You ducked behind a blown up car as was Ghost. “Ghost what’s your ETA?” Yelled Price through the comms.

Simon looked at you as you shot at the enemy. “We won’t be there.”

Your head snapped over to him, giving him a questionable look. “Say that again?”

Before he could answer back you heard a loud bang and him crumble to the floor. “No!” You yelled looking over at the stream line that it came from.

Sniper. “Ghost is down! I repeat Ghost is down!” You yelled shooting in that direction.

“We are heading yer way!” Soap responded as you heard movement from his end.

Before you could answer back you felt your body be thrown across the battlefield smacking right into a wall. You blacked out before looking around to see dust. You looked over to see Simon close to you, his clothes ripped to hell. You tried to talk but only stopped by coughing, that’s when you tasted the metallic.

You looked down at yourself to see a shard of metal in your stomach. That’s not good. Blood forming around it and spilling on the floor. The pain started to come through, running your blood cold. Panic. Don’t panic.

You felt someone grab your shoulder and dust came up. You lazily turned your head. Soap. He was yelling at you but only no sounds coming out. You moaned out and could feel yourself losing consciousness, panic was all over Soap’s face. You followed his gaze that left yours, landing on Simon.

Price was desperately taking his vest off, panting his face. You watched as you saw his chest rise and fall, looking like a coughing fit. You sighed as you looked up at the sky as you saw a helicopter fly above you.

It was so blue. You never noticed how blue it was. You slowly started to lose consciousness. At first it was all black then it was spurts of areas. You were in the heli then you were on the operating table. You could feel the oxygen mask over your mouth and nose. When you would try to be awake nothing would move, arms, legs, hell even your eyes. You would try to scream for Simon but nothing would come out. He wasn’t there.

You tried to get up and yell and scream for him but nothing would move. You started to panic feeling yourself get more heavier. Before you started to cry you felt calm.

That’s when the memories came by, you would watch from a distance. You and your siblings running around the yard as your dad would chase you. Playing tag or shooting water guns at each other. You heard crying and saw teenage yourself curled on the patio chair. Your father patting your back.

You remembered that day. Your “boyfriend” broke up with you. Standard teenage drama happened, that day you learned that you didn’t know what to do with your life. What happens? You go into the military and graduated. You watched as you heard a camera snap and it was you taking a picture with your siblings. In military wear. “Y/N.” You turned to see your mother staring at you.

You looked behind you to see no one was behind you. When you looked back she was in front of you. “Come here,” She said grabbing your hand gently and guiding you to the home that once stood. Your mother was younger than when she passed. No wrinkles. No aging hair. Like she was in her mid twenties maybe thirties. When you went inside you looked around. It was just like you remembered. Pictures littering the walls, children paintings covering the fridge. “You look tired honey.”

You snapped your head over to her. “I’m not tired. I am…” Confused. Scared.

“I know,” She mumbled. “Y/N. You need to stay with us.”

You looked at her confused once more. “What are you…” A flash and your chest burned, you looked down at it, nothing was wrong.

Your mom smiled. “It’s time to come home.”

You snapped your eyes back up at her. Before you could say anything the pain came back, yelling in the distant, and…

A flash. You gasped as you looked around and you were in the conference room that Price hired you on the team. You started to shake as you looked around. You were dressed in your blues, hair tied up nice and neat, military boots on.

“What the hell.” You whispered and looked at a door. Something was pulling you. Not physically just felt like your body needed to follow some invisible string.

It was closed but you still felt a pull coming from it. You slowly walked forward, opening the door, it was a hallway, empty, but how it would look normally with no one around. The base. It was the base. Then the feeling was coming from the elevator it is what was pulling you towards, you kept looking around to see if anyone was here. Was it a joke? What the fuck was going on? You walked out and the pain and flash came back. This time it hurt less. The pull becoming more powerful, more wanting.

Before you reached the button of the elevator, it opens. You stood straight up as tears welled in your eyes. Simon. He straighten up as well as his eyes caught yours. Those beautiful brown eyes you fell in love with, he smiled. He looked…happy, at peace, no mask. He was also in his blues. You smiled back, finally this is what you were pulled to. Back to him. It will always be him.

Then his face dropped, you were confused at first, until you heard distant yelling again. Simon looked behind him before back at you. Simon didn’t say anything as he frowned looking at you like he failed.

You frowned as well, seeing the flash once more. “We’re losing her!” That’s when you realized the reason you were pulled here.

Simon wanted to walk forward but couldn’t. You couldn’t either. Frozen in spot. Before either of you could say anything a bright flash blurs everything out. Nothing but the bright white covered everywhere. No mom. No sibling. No Simon.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x you #i really hurt myself doing this

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whirlybirbs · 1 year

Note

Ghost x reader for da people (the people is me)

; — controlled burn | simon "ghost" riley

summary: he isn't used to communing with ghosts. pairing: simon "ghost" riley / gender neutral!reader tags: no warnings, but may i offer spiteful ex-lovers anyone? a/n: 1.) lee i am sorry this is bad. 2.) everyone it's been a moment since i have written so i owe you all the biggest sowwies. anyways, who knew in 2022 everything would come full circle with me writing for the first man i ever really wrote fanfiction for, i love this ghost daddy hype moment

Laswell isn't expecting you to say yes, but favors owed are thicker than blood when it comes to this line of work.

I don't do contract work anymore, Kate, you'd told her adamantly in the quiet of your office, I never liked living in the grey.

And yet, you're here; you're sat beside her in the heli as the bird dips low on the horizon line and begins to kick up plumes of dust in the night air. Sand whips around the spotlights illuminating the landing strip, and as the shroud parts, Kate can see there are gathered men ready to welcome the two of them.

Your eyes flick across the tarmac. Even here — in the chopper, as you yank your headset free and gather your bag — you can feel eyes pinning you in place. Like a lone rabbit spotted by a waiting wolf. Eyes are watching in the darkness. Something stalks in your peripherals.

And as eerie as it is, it's familiar. Like coming home.

A dust devil passes as touch down settles, and in the calm stillness of that single moment, you see him:

Ghost.

You never did like living in the grey — and Simon knew damn well his whole life was bleeding out in shades of it. He's no longer sharply forged in the fires of morality; maybe one day he was, one day when he was younger. When there was less gilded, war-dazzled weight to his dress uniform's breast. When there was less grey in the unruly blonde buzz beneath his balaclava, when he had fewer starlight scars commemorating brutality etched into his skin.

His righteousness is dulled now; but still efficient, still violent, still lethal. Simon sacrificed morality long ago when he fled that forge in favor of getting the fucking job done. Sacrifices had to be made. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction.

He knows he isn't a good man.

You always did deserve good.

Honest.

Those owlish, dark eyes watch you greet Price. Gaz is excitable, Soap is impressed. He unwavers, hand on his holstered pistol and the other picking the skin of his thumb.

Behind the balaclava, there's tension. But, when you turn and slip your eyes along the chipped skull face-plate, the hardness slips away. He catches it. Like a moment where Simon is back and he isn't the man in the mask.

"Good to see you," he says in a voice quieter than a whisper.

You only nod.

In the debrief room, he continues his quiet watching. Ghost watches you listen, and he watches you pick at your bottom lip like you always do when you concentrate.

Across the room, Soap slides him a subtle, questioning look. Ghost doesn't even flinch. The hardness stays.

Pay attention, says his volleyed glare.

Simon tries to forget the way you always did favor peppermint lip balm.

When you finally speak, in that dimly lit room, the sound of your voice reminds Simon of the sting of a bullet graze. It's like the ricochet of a searing hot caliber biting soft flesh.

Suddenly, Simon is twenty-seven again and in love.

He fucking hates himself for it.

He's trying to kick his smoke habit — bad on the lungs.

But, tonight he doesn't give a damn because the nicotine isn’t the only thing making his hands shake and letting the flame lick his fingers feels fine. A controlled burn.

He isn't used to communing with old ghosts.

But, you're back in the grey.

#controlled burn #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 fic #mw2 oneshot #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine

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lxstfathier · 10 months

Text

Fantasma

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Headcanons

Summary: Simon doesn’t know how to ride a horse, so he seeks out help from an expert, which happens to be you.

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Fun fact: when i was younger, i used to ride sport horses, and i was quite good at it. I showed a lot, and even went to some military facilities to compete against their riders. So, when i turned 16 everyone tried to convince me to enlist in the military just so i could ride their special horses and join the show jumping team, but i never took it seriously and now i kinda regret it lmao. However, that’s what inspired me to write this. It’s super self-indulgent, so i really don’t expect it to get a lot of notes, but thanks to those who will read it, it means a lot to me, hope you like it 💗

♡ Simon is utterly mortified when Price tells them all about their next mission. It’s far away, in the middle of nowhere, not accesible on the heli, jeeps or any other vehicle, just by foot… or horses. And he doesn’t know a thing about horses.

♡ Price is a good rider (he always brags about it), even Soap and Gaz have some basic knowledge, just enough to know how to stay on the saddle and guide the animal. Except Simon. But he doesn’t tell them a word, not wanting to get teased for days.

♡ So he tries to deal with it by himself. He watches some youtube videos, and then thinks about getting some lessons in a kids school near Manchester, but that would be weird. Until he suddenly remembers Alejandro, the only good rider that he seems to know besides Price.

♡ Simon calls Ale that same night, telling him about his little problem. And he laughs at it, obviously. Simon Riley? Not knowing how to ride a horse? must be a joke. But once Ale is done with the tease, he tells him about you, the only horse trainer in the military -that he knows- who is willing to work side by side with the special forces.

♡ Yeah, well, traveling all the way to México just to learn how to ride sounds crazy, but what else is he supposed to do?. He can stay stay in Manchester with his anxiety through the roof, or he can go to you and let you train him with some proper military tactics.

♡ Two days later, Simon is already with you, in the best equestrian center of the Mexican military, shaking your hand as he introduces himself. And maybe you should have listened to Alejandro when he told you all about him, because he is really… intimidating.

♡ Still, you don’t let his scary mask and cold demeanor distract you. He only has two weeks to learn everything he can, and no time can be wasted. You show him around the place, the big sand arenas, the grass fields, the cafeteria, and finally, the stables.

♡ Once Simon sees all the horses there, he’s totally mesmerized, looking at each one of them like a little boy, caressing the noses of those who peek through the bars to see if he has any treats. If you’re honest, you were expecting him to be like all those soldiers who were indifferent to these beautiful animals, but he’s not, he’s gentle and kind, and it makes your heart melt.

♡ You happily show him all kind of horses, from the sport ones to the artillery and draft. Explaining the difference between them, and he listens carefully.

♡ “What kind of horses do you ride?” Simon asks, piercing blue eyes looking at you through the holes of his mask.

♡ “I ride sport horses” you answer, nervously playing with your own hands. “I’m the captain of the show jumping team… didn’t Alejandro told you that?”

♡ Simon shakes his head. Alejandro told him that you were the best rider he had ever met, and that’s it, he never mentioned you were a high ranked one. Hell, Simon didn’t even knew the military had that sort of sports teams, it has always been like that? Or is it just some culture shock?.

♡ “it’s fine” you shrug, smiling at him, you don’t like to brag about it anyways. “Now let me introduce you to your horse, ok?. I think a found the perfect partner to teach you everything you need to know.”

♡ There’s no way you’ll give him a sport horse, or artillery horse, those are way too difficult to handle. So you guide him to the draft horses area, stopping outside a big stall with “Fantasma” in the name plaque, looking at the enormous white stallion inside of it.

♡ “What do you think? huh?” You speak, excited for him to meet your pick. “He’s a big boy, super experienced and trustworthy. But the best part is that his name is the same as your callsign!”

♡ Simon smiles behind his mask, feeling some sort of immediate connection to the horse, reaching out to caress his nose and play with his whiskers, admiring the spotless white fur and muscular build.

♡ But wait until Simon is finally on the back of Fantasma, he’s fascinated, maybe a little scared (a man of his size? scared? no way) it’s something new for him, so be patient, cause it takes him a while to get adjusted to it.

♡ That first lesson is a mess. He almost falls twice and you have to remind him every five minutes to keep his hands steady, heels down and shoulders back. But even with all that, he’s a better rider than some useless soldiers that you’ve trained before.

♡ By the third lesson Simon and Fantasma are already an amazing duo. They understand each other quite well, as if they had been together for years, and you couldn’t be more happy for them (also somewhat proud for you ability to always find the perfect horse for your students). Now delighted to see them walk, trot and gallop, easily following your commands.

♡ Much to your disbelief, Simon gets interested in horses beyond riding, asking you to please teach him more. And so you do, excited to share your knowledge, letting him follow you almost everywhere. You teach him how to groom, braid manes, clean stalls, tack up, feed, etc.

♡ “What breed is Fantasma?” he asks, curious when you mention that there’s a lot of different breeds for different purposes.

♡ “He’s a Santa Gertrudis” you explain. “It’s a special breed created only for the mexican military. And i guess we are lucky to be able to ride them, cause normal people can’t even lay a finger on them.”

♡ Simon will never admit it, but he likes hearing you talk about anything. Your voice is soothing, and he finds it really cute when you get so passionate, making it clear that those animals are your whole life.

♡ He also likes watching you ride when he has the chance, mesmerized with how you do it, jumping high obstacles so effortlessly, making it look so easy. And he wonders if someday he could do the same… or at least try to.

♡ It’s not long until your fellow team members start teasing you, laughing whenever they see you together. “De dónde sacaste ese novio tan rarito?” or “ya cogieron?” echoing every time Simon is not around. And you just roll your eyes, telling them that no, he’s not your boyfriend, and no, you’re not fucking.

♡ Unfortunately, at the start of the second week, Fantasma gets a slight colic (maybe because of all the cookies and carrots that Simon gave him). So he can’t be ridden for a few days, and you tell Simon that he can continue his lessons with another horse, but he refuses. He’s grown too attached to Fantasma, and would never replace him, so he stays by his side to take care of him.

♡ That day, after all the vet checks, you both stay the night with Fantasma, outside his stall just to keep an eye on him, sipping on a cup of hot coffee and talking about your lives. Simon tells you about his missions with the 141, and it’s very interesting to you, cause you never got the chance to do something like that.

♡ The next day, Fantasma is feeling much better, but Simon insists on staying a second night with him. “You can go to sleep, i’ll be here, don’t worry” he tells you, and obviously you’re still hesitant to leave him alone with the horse… but you decide to trust him, telling him to call you if something goes wrong.

♡ At morning, you wake up a bit early to go see how they’re doing. And you’re greeted by the cutest thing ever! Simon is asleep inside the stall, laying on the comfy wood shavings, mask off revealing his disheveled blonde hair and black paint smeared around his eyes, and Fantasma is also laying down, resting his head on Simon’s lap.

♡ You swear you could die right there. But luckily they don’t wake up with your presence, so you let them sleep a bit more, going away, keeping their secret safe.

♡ After that incident, Simon and Fantasma are back on the arena, having fun on their last days together. This time taking it slow… and eating less cookies.

♡ “I want to take Fantasma with me, on my mission” Simon comes to you on your lunch break, and you almost choke on your food.

♡ “That’s not possible” you reply. And before he asks why, you continue: “The horses belong to the government, and uh- well- you’re not from here. They won’t let you take him away. I guess you’ll need to ask the UK government for a horse with some similar characteristics.”

♡ But he doesn’t want another horse. He wants Fantasma. “Who do i need to talk to?”

♡ “I don’t know, but General Francisco Camarena is the leader of the cavalry battalions, maybe you can talk to him” as soon as you tell Simon that, he storms out of the cafeteria, determined to do whatever it takes, getting weird looks from the other soldiers nearby. And you already know that they will give you shit for lending one of your horses to a foreign man, but you don’t really care, as long as you don’t get in trouble with your superiors everything is fine.

♡ And Simon always gets what he wants. General Francisco approves his request of taking Fantasma on his mission for a few days, doing some kind of agreement between the UK and México, with the only condition of bringing back the animal without a single injury.

♡ “Please stay safe. Both of you” the goodbye on their last day is hard, tears filling your eyes when you see Fantasma get loaded into the cargo plane, along with his food and tack, ready to go on an adventure.

♡ “We’ll be ok. I will protect him with my life, i promise” Simon says, trying to ease your worries. And you just nod, refraining yourself from crying in front of everyone, wishing them a nice flight and good luck on their mission.

♡ Once the plane is ready to take off, Simon thanks you for everything, hoping to see you again and then gets inside too, going straight to the box container where Fantasma is in, caressing his forehead and playing with the white short mane. “Let’s go buddy. Hope you’re comfortable, cause we’re in for a long trip…”

#i just think this is really cute pls don’t kill me #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic

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vipersiia · 1 year

Text

a misty memory

simon ‘ghost’ riley/gn!reader

fluff, angst, hurt no comfort | themes of death, kinda suicide? not really, violence | reader’s callsign is cobra. no use of y/n

notes: inspired by “Who is She” by I Monster. i cried writing this :’)

wc: 908

He didn’t mean to let you in so far, let you see so much of him.

(He doesn’t regret it)

He remembers when you arrived, the memory lingering in his mind.

You arrived like a hurricane, loud and bold. Always happy, always smiling. He was annoyed at first, but like a mint plant you quickly planted your roots down, and breached his walls.

“Sargeant Cobra at your service.” You jokingly bowed.

He really hated you at first. You seemed so carefree, almost reckless.

Your first mission with the crew was a story to tell for years on.

It was as if your entire demeanor changed. From the moment you exited the heli, you put up a serious persona.

“Cobra really lives up to their name, huh?” Soap commented, seeing you slide through tiny area’s they saw. Moving fluidly, barely noticeable if they didn’t already know where to look.

The way you wrapped your arms around the enemy before mercilessly slitting their throat.

That moment really changed his perspective of you. He became more open, and eventually something happened between you two.

“Why on Earth would you take the shot for me?” Exasperated with his attempted explanation, “Tell me Ghost.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of a world without you.”

“What?”

“Nothing”, insecurity creeped into his mind and he tried to leave.

You wouldn’t let him leave.

He remembers the day vividly.

“I couldn’t either.” He almost couldn’t believe it.

When he asked you to repeat it, he was half expecting you to say something completely different. You repeated it louder, “I couldn't either. I love you too much to let you go.”

Your words rang loudly in his ears, and he pulled you close, whispering your name softly.

Days went by, and his adoration for you only seemed to continue to grow. He learned more about you, and you learned more about him.

“I did ballet for 6 years.” You blurted out one day, pen against paper.

He looked up from his report, jokingly surprised, “You don’t have a graceful bone in that body dove.”

An exaggerated gasp followed, like you couldn’t believe he said such a thing.

Your death was not something he expected, no one did. It felt like karma, the universe giving him something and taking it away, just like that.

It was his fault.

He knows you wouldn’t agree, but you weren’t here were you?

In the same sense, where you arrived like a hurricane, you left like one too.

It’s been a year since you were on the team, months since you started dating. The next mission was like any other, get in, obtain a flashdrive, and get out. It was easy, you told him, you’ve done this a thousand times.

He believed you, of course he did. You had yet to fail a mission.

It went smoothly up till then, it was a trap.

(He should have realized)

“Cobra speaking. Evac asap, it’s a trap. I repeat. It’s a trap.”

“Loud and clear Cobra. Get outta there.”

No response.

At the time he didn’t think anything of it. You were likely pre-occupied evacuating.

(His first mistake)

He was waiting at the truck, impatiently eyeing the still building. He didn’t know what the trap was, you didn’t explain. It was quiet, eerily silent.

Suddenly there was sound, loud in the dead of the night. Static filled the air, as Soap responded to the comms.

“Cobra are you there?”

”See you -n an—er —fe” Your voice was quiet, he could barely make out a word.

The meaning wasn’t lost on either of them however. His blood ran cold, rushing through his veins down to the tips of his fingers. It was quiet again.

If he hadn’t froze you’d still be here, safe in his arms.

(Don’t lie to yourself)

Suddenly, there was noise. Soap cursed as the building exploded. Rubble rained down on them, pelting the truck.

“Drive Lt!”

He kicked into gear, but instead of doing as Soap said he rushed towards the crumbling building.

If he hadn’t froze, he could have saved you.

(Wishful thinking)

He found out later that there was a bomb, as soon as you accessed the computer, it was rigged to explode as soon as your hand left the keys. There was no hope, you sacrificed yourself for the team. ‘Your boys’ as you had fondly called them.

Things were never the same, he mused placidly. Blinking dust out of his eyes, arms limp beside him.

You came into his life, and left it just as suddenly. He wondered if it was karma for what he’s done in life.

(Why did it have to be you)

As he laid, reflecting on his life. It was almost amusing, how you were still the only thing he could think of. Even in death, you resided in corners of his thoughts.

(He didn’t, still doesn’t, deserve you)

He could faintly hear Soap talking to him through the comms, smelling copper, tasting metal.

(Recklessness, his eventual downfall)

He wondered where you were, how you were. Briefly entertaining the thought that you both would meet again in the afterlife.

(You probably hated him, an irredeemable monster)

Trembling fingers reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a small figurine and your dog tag. Holding on tightly, his breath slowed, and his eyes drifted shut.

“Ghost. GHOST! Where the fuck are you?”

He hoped you’d meet again. Longed to hold you once more.

(How selfish)

#viper.txts #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 x reader #mmmm angst

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streets-in-paradise · 9 months

Text

Anonymous Hero - Hector of Troy x (Fem)Warrior!Reader (requested)

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by @g-m-kaye

“ (...) If you’re still taking fic requests for TROY (?) I’d be super duper excited if you’d write an AU fic for Hector x reader character where Hector, instead of being married to Andromache, falls for a slender Trojan warrior who has his back in the first melee… but unexpectedly turns out to be a woman when Hector demands the warrior remove his helmet & reveal “his” identity 👀 (I’ve always loved the “girl masquerading as boy” trope - ever since Shakespeare!) … and pls do make it as steamy as you like!! Lol (...)”

Hope you will like this, darling! I loved writing it.

Word Count 2.5 K

Warnings: Hector going through a Li Shang bi panic, Single Hector AU ( sorry, Andromache. You are great, but we love your man). Very few proofreading ( it’s almost 3 AM and i’m tired, but wanted to get it posted)

Summary: In the heat of battle during the arrival of the greeks Hector ends up greatly impressed by the courageous response of a singular soldier, but this stranger refuses to claim ríghts on the feat. Feeling even more intrigued about him afterwards, the prince is determined to find him in full unawareness of how the peculiar fighter has quite a few more surprises to give.

Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @helie-brain @rfkfan

The sound of the bell brought the expected news nobody wanted to hear. Greek veils in the horizon, a thousand ships about to reach trojan shore, giving the impression that Agamemnon had emptied the continent to avenge the insulted honor of his brother. As the city observed the spectacle with horror, heralds were calling all the available men to fight in what would be the first defense in a crushing war. The disastrous numerical difference forced desperate measures and the army commanded by Prince Hector needed to engross its lines somehow. For so, many soldiers who weren’t in optimal conditions were needed: young lads stepping into combat too soon and old men following the example of Glaucus.

Fillment additions, men that were there for numbers but weren’t warriors in the heroic sense of the term. They had very little possibilities of success against the myrmidons, fearless and bloodthirst beasts that were presenting a hard challenge to the Apollonian Guard even before the landing of Ajax. If some of the best in Troy were suffering because of them, arming that sacrificial reserve sounded like pointless cruelty. Those men were doomed to be nothing more than fresh meat to engross the downs of Achilles and Ajax, easily removable obstacles slowing down their encounter with more qualified enemies. No one would have expected much of them, at least until one proved the assumptions of the strategists to be completely wrong.

After Achilles performed miracles throwing a spear that killed Tecton from an impossible distance, doing so with a cocky bragger naturality, the elite warriors were completely discouraged. Even Hector experienced true horror for the first time in many years, sensibly affected by the death of the friend who had always got his back in the battlefield. Despite the myrmidons being implicitly warned to leave him for their leader, many tried to take that contextual advantage doing their shots in trying to take down the prince. Clearly, not everyone was willing to listen after being exhorted to fight through a hubris induced speech about reaching immortal glory.

In that spirit-wrecking point of the battle, with a temple destroyed and priests slaughtered by an enemy that knew no limits, the disorganized crowd of elite warriors fleeing left a chance for the relegated men of Troy to shine. A small, slender soldier that could have made Ajax laugh if he would have faced him courageously assumed the role of Tecton protecting the prince in the chaos. Hector was equally moved and amazed by the man fighting beside him. He looked weaker than his brother, probably a young lad from that desperate aid reserve, yet he was fighting with the push of a man twice his size. He followed all the way through the carnage inside the temple and would have gone to the end of the line accompanying him to the encounter of Achilles, if Hector himself wouldn’t have commanded otherwise. The sacrificial devotion of that soldier felt personal beyond any measures, it left a mark on his memory that eclipsed the shocking first impression Achilles wanted to feel being causing him.

Although relegated due to his fragile appearance, that nameless young man fought with the kind of honor the famous greek warlord lacked and Hector was finding a strange sense of hope in that. He also couldn’t help admiring some of his gracious movements at times, wondering if he could perhaps have been a disguise of the god defending his altar. That would have at least explained the most incredible aspect of the situation: his unexplainable attraction towards him.

No details of the episode were referenced in the war council that night. Archeptolemus, his political rival in religious circles, would have used it against him and the prince was already very much irritated by his misuse of religion to discredit him. If the soft looking soldier was Apollo fighting beside him or just a regular mortal he had just fallen for, he would have to figure it out by himself. The hopeful reminder of him helped the prince tolerate the newest terrible choice of his brother. Although Paris promised an easy resolution meant to take place the next morning, he was walking to his death and he wasn’t ready to let him die. Unlike his mysterious new favorite, the youngest prince didn’t possess any dormant courage to be released in a critical situation.

Paris needed to meet that man, either to exhort miraculous bravery in him or to make him desist from that purpose. It was the excuse that Hector invented to himself in his mildly desperate search for him.

“ Troy is worth fighting for because even the simplest of our men can make a difference. “ He was saying to his men in formation during the motivational speech that morning.” Agamemnon brought to us a parade of famous heroes without any inside cohesion. He expects us to tremble upon him because his battalions are all commanded by one of those, but yesterday we learned a valuable lesson. Their army is weak where ours is stronger. They are glory seekers harangued by leaders who think like arrogant children, we are men fighting for our country. We don’t rely on the fame of our heroes, but in the strength of our hearts!”

Ovations cutted him off for an instant, but he waited enough to continue and evaluated the reaction.

“ Yesterday we lost a hero, a man I loved like a brother, but that loss didn’t paralyzed us.Someone else made his way reclaiming his spot beside me. Not a fighter in a chariot, not an apollonian, but a simple man. He performed heroic acts worthy of being sung, but disappeared without claiming any authorship for his feat. While greeks are too preoccupied with making history to care about each other, even the smallest trojan is already a hero.”

Hector roamed the extension of the front lines on his horse,visually searching for the reaction revealing the man in question.

“ We have humble anonymous heroes that double theirs in courage and worth, and I now command this man to show himself and reclaim the honors he deserves.”

A tense silence followed the end of his speech, soldiers looking at their sides full with confusion searching for the one refusing such a high reward.

“ It is an order.” Hector finally reminded them. “ In the name of the loyalty he displayed, I demand him to give one step ahead.”

Suddenly, a slender figure emerged from the crowd and the prince got off his horse as he approached. His evident satisfaction made Paris hold a chuckle, especially because he noticed how his brother observed him.

“ I want the army to be a witness of my gratitude. “ Hector explained to him once he was finally standing in front of him. Only a shorter distance separated them. “ In a battle won by men desperate for recognition, you saved my life asking nothing in return. You have won my admiration and sincere affection; Troy must remember your name.”

The multitude started cheering until the honored fighter removed his helmet, surrendering himself to the pressure about knowing his identity. A sepulchral silence followed his movements, confusion spreading even further than before and the youngest prince was the only smiling face easy to spot.

Hector discovered a beautiful woman staring back at him and never before he had found anyone so desirable.His lips slightly parted despite him trying to pretend he wasn’t observing her in complete awe.

“ Do with me what you judge properly, my lord.” She fearlessly exclaimed. “ I surrender myself to you for disciplinary action.”

He recognized her, a young maiden from a remarkable family of trojan aristocrats. Firstborn daughter and her only brother was fifteen years old. The boy was named Ilus, at least he remembered that, but he couldn’t remember much of her and it frustrated him.

" I must assume you are here as a replacement for Ilus Peiroide. " He asked her in an affirmation. " A young boy, too young. His frame provided an easy hideout for you. "

" He is my brother. " The lady replicated. " Is the king of Mycenae the only one who can fight for his brother? I would rather bring dishonor to my family than burying Ilus. "

Her words resonated deeply with him. Not only his fondness of her kept increasing, Hector simply couldn't blame her. However, he had to act as a leader.

" At least allow her to plead her case, i like her." Paris commented, doing his brother the favor of saying what he couldn't. " This is my war, one that is being fought over a woman I brought here. Wouldn't it be a blatant hypocrisy if we don't let this girl speak?"

She smiled at him, only deviating her attention from Hector for a brief instant, to what Paris replied with a friendly wink.

" You don't have much time, the greeks will arrive soon..." Hector pointed out. " Your brave acts are not being questioned, but you must make yourself accountable for your transgression. Not to me, but to our countrymen."

The intense eye contact going on between them was loaded with a tension that didn't resemble a grudge of any kind.

" Look at them and tell them why you did this. "

" I listened to your speeches and felt the call deep inside, in my heart. " She provocatively replied, admitting reasons beyond the initial sympathetic motive palatable to their societal perceptions. " My prince, you harangue the men speaking about freedom, but the rules of war don't threaten theirs as heavily as they menace ours. Are we all going to pretend we don't know what happened to Princess Briseis just because the King can't stand the shame? A woman doesn't simply disappear or dies in war, she is taken by the winner. Women don't get the privilege of dying, we are the ones who will be reduced to slavery if the city falls. If Helen came here searching for her freedom to love... Why can't I defend my own freedom, and all my countrywomen? "

Even the ones who had reason to present objections couldn't argue with that, the presence of Helen was a disruptive element for trojan society. Her existence there had proven to challenge the traditional conceptions for quite a few established institutions, marriage being the main in the list but not the only one.

" If this ends in battle, you have one more chance to prove your value to the city. Only one, and i am granting it to you in honor of the great service you performed for me yesterday." Hector warned her. " Consider my debt paid with this indulgence. "

She smiled and that time it was for him. Hector had to pretend coldness, but he would have done anything to see that again.

" I will not disappoint you, my prince. If you pick me, I will follow you to the gates of Tartarus. "

His pulse accelerated hearing that, making him feel the improper effect that the woman had on him.

The promise turned out to be true, since another opportunity for fighting presented itself and she did something impressive. Trojans weren't as surprised as the greeks were when Hector slaughtered Menelaus to save Paris from that hopeless combat, unleashing a new battle through the breaking of the pact. To them it was clear that the story of the shieldmaiden who defied the concept of honor replacing her younger brother to save him must had inspired the heir prince. Curiously but not casually, a great victory was obtained and both performed the highlights of it. Barely after Hector triumphed in his solitary combat against Ajax, the lady forced the definitive retreat of the greeks for the day by attacking the mycenaeans.

Her spear throw killed the charioteer of Agamemnon. Not satisfied with that, she wounded him with the sword as he was attempting to control the horses. Nothing severe, the blade barely caressed his arm, but it reminded the power delirious king that he was a mortal and in that opportunity she did reclaimed the feat knowing it would increase his humiliation.

The very same men who were judging her in silence that morning celebrated her alongside Hector in the afternoon. She was invited to the palace, where King Priam allowed her to be acknowledged through his son's choice of allowing her involvement. She promised him to help in the case of her niece, if she could be allowed after the immense offense she gave to the supreme greek king. Helen herself praised her bravery, granting hers and Paris' support altogether.

It was like a dream, a very vivid dream where she was getting noticed being who she wanted to be. Even Hector, the man she had hopelessly loved in silence for many years, was looking at her in a different way.

Among the ladies of trojan high society she never felt particularly special and nothing made her feel that way. Despite being daughter of one of the local nobles in his own city, Hector barely noticed her. She used to be one of the many silly girls looking at him with pointless adoration at some special social event while his eyes followed only the frame of Princess Andromache of Thebe. A woman who represented everything she wasn't, a perfectly adjusted lady any man would want for a wife.

The order of the world was turned upside down, Hector couldn't take his eyes of her. Even without the disguise he still seemed to admire her and she felt it hitting way deeper than what the moral undertones of his speech implied.

" If I have been an inspiration for you, let me say I can finally repay you." He shamelessly admitted her as soon as they were left alone. " You inspired me today, sometimes you need strength to leave your honor behind for love."

" Is that an invitation?" She teased him. " Don't keep me waiting, I'm not a child anymore."

Hector sipped some wine without breaking eye contact through the action, then left the cup to subtly lay a hand on her cheek.

" Then you must be aware of how you are making me feel."

She lifted her head just a bit, showing how delighted with his touch she was.

" How can I doubt it when you are looking at me like this?" She purred with want. " I fully meant what I told you this morning. Pick me, I could be yours if you want me. "

Infatuated as he was, he could have proposed ríght there after that suggestive comeback, but he límited himself to kissing her hoping that could help him slow down.

#troy 2004 #hector of troy #eric bana #hector x reader #hector of troy x reader #eric bana x reader #troy fanfiction #troy

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 9 months

Text

Acta non verba - Actions, not words

Warnings: smut. I don’t think it’s very descriptive, but it’s smut. Also, the style of writing has a reason.

Disclaimer: I wrote it for my story so it’s my female OC, but for this piece I tried to keep it as neutral as possible, there are no clear descriptions apart from female anatomy and maybe some mentions of her being on the curvier side. I left physical description out.

I felt giddy because I got my first two (lovely) comments in AO3, and this was going to be a apart of the current chapter so... here it is

Tag (because they asked): @glitterypirateduck

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Heavy steps echo in the walls of the safehouse’s entryway as he makes his way inside, ignoring the bodies around him, the words around him as his fellow soldiers either greet his arrival or cower from him at the sight of the skull.

He is used to it.

He doesn’t care anymore.

He’s searching.

His eyes wander around the main room, quickly examining faces until he finds a familiar one. Johnny, who smiles broadly as always from his position on one of the windows, keeping watch just in case anyone decides to approach the warehouse they’re holed in. Other bodies are moving, talking, keeping watch on other windows or just plainly lying down and trying to sleep, but he can’t find the one body he’s looking for.

He hears his callsign called and turns his head to Soap, who is still smiling and points to the stairs, his mouth forming the word shower without voice. Just the thought of what he’s going to find is enough to make his throat go dry and his heart beat faster.

How can it beat that fast and warm his chest so much if it’s a cold one.

He nods at Johnny and drops his backpack aside before taking the stairs up, which seem to be endless and he thinks he’s taking years to get to the first floor. He looks around once, listening to the murmur of more voices in some of the rooms, and then, at the end of the too long corridor, the sweet sound of water.

Before he knows it he has walked down the corridor, his eyes boring into the door as if he wanted to make a hole in it, just so he doesn’t have to stop and use the door handle. Just before his hand touches it his mind starts to wander with a hint of anguish. What if the door is locked? He’ll break it down if needed to get to her.

But the door is not locked, and he steps inside and is immediately engulfed by the steam in the room, and the murmur of the water, and above everything, her scent. The scent that keeps him awake at night, that makes his skin tingle when she is sitting next to him in the heli or the briefing room, that makes his palms burn with the need of her flesh, that makes his cock harden beneath his jeans and strain the fabric.

And when he closes the door and locks it she seems to know someone’s in the room and suddenly she’s there, naked, eyes wide while peering from the corner of the shower wall, and its her eyes that stop him in his tracks as always.

Her eyes, that have something behind them that he craves and fears at the same time, and that tear him apart and make him whole again each time she looks at him.

And then she smiles, sweet and bright as the light that makes her eyes glow and the bathroom even warmer, and the only thing he can think of is if she smiles at him like this without seeing his face, without seeing him whole, what would she do if she did.

He doesn’t know how, or when, but his tactical vest falls to the tiled floor with a thud right before she is right there, still smiling, her hands cupping his face over the balaclava and tracing the lines of the skull with her fingertips, and he just needs her so damn much.

His hoodie and undershirt follows the vest to the floor, and then his hands are on her waist and plush hips, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing, bringing her wet and naked body to his chest while he feels the silky skin of her thighs brushing his sides as she wraps her legs around him. The combat belt surely would hurt her, so he opens it quickly to let it fall as well, unable to stop looking at her, taking in her beauty.

Her hands are still cupping his face, her forehead against the skull and her eyes looking into his while he moves forward, bringing them both under the shower head again.

And she laughs, her soft laughter echoing in the tiled walls and he thinks he could die happy here and there if that was the last thing he could hear in this life. His boots and jeans are getting soaked but he couldn’t care less, the only thing that it’s important is that she’s finally his. And he wants to be hers.

And so he keeps her up against his chest with a forearm under her bottom, and his free hand trails a shaky path with his fingertips from her hip to her navel, feeling the soft flesh quivering with his touch, her breathing hot and warm against his mask, her eyes never leaving his.

His fingers continue their journey, exploring the valley between her breasts, marveling at her soft skin while he continues up her collarbones and throat, until his palm reaches her jaw and just keeps her there, their faces very close, their breath mingling, and then it’s not enough.

He yanks the mask off his head with one movement, tossing it out of the shower and then looking at her, trying to guess if something changes, feeling raw, and exposed, and vulnerable, and weak, and stupid. But her eyes don’t change, still locked on his, and it’s just the pads of her fingers which start tracing the deep scars and hurt of his face, with a touch so sweet that he thinks he could cry, if he still knew how.

And then her smile blooms again, and her eyes turn sweeter, and then he doesn’t know who made the first movement but their lips are touching and his heart is pounding so hard that he can hear it over the murmur of the water falling on them. His boots and jeans are soaked, but he couldn’t care less. She is in his arms, and she accepts him.

The tender kiss turns into hunger soon, her arms slowly moving around his shoulders as he brings her to the wall with her thighs still around his waist. Her tongue is as sweet as her lips and her eyes, her fingers tangling in his hair while he battles to open his belt with one hand, his other arm still holding her.

He feels his whole world is spinning out of his control, but her eyes are his only anchor, her body in his arms, her heart beating against his the only thing that grounds him and prevents the anguish and the demons from swallowing him whole.

In a daze, he suddenly feels himself sinking into her, burying his cock in her sweet tight cunt to the hilt, her moans sweet music that he drinks breathlessly, greedy for everything and anything she gives him willingly.

His soaked jeans and boxers caught on his thighs as he keeps his legs a bit separated and his boots firmly planted on the tiled floor of the shower, each of his hands grasping the soft flesh of her thighs and bottom, with a grip so hard she’ll surely have bruises by the time they are done. She doesn’t seem to mind, whining needily each time his blunt nails dig in her skin with the effort of driving himself deeper but slow, feeling her walls flutter around his shaft and sucking him in.

They don’t stop kissing even when they need to breath, gasping for air when there’s no other remedy than allowing their lips to part briefly before diving in again. She mumbles something incomprehensible between kisses, he answers back just as unintelligible with another long, heated kiss, just knowing. They don’t need words. They have never needed words.

But her voice

Her soft, innocent voice sounds so needy when he thrusts harder, her back arching in his hands and her tongue deep in his mouth, her moans becoming louder as he picks up the pace, wanting nothing more than to feel her coming undone in his arms, wanting nothing more than to come inside of her, to be inside her so deep that they won’t be able to be apart ever again.

He’s so drunk on her taste that when she mewls in his mouth and her arms cling to him harder he barely has time to realize before her walls are clamping down on his cock, squeezing him so tightly and deliciously it’s almost painful, and he slows down, kissing her desperately as she whimpers, feeling her cumming on his shaft and his balls taut just with the pure need of release.

Slowly, when she kisses him again and her arms wrap tightly around his neck he speeds up again, feeling pride at the way she’s looking at him with love and wonder in her eyes, at the way her cunt tightens around him each time he lets out a small grunt or growls against her lips, driving himself home as deep inside her as he can, feeling the precipice approaching.

And suddenly he’s right there, safe in her arms and between her thighs, pressing his mouth so desperately against hers that he’s sure he’s hurting her but she doesn’t stop him, her fingers tangled in his hair and her tongue dancing with his so passionately that he feels lightheaded.

And he bursts inside her, so deep and so much that he can feel his seed coating both her tight and velvety walls and his cock and dripping down her cunt over his balls, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing important for him is her, her lips, her heartbeat against his chest, her eyes, her body in his arms.

And then she looks at him, smiling, one of her hands tracing sweetly the line of his jaw and one of his scars, her beautiful eyes on his, and she parts her lips to speak…

And he wakes up.

In the tree where he had perched up the night before, in the unnamed forest where he was sent of recon on a mission that was three days tops and that it was going to be longer than that.

Alone.

With cum in his pants like a goddamned teenager after a wet dream.

Fucking hell.

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