Smiles. - Ghost x OC fluff
pairing: F!OC Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley
words: 2.1K~
cw: none. just toothrotting fluff.
April 18th, 2021.
They didn't sleep that night.
Not something new for either of them...
But it was perhaps the excitement of the realization that prevented it even more than usual.
By 0500 hours. they were both up, heading to the gym together, conducting their specific workouts.
By 0630, they had taken alternating showers back in her room, put their gear on, and headed to the mess for breakfast.
At 0800, they were knocking at Price's office door.
"Come in." The gruff voice of the captain sounded through the door.
Ghost and Whiskey stepped inside, both masked, both in full-gear, both looking like they had drank one of Johnny's energy drinks, nearly bouncing off the walls.
"What can I help you with?" Price asked as he saw the two of them, watching how Ghost closed the door and then came to stand beside Whiskey across the desk from Price, one hand on the small of her back.
Whiskey and Ghost exchanged a look and then they both pulled off their masks, baring their faces to their boss, who raised his eyebrows in confusion. He knew how to read Ghost, somewhat, but Whiskey was still a mystery for him.
"We need you to do us a favour." Simon said as he stared at John with stern eyes and thinning his lips by pressing them together.
"What kind of favour?" John asked with a cocked brow as he leaned back in his desk chair and crossed his arms.
"We want to get married." Simon told John directly. No flourishes, just straight to the point.
Whatever John had been expecting... That wasn't it. The man's face went still as stone other than his eyelids, which blinked repeatedly as he attempted to process what he heard.
Then, John blinked his eyes into staying shut for a longer moment, his eyebrows twitching, and opened them again, letting them flitter between his two lieutenants.
"Married." He repeated, as if the word made no sense.
"Married." Victoria agreed, which made Simon nod curtly while looking at John.
John took a deep breath and leaned forward, toward his desk, already reaching for his landline phone. "I'll give Laswell a ring." He grunted.
-
Johnny and Kyle were confused when, at 1430 they watched Price, Ghost and Whiskey climb into a jeep. For a moment, they almost considered following... Where were they going alone?
But they didn't. And good thing too.
The drive to the Hereford Town Hall was very quick. 15 minutes to get there, and at 1450 they were being allowed into 'The Oak Room', a 40+ seat ceremony room for civil wedding ceremonies.
Laswell had pulled a LOT of strings to expedite the ceremony when normally they'd need a 30-day waiting period... They definitely owed her one.
Simon and Victoria did the due diligence of taking off their face masks, having already taken off their Kevlar vests and weapons back at the base.
They sat at the head table, side-by-side, exchanging looks and soft smiles. John sat behind them, at one of the guest chairs, on Simon's side.
The registrar sat across from them, flicking through the pages of documents in her hands, having already a copy of both their birth certificates in front of her at the table.
The woman was stern-looking, with more than a few grey hairs, glasses on the tip of her nose, and a no-nonsense expression on her face. She, however, didn't seem to be judging them too hard for having come to their own marriage ceremony in fatigues and combat boots.
"Dear guests... erm... guest," The woman said, with a bit of a sarcastic sense of humour, as she glanced toward John, who gave her a nod and a little thumbs up, smiling in amusement, just as Victoria and Simon were.
"Welcome to the Hereford Town Hall, where we four are gathered today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Ms. Victoria Isabelle Callahan, aged 29, born on October 27th, 1991, in Nashville, Tennessee, USA, single and childfree; and Mr. Simon Michael Riley, aged 31, born on May 15, 1989, in Manchester, England., also single and childfree" She continued.
"Marriage is a beautiful union, a commitment between two individuals who have chosen to embark on life's journey together, sharing their joys and sorrows, triumphs, and challenges. Today, we are privileged to be part of this special moment in their lives." The registrar spoke, reading from the file in front of her.
"Victoria and Simon, you have come here freely and willingly to declare your love and commitment to each other in the presence of your loved ones. Marriage is a profound and sacred bond, a promise to stand by each other through all of life's adventures."
"As we embark on this ceremony, let us take a moment to reflect on the love that has brought Victoria and Simon together and the journey that lies ahead. May your love continue to grow stronger with each passing day, and may you find joy, laughter, and fulfillment in each other's company."
"Before we proceed, I must remind everyone that marriage is a legal union as well as a spiritual one. As such, it is my duty to ensure that all legal requirements are met. Victoria and Simon, I must ask you now to confirm your intent to marry and to make your solemn declarations."
The woman in front of them looks up over the frame of her glasses, and glances at Victoria and Simon who have, the whole time, been holding hands under the table.
"Let's start with you Simon, please repeat after me." The registrar says as she looks at him. Simon holds eye contact with her for a moment, before he swivels in his chair and turns to look at Victoria, who also turns to look at him.
"I, Simon Michael Riley," She begins.
"I, Simon Michael Riley,"
"confirm that I willingly take you, Victoria Isabelle Callahan,"
"confirm that I willingly take you, Victoria Isabelle Callahan,"
"as my lawfully wedded wife,"
"as my lawfully wedded wife,"
"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."
"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."
"I promise to love and cherish you,"
"I promise to love and cherish you,"
"to protect you and respect you,"
"to protect you and respect you,"
"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"
"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"
"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"
"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"
"for as long as I live."
"for as long as I live."
There was something in Simon's gaze as he spoke the vows allowed. Even if they weren't his own, his eyes spoke volumes, those vows were but a fraction of the things he wanted to tell Victoria but would never have the proper words to say...
Victoria was looking at him with fondness in her eyes, her eyebrows lowered and a slightly trembly bottom lip. She felt the same. She knew those words were not enough, but they came close.
"Now for the bride." The registrar continues. "Please repeat after me, Ms. Callahan:"
"I, Victoria Isabelle Callahan," The registrar begins again.
"I, Victoria Isabelle Callahan,"
"confirm that I willingly take you, Simon Michael Riley,"
"confirm that I willingly take you, Simon Michael Riley,"
"as my lawfully wedded husband,"
"as my lawfully wedded husband,"
"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."
"and with it all the rights, duties and responsibilities that come from said union."
"I promise to love and cherish you,"
"I promise to love and cherish you,"
"to protect you and respect you,"
"to protect you and respect you,"
"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"
"to not harm you or allow harm to be done upon you,"
"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"
"and to stand by you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth,"
"for as long as I live."
"for as long as I live."
Simon's eyes softened to a degree neither of Victoria nor John had seen before, glossy and bright as he looked down at her. Oh, how beautiful she looked now, as she vowed to love him for as long as she had air in her lungs...
"The wedding rings?" The registrar beckoned as she looked at them and John with a cocked brow.
The three officers looked at each other with a bit of a surprised and worried look because, like idiots, all three had forgotten one of the most important parts of the ceremony.
John was almost about to stop everything so he could run to a jeweler nearby and buy a couple of non-descript bands just for the moment.
But he didn't need to.
Simon caught Victoria's eye again, then reached around the back of his neck and undid the chain holding his dog tags. "Will this work?" He asked as he held the chain up for the registrar to see, his circular dog tags catching the light.
The registrar's permanent scowl seemed to crack a bit and she gave a nod and a small smile. Victoria immediately followed Simon's lead and removed her own dog tags from around her neck.
Exchanging a look, Simon reached forward and, coming inches from his bride's face, he slowly wrapped his hands around the back of her neck and clipped his dog tags onto her, the round circles hanging low due to his chain being long, coming to rest right atop her cleavage.
He pulled his hands back slowly, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to caress the patch of exposed skin around the base of her neck as he pulled away, setting his hands on his thighs after that.
Once he pulled back, Victoria leaned forward herself, her knees brushing against Simon's, and her hands slowly wrapped around his neck, clipping her dog tags around his neck.
Her dog tags were different, the standard stadium geometric shape, and hung higher than his, coming just below his collar bone, the chain fitting him more like a choker than a necklace...
But once she pulled back, her hands sliding down his shoulders and off him at the pecs, she couldn't help but enjoy the way her tags looked on him... And, hell, he liked seeing his tags on her, hanging just in line with her heart.
The eye contact between them was obscene, pupils blown as they couldn't help but smile, open-mouthed, teeth, for once, showing, as they took in the sight of one another.
"By the authority vested in me by the State of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your union with a kiss." The registrar said, which caused both lieutenants to freeze, yet again.
Public displays of affection were Not Their Thing. But, hell, they'd come this far.
Steeling themselves, they leaned forward together and Simon's hands grabbed Victoria's face on both sides, around the back of her head, his fingers disappearing amidst her brown hair, which was tied back into a bun, as their mouths came together.
Victoria's hands rested on his forearms, her fingers digging in tight as her eyes fell closed and they kissed slowly and deeply for a good minute.
Once they pulled away, she looked away, hiding a smile again, her eyes falling to the floor beside her, and Simon's own face turned away too, eyes locked on the wood paneling of the wall on the other side of the room.
They both looked so awkward that John had to cover his mouth with his hand to try not to laugh.
-
They got food to go from a nearby Indian and John even had the decency as their witness/Simon's best man, to buy them a small Madeira cake from Tesco.
Then, they returned to base and parted ways, John giving Simon a handshake, and Victoria a pat on the back before he left.
Simon and Victoria perched themselves on an outdoor table of the base, near the mess, eating their meal and making copious amounts of eye contact, their dog tags still around each other's necks.
It's as Victoria's about to cut the cake with one of Simon's throwing knives, when Simon reaches forward and sets his hand atop of hers, helping guide her through it, as traditional couples would do during a traditional wedding reception, that they finally can't hold it in anymore and start laughing.
for everyone that complained about the angst (/pos): , @xxshadowbabexx , @crashtestbunny , @cod-z , @superhero-landing , and @loveandplanet
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If you’re taking prompts; Isobel takes Alex as a plus one to some event as Kyle can’t come.
***
“How do I look?” Isobel asked for the tenth time that night, fixing her already perfect hair and patting down her already perfect silver dress.
Alex smiled and brought her hand up to his lips for a delicate kiss. “Perfect,” he said. “Now would you please stop panicking?"
“Panicking?” she scoffed, looking around at the gallery filled with her wealthy guests. “Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking. Why would I be panicking? Just because Kyle’s hospital donations all rely on me and my gala?”
Alex grinned. “Is that how Kyle put it?”
She tried to glare, but the thought of her fiancé softened her usually tough edges and her expression ended up more of a pout. “No. Kyle said he didn’t need me to put on a gala at all, that the annual Roswell’s-Doctors’-Bake-Sale usually pulled in more than enough funding.”
“But . . .” Alex prompted.
Her glare actually did sharpen this time. “But I’ve seen the way those rich housewives try to bid for my man like he’s the one on sale, and if I have to hold an elegant party to save him from their poorly-manicured claws, I’ll do it.”
“Woof,” Michael smirked from where he leaned against the table nearby, a flute of champagne in hand and completely at odds with his wild curls. “The world of fancy dresses and bubbles is more brutal than we thought, babe. Aren’t you glad I’m here?”
“Remind me why again?” Isobel hissed. “I gave Alex the invite.”
“I go where he goes,” Michael said simply. “And he wouldn’t have had to be here if your future husband hadn’t faked a fever.”
“He didn’t fake anything,” she snapped. “For your information, he’s barely been able to keep anything down the last two days!”
“Even more pathetic, if you ask me,” Michael grumbled. “What kind of doctor gets sick?”
“You’re such a – couldn’t you at least have worn a suit? Alex wore a suit.”
Alex had indeed worn a suit. He’d been surprised he still had it; a black jacket and pants with a white undershirt that he’d kept from his military days for their own occasional gala. Except this time, of course, he wore a gold chain necklace from his mother with an aquamarine stone in the center, his gold wedding ring, one piercing in his ear, string bracelets with engraved silver charms that Michael had made him, and his hair was tousled because this time, Alex wasn’t forcing it down with his buddy’s hair gel and it didn’t know how to settle otherwise.
Michael shrugged. He wore his classic jeans and flannel shirt, open halfway down his chest and revealing his chest hair. “Alex likes my clothes.”
“Alex likes the half-naked body underneath,” Isobel retorted with a curled lip. “Ew, gross, now I’m imagining you naked.”
“You’re welcome,” Michael smirked, and Alex held up his hands, standing between them.
“Okay,” he said, “it’s okay, guys, we’ve got a long night with each other, so let’s just . . .” he narrowed his eyes at Isobel. “Somehow, I thought Kyle not being here meant I wouldn’t have to break up any fights.”
“He’s rubbing off on her,” Michael said grimly, and winced. “Yuck, now I’m thinking about Valenti rubbing on you." He made a gagging motion which Isobel tried to whack him for, and would’ve if Alex wasn’t there to gently catch her wrist and give her hand another kiss.
“Look over there,” he pointed. “That woman’s been eying that painting for the last two minutes, if you want to swoop in . . .”
He trailed off, but Isobel was already gasping and making a beeline straight for her. When she was gone, Alex turned to the table and picked up a quiche.
“Can’t you give her a break tonight?” he said. “She’s doing this to help Kyle.”
“No, she’s not, Alex,” Michael said, annoyed. “She’s doing this because she’s jealous over seeing him around anyone else.”
“Some of those women crowd into him,” Alex defended, “and he’s representing the hospital, he can’t exactly shove them away, can he?” Michael scoffed, and Alex turned to him, hip against the table as he crossed his arms. “You know, this reaction really is rich, coming from the guy that almost set a tour bus on fire when one guy tried to hit on me.”
“He was a singer,” Michael snarled at once, and Alex had the feeling he still remembered every face that had ever flirted with Alex in the past. Probably to take their tires out if they ever drove into Roswell again. “And he was talking about his bandmates sharing you!”
Alex shrugged a shoulder. “It would’ve been consensual.”
Michael stared. “Are you trying to make me set this place on fire?”
Alex laughed and turned back to watch the rest of the gallery. It really was such a gorgeous place; the glass dome, the birds and angels engraved in gold on the ivory walls, the pretty people in pretty clothes and smell fancy food and sounds of tinkling laughter in the air. It was no wonder Isobel seemed so much in her element in places like this; it was like living in an art piece.
“You want one of those?”
Alex blinked. “Hm? One of what?”
Michael gestured again with his glass. “Those.”
He raised a brow. “The paintings?”
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Was he blushing? “The drawings.”
“They’re masterpieces, Michael.”
“Sure, those.” He squinted at one plaque. The night had just started, how tipsy was he? “This guy’s famous, right?”
“You mean Van Gogh?” Alex tried not to smile. “Yeah, Michael, pretty famous dude.”
Michael heard the silent teasing anyway and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yes, these. Do you want one?”
“Why?” he tilted his head. “You going to get me one?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. He was definitely blushing. “How expensive can they be anyway?”
Alex decided to spare his wonderful husband the shock, and inched closer to Michael until their arms were brushing. “I’m okay. I already have the most gorgeous artwork coming home with me.”
Michael, in his hazy thoughts, took a second to work out what Alex had said, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh ha ha.”
Alex was already laughing under his breath, his shoulders shaking, but when he looked back at Michael, he found his gaze focused, sober and serious and something very private on Alex.
“You’re the most beautiful in any room, baby,” he said.
Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and he blushed, looking down. “Thank you, hubby.”
Michael twined their pinkies together, and Alex looked up at him just as Isobel suddenly appeared and said, “Alex, quick, I think I got the lady close to writing a check, I need some eye candy to sweeten the deal.”
Alex’s brows pinched. “Is that supposed to be me?”
She rolled her eyes, looking too much like her brother. “Come on, hurry up, the hospital’s depending on you – Michael, no, just Alex!”
Michael, who had already pushed off the table, threw his head back to finish the last of his drink and set the glass down, albeit roughly.
“I already told you, sis,” he said jealously, ever the gorgeous hypocrite, “where he goes, I go.”
***
I'm quite proud of this one. Happy malex Monday ❤️
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INFO POST
Name: Kylee (they/them). 30+
A totally normal Korean American mostly known for my drawings, specifically my Pokemon nuzlocke comics. But I will talk about other things on occasion because I do have periods of being fixated on certain topics. I also am a doctor!
Interests: Pokemon, League of Legends (everything except the game lmao), Fire Emblem, Advance Wars, Animal Crossing, Mother series, Korean history/culture, character design
General FYIs:
General inquiries/commission work/etc should be sent thru kynimdraws [at] gmail [dot] com! Tumblr messaging/asks/etc is not 100% reliable
I will not follow NSFW accounts but I am fine talking/interacting with them. There may be suggestive shitposting but I like keeping my content on the SFW side
I am VERY picky about who I follow/interact with online. Fandom content in particular is a minefield for me aka I have many things I dislike and don’t want to see, even if it might be a popular thing in media that I otherwise enjoy. Therefore, I will unfollow/block/mute liberally. There are times I accidentally block a blog bc I mistake them for bots. So if you got hit with that, just send me an ask or email me
I am very open about what I like and dislike, and none of those things are a direct attack on your sensibilities. I have never gone out of my way to directly send hate or whatever have you if I end up seeing shit I don’t like. My complaints in my little online space ain't a personal attack on you.
My ask/submission box/DMs are open for criticisms if you have any issues you want to resolve in private. No one is perfect and I may have done ignorant shit that needs to be pointed out. I have deleted or edited posts in the past if people tell me what I did wrong. PS I get that some of my stuff may upset you, but try to act civil when pointing shit out please.
I try to tag all my things whenever I can. Again, send me a message if anything bothers you. I am all for good debate but if you send me excessive hate or threats bc I have different opinions about matters that are trivial, I will block/delete them.
If you wish to use any of my hcs, please credit me. And if you are comfortable with it, send me the works so I can check them out! Or @ me if that is easier.
---
FIRE EMBLEM FYI: Specifically for 3Houses/3Hopes because I need a separate one for this franchise specificially given how many crazy things I got due to being involved in this fanbase via my fanworks:
DO NOT try to convince me to like or tolerate Byleth/student ships, ESPECIALLY the ones with the lords (aka CIaude, Dimitri, EdeIgard). I already summarized why I don’t like FE3H Byleth ships with student chars here. While the spinoff game FEW3H has now removed that teacher/student problematic situation, the fandom keeps putting the FE3H elements into the FEW3H fanworks (i.e. remembering Byleth from “another life” trope)...so no thanks!! DO NOT SHOW ME IT!!!
As for the Byleth ships with faculty members, my response is here so don’t try to bait me about that topic either thanks.
I do not care whom you ingame S-support. 3Houses limits the dating-sim part of the game to that character, so I cannot care less about how you play the game. The main issue I have is when people treat Byleth the “character” as a legit ship material when I personally think they are a cool character ruined by fans who are too obsessed with badly executed self insert otome tropes bc they self-project super hard onto them. Just to be clear, any FE3H or FEW3H OC/Canon >>>>>>Byleth ships personally. Even Byleth-sonas that remove the teacher/student aspects are better than canon FE3H!Byleth
Please don't drag FE VA statements as some sort of “gotcha” on my opinions like this post here. IDC what other people prefer with ship shit, that’s their problem and not mine. I am not gonna bother them about it. So don’t bother ME about it.
---
Links to check out:
Myths of Unova + Episode Grey (Pkmn White/White2 Comic)
Tales of Sinnoh (Pkmn Diamond Comic)
Art Site (Portfolio)
Twitter
Instagram
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Also, and in complete fairness I haven’t seen this said yet, but if anyone does think it’s OOC for Kyle and Tolkien in this episode (as I do see on a surface level an argument for it being so since both of them are not particularly known for indulging in kinda “silly” stuff) I think, idk. Consider reevaluating the characters a bit. Assume you’re wrong in your interpretation of them before assuming it’s the creator’s who don’t know what they’re doing! I’m not saying Matt and Trey are flawless about character consistency by any means, but I do think they’d be proven to put a lot of care and effort into characterization especially recently and especially with the kids. There’s a number of reasons this makes sense for both Kyle and Tolkien and may not seem obvious at first, not to mention they are still just cringey kids above being the serious “mature” ones in their groups and it makes sense they’d be silly sometimes or indulge in fun things like TikTok, cringey or not. It’s honestly really nice to see them do so, especially with their personalities not changing otherwise, because it creates so much more of a well grounded basis for them as characters. Real people are never the serious ones all of the time, and honestly that’s never even exactly what Tolkien and Kyle were written to be!
They’ve always had less serious sides, had moments where they placed the less elegant and mature part for fun, and we see that here in such a real way. We see them goofing off and making fun stupid videos and enjoying the attention and making of them, and taking it seriously and Whatnot- But we also still see them being themselves in the same vein outside of when they’re making their videos which is natural and really nice! Nothing has changed ultimately! It’s just a new side to them both and I love seeing them just be… Happy! Relaxed! Chill! And indulging in an interest they found they shared and loving each other’s company. It’s really sweet!
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This is still soooooo messed up to me.
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fandom when characters that aren't cartman like butters/stan/ect don't like saints
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idk still why everyone was so upset by dany its been hinted at since like day 1 shes going to go down the path of the mad king its so insane to me that people cannot read basic hints that are literally spoonfed to them anymore
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boys trying to survive nnn with their partner (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)
a/n: if it wasn't for @blissful-bunny, there wouldn't be nnn. LMAOOO i hope y'all will enjoy, it's my first time doing something like this... and i think i don't hate it as i did before!
mdni, as always. nsfw below + keegan's version here
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Being around Ghost durning this time is funny, to say the least. You know about this bet from Gaz, when you invited the whole Task Force 141 for dinner. There wasn't much of a reaction from you, just a nod and a hum that's interesting to hear that. Nothing more, until your boyfriend's friends went home, and you stayed with him, washing dishes.
"You think you're gonna last?" you ask, and you pretty much can't stop yourself from laughing when he gives you a side eye.
"'s just a month." he grumbles, and you know, you somehow irritated him. Or, the bet did, you're not really sure. "Been through worse."
Theoretically, it is true. He's military, he has seen things that you won't ever see, something so stupid like this challenge shouldn't be something hard to do.
Practically? Practically, he takes every fucking chance to get closer to you. You're making breakfast, showering, washing the dishes? He's gonna be right behind you. It's not surprising at first, he liked to be near you always, but it has a malicious intent to it, when he drags his clothed cock up and down your ass, grunting right into your ear. He gets you worked up, and you're pretty sure he's gonna lose, but he stops right before he cums.
You can't really decide if it's funny or sad to see him like this. It's his pained expression that he gives when he bites on his lower lip, grumbling something about watching you touching yourself, so it will be better. You can't really say no to a man starved, so you put out a show for him, thinking how so much better his fingers would be in your pussy.
If it would depend on you, you'd kneel and relieve him, but what can you do, when he has this ridiculous challenge of his?
He breaks after two days, when he sees you in your shared gym, exercising. It's unexpected, when he puts down dumbbells you were working with, doing squats; you want to ask what's wrong, but when he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall, you just know. You even forgive him when he doesn't prep you enough, and he just thrusts into you without much thinking of it, his balls heavy.
You know you won't leave this gym for a long time.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
"You're participating in what?"
To say it was weird, was one thing. To say that Kyle does it, was even weirder, especially that he was straight from two months of deployment. Needy. You knew it, as you were with him almost three years by now, he had always spent hours in bed with you because he missed you like a madman. These two months were pretty much the longest you've been separated with him, so, you can imagine your surprise, when you learned about the challenge, when you two were cleaning your apartment. He was touching you every now and then, giving you little kisses, and now he was talking about something like this.
"I'm—"
"—No, I heard you" you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm like… trying to understand who convinced you to do so."
"Bet with Soap. Lad thinks 'm not gonna last with you." he murmurs, and you just know that this motherfucker made this as a personal challenge. So, you just nod your head, to Kyle's surprise on his pretty face. "That's… all you're gonna say?"
"What else I'm supposed to say?" you raise your eyebrow, amused. "That I feel sorry for you, this will do?"
"That ain't funny."
"It is, kind of funny." you grin, as you kiss his forehead, at which he closes his eyes, so you repeat kissing his forehead a few times. "I'm gonna support you in this, yeah? So it's gonna be easier."
It wasn't easier. You could see that he glances at you every now and then, when you are doing domestic things around the house, giving him little, encouraging smiles. Little do you know that Kyle's bulge is growing larger and larger every time he looks at you.
Gaz is pretty calm, at least until he sees you in his t-shirt (that is way too big for you) and just panties underneath, sitting right beside him with a bowl of popcorn. You two planned to watch a movie, but your boyfriend quickly brushes it off, as his hand wanders under the hem of your panties.
"Kyle, you—"
"I know." he almost growls, as he puts you on his lap.
The moment he feels your wetness, he's a gone man; he makes you ride him, and the challenge is just a fading memory, when his lips attack yours.
John "Soap" MacTavish
Soap is absolutely offended when everyone in Task Force 141 tells him he's gonna lose the challenge. He can't shut up about it for an hour straight, as he lays with his head on your lap, telling you something about celibacy and being true lover, not some "horny arse like the others". You listen to it with a small, amused smile on your lips because as much as you love your boyfriend, everyone is right about it.
He's not gonna last, and he knows it personally too, but you say nothing about it. You just listen to Johnny's ramblings, until his eyes are on you, observing your reaction so casually.
"What do ya think? 'm gonna beat it? Be the best?" he tilts his head like a puppy, squinting his eyes. It's an icy ground you're standing on right now.
"I think… it's gonna be hard." you answer; slowly, reluctantly. It's not something that he wants to hear though, as he groans, shaking his head with displeasure. "What? You asked!"
"I ken it's gonna be hard. 'm askin', if 'm gonna beat it" he emphasizes his last words, and you can feel he barely holds himself from rolling his eyes.
"…well, baby, as much as I have faith in you in other things…"
It's not a good answer for him, nor for a challenge, considering that you end up getting fucked by him – it's some kind of punishment, he tells you, when he folds you in half. He tells you that he also didn't lose the challenge, technically, as you had sex November 1st , at 3 a.m. You nod, hesitantly, so you could go to sleep without causing him to ramble about it again; you are exhausted.
It takes him three days of fucking you in various places to finally come into the conclusion that the challenge isn't for him. Three days of promising and hearing him whining that it's gonna be 'st the tip, baby, to feel you good.
"Good that you've figured that out." you say with a small smile, in restaurant's bathroom, his forehead against yours, as his cock is still buried deep inside you.
"Lasted longer than lads. Sure of that."
John Price
You want to think of your husband highly, when you hear of this stupid thingy. The authority, someone that leads the Task Force 141, setting the example for his younger proteges with his willpower. Someone who actually cares about engaging in challenges, even if they're stupid, even if he shouldn't even look at something like this.
Yet, you know John, you're married to him, for God's sake – and you know his sex drive. When this man is home, nothing and no one stops him from getting what he wants, and that's on you. In your mind, there's a core memory of him saying that he absolutely loves your pussy, multiple times.
So it's not a surprise that he doesn't participate in this challenge. It's not a surprise when he babbles about having kids with you while he fucks you wherever he can; kitchen counter, under the shower, your couch. His obsession over kids grew over this month more than ever, and you were happy to meet his expectations in a middle, since you thought of having a little angel in your small family for a longer time now. Having a dog wasn't enough.
A surprise comes when he proudly admits that he won in the end of the month. Boys are pretty much shocked by this, considering that their Captain didn't even look frustrated once, and he was in better mood than usual. Yet, they don't have a place to complain, so they accept the defeat with a frown on their faces, and a quick comment from Soap that he for sure cheated.
"You didn't win, honey." you laugh to him, sitting at his lap, when he's in his office, alone.
Price arches his eyebrow in amusement. "I did."
"That's not really—"
"Listen, we were tryin' for babies, weren't we? It wasn't egoistical fuckin'." he explains, completely serious.
It takes all in you not to either gasp or laugh again. "So, if it would be without the intention of making babies, you'd lose?"
He gives you a quick nod. "Exactly, missus. Exactly."
Alejandro Vargas
It's easy to last a few days for Alejandro. Maybe even a week, or a bit more. With his kind of work, being a Colonel, you often didn't see him for days, or even weeks if it was a bad time. Right now, with working over destroying a Mexican cartel, being home was rare for him. Was it saddening? Of course, but you knew what you were doing when you married him, you've talked with him about it for days, maybe weeks, even.
So, maybe that's why he didn't really think much of a challenge when he agreed to it, one of the nights he was drinking with Los Vaqueros. Just for fun, just to make a fun memory in this mess they were in. Days were passing in the blink of an eye with the same routine; a few hours of sleep if he's lucky, patrol, documents, action and repeat. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new for a man of war like he is, he got used to it all.
Harder was the moment he came home to you, where you were waiting for him with your open arms, all needy for his presence, for his touch, but somehow, somehow he managed, giving you the best orgasm of your life with his mouth only, even if he was in need too.
"Cariño?" he calls you, confused, when he doesn't see you in bed in the next morning. In his sweatpants only, he goes to the kitchen, following the sound of pan that sizzles lazily in the background.
"Makin' breakfast, Ale!" you reply, looking behind your shoulder with the biggest smile that slowly falters the moment you see his eyes darkening in the span of seconds. "What's with the face?"
He approaches you slowly, caging you between his arms. "Just… appreciating" he says, as he starts kissing your neck "my little wife. Who's been really patient with me, gone for so many days. And now, you're making me breakfast—" he groans, shaking his head. You can feel his growing bulge, as you grind your ass against it.
It's obvious that Colonel lost the challenge, after he arrives to his work with his wife, his arm possessively around her. Why? Maybe it's your neck covered in hickeys, your trembling legs, or his arms visibly scratched, but no one says anything about it in the base.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
You have a kind of forbidden romance with him; you're the one of Los Vaqueros, and the romance is absolutely prohibited here, to prevent the collapse of the squad. Not to mention that he's a right hand man of Alejandro, so he has to follows the rules directly. Maybe even more than anyone here, to be honest; setting an example that he's not a exception to the rule.
It doesn't help that you're so kind. That you nod every time you see him as a silent greeting, and then you rush to do whatever you have to do today. It doesn't help him that you're helping everyone around you with a smile that could light up the whole town, and he smiles every time he sees it, too.
Everyone pictures that Rudy would win the challenge easily, since in their heads, his head wasn't occupied with anyone, and he could easily withold himself with his desires.
And maybe he would. Maybe he would, if you weren't the one guarding the base with him, if you weren't the one who was smiling at him with those plump lips of yours.
"If you'd only know how much I thought about… hah—" his breaths are ragged, as the pace of his hips gets quicker. His lips finds yours, as he kisses you with such hunger, you know without a doubt that he means what he says. It automatically makes you smile.
"It's fate that binds us, then" you say, your fingernails clutching at his arms; you're sure that you're the creator of bloody crescents here, but you can't care less about it. Not when the man of your dreams is fucking you.
He smiles at your words.
Rudy never been a good liar, and you painfully learn it, when Alejandro asks him why he's so happy; as you stand nearby, you hear the whole conversation. It's cute in some way, the way he's a blabbering mess, without any sense of it.
It takes Colonel's one look at you, and he knows.
You never walked faster to your work, neither did Rudy.
Konig
If you think he's gonna even try playing at this, you're in deep denial. Maybe if he'd be alone he could try of a genuine curiosity, but not when he has you. Such a pretty, obedient girlfriend, that he has wrapped around his finger, and a girlfriend that is pretty much at his service every time he wants.
He's a man to laugh about that challenge with his squad, telling them that they're filthy, and he would last the whole month, maybe even longer, if it weren't for you. Because he's such a caring boyfriend, he listens to your needs, even if you're whiny.
At least, that's the story that his squad knows.
He tells you about this while he folds you in half, that he needs to act a little grumpy around his squad, to put a facade that he's hungry because it's the right thing to do. When you suggest that he could even try, he barks a low laugh, while he pumps his cock before thrusting into you.
"Schatz, as if. Not gonna play the kids game." it's all he says, kissing you with affection on your swollen lips. "I do not intend on torturing you like this. You wouldn't survive a day without my dick."
There's some truth to it — but you're truly wondering if that's you who wouldn't survive without his dick, or he, that wouldn't survive without your pussy and sex, considering he is even more of a maniac than you are.
dividers by cafekitsune
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that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.
love your writing btw!
thank you! here’s part two :)
part one here / part three here
you were beginning to hate the infirmary.
the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.
the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.
your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.
you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.
his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.
you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.
fuck him and his apologies.
you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.
it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.
he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.
“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.
“can we talk? please?”
you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.
he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.
“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.
“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.
“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”
silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.
“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.
“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.
simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.
simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.
“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”
he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.
he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.
your voice is full of venom as you speak.
“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”
price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?
to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.
“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”
the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.
he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.
after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.
but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.
you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.
but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.
price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.
simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.
there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.
he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?
simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.
and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.
he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.
he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.
he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?
you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.
so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.
a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.
you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.
the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.
how do you let something like this go?
you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.
once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.
so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.
you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.
you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.
time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.
now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.
you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.
“come in!” price called from inside.
you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.
your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.
and then you noticed simon.
he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.
the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.
you quickly turned your attention back to price.
“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.
“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.
the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.
“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.
“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”
the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.
“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.
he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.
“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”
you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.
“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”
you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?
you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.
“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”
with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.
author’s note:
apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)
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Also why r ppl back to trying to convince ppl Kyle is actually a shitty horrible person I thought we were through with that
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yaknow .. people are allowed to feel sad about cartmans post covid ending because they just enjoyed the relationship with his kids/wife.. .. i remeber this happening last year a few posted feeling bad for him only for people to go HEY stop blaiming Kyle stop defending him. He's a terrible person stop blaming kyle/ stop hating kyle.
. and I never blamed Kyle.. not all of us blame Kyle.. im tired of people in this fandom trying to lump all cartman fans as kyle haters most of us love kyle for his kindness/compassionate nature towards other.. his bond with ike/stan/ . and i def dont think eric was in the right in post covid considering he convinced clyde to kill Kyle..
I rooted for stan cause he had more to gain to beat cartman cause he had lost his family/his childhood/ /kyle i felt neutral to since his life wasn't drastically different.
. Feelin bad for a character doesnt mean you condone their actions this fandom has such a black/white view of eric fans and its frustrating.
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Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Part 2:
Thinking Simon is asleep when he isn't. Or so he says. Case in point: Simon in all his cattiness made you his pillow. Your nails were working miracles scratching along his scalp which had him dozing off and lightly snoring. Or so you thought. You heard him grumble, "Why'd you stop, luvie?" when you moved your hand. He'll deny he was asleep, too, like the peepaw that he is.
To piggyback off the first point, Simon will sometimes quietly grab your hand and put it back on his head if you stop scratching his scalp. If you stop a second time, he will have experienced a betrayal man and cat were never supposed to know, and it's Affection Denied™ for the rest of the day lmao.
Texting each other when you're in two separate rooms because you don't feel like talking out loud. Sometimes, you'll text him some crazy shit that'll warrant him leaving the room he was in to silently judge you.
Absolutely loving to watch him shave in the morning because Simon is so sexy when he's concentrating, eyebrows furrowed, and those brown eyes staring intensely in the mirror.
You and Simon shit-talking each other in bed because you'll complain about being hot with the covers and cuddle pile you two have going on but never really doing anything to change it. You two actually can't get a good night's sleep without being up under the other.
Simon banning you from watching horror films because, for the hundredth bloody time, he didn't hear shit, love. He actually did and it was the neighbors but he can't be arsed to get out of bed.
Speaking of neighbors, it's you and Simon lying in bed, listening to the neighbors make sex and when it's done, Simon goes, "Mm. A new record," and he sounds so unimpressed which causes you to guffaw. Oh my fucking god—
Getting in the dog house with Simon because when your hands are cold, you stick them down in his pants to rest on his thighs because it's hilarious to see him jump and that's what he gets for not turning the heat up. Simon counterargues that he did turn it up. Three degrees.
Introducing Simon to the wonders of Spa Day at home because his skin needs some TLC. Simon looking like someone's stressed auntie with a ciggie dangling from his lips, wearing a really comfortable bathrobe you got him, and eye masks on.
You two treating it like the end of the world whenever one of y'all gets sick (Simon to a lesser extent) because how in the hell will you get your daily dose of affection?
Going all out and having a whole-ass reveal party for your newest edition to the family, Pup. You gave the boys shirts to wear in celebration. You wore Dad, Simon wore... Mom????, Kyle got Uncle, Soap got... Big Brother??? and Price got... Grandfather. Grand. Father. "Congrats, Cap'n." "Shut up."
Pranking Simon by calling him some random guy's name just to see his reaction. Simon stops what he's doing, judges you in Ghost, and goes, "Who the fuck is Anthony?" After that, it's on sight for Anthony. Whoever the fuck that is. Simon gets you back, though, and he's all, "Ask Anthony" "Oh? You love Anthony, too?" "Sorry sweetheart, Simon is taken. Better go to Anthony." Real funny, asshole.
Simon thinking you're about to go down on him. Not the way he thinks, though. You've situated yourself between his thighs, put his legs on your shoulders, and lower your head to... blow raspberries in his tummy. Like... whole-ass tunes. The disappointment on his face is immeasurable. But then you have him chuckling because you're fuckin' adorable looking up at him like that and your raspberries are ticklish.
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