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hyperactively-me · 11 months

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high

He whips his head around when he hears his name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused. “Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs. Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

simon is high off his ass from anesthesia and you have to deal with him. (does this count as a sick trope?? idk)

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You didn’t know your boyfriend was coming back home tonight until you heard a hard knock on the door. The sun had already set long ago, you were settled on the couch with a good book and a cup of your favorite drink. You were forced out of your focus by a hard knock at the door. Immediately, you perk up, a little confused on who’s knocking this late in the evening. Setting your book down, you make your way to the front door. For a moment, you hesitate, and decide to peek out the window before opening the door just in case. Imagine the surprise on your face when you see Simon and Johnny standing outside the door. In a flash you’re at the door and throw it open in one swift movement.

“Johnny?” you say, bewildered. Johnny has, what you presume to be, Simon’s bag of belongings slung over his shoulder. Your eyes dart back and forth from Johnny to Simon, who’s standing a few feet behind him looking at some nonexistent thing out in the distance.

Before you can say anything, Johnny strides up to you, leaning down to whisper to you.

“Lassie, listen here, he jus’ had a medical procedure done an’–”

Your face immediately morphs into concern.

“What?”

“He was stabbed durin’ the mission. But there was a medical procedure done, stitches n’ all.

The color drained from your face. “W- what–,” you take a deep breath trying to steady your racing thoughts.

“No, no, don’t worry, he’s fine now, he’s just high off the anesthesia…”.

You nod your head at Johnny, mentally preparing to deal with this high behemoth of a man. You look over Johnny’s shoulder and simply say, “Simon.”

“Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs.

Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

Confusion washes over you, your eyebrows raised as Simon wriggles his eyebrows at you.

“I–”

Before you could say anything, Simon gives you the most goofy, silly, suave-looking grin, like he’s trying to flirt with you. You immediately regret looking back at Johnny, as his face is now contorted into something that looks like pain from trying not to laugh. That sight itself nearly makes you laugh, so much so that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You try to put on your most serious face while Johnny is trying to compose himself by taking a deep breath.

“A’right, Simon, here ya are,” Johnny squeaks out. You eye Simon wearily, worried about how severe his condition is just from seeing how completely out of it he looks.

Johnny steps to the side, moving his arm to gently push Simon inside your shared apartment. Simon stumbles forward into you, nearly knocking you over because of his physique. You gasp, trying to find your footing as he leans his body weight on you.

“Oh, sorry lovie,” Simon rasps, grabbing your shoulders tightly as he stands himself up straight. Well, he looks kinda lopsided. He dusts your shoulders off as if he dirtied them, then squeezes your arms gently before pulling away. Johnny is trying not to laugh, your face flustered even more.

Johnny had followed you inside, motioning to the bag he still had slung over his shoulder, an amused expression present on his face.

“I’mma leave this here. It’s all of Simon’s belongins’.” You watch as he sets it down on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Johnny. I appreciate you looking out for him,” you smile warmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

“Ay, it's nothin’. I’ll be in contact with ya,” Johnny nods to you, smirking playfully at you for a moment, eyes darting between you and Simon. “Alrigh’, I’m leavin’ lassie. Good luck.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you one more time before pulling the door shut.

You move to lock the door behind him, sighing as the lock clicks. You turn back to look at Simon, leaning on the front door.

“How are you feeling?”

He looks you up and down, unmoving from where he is standing. Save for the slight swaying of his body.

“‘M fine,” he grunts out quickly. “You’re very pretty, aren’t ya love?” his cheeks are flushed.

You push yourself off the door and move towards him, stopping a few feet away. You look straight into his eyes, and giggle out, “Thank you, Simon.”

He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but tries to act suave. You think it's just the cutest thing that he’s just flirting with you like you’ve never met. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re going to have so much fun teasing him about it when the anesthesia wears off. Taking Simon’s hand in yours, you tenderly usher him further inside towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you go to pull out a water bottle and some painkillers that he is definitely going to need when he wakes up in the morning. He shuffles behind you on his unsteady feet, following you like a shadow. You turn around with the items in your hand, using your free hand to grab Simon’s hand once more. He immediately tenses at your touch, but he doesn’t let go.

“C’mon, big guy,” you say, guiding him through the hallway slowly enough so he can walk in a straight line. He stumbles a few times, murmuring nonsense to himself, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he shuffles his feet.

He stumbles a few times, prompting you to resort to slinging his arm over your shoulder, carrying the brunt of his weight as you move down the hallway. He leans on you, breathy chuckling escaping, vibrating against your body.

“Yer too short for your own good, bird,” he slurs, chuckling at the sight of you trying to maneuver him.

“Ah, well, nothing I can do about it,” you giggle.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small “Heh.” You assume he’s too gone to even respond properly.

You kick open your shared bedroom door, much to his surprise.

“Oi, take me out to dinner first lovie,” he looks down at you with a lopsided grin, hair tousled and wild.

“You’re a rascal, Si,” you huff, an amused smile creeping up on your face. “Let’s lay you on the bed, okay?”

He nods quickly, pushing you off him in an attempt to walk by himself. You watch him take a few steps, eyeing him carefully as you set down the water bottle and medicine on the bedside table. You turn the bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow in the room.

“Simon, hold on.” You turn to him, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He shifts his position until his back hits the headboard, eyes half-lidded and cloudy.

“Eh, pushy aren’t ya? Y’know, really, a dinner would be nice, love.”

You smile, shaking your head. Kneeling on the bed next to him, you take the water bottle and place it softly into his hands. “You should probably drink some of that. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself off the bed, making your way into the bathroom to wet a warm towel to clean his face and body.

You come back through the door frame only to see him trying to get off the bed, feet planted on the floor, unsteadily pushing himself to standing. He takes a few wobbly steps towards you, smirking with his eyebrows raised.

“No, no, lay back down,” you protest, gently trying to push him back towards the edge of the bed.

“No, I just wanna say, bird, you and I, we should really go out sometime, y’know,” he looks at you with a serious expression on his face, placing his hands on his hips.

You look up at him, mouth open, the corner of your lip perking up into a bewildered smile.

“Oh my god, Si,” you laugh. “Okay, okay, but only if you sit down and drink some water,” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, feigning frustration.

His smile is huge. God, it makes your heart flutter seeing him smile like this, like there's nothing else in the world that matters.

He sits back down on the bed, moving back to rest up against the headboard. He places his hands behind his head, an exaggeration of himself relaxing.

“Simon, I need to take your shirt off…” you trail off, motioning to the wet towel in your hand, already having an inkling of what he’s going to say back to you.

“D’ you now,” settling back into the bed, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen crosses his face. “Well, bird, you've certainly got a way with words. Can't say I've met someone as bold and direct as you before.”

You look at him, open mouthed.

“If yer speechless now, wait ‘til you see what's under my shirt,” he says matter of factly, slurring the words.

You couldn't help but smile at his bold comment, finding his charm and mischievous confidence strangely attractive. His garbled statements just contributed to the situation's humor.

You try to compose yourself by raising an eyebrow and responding, “Oh, is that so? You've certainly sparked my interest now.”

“Mhmmm,” he draws out, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying his best to tug it off his frame. His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Darlin’', you have no idea what you're in for.”

“Simon, now is not the time,” you giggle. You reach forward, pulling him from resting on the headboard so you can help maneuver his shirt off his body. His skin is burning hot under your touch. When it finally slips off his form, with much struggle, you huff, placing it on the bedside table.

You kneel on the edge of the bed next to him, grasping the warm towel tight as you begin to rub off any grime or dirt from his rough skin. As your touch caresses his skin, he shivers at the sensation, a subtle but noticeable reaction to your careful ministrations.

A soft smile dances across your lips as you notice his reaction. You lean in closer, your voice filled with tenderness and affection, “Ticklish, are we?”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resonating across the air. “Just a bit, love.”

As you examine his hands, you notice their calloused texture, a testament to his tough being. You treat them delicately, soothing weary muscles and offering brief tranquility.

He sighs blissfully, his gaze locked on you, an unconscious expression of thanks and appreciation traveling between you. Taking care of his needs becomes a subtle gesture of love and dedication.

Finally, as you finish wiping away the last traces of dirt, you lean back slightly and examine his cleansed face. It now has a new luster to it, emphasizing the attractive elements that drew you in all that time ago.

“Thank you, bird,” he says as his fingertips brush over your cheek. You swear he’s almost cognizant, the way his fingers touch you.

You respond to his touch with a delicate kiss on his hand, your heart fluttering. “Always, Si.”

A devious light twinkles in his eyes as he looks into yours. “You know, love, I must confess that being pampered by such lovely hands has me feelin' a l'il spoiled,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You rub your hand over his shoulder, massaging it slightly as your other hand moves to stow the towel away. You turn to the lamp, hand hovering over the button before you click it off.

“Ok, it’s time to sleep now, ‘kay?” you murmur, gingerly laying him down on his pillow. “Close your eyes.”

“You don’t have t’ tell me twice,” he chuckles, dragging you down with him. You’re careful to stay away from his injury, shifting slightly in his grasp. As the fatigue sets in, his eyelids begin to droop, weighted down by the day's exhaustion. His breathing grows slower and more steady, creating a beautiful lullaby that permeates the room.

You watch, affectionately, as his features soften and his face relaxes into a serene expression. You move closer, snuggling into his good side, your hand comes to rest on his chest. He automatically draws closer to you, seeking refuge in your embrace.

His body relaxes fully as he succumbs to sleep's embrace, feeling safe and comfortable in your arms. You hug him softly yet firmly, savoring this private moment of vulnerability and trust.

You take sanctuary in the solace with each passing moment, savoring the weight of his body against yours, the rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his breath against your skin. You gently trace your fingers through his hair, lulling him deeper into a deep slumber.

You continue to hold him until sleep takes him entirely, your love and dedication wrapping him like a warm, safe blanket. In this quiet time, you take comfort in the mere act of being together, knowing that you both greatly savor the time you spend together.

And as you begin to nod off, you take comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring new moments that you'll cherish together. But for the time being, you appreciate the tranquility of the night, cradling him in your arms and savoring the calm of this shared sleep.

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a-b-riddle · 2 days

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Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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bejeweledblondie · 7 months

Note

so excited about you having your requests open. I love your page!!

can I please request: Simon Ghost Riley x wife!reader?

Ghost and the rest of tf 141 are on a mission and end up getting detoured by who ever they are taking out (Russians, Hassan, etc). They need a safe house and quick! Well it just so happens simons place is right near by and simon takes them. the reader is home alone and just got out of the shower, she heard a bunch of men downstairs and gets freaked. In just her bathrobe, reader takes one of their safety guns and goes to defend herself against the “intruders” but really it’s just simon and gang

(sorry if this is long I got excited)

please and thanks

Hello! I’m so happy you’re enjoying my blog! I do apologize for the delay I was hospitalized for a lung infection (shit sucks dude I felt like a Victorian child dying of tuberculosis) but I’m all good now! So enjoy!

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: After their mission becomes compromised Task Force 141 has to take up shelter in a safe house or the Riley Family home much to the surprise of Mrs. Simon Riley

Warnings: innuendos

“Come on I know a place.” Ghost grunted through his skull faced mask. The Lieutenant begrudgingly huffed & puffed leading the rest of his teammates through the forest that lead to the cottage where his family resided. After their location had been compromised Laswell ordered them to find a home in order to stay in where they’d go undetected. With them being only ten miles away from the cottage he called home with his wife, he knew it was the only option. Finally, after miles of hearing Gaz & Johnny complain about their feet aching they reached the wisteria ridden cottage.

He started to reach into his pocket & pulled out the key to his front door.

“Take your shoes off,” Ghost demanded. “We don’t want to track mud.” Photos of a very beautiful young woman in a wedding dress graced the walls of hallway leading into the living room. Simon could hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom indicating to him his beloved darling wife was showering.

“Simon, how do you know about this place?” Soap asked after he kicked his boots off. “I’m assuming you know the beautiful lassie in the photos.” Price chuckled to himself, knew about you. Simon had come to him to ask for advice on a lot of different things in regards to a marriage. His most recent was about children. It was just four months ago you had found out you were with child.

“Something like that.” Simon replied, & removed his mask. Gaz & Soap gave each other a glance knowing he must’ve felt very comfortable with his environment. A black & white cat rounded the corner out of the kitchen. He made a beeline for Simon & started to rub up against Simon’s legs. Bending down Simon grabbed the feline & started to pet him.

You had decided to run a shower, needing to wash away the grime of the day. Your current tired pregnant state made you incredibly drowsy. Resting your head against the cold tile you could’ve sworn you heard the door open. Chalking it up to pure exhaustion you ignored it. Then the all familiar sound of boots coming off by the front door made your head snap. You turned off the water, & dried yourself off. Wrapping yourself in your bathrobe & throwing on a pair of panties you grabbed the shot gun that laid next to the bed. If there was one thing Simon taught you was to defend yourself.

Slowly you started to make your way down the staircase shotgun pointed outwards. Once at the bottom you turned the corner into the hallway. Seeing the all familiar broad shoulders of your husband made you lower your shotgun.

“Si?” You asked clearly confused now cradling the shotgun in your arm. He turned around holding, Phantom your beloved tuxedo cat. “I thought you were supposed to be home in a few days.” You stated clearly confused.

“I’m sorry love, we needed somewhere to stay for a few days.” He replied. “Just until the heat dies down.” He gave you a kiss, much to the surprise of his teammates. “How the little one?” He asked placing one of his large hands on your lower abdomen.

“The usual,” You replied. “But overall we’re just fine.” Soap & Gaz stood there with their mouths wide open in shock.

“You have a kid?!” Soap asked.

“Back it up when did you get married?” Gaz asked. Price just stood there pinching the bridge of his nose at his teammates ruining the lovers moment. Simon holding his wife tightly now turned to face them.

“I got married three years ago, & we’re expecting our first child in five months.” Simon replied. “This is Mrs. Simon Riley, Y/N.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you.” You replied beaming. “Hi, John it’s nice to see you again.” You said waving at Price. Both Soap & Gaz looked at him shocked.

“What?!” John asked. “It wasn’t my responsibility to tell you.” Noticing your lack of clothing you excused yourself to change, & brought down old pajamas of Simon’s for the boys.

“The shower is open, & let me bake some cookies for you boys. You must be hungry.” You said. Simon took his usual spot on the couch & turned on Netflix. You loved taking care of Simon, he was the love of your life. The two of you depended on each other for everything. His job was a big stressor in his life & you wanted to make his home life as relaxing as you possibly could.

Soap, & Gaz were in seventh heaven in a world of hardened military men, the tender touch of a woman was exactly what they needed. Someone to just take care of them for a little bit to let them escape from the reality of their lives. Once the cookies were done you brought some plates out for them & then took your place right next to Simon on the couch. He pulled you in tightly, your head resting on his chest & his hand resting on your lower abdomen caressing the small bump. After a plate of cookies you both fell asleep on the couch. John himself was already knocked out in the little recliner that sat next to the couch his bucket hat covering his face. Gaz nudged Soap to look at their sleeping Lieutenant & his darling wife. It was so foreign to them to see him in such a soft state. They had seen him snap men’s necks the way you’d snap a Kit-Kat but here he was even in sleep being so gentle. Soon afterwards the two men also let sleep take over, letting the uncertainty of the situation become a problem for tomorrow.

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forsworned · 23 days

Text

CASUAL ft. FWB!JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

Warnings: Sexual Content, AFAB!Reader, FWB, Angst to Comfort

Author's note: Because Soap brainrot, that's all

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out Is it casual now?

The death grip you have on his mohawk as he sloppily eats you out with such vigor is making your legs shake so hard as you climax for the third time in the backseat of his truck. A gentle slap and a tender kiss to your clit after he's done supping you up and then he's adjusting himself in his trousers to make himself a little more comfortable under the restricting material.

"I gotta go now." He breathes, rubbing your bare thigh and you shiver at his touch. He always had to go. And honestly you could feel your heart dropping to your stomach as he flashes you that casual, boyish grin.

You only nod as you recollect yourselves and climb back to the front seats. Your heart on your sleeve as he pulls at your place and you're turning to him with a bashful smile. His baby blue are distant but he gives you a warm, good-natured grin as he rubs your thigh.

"Good seein' ya, lassie." He points his chin to the door as a gesture for you to hit the road in the most "polite" way possible.

You were no stranger to Johnny's detached ways. He was an avoidant at best when got his and he was sending you on your way to do whatever it is that you do before he hits you up again with a, "You up?" text.

Ugh.

"Dude, you deserve better." Your friend shakes her head at you as she pinches at a fry and pops it into her mouth.

"Honestly, he's a fucking asshole. He should be on his knees asking to be your man, not just the backseat of his truck." Your other friend chides, but it's lost on you. Their voices drown out as you peer over at your buzzing phone.

"You free tonite, lassie?"

"Don't" They quip at the same time, but it's tossed to the backlogs of your mind when you rush home after your hang out.

He's already there leaning against your doorway, swinging his car keys between his fingers as he lustfully gazes down at you. And in no time he's jovially, hungrily taking your face between his stout, calloused hands and kissing you passionately, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he grinds into you. And you can't take it anymore, you want him. You want him so fucking bad and you didn't care if it was casual. Or whatever bullshit, avoidant bullshit he was feeding you.

You wanted him, craved him. You waste no time pulling aside your panties as he merely unzips his jeans to free his hard, girthy cock and presses it between your succulent, dripping folds, and his thick brows are furrowed together in euphoria. He casts a small glance down at you to make sure you're all right as he pushes himself deeper into you. It's a pleasant burn as he stretches you out, and you welcome it because fuck, it feels so fucking good when he's filling you up, but when he's done emptying himself out you're hollow once again as he's zipping his jeans back up.

He adjusts his brown leather jacket and gives you a wink and kiss to the cheek before he's on his way out.

And you almost feel like crying when he's gone. Just the remnants of his cologne and splooge still left on your linen sheets.

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now?

And then you're at the grocery store, picking out what bouquet would be the prettiest as your centerpiece, and feel a pair of arms wrap around you, a steady kiss to the cheek, and a rumbling Scottish accent in your ear, "Hey, sexy."

You visibly melt at his touch and he loves the way you're wrapped around his finger. Addicted to how pliant you are for him in every conceivable way.

"Ey, Johnny, ye gonna introduce me?"

And you both freeze at the voice. An awkward laugh escapes his chest as he's moving away from you and see a woman who adorns strikingly similar features to him.

"Ma, this is..."

"[name]." You smile that glorious smile of yours and for a second it's got Johnny kinda dazed. He's blinking out of his stupor, but something about the way you shake his moms hand and so effortlessly talk to her stirs something in him. A side he's never bothered to explore because he was waaaay too busy exploring your insides.

"Ye should come t' our house in Long Beach. We're havin' a wee, friendly get-together. Bring a pal, even." Her accent is thicker and even less coherent to your ears than Johnny's is so it takes you a second to decode what she's saying. And suddenly your face lights up and--uh, oh, Johnny's in trouble now.

Because she's smacking him across the head with her rolled-up wad of weekly ads that she picked up from the market and scolding him for not telling her about you.

"Aye, Johnny, I knew what ye're up to. She's a braw lassie. Get yerself sorted!" She spews as he opens the passenger seat door for her, rubbing the back of his head. You almost feel bad for him as you watch him get reprimanded by his mother from your car. But it's almost a little too embarrassing that you could tell what the conversation was about.

And he's trying his best not to be a dickhead when you do actually show up at the party, but you're lighting the room up with every step as you're being engaged and thrown into a cacophony of banter and laughter. And you're actually so fucking funny? Like, really funny, like he's keeling over and clutching his stomach funny and it's not just because of the persistent buzz of his ale.

You're witty and sexy and downright fucking gorgeous, especially when the sea breeze picks up and sends your hair back a little and it's like a slo-mo in those romcoms Johnny was forced by his mother to watch when he was growing up. And how could he forget about how gentle you were when you're speaking to the wee ones. Weaving wildflower crowns and plaiting hair as you coo at them so maternally. And the cheeky little grins you would have on your face as you whisper little nonsensicals to them, and melodious giggles that follow.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck.

Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends

But then you're heaving after your second orgasm, he's still pounding away at you and there's a different look in his eyes as he bends down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He's overstimulating your clit and telling you what a sweet girl you are for him and that sends you over the edge and he's pulling out to cum all over your belly in hot white spurts.

Another kiss to your forehead before he gets up to what you think is him getting a towel to clean you up but he's lifting you over his shoulder in one swift movement and you're giggling all the way over to the shower. And then there's another round of deep, thrusting into your a-spot against the cold shower tiles until you're rolling your eyes back and begging for him to let you cum.

And that release is something else and he's smiling at you with his teeth latched between his lips, soaked dark lashes that frame his pretty cerulean blue eyes that send you into a trance. Honestly, heart eyes motherfucker because that's exactly how you would describe yourself in that moment as you gaze at him. He's just too damn pretty for words.

And how gentle he is when he's helping you clean off, but his presence is stripped too quickly for your liking. He's toweling himself down and grabbing his boxers as he puts his clothes back on, and you can only stand there studying him from the shower. He's leaving again and your heart was sinking.

But then you're hearing his voice, and you peep you head out just a bit to catch the conversation.

"Girlfriend?" He laughs, "not even close, mate."

And you could almost just disappear down the drain. You felt humiliated as you swamp out the rest of the exchange under the din of the hot water hitting your eardrums.

"She's mare like wifey material." He chuckles, thumbing through his camera roll in the little album he's titled, "Bonnie <3".

It's pictures he's collected over the past year of the both of you, some candid, (a lot) some in bed, and a ton from the night at the beach house. You were truly so beautiful and Johnny was getting caught up in you and he was no longer fighting it.

And I try to be the chill girl That holds her tongue and gives you space

But you're getting fed up when you're in the middle of movie night and Johnny decides it's the best idea to watch Good Will Hunting. And it's the scene where Will and Skylar are breaking up and it's tearing you up inside when you see Johnny get a bit misty-eyed. You can't help yourself. You reach for the remote and pause it before, turning to him with anger and frustration in your eyes. And he's reaching out for you to calm you down with a flummoxed gaze, but you're refusing his touch and comfort.

And Johnny is sent home with his tail between his legs, speeding down the highway as he blasts Johnny Cash and attempts to suppress the earlier occurrence. It's unpleasant. The feeling that's settling into his chest and it feels tight.

He pumps the brakes. Hard.

And he's reversing in the middle of an intersection, cars are honking, people yapping at him but it's white noise as he's racing back to your place.

And with his heart in his hand, he's thumping urgently at your door and it feels like a millennia before you're opening it.

Tear-stained blood-shot eyes, disheveled hair in his Scotland flag embroidered hoodie he misplaced a month ago. He stares at your sniffling, crumpled form. Oh, how could he have done this to such a beautiful woman?

"I was lookin everywhere fer that hoodie." He says softly. His eyes are glossy as he blinks down at you, half smile and all.

You peer at the hoodie and then up at him. "What do you want? The hoodie? Here."

You begin to take it off but he's shaking his head and pulling it back down especially when he realizes you have nothing on underneath and he would be baring you out to the world. He heaves himself inside and you're scrambling against his arms, trying to push him out but of course, Johnny outsizes you by way too much to even make him move. He's holding you by the waist, leaning his forehead against yours as he dabs at the tears in the corner of your eyes.

"Y're so beautiful, [name]." He murmurs.

You're watery eyes, ream at his words. He had never said that to you before and your heartstrings are being pulled in every direction.

"What...?"

He kisses your cheek so tenderly and you feel like your ascending, "I said, y're beautiful, [name]. 'n' I wish I told ye that earlier."

You gaze down at his shoes not wanting to meet his eyes but he lifts your chin and meets your lips with the softest kiss he's ever bestowed upon you. It was so chaste yet so ardent and it made your heart skip a beat.

"I don't understand." Your thoughts are racing at this point and he can see it in your eyes. How absolutely head over heels you are for him and he was too much of a dickhead to really acknowledge it, how utterly striking you were, how perfectly imperfect you were. Going out of your way for him and fuck, he did not deserve it. Not then and maybe not even now, but realizing what a catch he has in his literal palms, he doesn't want to let go. And he will do anything to make up for it.

"'m sorry, hen. Never should have treated like ye were rubbish. Ye should be cherished 'n' protected." He brushes the hair out of your face and it is a painful revelation standing there in front of you with his heart on display and he's wondering how you were so brave to be doing it baring it out for him every time. And still, he would reject it like the bastard he was. Refusing to let you in when all you wanted was to be preserved, served, and loved.

"Johnny, I--" You croak out, tears cascading down your cheeks and you're looking back down at the ground, but he gently cups your cheeks.

"No, I love you, [name]. An' if ye let me, 'll do everythin' an' anythin' to make it up to ye. Ye were always there f'r me, an' it's about time I return it."

He shakes his head, wiping away his eyes. "Damn, 'm pure shite at this, but I hope ye can forgive me."

But as warm as your heart was, you have to stand firm. Johnny had hurt you in so many ways so, it wasn't going to be easy for you to just say yes. "You really hurt me, Johnny..."

"I know, I know, but 'm a man of action an' 'll do anythin'." He's pleading and to say that it isn't satisfying as fuck to see this beautiful, brawny man that you've been fucking for the past year groveling for you, was simply a lie.

"Ye gettin' off to this?" A smile graces his lips and you try to hold back, but you can't help but smile back at him.

Everything is so infectious about Johnny and it kills you.

"Fuck you." You breathe out, running a hand through your hair.

And he can't help but attack you with kisses and lift you up before crushing you under his weight as he lays you out on your mattress. Giggling like a maniac you remember to compose yourself even if it felt like the surface was breaching. There's a pause and you're both gazing into each other's eyes as you intertwine fingers, and Johnny is kissing you again, but it's different. It's really full of love and admiration.

He sighs in content for a moment before withdrawing and peers down at you. "S'what d'ya say? Gimme a chance?"

You cock a brow and smile at him. "You really are in no position to ask me."

"But..." "I'll sleep on it."

He's beaming at you now and you're totally getting flustered under his gaze. He wasn't going to let you slip away this go around.

"Deal."

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swordsandholly · 1 month

Text

Steel Magnolia

Part 1

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

#simon x reader #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #fanfic #call of duty #plus size reader #fat reader #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #holly writes

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

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Task Force 141 + Reader (Callsign-Crash): friendship headcanons

a/n: Hello hello! Just some random headcanons that I had written down for Crash and her relationships with the members of the 141 team. Nothing romantic, just some wholesome stuff.

original gif by @collinnmckinley

also, this is really freaking long, sorry in advance. enjoy reading!

Before getting thrown out the window and getting her callsign, she was quiet and shy around the group. Opting to listen to others conversations, rarely adding to it.

Honestly intimidated with how tightly knit the team is, and given her previous team’s history, she was scared to get close.

Volunteered to be the DD whenever the group goes out to a bar. Fortunately, most of the time, Ghost is sober(enough) to help her get everyone into the car and into their rooms

Would silently comfort Soap and Gaz whenever they threw up, rubbing their backs and getting them water.

In the mornings after, she got everyone a breakfast burrito. Soap and Gaz are eternally grateful. Got a little information about her when they asked why she got them food. “Help with my hangovers during college.” Soap and Gaz gave each other a look as she walks away

After the window incident, Crash becomes a lot more open. Seeing how they treat her as if she has been with them for years, it wasn’t fair to them with how closed off she was.

Soap:

He talks to you a lot and you don’t mind. He just comes out and starts rambling on whatever he has interested him at that moment. You don’t really say anything, just sitting there awkwardly (because why would he want to talk to the newbie instead of his friends) but nodding to what he says anyways. One time though, he looks at you and says “Thanks for listening to me. It’s nice to have someone not tell me to ‘Shut the fuck up Mactavish.’”

Literally you after he tells you this:

“you’re my friend now. we’re having soft tacos later” vibes

Would send him memes and funny videos whenever you guys are on leave

His contact name on your phone is “Bubbles”

Would show you how to make bombs out of random shit. Set them off in bare fields or abandon buildings. Had a couple close calls

Will let you call him Johnny but you call him Mac instead.

“Aww, why not, lassie?”

“I’d rather not get my ass beat by your boyfriend.”

Calls you Lassie along with your callsign. When he wants to piss you off, he calls you Mini Ghost or Little Ghost

Like Ghost, you rarely take off your balaclava and tactical glasses

“The mask, take it off.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna.”

“You ugly?”

“Not as ugly as you old man.”

Has yet to seen you drunk though and he intends to get you there some day

Holds his hand when he’s throwing up

You would use him as a pillow during rides back to the base

The first person to tell him about any drama that’s happening in your life

Gives you advice about men

"Men are stupid, trust me, I am one."

Loves it when you would go on ramblings about the things you like. Anime confuses the hell out of him but he would always ask you about the plot and your favorite characters. He’d ask you about the current artist you listen to and has a list of recommendations from you so he could look them up when he gets home

After a mission gone wrong and believing that it was his fault, you seek him out, finding him sitting alone in the meeting room. You tell him

“It’s going to be okay. I trust you, John.”

He tears up and you wrap your arms around him.

Gaz:

With you two being the youngest, you bond over similar experiences

Sometimes share exactly one brain cell with each other. Sometimes you, Gaz and Soap share a brain cell

Brings out the chaotic gen z energy of each other

Your guys’ energy:

Follows each other on social media and would send each other tiktoks at ungodly hours

Kind of have a competition against each other to see who’s Price’s favorite child is

Gaz finally has someone who he can talk about anime with

Favorite shows to watch together: Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Similar music taste. The whole team listens to Queen, David Bowie, Pink Floyd and a few more others. However, Gaz and Crash have the same love of rap and indie pop. Anything they find on tiktok will be added to their shared Spotify playlist.

Gaz would ask about how college was like. He thought about going but ultimately for him, the military was the better option

“Were you part of a sorority?”

“Oh hell no. Loved going to the parties though. Always had top shelf vodka.”

“Really? Thought students couldn’t afford it.”

“When it comes to alcohol, we find a way.”

Share the same sentiment of feeling like they’re not doing enough in the team. After a particularly rough mission, you two would find a corner and just sit together in silence.

Would break the silence by quoting something from vine or tiktok and all things would be okay again

Price:

He has adoption papers ready

Crash, despite your name, is polite, respectful and responsible. Would always help Price clean up after meetings and briefs

Same with Soap, you would listen quietly to Price’s war stories and even his favorite fishing trips

Saw in your file about what happened to your old team and captain. Vows to never pull the same stunt as them

Sadden to see how you’re so young and has seen and dealt with many things already. It breaks his heart that there’s more that you’ll experience.

You, Soap and Gaz would do dumb shit all the time but you knew when it was the right time to bail. Of course, they would snitch on you to Price. You’d rarely get in trouble though

Basically you two:

Would gift him cigars from the countries you’d visit during leave

Also a matching set of torch lighters. His has a special green flame while yours is pink.

You don’t smoke anymore but you would hangout with him and help him finish reports together.

Price often thinks about a life where he didn’t join the military. A life of normalcy. To go to a home filled with life.

Would have loved to have kids and technically, he still can but his job makes it almost impossible.

But with Gaz and now you, you two are his pride and joy.

Would be the “hip” dad and will always ask about the new slang and memes

“This food is-what you kids call it...uh, busting!”

You and Gaz look at each other, “It’s bussin’.”

“This food is bussin’!”

Ghost:

Did not to want to get close to you at all.

Was honestly peeved when Price told him that he was going to mentor you

“I don’t want to play babysitter, Captain.”

Surprised to see how short you were. All of the rumors and information he was told, they never mention your size

At first, he hated how you would follow him around like a lost puppy.

“Leave me alone, go bother Soap or something.”

Doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in your eyes but you turn around anyways.

Before you joined, he, Price and Laswell were all sitting in Price’s office, his phone on speaker. He was reading over your file before Price’s contact said

“She reminds me of Ghost when I worked with him seven years ago.”

He looks up from the folder, Price’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Laswell nodding.

“I think we’ll have her transferred to us,” Price replies.

Hates to admit but he’s impressed. Thought the rumors was bullshit but you proved him wrong, time and time again

You still have a lot of things to learn and even more practice to do but he believes in you

Does not go easy. He’s merciless. Has put you down countless times and reprimanded you more. You would always leave training sessions with a new bruise. The rest of the team gets concerned with his training methods.

But you still get up and you blink away the tears whenever he shouts at you

At about five months after you joined, on a mission, you spot an enemy behind him before he does and without a word, you quickly take your knife out and throw it towards the man behind him.

He opens his mouth to yell at you but he sees the enemy on the corner of his eye and watch him slump down. Your knife stuck in his bleeding neck

Gives you a nod after that. Pulling out your knife and handing it back to you

Knife throwing would be one of the training sessions you’d do. It was also a good time for some small chat

Finds out that you’re also a part of the “Dead Mom, Shitty Dad” club

It takes a year for him to SLIGHTLY open up to you

Told you about one of his favorite dishes his mom made and his favorite Queen song was ‘You’re My Best Friend’

Even told you how he likes his Earl Grey prepared

It scares him of how much you remind him of his mom and brother. You have her kindness and his determination. He will never tell you this

You, along with the team, become the very thing he cares about and will protect you to the best of his ability.

Bonus:

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alwaysshallow · 3 months

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ex!boyfriend soap, who makes your life absolutely fucking miserable after the breakup.

no matter if it would've been just because he's too caught up in his work, or maybe you felt like he didn't love you enough (which is completely untrue because he loves you always).

you want to change locks in your apartment so he won't come in? not a chance. he already has a key from your landlord. boo-hoo, go cry about it.

every policeman around is either his best friend, or his superior's, so there's no chance to actually report him for stalking.

your friends see him as a golden boy too, always asking why you broke up with him when he was sooo good. and he brought a nice amount of money too!! the small problems in a relationship aren't an excuse for a breakup.

he scares your dates; before or after the moment you'll meet with them.

if he manages to do it before the date, boys call you crazy; johnny usually tells them a made-up story how you broke his heart and stalked every girl he had in his contacts. if this doesn't work, he usually beats the shit out of them:/

after the date... oooh. he's under your apartment, looking all smug and asking if you two had fun; but right now, he has to go home. you're trying to tell him to suck it, but when he snatches you into the deepths of your apartament, he slams the door against the guy's nose.

"tired of playin' games, lassie," he murmurs right into your ear, biting the earlobe. "you like this back and forth? makin' me alllll jealous?"

"i am not making you―"

he pulls you by your hair, your back to his front, feeling his hardening cock. if you can remember anything from your relationship, you can feel by that gesture itself that he's mad. "―fine. if ye want to play games, let's play," he growls, his other hand travelling under your skirt.

you feel embarrassed when he laughs how wet you are from the gesture itself. when you technically hate him.

"that didn't change, at least."

#soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish headcanons #x reader #soap smut

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

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Please, Stand by [dark!Ghost x fem!Reader x dark!Soap]

You woke up in your captor's apartment. Turns out, getting out of the grasp of two trained special forces soldiers isn't exactly an easy task.

TW and tags: non-con to dub-con, size difference, power imbalance, fingering, hurt/comfort(but it comes from the ones who hurt you), yandere, dark!141, possessive 141, obsessive 141, kidnapping. AO3

Simon never slept this well on leave.

Always something happening – Soap breathing too loudly in their fucking bed, nightmares getting too wild even with as many meds as he could possibly take, neighbors behaving as if he wouldn’t be able to bloody shoot ‘em all and get away with it – he never enjoyed sitting at this place without a purpose, as much as he enjoyed not having to buy the whole space for himself. Johnny was really making things stir up a little around here – but it wasn’t enough. Never.

Ghost found himself dumbfounded this exact morning, though – he gave up the space in the bedroom for you and Soap, knowing that the Scotsman has a much smoother way with women, and they don’t want to scare you too much. Poor thing, you’re already terrified of them – this won’t do, they aren’t monsters. A bit forceful, yes, but men in this position don’t exactly have much time for courting – and it's not like you’d agree to relationships with four of them at the exact same time if you really had a choice. Just means they have to take the choice away from you. Hell, he even thought of preparing your breakfast in bed – something that he never thought of doing. You were so good for him, for Soap, so nice and obedient, he almost forgot it was all because of the alcohol – not because you really wanted them so badly. Ghost isn’t a stranger to hookups and dates at random pubs where he could afford to not take his mask off – but it’s the first time he liked a girl so much. The first time he really wanted to just take you and… *** You woke up somewhere around noon. The aftermath of your hangover still lingered in the fog in your head as you were desperately trying to cling to consciousness. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to curl down and cry. You wanted to…

Ah, you’re finally awake. Good for you.

The first thing that you feel is nausea. You already threw up at night, it’s evident by the stale taste of bile in your mouth – but you still feel like turning your stomach upside down and shaking it a little.

The second thing you feel is a heavy hand on your waist. It’s muscly, hairy, covered in scars and burn marks – you don’t think that a man with hands like this would be at your taste for one-night stands. You don’t think you ever had a hookup session with a random person you didn’t even know, but whoever is clinging to your body like you’re a teddy bear has another opinion about acting all lovey-dovey with their playthings for the night. You try to worm your way out of the grasp, but the guy only tightens it.

— Don’t move, lassie. I knew how ye feel.

You seriously doubt that.

— Where am I?

Your voice is raspy, in desperate need of water. You don’t want to beg them for this, so you just bite your lips, hoping your voice doesn’t sound too pathetic. You’d kill for a bottle of water right now.

— In yer home.

— This is not…

— It will be, hen. Dinnae havta worry ‘bout that okay?

Guy – Soap, you remember, heard when the other guy, the second guy, was talking to him. Like you weren’t even fucking there like you didn’t have a say in the situation. You feel a trail of sloppy kisses landing on your neck, and your shoulders – damp skin is sweaty under the touches. You feel sluggish like you usually do on a hungover – like you usually do after a really nice girl's night out.

Soreness between your legs makes you choke on your tears. You don’t want to cry, not in the presence of your captors. Not when all the memories you have is how soft they tried to be. How much did your alcohol-dazed mind like it. The thrill of them knowing all of your special buttons without you ever having to ask – you hate them, you want to hate them, you need to hate them. But you’re thirsty, hungry, your head hurts, you feel like shit, and they still didn’t beat you yet.

The survival instinct comes to life when you hear the door opening.

You struggle out of his grasp – thankfully, the guy is sleepy, he didn’t put up much of a fight. You manage to get out and fall on the fluffy carpet, surprisingly nice for a place where two rough looking bachelors are living. You don’t have enough time to think about the texture of the carpet, as you scramble on your feet and run.

Fuck this, fuck everything, fuck trying to be soft and obedient – they don’t care about showing their faces and names to you, that you can just run to the police. Probably means they are going to kill you right after the cuddling session – and you’d rather be traumatised than dead. You think. Probably. Maybe.

In your struggle, you didn’t even think of thinking that if the door is opening, it means that someone will be standing on the other side – or the apartment is extremely haunted.

It wasn’t extremely haunted. Your cheek is flattened against a broad chest. A pair of hands that smell of tobacco and leather are forcing you into this perverse version of a hug, leaving you without any chance of getting out. All of your attempts at screaming are left with nothing but weird bubbly sounds as you struggle to breathe. You don’t want to panic, but, hell, you feel like you’re going to fucking die.

Price had just seen the most beautiful woman of his life.

With tears running down her cheeks, messy makeup, and even messier hair. She is wearing Soap’s T-shirt, which isn’t ideal, but no one is perfect, and even the prettiest girl out there has her flaws. She is crying and panicking, and she looks so bloody fantastic with her arse showing every time she tries to wiggle her way out of his grasp, and he doesn’t want to behave too brutally, but he wants to see the marks from his fingers grasping her wrists. He knew he saw you yesterday, fucked you yesterday. Held your hair as you were throwing up and forcing yourself to stop fucking vomiting all over the place – but you’re even prettier now, in the dim morning sun. Crying and struggling in his grasp, he can’t wait to share you with others – he knows Kyle would love fucking that tight arse of yours. Price would get a kick out of making you his stupid girl.

And they, well, they will always have a special treatment reserved just for you. Gosh, you’re beautiful. Ghost knows why they had to take you.

— Quiet, luv. Quiet. Calm down. — Let me…fuck you, let me go! You push at his chest, and the only thing he feels is the way his dick starts throbbing in his pants again. Gods, you’re fucking beautiful – much, much prettier than any girl he fucked through his life. So feisty once you’re sober, he knows how much fun you’re having in store for them once you’ve regained at least part of your strengths. — I will fuck you. Later.

— No! — Now, if you insist on yelling so much. He gently forces you closer, his hand slipping to cup your arse. You feel divine in his arms – he doesn’t know how Soap manages to steady himself and not fuck you right in the car. He did make you suck his dick, but it obviously wasn’t enough – and won’t be, with how much you struggle now when the alcohol finally wears off. Ghost gives your ass a little squeeze, then – a few slaps, just to make sure you’re nice and obedient for them. You obviously haven’t worn panties under Johnny’s shirt, easy access doing easy accessing, and so when he finally managed to slip his fingers in your cunt, he was pleased to find out it was soaked. — You’re wet, luv. Can’t get more ready than this.

You whimper in his chest, still terrified. He supposed you should be – he is wearing the mask, not wanting to scare you with his scars and intense gaze. Skull balaclava isn’t doing a good job at making you calmer, but…well, he can try to think about something. Soap had already shown you his face, and it’s not like you’re going anywhere. They would catch you faster than you could run to the local authorities – as much as you would love to think otherwise. Prey aren’t known for their wits, after all. — Pl…please, just let me go. Please? I won’t…

— Won’t tell anyone?

— Yes! Please, I…I need to work. I have a shift in the… — You went to a pub before your shift?

You sob, your little excuses clearly aren’t working. Ghost brushes his rough fingers among your folds, the stimulation on your pussy making you shiver. He knows you’re sore, his dick isn’t exactly tiny – you need some more orgasms to calm down, maybe get you nice and relaxed for them. If he knows his sergeant, he already got a word out to the rest of the team – and although Ghost really, really wants to just take you with them and share you as their little duo, Gaz and Captain deserve to have something nice too. Deserve to have someone nice.

Ghost pulls his fingers out as soon as your whimpers turn into moans. He wants you nice and wet, but he needs you to beg for it. To recognize that the only way you’ll get anything around here is through obedience and behaving like a cute kitten, they decided to scoop from the streets. Not exactly a subtle look, but he can spell it out for you later. Make their shared dumb girl just a bit less dim. Maybe teach you a few manners – you don’t start a conversation with your captors from curses, for example.

— Please. I…I have a family.

Uh-oh.

Tough shit, Ghost thinks.

It would have worked in Private Riley – before he got into captivity himself before he got almost killed. Before he has lost everything he ever loved – and before he found a family in people who have the wondrous ability to enable his worst and best traits at the same fucking time. If you were a bit less weak, a bit more resilient if you didn’t cry as much and reminded him of himself in the past – who knows, you could have pulled at his heartstrings.

But Lieutenant Ryley wants a girl to warm up his bed, and the beds of his comrades – and he knows you would do just perfect. So, he scoops you in his arms, like a disobedient kitten, and puts you in a place where, as he knows, all misery dies and the place where he is crawling every time he falls a bit down.

He pushes you back to Soap’s bed.

You cry even more when two beefy hands force you into a tight hug – Johnny is still half-asleep, and his growly sleepy voice makes your hair stand at ends. You hate them, you despise them, you feel like you’re going to fucking die rather than fall asleep in their embrace again, but Soap kisses your neck and whispers something in your ear – something accented, deep, no doubt dirty. Something that makes you whimper again and again, something that…god, you feel like a slut.

You rub your thighs together, trying to chase the heat away, but you only feel warmer. It never gets easier, you suppose – never gets just palatable enough.

— Simon scared ye, bonnie?

Johnny smiles when you only whimper, your desire to feel the warmth of another person making you fall right into the guy. It’s not something you’re proud of – Jesus Fucking Christ, you just snuggle with your kidnapper – but you need something to just feel…normal. Like hugs after a really good hookup. Like you just found someone to date and to kiss and to be in a proper relationship with.

You whimper instead of answering, and you hear the Scot chuckling again, his grip on you getting tighter. He is like a koala – and you feel pretty…fine in his grasp. You’re too scared to get feisty because you already tried, and it just returns you to point A. The starting dot. The first page of your miserable journey opens with a tight hug and the smell of breakfast cooking. Burning. Cursing through a thick English accent, you could hear something in the kitchen getting absolutely blasted – in a negative sense.

— I’m not scared of you.

He laughs again. You can smell something burning, and you hope that the second guy – the scary guy – will set the entire apartment on fire and kill everyone inside, including you.

— Ye shouldn’t be. We will take care of ye.

— I will run as soon as I can.

— Lt could break your legs. I could break your legs.

You sob again, but Soap doesn’t rush to comfort you. You need to get this through your skull – you’re not resisting them without consequences. You’re not running away without them catching and punishing you. You will not as much as step out of this bed without their permission – even if they’d have to haul you to the bathroom themselves while you’re kicking and screaming. You deserve to get knocked down a peg about the subject of you actually having rights – and you deserve to be calmed down later, once they think you have been punished enough. — I just want to go home.

— Cannae do that, lassie.

— Are you going to kill me?

— Not if yer obedient.

You hear the sound of something hitting a glass bowl. Then – gulps of liquid are poured into the same bowl. The burning have stopped, making you think that whatever the skull guy tried to cook, is getting thrown out of the balcony now – you almost smile trying to picture the burly man in a cute apron, desperately begging for the eggs to stop burning and turning into a crisp. You could cook for yourself, but…well, they probably won’t let you use the knife.

— Are you going to rape me again?

You are pulled into a much closer hug. Johnny’s dick poking at your ass, making you shiver in his hold – making you try to get out as fast as possible and failing miserably. You have suggested that the guy was a part of something illegal – maybe a mafia reinforcer, the dweller of those weird candy shops that were opened throughout the country, but you caught a glimpse of some camouflage in the dresser when Simon was taking off his clothes…they are in the military. Maybe, it’s even worse than you initially thought – no way anyone will believe you over them. No way you will win a fight against them.

— We weren’t raping ye, bonnie, Just…taking what ye really needed.

You came harder under them than you ever did under any of your boyfriends or from your fingers. You feel pathetic because his eyes are innocent and cute, and you don’t want to make them hurt you again. You don’t answer.

— We’ll take care of ye. Just keep yer arse in place and don’t resist, aye?

You can’t do anything but nod. Don’t want to do anything but nodding.

He smiles at your neck again. Kisses you again. Ray of shivers run down your tummy.

Ghost showed up in the bedroom again, holding a bowl of honey cereal. You are hungry – you need something to soak up the alcohol, and you’d want something greasy and terrible, or maybe a soup and tea later – but the cereals are better than whatever was slowly getting burned on the stove.

They could drug you – then again, it feels like you’d prefer being unconscious anyway.

— Price will be there in an hour. Got his call.

The Scot being you, curses under his breath, his hands finally letting you go. You took the bowl and started to eat, as quickly as you could.

A hand slips over your waist, steadying you.

— We’ll make her presentable, aye?

You don’t want to be presentable, but something in their voices are telling that you don’t have a choice.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #yandere ghost #yandere soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #dark ghost #simon ghost riley #soap #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #141 x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere male

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lundenloves · 11 months

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𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

olivia finally wrote smut, the crowd goes wild.

{✧} Summary: After relentless drunken encouragement from 141, Simon Riley decides to take a girl home whom he's caught eyes with a few too many times. What he doesn't expect however, are the unknown feelings in his chest after her simple acts of affection and pleasure he was always deprived of.

{✧} Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!OC

{✧} Word count: 6.3k

{✧} TW: Smut! Oral both M and F receiving. Angst if you squint into his general storyline. A bit fucking devastating on that part. Blunt and true to his character with the issues he was given, although subtlety as he tends to bury everything. Sigh.

part two | masterlist | taglist

{✧} Ok. *Claps hands together* So, I wrote this in just over a week. I do not know how this happened or where the words came from but they certainly... worded. Basically, It's just a mass product of 2am writing. A stab in the dark as long as you act like Ghost has a more Northern voice. Which he fucking doesn't. This fucker grew up in Manchester and got given a Cockney accent. Anyway, I hope this alleviates at least some of the horniness in the cod fandom because fucking hell. Ignore how the pacing is fried. *Salutes* Happy reading, kids.

“Lt. You are a machine, sir.” Soap saluted his lieutenant with a half-drunken snort. “Got all them lassies eyeing you up.” He nodded toward a general direction, taking a short swig of the beer in his hand.

“That’ll be right, Sergeant.” Ghost grumbled, leaning against the bar with no interest in the women behind him whatsoever. He never was made for women. Well, aside from the obvious things he knew were attractive. Being tall, having muscular thighs, broad shoulders, the voice. Not to mention the plethora of skills he harboured once he occasionally did bed someone, and the whole military idea. People seemed to get off on it. However.

“Naw. I’m serious.” He tried again, leaning on the bar to find Ghost’s eyes. “When’s the last time you got with someone, eh?” His brows wiggled in amusement of his own question. A question that was fucking painfully Johnny. Ghost only looked to him through a sideward glance, swirling the last of his whisky in the short glass his hand dwarfed.

The thought of taking someone home was nothing but a task. One that made Ghost audibly sigh, tilting his chin up for the last mouthful of drink. “Treat yourself, Sergeant.” His eyes landed on Soap’s, slamming the glass back onto the bar and standing up straight.

“Aw, come on Lt.”

“Respectfully, I’m not–” His words were rarely broken, although the way this woman walked right between him and Johnny caused a pause. One he looked down at her for, his palm still splayed on the bartop. Long fingers tapping the surface. “Eighteen anymore.” He finished.

The look Soap gave Ghost behind her back was one easily mistaken for lust itself. His eyes pointed to her momentarily before flicking back to the lieutenant. “No. You’re not.” He nodded slowly, taking steps backward and mimicking sexual acts with his fingers. Mouthing, “Her.”

She was none the wiser of the acts behind her. Simply stepping between two men to reach the bar and leaning forward on her forearms, back naturally arched with the action. The broad man to her left shifted on his feet, and a subtle sigh left him with a flex of his square jaw. Johnny was on the other side of the bar, enticing Ghost to make a move. His smirk disappeared to take a swig of the fresh beer he had ordered, flicking his pointer and middle fingers together, gesturing Ghost talk to her.

Instead, all Soap received was a scowl and two fingers his way. Fuck. Off.

He steeled himself and took a spacing step backward, dead eyes instantly catching the dark ones next to him when she had touched his skin upon her own movement. Had they not moved at the same time, he would have walked away without second thought. But now, her warm smile of apology felt obligatory and he returned it in his own way. A slight raise of his brows.

“Sorry I’m dead in the way.” Her strong Mancunian accent almost caught Ghost off guard. London hadn’t given him many Northerners, and now, there was one standing in-front of him. Soap was leant forward on the bar opposite, watching their interactions intently. Even Price had joined in, a subtle smirk over his lips, raising his glass when Ghost had turned to them.

He cleared his throat, “Not at all.” The deep-voiced words were accompanied by a shake of his head, directed more to the men on the opposing end.

She turned to him, “Northern?” The smile that bit down on her bottom lip made the side of his own tilt upward ever so slightly with an amused nod. The strong arms that were crossed over his chest loosened, fingers outstretched momentarily in a way of agreement.

“Manchester.” He confirmed and she turned back to the bar, retrieving the multiple drinks for her group. Soap and Price had now recruited Gaz, the three of them all gawking at the scene ahead and sharing words.

“Figured.” She looked up at him, the tray of drinks held by both her hands. Simon briefly wondered if she was likely to spill it, his eyes cast down toward the shots. “I should take these back.” The words came with another smile, a polite one.

He absently nodded, eyes following her without turning his head. Soap, Gaz and Price were all grinning on their way over, Johnny failing to miss a flirtatious salute to the group of women. “Thought you were leaving, Lt.” He near-shouted, and Ghost held a finger out for the bartender, requesting the same drink as Price took the seat beside him.

“What was the chat?” Gaz stood beside Soap, the four of them forming a conversational square shape. “Anything worth sharing?” He nudged Johnny who clapped his hands together and rubbed them enthusiastically like a child.

“Nothing.” He replied bluntly, eyes lazily shifting between the three men.

Price leant an elbow on the bar, looking back to the group of women. The girl from earlier caught his eye, laughing loudly and knocking back shots like there was no tomorrow. He nodded toward her, “She’s certainly one for you, Simon.”

There was zero subtlety between Soap and Gaz who instantly turned. Much to Simon’s joy. “Can you turn around any fuckin' faster?” He berated with a wounded sigh, Johnny’s shoulders bouncing in amusement.

“Go talk to her.” Instead of replying, he shook his head turning back to the bar and Price stifled a laugh. “Might as well try, no?” The glass of whisky he had finished was pushed from hand-to-hand, looking back up to Ghost who pulled a face. “They’re interested.” His lips downturned in fairness, turning his palm upright and tilting his head in saying so.

Simon cleared his throat, taking a sharp swig of his drink. “Good for them.”

She had looked toward the bar, locking eyes with Simon who had been caught staring. Much to his own dismay. Although, her smile returned and he found himself shifting his feet once again, unsure of how to react. Lifting his glass an inch or two in recognition of her efforts. “Aw c’mon, she’s so wanting to fuck you Lt.”

“Christ, Johnny.” Price scoffed, the wrinkles by his eyes emphasised with an afterthought laugh. Gaz turned to Simon with a shrug, one that spoke louder than anything else, ‘he’s not wrong’, it said. Not that they would know anything, only projecting their own desire for scoring tonight. Being away for weeks, months, at a time with near-zero female company was sometimes gruelling. For the more sexually active soldiers anyway. Ghost never seemed to care. Permanently focused on the mission at hand or anticipating the next.

Aside from a few late nights.

“I’m leaving.” He announced, sliding his now empty glass to the barhand.

“This guy isn’t real, man.” Soap pointed with his thumb, Price shrugging an amused smirk, arms crossed over his chest. The woman from earlier had caught onto his exit via her diligent staring, grabbing her bag and approaching the four men rather sheepishly. Something about a group of huge men wasn’t exactly inviting, although it was at the same time.

“Alright?” Gaz was the only one to see her, turning the other three toward the direction.

“Alright.” She returned with a smile, eyeing up Ghost. “You leaving?”

He nodded blankly, eyes hooded over upon looking down at her. The veins on his hands visible for the low bar light, emphasising each one that created a pulsing feeling between her legs. Ghost wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on, standing straight and rubbing a hand across his brow and down to his jaw where it stayed.

“I’m Thea.” She said to him, and him only.

“Simon.” He dropped the hand from his face, holding it out for her to shake.

Soap was practically fucking bouncing from behind her, drunkenly chuffed for his lieutenant when she had taken his hand for a little too long. “Mind if I leave with you?” Her question couldn’t have meant a whole lot more than the obvious. Simon forgot he hadn’t his mask on when the faintest smirk had tugged the corner of his lip upwards.

His eyes averted toward his unit, “Gents.” He gave them a short nod before gesturing she walked ahead of him with a leading hand, following behind her with one subtle look back. Price raising his glass high once again.

“You lot military or something?” She asked when he had held the door, dipping under his arm.

“Something like that.”

The somewhat curt responses and deliberate movements were attractive to Thea. Everything was calculated, it was obvious he had a job as such. Not to mention the build. “You live far from here?” He took a deep breath with the question, digging into his pockets for a cigarette.

“A good way away.” She nodded, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Simon produced a carton from his jacket, further patting around his trousers for a lighter. “Mine then?” He mumbled for the cigarette he had stuck to his lip in the meantime, it moved with the words he spoke.

“Yours.” She nodded, watching as he lit it up.

A cloud of smoke burst from the long exhale he had taken, his eyes dark in the dimly lit street, “You cold?” In question for the three buttons that were only a third done up on her vest top, pierced nipples easily visible through the fabric. “You want my jacket or somethin’?” His lips left parted from the draw, looking down at her.

“I’m alright.” Her words were unconvincing and he nodded at the fact, holding the cigarette between his teeth while shrugging the thick shelled jacket off. It was heavy when she’d taken it from his arm, pulling it on only to drown in it. But oh, it smelled rich and exposed his arms again. Large muscles and inked forearms only now visible although not done any sense of justice by the loose t-shirt he wore. Her eyes involuntarily drifted lower to his hips, dark jeans clad over wide, seemingly muscular thighs.

“Come on then.” He nodded, killing the cigarette with a twist of his boot.

Ghost hadn’t taken someone home in months. Fucking months. He dreaded seeing her reaction to his dull flat, expensive enough but sparsely decorated for A: he was never there and B: he didn’t exactly know how to decorate well.

“You live round these parts?”

“Mm-hm.” It was a flat response.

“Expensive, no?”

“Mh-hm.”

She laughed at that, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye. One he hadn’t seen in years, his own stolen from him years ago. Even still, he watched onward, overlooking training sessions, as new recruits began to slowly lose their shine for the forces on the hardship of war. Loading and unloading guns to save and simultaneously take lives. It was a lot. To someone who perhaps wasn’t as stiffly stuck in their ways.

His flat was just as you’d imagine. Dark colours, simple decoration without much personality involved. Thea handed his jacket back once they had stepped inside, watching as he tossed it to the sofa. “Drink?”

“Please.” She followed him to the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Just, whatever you have.”

He looked over his shoulder, “I've only got whisky.” She pulled a face, pushing her forearms further on the counter. “Or shit beer.”

“The whisky’ll do.” Thea tsked, looking up at him through her lashes when he’d turned around, sliding a glass across the counter toward her. She eyed his tattoos when both of his palms had been placed flat on the marble, standing opposite her. “Why stay in such a nice gaff if you’re never ‘round.”

“I could be here everyday for all you know.”

“Yeah,” She swirled the amber liquid around the glass, drawing her finger across the countertop to gather dust. “But you’re not.”

He didn’t respond, eyes only reading between hers in a long stare. One that ultimately rushed a feeling in her stomach, and slowly created a wetness between her thighs. In his stare came the crude thoughts. The hunger that resides deep within his chest, only freed every few months with someone new each time. “That right?”

“You tell me.” She competed his silence, taking a small sip of the whisky and Ghost rounded the counter with a grumble. Her eyes drifted to the walls, multiple certifications, photos and memorabilia framed and hung proudly. Just about the only things on show for the type of person he was.

Lieutenant Simon Riley

“Lieutenant?”

His chest lifted in a large inhale, followed by a hum of agreement. Eyes following hers to the multiple achievements on the wall. “How do you want this?”

The words came off a drawl, clearly avoiding the topic of his career.

Thea instead walked closer to the photos littered within the frames. Messily pushed behind the glass, with multiple fold lines and frayed edges. “You’re not even in these.” She pointed, turning back to him with a puzzled expression. Ghost sighed longly, reaching an arm behind his head.

“I am.” His eyes narrowed habitually and she pointed toward his masked self, turning back to him with a quirked brow to which his jaw tightened in answer.

“That almost turns me on.” She snorted and Simon involuntarily relaxed his shoulders.

There was something about her. Maybe it was her boldness, the way she wasn’t daunted by him, or her overall confidence. It wasn’t even like he didn’t know confidence. Fuck, most people in the forces had too much of it. But outside of base, it was near nonexistent around him. Until her.

“You got the whole getup huh?” She couldn’t help but tease and Ghost shook his head at her relenting smile, hiding his own behind a swig of his drink before discarding it to a side table.

“C’mere.” He said, rubbing his jaw momentarily before taking the glass from her hand, watching her eyes roam the broad expanse of his clothed chest. “I’ll ask again,” The taste of whisky was hot on Thea’s tongue, looking up at Simon with a sudden lust. “How do you want this?” He reached an arm across her hip, pulling her toward him.

She crossed her arms over her chest in his grip. Her silence forced a growl from him, his hands squeezing at her sides. “However you want.” She purred, reaching upward for his hair and running her fingers through it.

He grunted in response. An unknown emotion pooling in his chest, drifting down from the feeling of her fingers in his hair straight toward his heart, making it pump just a little faster. The gentle touch of a woman was something he was yet to experience in its full power, leaning forward to subconsciously chase her touch when her hand was taken back.

Thea looked up at him, the softness in her eyes pushed a movement from him. “Come on.” He stood forward, walking to the bedroom where she followed him. A standard room, tall windows opposite a large bed. No wall decor, or decor at all for that matter save a mirror and a standard lamp on a bedside table that housed a set of dog tags.

His hand smoothed across her arm, taking her attention back with a pointed stare.

“Kiss me then.” She caught his solemn eyes, watching them harden as his hand traced upward to her chin, pointing it upward to face him and uncharacteristically planting a soft kiss to her jaw. His thumb swiped across her bottom lip and intruded her mouth, watching expectedly as her tongue welcomed his pointer and middle fingers, swirling around them with heavy eye contact.

He pushed his impossibly long fingers even further down her throat, provoking a gag from her and a smirk teased his lip. “I know, sweetheart.” The coo was enough for her to moan, reaching a hand for his shoulder, kneading at the fabric of his shirt while surely bruising his tracks. Thea hadn’t ever been with a man this big, she too suspected his lower regions to be just as thick as the large hand he had wrapped around her torso upon taking his fingers back.

His steps came backwards toward the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the plush mattress and forcing him to sit. Thick thighs at their broadest, his tattoos dark and full under the lack of light in the room. Thea manoeuvred onto his lap, her knees either side of his hips.

Simon pulled her thighs toward him, shifting so she was flush with his lower abdomen. Her hands roamed his hair once again, caressing behind his ear and down past his jaw. “When was the last time?” She pressed a delicate kiss to his lip, pressing her forehead against his own.

“A while ago.” He admitted flatly, returning her kiss and silently admiring the smoothness of her lips against his own.

She hummed against his mouth, the inner corners of her eyebrows raising at his dark eyes. Eyes that were filled with death and fear, the same ones you could expect to find in a therapy waiting room or a likely battlefield. She watched the thoughts run through his head, dipping a glance toward her chest momentarily before averting back up to her swollen lips.

“I can tell.” She whispered in close proximity and he pulled back, an instant crease in his brow at her words. “Relax.”

Her hand reached for his, guiding it toward her chest and pushing his palm flat. The gentle thrum of her heartbeat was easily felt although Simon’s eyes remained stiff on hers, only softening when she had placed her palm over his.

He kissed her in response, a definite difference in pace as his tongue circled her own and his hands guided her against his groin. She lit up at the pressure, fixing to pull her vest-top over her head and wincing at the sharp coldness across her exposed nipples.

Simon wasn’t surprised by her lack of a bra, although his jaw did tighten at the sight of her. The sensitive beads of her nipples hardened and adorned by piercings that were near teased to him earlier. His hands travelled upward, kneading at the soft flesh and toying with the steel.

He grunted at the way her lips had connected to his neck, gentle kisses soon turning rough and leaving angry marks. “Take this off.” She rocked on his hips, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He compiled without protest, pulling it over his head and holding back the fire within him at the way she hungrily eyed his form. The broad points of his shoulders, collarbones sharp and chest wide, his tattoos expanding upwards just as she had imagined. “You alright?”

Thea only managed a nod. His hard rippled stomach was flush with her own, a sparse amount of dark hair trailing downward from his navel. She smoothed her hands out over his shoulders, running them softly down his arms.

His mouth dipped from hers to accomodate her nipple, making lightwork of her perky tits and swirling his tongue around the steel in equal amounts. Thea squirmed at his expert touch, pushing his head back with a moan, dark eyes locking onto his without hesitation.

Simon stood up with her in his grip. Hands underneath her thighs, creating a deepening need between her legs. A need so vast that she had crashed her lips onto his to forget about it, marvelling at the feeling of his warm skin against hers as he easily placed her down onto her back.

“I’m taking these off.” His gravelly voice near-growled, kneeling wide between her legs and fidgeting with the fabric of her loose trousers. “That alright?”

“Mmhm.” She provided, leaning up on her arms and looking down at Simon. His hair was a mess from her hands, red marks on his neck deepening with every passing second and his long, thick fingers had succeeded in undressing her bottom half.

He sat back on his haunches for a brief second, a firm hand pressing himself through his jeans while his other teased at her clit, thumb gathering her slick before rubbing circles into her. The room completely silent if not for her soft whimpers and the passing traffic outside.

His middle and ring finger lapped her pooling arousal, pushing into her with ease and curling immediately. “Fuck. Simon.” He felt his cock twitch at the use of his name, looking up to catch eyes with her. Face flushed beet red, her arms dropped to fall back onto the bed after his head had tilted, the speed of his fingers picking up.

His thumb continued pressing on her clit, two fingers now three, completely stretching her out before she had been reduced to a whining mess. Hands outstretched to grip on his shoulder, moaning aloud at the sudden loss when he had pulled his hand back.

Thea sat up immediately, her scorn met with his own look of assurance. Eyes seemingly natural in their advanced expressions, giving way more than words ever could. He pulled her thighs toward him, dipping so they rested over his shoulders and with one fatal lick of his lip she knew.

Simon’s jeans felt impossibly tight, groaning to himself upon licking a line up her core. “Fuck.” He mumbled against her, and her delicate hand was already gripping on the bed-sheets, knuckles white with his warmth. He’d frankly never seen something so gorgeous in his life.

A large palm pinned her to the bed. Calloused fingertips grazing just above her navel, fingertips that belonged to a hand strong enough to choke someone to death. “I’m close.” Thea moaned at the pressure, the feeling of his tongue darting in and out of her, sucking on her clit and building a fuzzy warmth in her lower stomach. Never had a man made such light work, reducing her to an embarrassingly short time.

He nodded into her, eyes darting upward when a gush of liquid had released from her cunt in a muffled scream. His chest heaved up and down at the wetness, fingers finishing off the job to create one more cry from her. “Cut the shit,” He spoke, taking the pillow from her grip and throwing it. “I want to fucking hear you.”

Thea bit her lip, sitting up on shaky legs to push him backward so he was stood by the foot of the bed. “Only if I get to hear you.” She looked up at him with lazy eyes, tracing his v-line and pulling him forward by the belt loops. Face only inches away from his groin.

Simon ran his thumb along her bottom lip once again, looking down at her with a ragged exhale. His cock hung heavy, twitching as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, allowing him to step out of them. “Shit.” She whined.

“I know.” He began, releasing himself from his boxers and tilting her chin upward to meet his condescendingly empathetic gaze. “I know, love.”

The words rushed a warmth between her legs all over again.

His cock stood without constriction, too heavy to stand upright but not enough to ignore the twitches that came from his thoughts. A thick vein pulsed on the underside of his length, one Thea ran her tongue along eagerly to push a throaty groan from him. “Fuh-uck.”

Her thumb ran over the slit of his tip, gathering precome for a few pumps of his girth before stretching her mouth over him. Slow at first. Deliberate. Simon’s hand pushed hair from her face, allowing her to look up at him through thick eyelashes.

It had been long. So, so long since he was allowed to make any noise. Being in confined spaces with upwards of ten men almost full time didn’t exactly allow for much, nevermind time to get worked up. His mind had somehow drifted to the barracks, only pulled back into reality when Thea had gagged against his thick length. Her spit joined them together when she had pulled away, using her hand to pump him multiple times.

“Fuck—“ He groaned loudly, hand on the back of his neck while the other held her hair up. “Fucking hell.” The lone sounds were enough for him to shut his eyes.

Thea’s jaw already ached. A heat between her bones at the lock, tongue edging around his girth as she took him the best she could. The course hair at the base of his length was addictive, her nose near touching it with every dive save a few centimetres.

“You’re doing so good, darlin’.” Simon spoke through his teeth, swallowing thickly at the vibration of her moan against himself. “So good f’me.” Almost too good. Too good to the point where he had nudged her with his thigh, nodding to the bed when she had looked up at him.

“You close or somethin’?” She teased, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and shifting backward on the bed. Her mascara had smeared over her eyes, cheeks tinted deep red and eyes glossy from his size.

He ignored her, although the way his cock twitched was an agreement in itself. “I don’t have protec—“

“I’m on the pill.”

The way his eyes darkened created a pit in her stomach. One that was soon filled when he had joined her on the bed, wandering hands squeezing on her hips in company with continuous kisses that were peppered all across her collarbones.

His cock dragged against her stomach, thick arms holding himself up above her and exposing defined triceps in the mirror next to his bed. “I want you to watch.” His hand directed her gaze toward the reflection, lowering himself close. “Will you do that for me.”

It wasn’t a question.

She watched him in the mirror. The way his shoulder muscles flexed as he leaned forward, prominent veins in his arms only accentuated in the low light. “Mhhm.”

“Good girl.” His eyes dipping down to where their bodies met, sliding his length up and down her folds before pressing the tip into her. A low groan followed, his eyes cast aside to the mirror where she somehow found solace in his stare. “You alright?”

She nodded tightly, letting go of a breath she wasn’t aware was held. Simon entered her inch by inch, his cock suffocated by her tight walls. “Shit, you’re—“ She swallowed, “Fucking big.” It came out a whine, hand held to her mouth once he had pushed himself flush with her core.

“None of that.” He spoke curtly, taking her hand and pinning it to her side. Thea nodded slowly, looking between his eyes for the brief moment he had allowed.

She couldn’t remember who was supposed to be in control anymore when she felt him, thick and warm, hips slowly rocking back and forth. The sound of her arousal against his skin filled the room, head thrown back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets.

Simon’s mouth reconnected with her soft chest, teeth dragging across the sensitive skin, groaning and cursing in response to her hand in his hair. Touch. Starved. His eyes fell in a heavy-lidded blissful expression, the mirror supplying image of his momentum. Mouth slightly agape, the ends of his hair wet in sweat from the heat between them.

Thea let go entirely, surrendering to the pace Simon had set. Pulling her bare thighs tighter to his groin and craning his neck to see how effortlessly he slid in and out of her, white-hot pleasure streaking down and onto him. “Fuck.” His deep tone had drawn out in pleasure. “Look at you— fucking, dripping.”

She pressed weak kisses to his throat, lapping up the perspiration that ran down in small beads. Words wouldn’t tumble from her mouth, thighs clenching around his hips when he had angled forward. “God, Simon—“ Her grin lazily bit into her lip, cockdrunk and exhausted from his earlier efforts.

He let go a feral snarl of a sound, brows knitted together at the feeling of her walls convulsing against him and the flush of pressure against his cock. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, certainly drawing blood and sharp breaths through his teeth. “Look at me.” He ordered, cupping her jaw and boring his eyes into her.

Thea choked a moan, her mouth agape when her climax had rushed through both of them without warning. His headboard simultaneously slammed into the wall with her moans, gasping for air as her hands blindly reached to find him by her head, grabbing onto his forearms with desperation.

Simon’s head hung low between his shoulders, sweat from his hair dripping down onto her chest. She could tell he was close, the way his jaw ticked and his chest heaved. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed against her clit, sending her overstimulating pulses through his body and turning them into quiet groans by her ear.

His rhythm had faltered, shaking his head as his jaw loosened. “Fucking hell,” He breathed out, eyes dazed and heavy, feverishly catching a glimpse of her own euphoria in the mirror.

She reached for his hair, gripping at the roots tightly when his cock had twitched inside her and he stilled, eyes screwed shut at his release. A long breath left him as the muscles in his arms flexed, each one tightening before letting go and Thea whined. The ridiculous feeling of his pulsing cock deep inside her was new, pleasure breaking across his face as he painted her walls with his seed.

The mirror reflected the loosening of his body, almost going limp above her for a short second when he had pulled out. Eyes locked onto the way his release spilled out of her and back onto his cock. “What a fucking mess.” He almost laughed, looking back up at her with a hint of a smile that she stared at in stunned awe.

It had taken all of this to prod a single smile from him. Even at that, it wasn’t anything to shout about. Uneven dimples either side of his cheeks when he had stifled a laugh, his right side notably more prominent than the left.

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.” His words came breathlessly after a long sigh. Large, bright red military digits by his bedside condensed into a small alarm, the only unnatural light in the room.

She nodded, covering herself with the duvet as Simon found his discarded boxers. The low light against him created shadows of physical fitness. His rippled abdomen only accentuated much to visual delight. “D’you need anythin’?” His eyes had returned to their dead way, naturally darkened and almost offensive.

“Maybe that drink from earlier.”

He nodded, fighting the urge to sigh once out the room. Hands palm down on the kitchen counter, rolling out his shoulder muscles and cracking his neck. “I’ll get going after.” Her voice sounded quietly from behind him causing a sudden flinch.

“Go back to bed.” He barked, tilting his head to shake away the fright.

Although, he could hear her footsteps approaching, completely disregarding him and slowly padding across the cold flooring to where he was stood. Thea paused before speaking, “I’m going to touch your back, yeah?”

Simon looked over his shoulder at her, dressed in only her underwear. Small hands inspecting the damage her nails had inflicted on him, scratch marks and a sparse amount of dried blood. “I got you a good’un.” Her tone was light, smoothing over his shoulders and down to his torso. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” He provided shortly.

She nodded to herself, stepping back from him and taking the glass from earlier with her. Simon rubbed his jaw, turning to catch her shadow in the bedroom, watching as she sunk back onto his bed.

He traipsed to the bathroom, finding himself in the mirror. His inked forearm leant on the sink, turning to assess the damage to his back. He’d had worse. That was easily determined, the dry blood only made him shrug although he made an effort to wash it off for her visual comfort. His skin adorned in scars and bruises from deployments. All holding their own individual stories, not ones Simon knew though. To him they were just signs of a war. Fighting, death, pain. He ran his fingers across them, locking eyes with his reflection.

And with a sigh he left his mirror image, pacing back to the bedroom and downing his discarded glass of whisky on the way.

Thea lay on her side, the dark room only lit by outside traffic and her phone screen. Simon felt a fatigued sigh leave him, rubbing his face before rounding the bed to join her.

She smiled to herself at the way the mattress dipped significantly, an arm resting behind his head, the other hand on his stomach. Thea slid her phone underneath the pillow, turning to face him. “You alright?” She plucked courage to ask, taking in his side profile.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet before clearing his throat. “Are you?” Brow furrowed with the question, his head briefly turning to face her, eyes looking between hers for an answer before she could give one.

“I’m good.” She replied through a simper. “Tired.”

Simon nodded, turning back to the ceiling. “I’ve an awful sleep schedule.” The dark circles under his eyes said as much, ones Thea had been trying not to make a point of all night. “Never get much sleep when I’m deployed.”

“You just got back?”

“Few days ago.” He let go of a long exhale.

Thea narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a sudden pang in her chest. “Maybe you’ll sleep tonight.” Her words weren’t intended to provoke a laugh, although that’s what they did. A genuine one too.

“Maybe.”

Morning came and sunlight beat through the room without manner. The curtains hadn’t been drawn last night, resulting in a stiff groan when Simon had woken first. The covers were a mess, his legs predictably tangled between Thea’s and it was only when he stretched that he realised she had ended up on his chest.

He froze after she had hummed in protest of his movement. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck, small hands clasped together over his chest.

It felt like his breathing had stopped so as to not interrupt her, craning his neck to check the time. 11:32am. A brief feeling of nausea surged through him at that, possibly the latest he had ever woken up since being a teenager.

It became an itch to get up.

Simon's eyes ticked between Thea and the floor beside him, figuring the best possible way to make the move. Years of stealth training would’ve come in handy if it wasn’t for her own stretch, eyes fluttering open momentarily before realising where she was. Who she was on.

“Oh shit.” She lazily cursed, pulling herself away from him and leaving a confusingly bereft feeling in Simon. “Sorry. I must’ve done that in the night.” Her back now to him, curling herself to be smaller on the opposite side of the bed and he stared at the walls blankly. Fingers smoothing across the warmth she had left on his chest before sitting up, palms flat either side of himself.

She felt his weight leave the mattress, closing her eyes in knowing. The night was done, it was time to go. Even if he wouldn’t directly say that. She turned to her back, watching as he sifted through the clothes on the floor, instinctively shoving everything of his into a corner while piling hers on a drawer unit. Thea wanted to believe he folded her stuff out of niceness, although she knew it was probably his military subconscious.

She grounded her feet to the floor, feeling conscious of her half-naked body when standing up in-front of the grandiose window. The view wasn’t too impressive, his flat adjacent to other townhouses across the road, like a mirror image. Simon left the room after haphazardly dressing himself, only shorts and a t-shirt although it made Thea feel more exposed as she slowly slipped back into her vest.

A family across the road had caught her eye. Seemingly a single mother and two boys, all laughing across their dining table. There was something poignant about it – a stoic man across the road, hosting a one night throw away against a loving home. She wondered if Simon had ever noticed them, rubbing a hand across her face at the thought.

What she didn’t know was that he was behind her, looming by the door as she stared across the buildings. He cleared his throat, “I can give you money– for an uber or somethin’."

“No, you’re alright.” She buttoned her trousers, turning to him without an ounce of hesitation in her quiet voice. Simon stared bluntly, following her movements as she collected the rest of her stuff. “Thanks for the night, Simon.” Her smile however didn’t quite reach her eyes, taking her bag from the counter where the two whisky glasses from last night sat next to each other. Only one of them a real whisky one, the other a standard small glass. Thea sucked her lips inward at his lost nod, eyes darting down to his lips and then between his eyes.

She reached for the door handle, walking out without a look back for she feared it would ache.

And Simon hung by the threshold until she was gone. His fingers absently reaching for the whisky, shutting his eyes at the lone glass after closing the door. The flat fell back to its usual silence, and he found a cigarette on his coffee table, sliding the glass to the wood and leaning back. The smoke felt futile, unfulfilling its job to satisfy.

This was why no one came home with Simon Riley.

i have no idea how to feel about this. i feel lawst *rick grimes*

huge thank you to two people, @mistydeyes for entertaining my late night rambles and encouraging me to finish this, our british class will resume tonight. do not be late. and @fwibblefwobble for letting me break my vocal chords screaming over instagram voice notes, and watching all the ghost band tiktoks that infiltrated my fyp. ur the mvp.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara

if you aren’t tagged and have asked, that’s because i wasn’t able to tag your blog!

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost mw2 #mw2 fanfic #ghost smut #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #cod mw smut #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod smut

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Text

Words of Wisdom

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Synopsis: After years of having feelings for your lieutenant, Soap convices you to confess how you feel.

Warnings: none

You and the 141 had just gotten back from a rather tough mission. The mission itself was a success, but you had seen things within the intel you recovered you wish you could unsee. You were investigating a gang that was notorious for killing and torturing perceived enemies. The things on the tapes you recovered showed just how much pleasure the members took when doing such things.

The boys had seemed rather undisturbed by the images, or rather they hid their emotions better than you had. You were shaken to the core, and silent on the plane ride home. The boys had tried their best to comfort you, to no avail.

It was a few days later when Soap had approached you with the idea of joining him and the team at the local bar. Figuring it would be a great way to let off some steam, you obliged.

You and Soap were sitting at a table at the local bar, watching Price, Gaz, and Ghost take turns at darts. You found your eyes lingering on Ghost. You had grown quite fond of the man since you two had started working together. The two of you just "clicked." Often finding yourselves in each other's company and enjoying each other's humor. You'd daresay the two of you were good friends.

"You know, you should just tell L.T. how you feel. Might be more effective than making googly eyes at him all the time." Soap chided, grinning from ear to ear as he finished off his beer. The Scotsman knew of your feelings for Ghost and had for some time. He swore to keep the information to himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't nudge you from time to time to spill the beans to the masked man.

"I can't." You groaned, throwing your head in your hands. "Not only is it not ethical, as he's my lieutenant, but what if he rejects me? Johnny, I don't know how we'd come back from that."

"Never know until you try Lassie. Who knows, he may return your feelings."

"I don't know." You huffed.

"Look, all I'm saying is what's the harm in putting yourself out there. The two of you deserve to be happy. Worst case, if he happens to reject you, I doubt he'd treat you any different. Man can be an arse, but it's clear he has some sort of soft spot for you." Soap said as he squeezed your shoulder gently.

"I just think maybe he feels like he doesn't deserve anyone to care about him. He barely lets us get close to him as is. It's taken me years to get a fraction of the walls he has up, down."

"True, I think possibly he just doesn't know how not to be "Ghost." Soap smiled sadly. "Maybe he needs someone to show him how to be himself again, in a way a friend can't."

You chuckled slightly, "Who knew you had so much wisdom in you, Johnny? Perhaps I should get you some more beers. Who knows what other words of wisdom the great Soap McTavish has in store."

"Oh you have no idea." Soap laughed.

"I'm gonna go grab some air, I'll be back." You said, standing up to stretch. The air had gotten too stuffy, and you knew if you stared at Ghost any longer it would become too obvious.

You made your way past the rowdy patrons of the bar, toward the steps for the roof access. As you opened the door the gust of cold wind hit your face, making you shiver.

You stared out into the night sky, watching your breath evaporate into the cold air. You stood there for a while, letting your thoughts wander, distracting yourself to the point you didn't hear the door open and shut behind you.

"Bloody freezing out here." You turned at the voice and saw Ghost walking toward you, rubbing his hands together. His usual skull mask was replaced with a simple black balaclava while donning a loose black hoodie and jeans.

"That it is. Feels nice, though. That bar was stuffy as hell." You chuckled.

Ghost said nothing in reply, just nodded his head as he came to stand next to you.

The two of you stood in silence for a short while before he spoke up. "Wanted to make sure you were okay. Still seem pretty shaken up after that mission."

"Yeah, I'm good. Was a rough one, so I had a few drinks to shake it off." You stated plainly, picking at the chipped paint of the roof's railing. "Just was weighing on my mind more than I should've let it."

"You seem to have more on your mind than just the mission, Sergeant. You've been quiet tonight." Simon's gaze on you was intense. You could feel it burning into the side of your head.

"Alcohol has a tendency to run my brain a mile a minute. Came up here to try and quiet out my thoughts." You admitted, turning to meet his gaze. As your eyes met, you could see his expression soften. "And you? Doing okay?"

"Another day on the job." He grunted in response. "I'm willing to provide an ear if you need someone to talk to. Not always the best at advice, but my ears work wonders."

You found yourself staring at each other for a few moments. His expression still softened from before. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or the look he held in his eyes, but you found yourself growing confident, so you decided to go for it. You would go crazy if it had gone on any longer without him knowing.

"Can I speak freely then? And not to my lieutenant, to Simon."

"Course?" Simon looked perplexed at your request, but waited for you to continue. To say he was nervous about what you were going to say was an understatement.

"I want you to know that I see you. I really see you." You started nervously. There was no turning back now for you. Thinking of the words Johnny had said, you knew what you wanted to say. The question was, how would Simon take it?

"Pardon?" Simon was even more perplexed at this.

"What I mean is… you have this facade that you carry around, making people believe that you're just some cold, distant man. I see through that. I see past Ghost, and I see Simon. Someone who is so worthy of being loved and cared for, someone who deserves happiness. I worry that perhaps you lost sight of him. I just want you to know that even though you may not see yourself as worthy, I do."

Simon tensed at your words as they replayed over and over in his head. What exactly was it that you were trying to tell him? You were right, though, he didn't see himself as worthy of anything. After all he's lost in his life, he doesn't think he deserves having anyone close to him.

Sensing his internal struggle, you continued. "I'm trying, poorly, to tell you that I care for you more than just as a friend. I have for a while. I was always too nervous to tell you because I didn't know how you'd react. And, frankly, I didn't want to lose you as a friend. I'd rather have that than not have you in my life at all." Your confidence was starting to falter. You knew he may not have much to say in reply, but you weren't expecting total silence.

Simon only continued to stare at you, his dark eyes scanning your face, betraying none of the emotions he was actually feeling inside. He did care for you as more than just a friend. He's loved you for years, but believed he never deserved to have you like that. He had always been okay just being friends, as that's all he thought he deserved. There were so many things he wanted to say, but no words could convey what he was thinking, and all he could do was watch as your face fell.

"I um. I'm sorry. Perhaps that was highly inappropriate of me. I shouldn't have said anything. We can just forget this happened, yeah? I'll catch you in the morning, sir." You whispered out, your emotions now hitting you like a truck. You didn't want to cry in front of Simon and make an even bigger fool of yourself. You wished you hadn't said anything, fearing now that things would never be the same for the two of you.

You turned to start walking toward the door when his voice grabbed your attention. "Y/N."

You turned back to look at him, only to see that he had removed his balaclava. You'd never seen him without his mask before, and you couldn't help the small gasp that emitted from your mouth.

You walked slowly toward him, admiring his features. His eyes were even more vibrant without the hindrance of his mask. You could see the freckles dusting his skin and the redness in his cheeks from the cold. To you, he was the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on.

Simon remained still, his eyes watching your reactions carefully. He was nervous how you'd react to seeing his face, but he figured this gesture was the only way he could show you how he felt.

A small smile was growing on your lips as you reached your hand out slowly toward his face, waiting for a sign from him that it was okay to touch him. He gave you a curt nod, so you placed your hand softly on the side of his cheek. His skin was warm and softer than you had expected. He closed his eyes at your touch and leaned into your palm slightly.

"You are so handsome, Simon Riley." You breathed, stroking his cheek lightly.

He opened his eyes at your words and looked down at you. You had both stood there staring intently at one another until Simon leaned forward to place his lips on yours. You sighed at the contact, pressing yourself into him further as you reciprocated the kiss.

He pulled away moments later with a hint of a smile on his face. "What do you say I take you back to base, make you a cup of tea? Too bloody cold out here."

"After you, sir." You beamed up at him, your cheeks now burning red from not only the cold but from Simon's kiss.

He took your hand before placing his balaclava back on, and led you back down to the exit of the bar. As you passed Soap, you could see him wink at you, while throwing you a thumbs up.

~~~~

A/N: I'm not sure if I wanted to turn this into a smutty part two as well or just leave as is. Hope you all enjoyed it!

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #konig imagine #mw2 imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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shit! but! imagine going out or just going to the bookstore, suddenly you bump into this big guy who was to busy looking through sketch books, knock you down “sorry lassie, didn’t se ya” and WHOOPS THE WORD IS SUDDENLY SO COLORFUL! it’s a meet cute, identical to some cliche rom com, but damn it feels great, you’re a bit about skeptical about meeting you soulmate, but you’re in your 20s there plenty of time, and this you meet Johnny! Suddenly the plans for they day are canceled, you spend the rest of day in the pub - he asks you about yourself, beaming with some awestruck look on his face, listening to every word you say. You learn that he’s in his 30s, currently on vacatio n visiting a mate, loves drawing, doesn’t love dog, hiscurrents rents a pace in Glasgow, but his (large) family lives Kilmarnock, apparently his “ma”s going to be so happy that you two have met, a bit shyly admits that his waited for this day for as long as he can remember. And it feels good, Johnny is charming and funny, even his bloody Mohawk can be tolerated by his accent, which makes you feel all hot not just in your cheeks. And maybe you sting to much at the pub, or its the magic of soulmate or whatever but the very first night with you soulmate is spent moaning his name as breeds you like his life depends on it. Only to all of euphoria to be crush at the sunlight of the morning when you spot a SAS tatto in his arm and you supposed true love broadly stating that he recently have been promoted to captain, acting really surprised why you reacting this way, he’s protecting you! it’s a good thing! look, Bonnie, he’s doing this for you! imagine how proud your kids are gonna be when they are going to tell their class that their deddy is a hero! not like the British army has ever done smt bad! you’re irrational! come on, don’t start screaming! you’ll need this energy to peck you staff to his home🥰

- 🪆

lmaoooo

god the "come on, aye? stop yer screamin!" is sending me. like he's genuinely confused, like oi? is it a spider? why ye lookin' at me like tha'?

where you goin'? what's the rush? want me to take ye?

just utterly oblivious cuz he's head over heels and you're literally just screaming bloody murder and chucking shoes at him n shit.

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the-faceless-bride · 4 months

Text

What does she have...

Johnny 'soap" Mactavish × (obsessive?) Reader

Plot: Johnny 'John' Macravish. The man you've been in love with since you were 13 years old. The boy next door who promised to protect you, care about you, and be by your side. Promised to be your best friend. Grown up together and still close to this day. Only you want to be more, but... It seems he just can't leave behind the free life, sleeping where he wants, when he wants with who he wants... He needs more than you. And you just can't expect that.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/no comfort/comfort, unrequited love, swearing, mentions of sex, Sex, seeing the man you love with someone else, Civilian reader, friends to lovers?, mentions of abuse, Johnny gets hurt at some point.

A/n: this will have a choose-your-path style to it, cuz I find interaction fun! And a pick your ending. I listened to 'Put Me in a Movie' by Lana on repeat while making this. Slowed and reverbed.

You had been in love with him as long as you. Would remember. Your mom's being close friends and all. You'd grown up practically in the same house. And you'd loved every second of it.

It broke your heart when he first told you he was joining the military. That was the first time you and him had ever fought. But you still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Why do you care so much?!" he screamed at you. An uncomfortable silence followed, you wanted to tell him. 'I'm in love with you, I care for you, I just want you to be safe. Can't you be here safe... With me?' but instead, you had stupidly said, 'You're like my brother. I wouldn't want my brother to get hurt.' you regret not telling him that night, either our come would've spared you years of her break...

But today you'd been ecstatic, Johnny was coming home today. He had sent you the letter and that some squad mates would stay! You were excited to meet everyone... At first...

When everyone had set down the bags and you saw that shaggy mohalk you came running down the steps of Johnny's house.

Johnny and you had a comfortable dynamic between the two of you. You had your little apartment for one that you stayed at when Johnny was home from his missions. But while he was gone you stayed in his house, keeping the dust bunnies away and his house warm.

Neither of you minded the agreement. You especially, you got to lay in his bed every night. Thinking and dreaming what it would be like to go to bed and wake up next to him.

You hugged Johnny and he laughed at you almost knocking him over, his sweet laughter... His smell, his voice... "miss me lassy? Heh-" his silly teasing, a perfect moment...

"who's your little friend?" a moment ruined by the sound of another woman's voice. You jumped back to look at her, "this is [Name], my good friend. Practically my little sister-" aaannd there it was. That gut-wrenching feeling of another needle stabbing your heart.

This woman was tall, very muscular, and had a scar under her left eye. Blonde hair and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen.

And you knew instantly what her 'relationship' with Johnny was. They were always the same.

Every mission he came back from he had a pretty woman aside him. Sometimes from the mission, other just a girl he found at the local pub after a drink with his mates.

Always another pretty woman. But never you.

You went home and cried every time.

"It's nice to meet you all," you said with a smile, hoping his teammates wouldn't notice the slight drop in your mood knowing a woman was with them. They had all kindly introduced themselves, except the big one with the mask, he just stared at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind those dark eyes.

"I'm Gaz, it's nice to meet you! We were just gonna set our things inside and head for a drink would you like to come?"

While a drink would be nice you learned your lesson. You had only been around Johnny when he was drunk twice. Both times ended with you crying.

The first time, you had gone out with him to celebrate his return. It was going smoothly and you were having fun. Seeing the Man you love having fun, being alive. But it quickly went south when you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you came back Johnny had a woman on his arm, Dancing and whispering in her ear. Kissing her neck, letting her rake her fingernails down his strong chest.

You felt sick. You rushed back to his house and ended up crying yourself to sleep in a guest room. But being woken up to the sickening sound of that woman moaning Johnny's name.

And the second time...

"oh no thank you, I just finished tidying up here and I gotta get home to my cat." you joked and he thankfully accepted your excuse. Johnny didn't even notice you leaving...

You couldn't sleep, you laid awake wondering what it was like to be that woman. To be fucked into the mattress by Johnny. Your Johnny.

You'd dreamed and fantasized about it many many times. To kiss him. To hold him. To moan for him. A dream you touched yourself every night too. It made you feel less lonely.

You wondered if when lying in his bed she smelled your perfume?

You had a very specific perfume, you had been wearing it every day since you were 16, you'd worn it once and Johnny had said you 'smelled nice' and since then you'd only ever wear That specific scent.

In your mind, when he smelled that scent he would always think of you. And you had slept on his bed every night since he had been gone, you know you still lingered on his sheets.

You'd always wondered if Johnny... Liked... The smell of you on his bed. You knew he knew you slept in his bed, instead of one of the guest beds he had in his home. But he had never once told you to stop... Maybe he liked it?... Maybe...

For a moment you reviled in the idea that while she was being fucked, her head shoved into the pillows she'd be forced to smell you lingering on his sheets. Maybe if you were right the smell might... Make him think of you... If only for a moment... Maybe...

You sigh.

Why couldn't it just be you? What did all those other women have... That you didn't?

Why couldn't he... Just pick you?

Tags: @godihatethiswebsite

Part 1/???

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shirefantasies · 3 months

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Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

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