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andvys · 7 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 15

Warnings: slight angst, mostly fluff though. Steve is not really in this chapter, don't be mad, please. He will be back in the next chapter.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You need reassurance after the horrible date with Ray, and your best friend is there to give it to you.

Word count: 4k+

A/N: The amazing flashback scene of Eddie and Steve was written by @hellfire--cult when we were going over ideas together, so credit goes out to her, also thank you for listening to my rambles and for sharing your ideas with me 💕 ps: if you haven't read any of her stories, go do it right now, do I wanna know? had me in a chokehold

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The bruises on Eddie’s knuckles don’t surprise you, it was to be expected after seeing Ray’s face but it still makes you freeze a little. All night, he has been hiding them from you, doing everything to keep you from seeing them but now you do, you see them clearly, the cuts and the bruised knuckles, you wonder if he has any others that may be hidden under his clothes.

With your elbows leaned against the counter and your face propped up by your hands, you stare at him as you watch him make the grilled cheese sandwiches. You aren’t hungry but Eddie always insists on making you something to eat when you come over.

Eddie can feel your eyes on him, he knows that you know. Yet, neither of you speak up about it. You act like nothing's wrong and so does he, but he knows that a conversation about what happened is bound to happen tonight.

“I don’t feel like going back to school,” you groan.

A smile tugs at his lips, he glances up at you after he flips the sandwich over in the pan.

“The good A student doesn’t feel like going back to school?” He chuckles.

“Shut up,” you snort, “just because I have good grades, doesn’t mean that I like going to school. Besides, you are the nerd out of the two of us, dungeon master.”

His eyes widen and he places a hand on his chest, dramatically. You try not to stare at his knuckles again.

“Me? A nerd?”

“Yeah, you’ve been studying way more than me!”

“I’m studying with you, sweetheart. You basically force me into doing it–”

“Because I want you to graduate, dumbass,” you exclaim, reaching for the bowl of grapes, you pick out one and throw it at him, giggling when it hits him on the forehead.

“Ouch! We don’t throw food around, young lady!” He says with a stern voice, pointing at you with the spatula.

You giggle, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Shaking his head, he huffs with a smile on his face.

“Are you ready for your gourmet dinner, queen?” He jokes as he takes the sandwich out of the pan and puts it on the plate.

“I’m always ready for Chef Munson’s amazing grilled cheese sandwich,” you grin, taking the plate from his hands, “it’s better than any other sandwich.”

He snorts at the nickname, smirking at you as he puts his sandwich on his plate as well.

“One of these days, I’m gonna bake you a cake.”

You raise your brows, taking your plate as you follow him to the small table.

“A cake? What kind of cake, Eddie?” You ask, sitting down on the chair.

“Whatever cake you want,” he chuckles, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“I think we should make one together, that way nothing goes wrong.”

He frowns, mouth twisting and looking at you, offended.

“Eat your sandwich, you must be hangry.”

Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement when you giggle at his words, taking your sandwich, you look at him as you bite into it. He watches the way you chew it with a smile on your face, nodding at him.

“Good?”

“Hmm.”

He chuckles when you hold your hand in front of your mouth, “very good.”

He pats himself on the shoulder, jokingly.

After you both finish eating, you retreat back to his room with the candy you brought him from the store. Eddie gets comfortable on the bed, opening the bag of m&m’s and reaching for the remote to turn on the TV that he got from his old neighbor after helping him change the tires on his Chevy truck.

Eddie glances at you, watching the way you take a seat on his chair instead of the bed, next to him. You have been distant all day, you didn’t even hug him when you said ‘hello’, the way you usually do. He knows that you might not feel comfortable with physical touch yet but you hugged him yesterday morning and you let him kiss your hands, you didn’t seem to mind that.

He flips through the channels but he keeps watching you, watching the way your brows furrow. You look like you want to say something but something keeps you from doing so, so he gives you more time, waits for you to be the one to speak up, the way he always does.

He adjusts his pillows and leans back, offering you some of the candy, he holds out the bag to you.

You shake your head, giving him a small smile.

“Why are you so far away?” He asks as he puts the candy on the nightstand, “you can’t see the TV from there.”

He sees the way you hesitate when he pats the spot next to him, the way you seem to think of something that makes your eyes flash with sadness, the way your eyes then soften when they meet his. You push yourself up from the chair, you tug at your black sweatshirt as you walk towards the bed and finally sit down next to him. You lean back and pull your knees up to your chest.

“Are you cold?” He asks, eyeing you slowly.

You shake your head, murmuring a small ‘no’.

He still reaches for the blanket that he bought a few months back. You get cold easily.

He places the maroon colored blanket over your knees, giving you a sweet smile when you lay your head on your knees as you look at him with soft eyes.

“What?” He whispers, chuckling.

“Nothing,” you say with a smile that fades a little when you take a look at his knuckles. Eddie is surprised that you haven’t confronted him about them yet, how you haven’t asked or said anything. He wonders if you are mad or disappointed in him, or even scared – to think that you could be scared of him, makes him feel so horrible. He never wants you to be scared of him.

He sees the way your eyes lose focus, you get lost in your thoughts, he can see it on your face, the way it loses the smile completely. He tries not to stare, but he can’t take his eyes off of you, he too gets lost in his thoughts when he thinks of the previous night.

Neither of you pay attention to the sitcom playing on the TV, neither of you listen to the voices or the laughter, you are both too deep in your thoughts. Eddie clenches his bruised fist, trying not to wince at the ache in his side.

You stare at him and when your eyes meet again, you finally open your mouth to ask the question that has been lingering on your mind for the past two days.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Eddie freezes. His eyes widen and flash with confusion.

That isn’t your question.

You regret it, instantly. Yet, you repeat it, phrasing it differently this time.

“L-Like, do you expect me to have sex with you?” You ask nervously and with a guilty feeling in your stomach.

You never thought that that is what Eddie wanted or wants from you, you always thought that he was just your friend, the friend who loves you unconditionally and platonically. You never once thought that his touches meant that he wanted more and you still don’t believe that but Ray’s words have pushed you into a bad mindset, again. He made you feel insecure and so horrible about yourself.

You aren’t interesting, he said. You are nothing but a good fuck, that is what he said.

“W-What?”

You don’t look at him any longer, your eyes are filled with tears and you are looking down, unable to face him and it worries Eddie.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he says softly, wanting to reach out to touch your hand but he decides against it, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable, “why would I expect that from you?”

You shrug, sniffling quietly.

“I-It’s just Ray, he said some really nasty things to me.”

Eddie tries to stay calm, he tries to keep his anger at bay, not wanting to scare you.

“What did he say?”

You lick your lips as you try to blink away the tears that you don’t want to fall, you glance up at him again, you look into his chocolate eyes, feeling a sense of comfort in your chest when you stare at them.

“He just, he was nice all night, we went to the movies and then we got some drinks and I-I thought that he really just wanted to hang out, to get to know me and just leave it at that, you know?” You say, finally telling him about the night.

He nods.

“But then, he took me to Lovers Lake and then he kissed me, a-and then he tried to do more and I didn’t–” you pause, taking a deep breath when you feel the disgust and the anger and the fear rushing through again, “I didn’t want it, I pushed him away but he was so persistent a-and I was so scared, Eddie.”

He stares at you, helplessly and angry at the man who did this to you. He has already done what he wanted to do, but he wants to do it again. He wants to hurt him, over and over again.

He can’t stand the thought of you being so scared, of you feeling so helpless and afraid and small.

“I slapped him and I tried to run but then he came after me, and then he said all these things to me. He told me that he never wanted to get to know me, t-that he just wanted to fuck me,” you say in disgust.

You clench your fists, not noticing how deep your nails dig into your palms, “cause apparently that’s all I’m good for, I’m a good fuck. I’m boring and not interesting enough to keep around, that’s why Steve dumped me. I am nothing but a good fuck, that’s all I am to others.”

Eddie stares at you in shock.

His soul is filled with anger and he wants nothing more than to go after him, again and again.

He takes no offense to your question, he knows the state you were in after Steve left you, the insecurities and the thoughts you were dealing with.

“It made me feel so, so worthless.”

Eddie’s heart aches at your words.

You sit there, making yourself as small as possible, you wrap your arms tighter around your legs as you pull them closer to your chest, you wipe away the tears of anger and hurt and you look down with a trembling lip.

“Sweetheart, I hope you know that he was full of shit.”

You hear the shakiness in his voice, you see the anger in his features when you look up at him, the mention of Ray is enough to fill Eddie with rage, you wonder what he looked and felt like when Ray was right in front of him.

“Guys like him are used to things going their way, when they don’t, they get angry and frustrated, you bruise their ego, they’ll bruise you back in some way,” he mumbles the last part as he thinks of the bruises he had left on you, “and this guy, he’s a fucking psychopath, I can tell you that much.”

He won’t tell you everything, he won’t tell you what Ray said to him, you know he won’t.

“Somehow, he knows how to fucking get to you,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath.

What does he mean by that?

“I-I mean, he knew how to get to you, he said things to you that he knew would hurt – but, it’s all bullshit, y/n, it’s all fucking bullshit. You are not boring in any way, shit, you’re the coolest person I know! You’ve always been the coolest person, sweetheart – even when you were still just listening to The Smiths and rewatching the same two movies every Friday, you were still the coolest fucking person on this planet!”

Your eyes widen, a smile tugs at your lips at his little outburst.

“The whole planet?” You ask, giggling.

“Yeah,” he smiles when he hears your giggle, “the whole planet, sweetheart.”

“There’s so many amazing girls you haven’t met yet though,” you point out, tilting your head.

“There’s no one more amazing than you.”

You smile but you don’t believe his words.

Eddie eyes your whole face as his crosses with confusion, sadness and disbelief.

You easily believed the words Ray said about you, but you struggle to believe his words. He thought you were doing better, he hoped so.

“I shouldn’t have just gone after him, I should’ve gone after Harrington’s hair as well.”

To hear him admit that he went after Ray doesn’t shock you, you knew it from the moment you saw Ray at the hospital.

You shake your head with a chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your knee with his hand, “he was an asshole to you. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Eddie,” you whisper.

“It’s the truth, y/n. Steve never deserved you, he treated you like shit, he made you feel like shit.”

Eddie knew it from the start, from the moment you first talked, from the moment you first spent time together, he could see the pain in your eyes, the insecurities that you have felt just because of him. Steve had the best thing he could get; your love. But he threw it all away, he never gave you what you deserved, he never treated you like he should have, he never loved you like you should have been loved. He gave it all to her, all the kindness, all the gentleness, all the trust and the love, she got it all without having to fight for it, without having to ask for it, he just gave it to her, he gave her the things that you deserved.

Eddie would never admit it, but to see Steve treat his new girlfriend like the queen of the world, always made him so incredibly angry, that’s how he should have treated you when you were still with him but instead, he treated you like garbage, he betrayed you, he lied to you, he hurt you over and over again, he put other girls before you, he gave you nothing but pain and still, you stayed with him but he tossed you aside so easily and replaced you with another girl.

“You believed Ray’s words, right?”

You blink, looking down at your hands as you slowly nod.

“Because of Steve,” he mumbles quietly, “he made you feel that way first, right?”

Your heart drops a little, tears well up in your eyes again.

Steve made you feel like you were never good enough, like you weren’t interesting enough, like you weren’t the right girl to be a girlfriend, like you didn’t deserve to be treated like a girl someone loves, like you were nothing more than a side piece because that is how he treated you most of the time.

That is why his words had gotten to you. That is why you got drunk and high at a place you shouldn’t be at.

“Yeah,” you whisper, sadly.

Eddie looks at you with sad eyes.

He doesn’t hate Steve, not anymore. He can tell that he changed, he knows that he regrets his actions and the way he treated you but he can’t help but feel anger towards him at this moment.

You keep looking down, trying to hide the sadness on your face and tears in your eyes. Eddie reaches his hands out to you, slowly. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up, eyeing the look on your face as he wills himself to speak.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. If I were him, I would’ve held onto you, I would’ve taken you on all the dates, I would’ve dropped all my shitty friends, I would’ve kicked Billy’s ass a long time ago, I would’ve never looked at any other girl if you were by my side, I would’ve treated you like the queen that you are,” he says, tapping your nose to make you smile and it works, it always does.

Your eyes soften and you melt into his touch, smiling sadly at his words.

You wish he would’ve done all of these things but, he never did.

“I would have never let a bad thought get into this pretty head,” he says, tapping your forehead softly.

“And I certainly would have never let you go, ever.”

Your brows knit, your eyes are glossy, again. You look into his soft brown eyes and you see nothing but the truth, he isn’t just saying that to make you feel better, to take away your pain. He is honest, he always is.

Eddie watches you, he watches the way your eyes skip over his whole face, the way they flash with sadness and with fear as you think about his words and then you say something that shocks him, a little.

“Please don’t.”

His brows rise up, surprise crosses his features.

“Please don’t ever let me go,” you whisper, your lip trembling when you reach your hand out to grab his wrist, “please don’t leave me.”

The smile falls from his face, his eyes widen with sadness. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, he hugs you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. You will always have me.”

“Promise?” You ask shakily, just as you asked him once.

You need him to stay. You can’t lose him, not after you had lost Steve already.

“I promise,” he whispers, squeezing your sides as you hug him back tighter.

You close your eyes and lay your chin on his shoulder as you melt into his embrace. He radiates warmth and comfort, safety and something you can’t understand yet. Eddie smells like cigarettes but you don’t mind, the smell of his cologne and his body wash covers up the smell of smoke.

Eddie runs his fingers through your hair, finally holding you the way he has been craving to ever since that night.

“I’ll marry you one day.”

“What?” You ask, giggling.

“I said; I’ll marry you one day,” he chuckles, not pulling away from the hug just yet.

“Is that a proposal?” You joke, unable to fight the smile off of your face.

“Mhmm.”

“Where’s the ring?”

“I’ll give you one of mine.”

“I want the one with the black stone.”

“You got it, angel.”

You giggle again and he smiles at that.

When you pull away and he sees that the tears are long gone, and a smile is playing on your lips, he pinches your cheek gently.

“There’s the smile I wanted to see,” he grins.

Your hair falls in front of your face when you look down at his hands. There are cuts and bruises on his knuckles, you are scared to touch them but you take one of his hands in yours and you softly touch the bruises with your fingers.

You don’t need to talk about it, it’s enough to look at each other to understand it all.

He watches you, again and he wonders what you are thinking.

He clears his throat about to speak up but you beat him to it.

“You know, I like your idea,” you say as you look at him through your lashes.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, already smiling at you, “we should get married when we’re both 30 and still single.”

You laugh, “that sounds like a plan.”

“A good plan?”

“The best. But, you don’t plan on spending your twenties without me, do you?”

He scoffs, “never, what would I do without my best friend?”

Your heart skips a beat and for the first time after the horrible days you have had, you feel the happiness rushing back. You feel comforted and safe, you know that as long as you have him, your best friend, nothing bad will happen to you. The look in his eyes, the bruises on his knuckles are the evidence that he will do everything to keep you safe.

This time, you are the one reaching out to touch him, you cup his cheeks and you surprise him when you pull him towards you to kiss him, to kiss his cheek.

“You’re the best, Eddie,” you whisper before your lips meet his cheek again, “you’re my favorite person.”

You don’t pay attention to the way his cheeks flush red, you don’t see the way his eyes flash with something you haven’t seen before.

Eddie stares at you for the longest time and he suddenly feels flustered when he realizes that you can see the redness on his cheeks and his neck when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall and then, he remembers what Steve said to him last night.

It all comes rushing in and it overwhelms him.

He squeezes your hand, clearing his throat, “I-I’m gonna get us something to drink,” he says as he practically rushes out of his room, leaving the door open as he makes his way into the kitchen. He raises his hand, running his fingers through his hair as he lets out a long sigh. Turning on the lights, he places his hands on the counter, gripping it tightly.

If only Harrington would have kept his fucking mouth shut.

Eddie was driving Steve back to his house, knuckles almost bleeding on the steering wheel, not a single word being said by neither of the men. Steve's temple was bruised, his fists as well and Eddie if he were to raise his shirt up, a bruise would be displayed on his rib.

The Harrington's house came into view and Eddie parked the car in front of it, waiting for Steve to come out. He heard the door open but it didn't close, making him turn to find Steve looking forward, eyes that Eddie could only describe as lost, yet with fire within them, as if angry.

“Munson.” It was the first time Steve has said a word to him.

“Yes Harrington?” And he was expecting a congratulations or a thank you or good job because of what they just did together to someone that hurt you. But Steve's gaze turned to him, a cold glare featuring in his eyes, and Eddie's face went rigid.

“You're a fucking liar.”

And then the door slams, and Steve Harrington goes back to his house, leaving Eddie Munson completely stunned inside of his van.

Shit.

The sound of the freezer door closing startles him a little. He turns around with a frown, he finds you walking towards him with a bag of frozen peas in your hand, without a single word, you grab his right hand, placing the cold bag on his bruised knuckles.

He looks down at you, swallowing nervously.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, finally addressing it. You look up with glossy eyes, a knowing look lingers in them, you did not know how to approach this topic but, you don’t really have to. You know why he did it.

“Sweetheart–”

“Thank you,” you whisper as a happy tear runs down your cheek because for the first time, you feel protected and loved after all these years of believing that you do not deserve this. Eddie proved you wrong, time and time, he proved you wrong and showed you that you do deserve this and more.

Eddie gazes down at you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

He wipes your tear away the way he always does before he pulls you into his arms. He holds you, he holds you tightly, like he never wants to let you go, like no one ever has before.

Eddie enjoys this moment, just standing here in the kitchen under dim lights with you in his arms before he has to ruin the moment.

“You should thank Steve too.”

He feels the way you freeze in his arms and he also feels how you don’t pull away.

“Steve was there too?”

“He was.”

You don’t say anything, you stay quiet and then you whisper a small ‘oh’ before you relax again and hug him tighter, pressing your cheek against his chest as you listen to his beating heart.

Eddie tightens his hold on you as well, he kisses the top of your head.

“Anybody that hurts you won’t walk away without a bruise.” He whispers.

Something changed and you can both feel it, you don’t understand it, not yet.

You should not be here.

You know that you should be far away from this place.

It was bad enough that you had called him three nights ago, that you had let yourself be vulnerable in front of him, that you had spent the morning with him, that you had let him drive you home, that you had hugged him. It was bad but it was nice, it was nice to be with him again.

To drive in his car, to feel his arms around you again, to see him look at you.

You never realized how much you missed it, how much you missed him.

Your thoughts kept taking you back to him, especially today. The record store was mostly empty today and you stood behind the counter, listening to the music playing on the radio and drawing in the notebook that Eddie gave you.

When Heroes by David Bowie started playing, you felt like you were being haunted, haunted by memories of you and him together.

You shouldn’t let your heart guide you here but it did, you let it, just like you always do.

You wanted to see him, to thank him for what he did but you didn’t want to see this.

You should be used to it by now, after months of seeing him with her, it should be easier, right? It’s not.

And as you stand there, watching him kiss her on his porch, smiling against her and brushing the curls out of her face, you can’t help but feel that it will never be easier.

He looks happy, happier than he ever did when he was with you and even though you let him go a long time ago, you still feel the ache in your heart, the hollowness in your stomach.

He used to kiss you like this, though he never looked at you the way he looks at her – with the light in his eyes and the smile on his face, the one that doesn’t look forced or fake.

You hear her giggle when he drops the keys to his house. He picks them up and pulls her back towards him, leaning down to kiss her cheek before he opens the door to let her in.

You never watched him so closely when he was with her, you always avoided it, not wanting to hurt yourself more than necessary but now, you can see it all, the love and the happiness in his features.

He loves her.

You always knew that he did, yet, somehow it feels like you understood it all just now.

He loves her.

He claimed to have loved you too and maybe he did, maybe he did love you but never like this.

A weird feeling settles in Steve’s heart and he doesn’t know what it is that pushes him to turn around but he does, he looks back as though expecting to see someone standing in his driveway but it’s empty.

He doesn’t see anything but trees and the empty streets.

He furrows his brows, almost confused to not see anyone.

“Steve?” Nancy calls from inside the house, “come on.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself before he turns around and walks inside. He holds the door, not shutting it yet, he takes one final look at his driveway, staring at it for a long minute before he closes the door.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @screammunson @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

798 notes · View notes

satan-plundered-our-oceans · 27 days

Note

Can you do some headcanons or stories on arcane? Specifically Vi or Sevika if your comfortable. I was just wondering but if you don't want to then you don't have to, you have free will.

Know that you're loved!

★。／ !bark like you want it! ＼。★

pairing: vi x f!reader, sevika x f!reader (separate)

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,470

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and MDNI content, mainly because we know these are some dominant ass women ;)

THIS IS NSFW CONTENT! BE WARNED!

song title: bark like you want it by sir mix-a-lot

notes: i love my girl vi so this request was a given, thank you anon! Hope you enjoy! :D I normally didn't like Sevika as much, but I will admit, writing her head canons for this post definitely made me reconsider

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

↳˗ˏviˎ˗ ↴

Vi is (without a doubt) very rough around the edges

She’s street-smart but she doesn’t really know what to do when it comes to actual romantic relationships, sex is easy, feelings are hard

Her time in Stillwater makes her distrustful of people, along with her generally traumatic and difficult childhood, so it will probably take a while for her to begin to see you in a less-than-threat way

After that things are pretty smooth

You don’t really know where the split between ‘friendship’ and ‘relationship’ is, because they both include her joking, flirtatious personality ranging from skirting touches on your thighs and up your back, or teasing pet names like ‘sweetheart’, ‘cupcake’ and ‘love’

Other than that she’s very protective of you, especially if you live in Zaun

If you go out on errands she’ll always make sure she’s conveniently there at the times you like to go, able to loop an arm around your waist and guide you through the crowds

If someone is stupid enough to try and pull something on either one of you, Vi is not above beating the shit out of someone to keep them from laying a hand on you

I have a feeling that she’d confess to you accidentally in the middle of a fight

Perhaps she had been disappearing for long periods of time, and coming back bloodied and injured, refusing to tell you anything of her adventures (mainly because she doesn’t want to worry you). And eventually you pester her for a bit too long and begin a full verbal fight, where she suddenly blurts that she loves you

Now as a lover?

The teasing banter still remains, her little playful nicknames too, if anything they get worse. But she gets more confident with her touches, more deliberate. A hand in your backpocket while you’re walking, an arm around your shoulder, pinching your ass when you’re waiting outside a store, this girl has no shame

! mdni content below !

Now, i have a feeling that Vi isn’t really uneducated when it comes to sex

If anything i feel like she’s a fast learner-

The first time you actually lie together, Vi is sure to take it at your own pace, eager to please beneath a taunting smile, even if you don’t know what you like at first, she’s likely to find it quickly

I personally don’t see Vi as owning too many sex toys - if any at all - but i think she would 100% favour using her fingers to anything else

Just the way you clench down on them, how she can use the rough calluses on the pad of her thumb on your clit to her advantage, and how deep she can pry, anything to make you scream for her

To be honest? I also 10000% expect her to try and flip you over and put you in a chokehold with her forearm tight against your throat, just adding enough delicious pressure to hitch your breath, but never enough to hurt too much

9/10

Her oral game would be fucking good too, i can tell. But she’d probably prefer to finger you or use a strap-on so she can continue to tease you with all these sinful little things she can come up with while she fucks into you

I’d say more of a biter, but she can still eat you out like a starving woman

Oral game 7/10

Aftercare is important to her, always making sure that she wasn’t too rough with you, cleaning you up, running you a bath or just lying with you to cuddle. Wants to make sure you know that you’re more important to her than some casual fling, and that she wants to ensure your happiness above anything

(Also gives you some balm for the definite bruises on your thighs and throat :D)

↳˗ˏsevikaˎ˗ ↴

Sevika is… intense

In all honesty, probably started as enemies

She probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you unless you already worked with Silco, so we could say you started in the shimmer warehouses, helping to distribute it throughout Zaun

You get your work done effectively, so Sevika overall sees you as a valuable position in the business, and keeps you around without much complaint

At some point Silco requested you deliver a hefty batch of shimmer to a more dangerous part of the Undercity, and sent Sevika with you to ensure no messes were left behind

Safe to say, you were ambushed

Despite Sevika being there to ‘protect’ you, you’re still able to hold your own, displaying proficient skill with your weapons against bandits who thought they could steal some of the shimmer vials. In the carnage, Sevika decides begrudgingly that she has respect for you

From there, it’s less of a ‘friendship’ and more of a drinking buddy situation

She doesn’t often tolerate the presence of others in her private time, so you label it as a friendship initially

She’s slightly more soft-spoken when she’s alone with you, and shares her cigars with you while she’s gambling, which often earns a strange look from her opponents as you hover over her mechanical shoulder with her cigar hanging from between your lips to see her hand, a bit too close

But Sevika lets you be without anything more than a bit of a grumble

I don’t think she’d even particularly say outright that she loves you

What happens is - instead - that you both have a drinking binge at the pub one night, after a successful night of gambling, and you both get absolutely shit-faced

While drunk she drags you back to her house and the night is filled with hazy sex, enthusiastic makeouts and early-morning cigarette smoke

You try to sneak out the next morning, expecting it to only be a one-night thing

She catches you (i headcanon that she’s a pretty light sleeper, but i suppose that could be said for most Zaunites). I don’t think she’d even say it then, just drag your ass back to bed for a (consensual) round two

After that you go to the bar together as normal, go about your business, now with the added bonus of Sevika protectively snarling at a drunk guy hitting on you by saying ‘that’s my spouse, fuck off’

(And of course, with plenty of sneaky sex between your deliveries and hurried makeouts :D)

! mdni content below !

BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELTS MFS, THIS SHIT IS KINKY

I would like to clarify, you will never top in this situation, Sevika would rather die than bottom to anyone, no matter how much she loves you

Spanking, spanking, spanking, spanking–

Hickeys, bruises, bite marks, the red tracks of her nails over your back, just anything that would leave even the most fleeting mark on your skin

That being said, would also 100% leave hickeys on places she knows you can’t hide easily

Definitely into sex toys (ball gags, bondage, strap ons and vibrators with little remotes she can keep in her pocket just in case, she especially likes to plant down one of those dildos with the suction cups and get you to ride it, all the while begging for her to just touch you, but she refuses, smoking as she watches you cry out for her)

She also likes crying-

I think she’d prefer to have you from behind, your back against her chest, ramming into you with one of her favourite straps, one hand pinching at your nipples, tweaking them between her fingers, and the other rolling tight circles on your clit, sometimes switching one out to wrap around the column of your throat

Definitely into edging on most days, and will resort to overstim if she’s happy with the work you’ve done in the day

Risky sex is definitely her thing, in her office in Silco’s base, in the warehouse on the crates of shimmer, under her desk, you on your knees to service her

She’s especially rough, and absolutely loves some degradation, and the way it makes you clench around her strap or her fingers, your eyes rolling back into your head while you scream for her

Aftercare is rarely over-the-top

She’ll cuddle you if you ask her explicitly but she prefers to share a cigar with you, or blowing smoke into your open mouth while you breathe against her bare chest

If she’s been unable to fuck you for some time, she’ll clean you up after about four or five rounds, mainly by eating you out until you end up giving her another two, but she’ll make sure you’re clean before you pass out anyway

Despite everything, Sevika will always make sure she doesn’t go to far

If anyone asks though, she will absolutely deny how she always makes sure you remember your safeword before you have sex after a makeout

thanks for the request anon!

if you have any more requests don't hesitate to ask :)

#arcane #writing #fanfic #arcane headcanon #arcane x reader #vi x reader #violet arcane #lesbian #arcane smut #sevika #sevika x reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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gem-likes-rdr · 3 months

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This man can put me in a chokehold and I'd say "thank you sir"

#red dead redemption screenshots #hello rdr community #red dead redemption #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan

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dawnofh · 1 year

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Calling 141 by their real names. [Headcannon]

Price

As soon as he here’s anything but “Captain” or “Price”, you’re good as dead.

Would be a moment of silence before he turns to stare at you directly with a straight face, “What did you just call me, Soldier?”

Will turn to face you with the cigar still in his mouth then take a long drag. The silence is so loud.

His calm yet assertive voice is enough to make a grown man cry.

Respect your elders.

Would definitely death stare you if you did it in front of anyone but if you said it during a mission he’d smack your head then threaten you to keep this off the record.

Expect to be punished, at least 100 push-ups and a scolding should suffice as well as a 2hr lecture about respect then a transition into, “It’s because of that damn phone.”

Does not give two shits if it’s for a TikTok, “You call me Johnathan again and I’ll hang you from a rope.”

In conclusion, don’t fuck around with Price if you’re a Private. You’re asking to get killed, this man doesn’t play around.

However if you knew Price when he was a Lieutenant and was his subordinate, he might just let you off the hook because you’re practically family by now. By default anyone older than him and higher ranked can call him by name.

Even so he’d still be taken back by the fact you’ve said his name so casually. Would only allow you to say it out of work though.

He’s still going to threaten to hang you from a rope regardless.

Ghost

“That’s Lieutenant or Ghost to you, Soldier.”

Angry 6’4 British man.

Say your prayers, homeboy would likely cuss you out and threaten you in his thickest Manchester accent he can conjure up.

Doesn’t need to use intimidation tactics, he is the intimidation tactic.

You’ve heard enough ghost stories about him from your fellow peers. Therefore where you found the balls to call him Simon is beyond you.

Will probably let it slide once but if it happens again he’d either ignore you every time you address him by his name, give you a serious scolding or just stare. Will never get physical with his subordinates or any teammate for that matter unless it’s training.

His stare will 100% make you apologise and refer to him as “Sir” for as long as you are in the military.

Genuinely all this man has to do is stare. His stare speaks louder than words.

He has a major staring problem.

If you two have known each other for years upon years or if you’re higher ranked than him then Simon is fine. Especially if you’re part of 141 or out of work.

Still would stare at you if you call him by name.

Soap

“Only Ghost can call me Johnny.”

Wouldn’t get as upset as Price and Ghost.

Is probably really close and buddy-buddy with his subordinates, especially if he’s the one training them.

Don’t misunderstand and take advantage of his kindness as a ticket to disrespect him. This Scottish hawk will put you in a chokehold if you continuously call him by name.

Likely the type to chase you around base and if not will make you do 50 laps until he thinks you’ve learnt your lesson.

If you’re a sergeant like him, you probably wouldn’t take him seriously, “Oi John, get your ass over here.” “Would it kill you to just call me, Soap?”

You’d make fun of him by calling him different brands of soaps and sometimes your personal favourites “Sergeant Dishwash” or “Sergeant head and shoulders.” Every soap related joke you can think of.

*Upset Scottish noises*

If you’re close with him he doesn’t care, same with out of work but still, don’t call him Johnny. He’d much rather prefer John. Johnny is reserved for Ghost.

Gaz

“Just Gaz will do.”

Total sweetheart but has attitude.

Insults you with his lovely voice and accent, it barely sounds like an insult if he’s not yelling it.

Would reverse uno card by calling you by your name, “Hey Kyle.” “Hi Y/N.”

Gaz is a wild card, depending on his mood, your ranking and how close you two are he might just let it slide, shrug it off or flick you on your forehead.

If he’s salty about you calling him “Kyle” he’ll make an example out of you during training for the other rookies to see. “Today’s lesson, I will be showing you what happens when you address me by anything but Sergeant Gaz.”

Will not go easy on you, your face will kiss the floor. Lesson learnt.

If you two are friends or you’re higher ranked than him then it doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

Pretty chilled and down to earth type of guy. If he gives you respect then he expects the same back.

Extras:

Y/N: Good morning, Johnathan.

Price: *Sigh* We’ve been through this, Muppet. What is my name?

Y/N: Johnathan?

Price: No.

Y/N: John?

Price: Negative.

Y/N: John Price?

Price: We’re getting closer.

Y/N: Captain John Price.

Price: There you go.

[Credit: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFsSJvLB/]

Y/N: Whaddup Simon.

Ghost: I don’t find you funny.

Y/N: Hey Johnny.

Soap: Only Ghost calls me Johnny, you may call me John.

Y/N: Sup Kyle

Gaz: What’s good, Fam.

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lazycats-stuff · 10 months

Text

141 TF x male reader

Summary: What if they run into this man while on a mission, looks like a civilian but there's a few problems all enemies have been taken down no bullet wounds and all that stand is a man with a real bad head injury and no memory - requested by @xweirdo101x

Also it's romantical, so it's poly. So whoever doesn't like poly relationships, this is your chance to turn back. And yes, I know it's not realistic, but I need it.

Warnings: violence, blood, dead bodies, amnesia, characters maybe ooc

Jesus, Ghost has me in a chokehold, hence the gif. Also, there is over 2k words in here, so I will write part two.

141 thought that this was going to be a simple mission. They had been collecting intel for some while now. It was an old terrorist organization, but it was under a new leader, the one who proved to be more radical than the previous.

But there was something else as they were driving to the location provided by the mark. Ghost and Price thought that this was a trap. Soap and gaz didn't really share the opinions, but they did agree that it was odd.

" Alright, we need to do this quickly and quietly. We will breach from the front and work the first floor then move upstairs. Intel on the new leader is out of the most importance. " Price said, getting his rifle ready.

Yes sir echoed from the other three. They had backup in the van behind them, but they were taking the lead in this. More precisely, Price was taking the lead on this. It was really important that they get the intel on this leader.

The van stopped and the task force got out. Ghost took his binoculars and looked at the house that stood tall. It seemed to be empty.

" It seems that the house is empty sir. " Ghost said, putting down the binoculars.

" So do we think that this is a trap? " Gaz asked the captain. The backup got around them.

" We treat it like it is. Ghost and I will lead the teams. My team will breach the first floor and Ghost's will be breaching the top floor. Everything clear? " Price asked.

The yes sir echoed out and Price nodded. The teams were formed and they went to the house. It was far to quiet and it looked abandoned.

The first sign of trouble wasn't even in the house. The dead guards were a dead giveaway that somebody was here before them. And maybe that someone is still here. Ghost and Price stopped, looking at each other.

" Everyone, be careful. " Price said into the radio. Price nodded and stood in front of the door. The door was ajar and inside were more bodies. What the hell happened here?

Price and Ghost entered the house, being mindful of the bodies that littered the floor. The worst of all, those were their enemies. Who killed them all?

Ghost and his team went upstairs. They were following the blood on the walls. It was slightly nerve wracking. The thought of a person who killed them, might being in here, just ready to strike.

Ghost was leading, Soap following right behind him. Ghost opened the bedroom door and was shocked to find a man, alive and breathing, just looking confused.

The said man quickly raised his hands in the air, not wanting to be killed.

" Wait, wait! Please don't kill me! " The man yelled out, afraid of the men in front of him.

" Who are you?! " Ghost asked the man moving closer to search him.

The man took a deep breath to calm down. " I don't know who I am. I woke up here. "

Ghost was going to say otherwise, but he saw a nasty head wound. He sighed. Shit.

" What do we now Lt? " Soap asked.

" We need to evacuate him and get intel. Did you kill the men in here?" Ghost asked with a more rougher voice.

The man shook his head.

" Captain check the bodies. " Ghost said over the radio, taking the man by the forearm.

They went downstairs and Soap stayed upstairs to search for the intel they were here for in the first place.

" Ghost who is this? " Price asked, eyes falling down on the man. He saw the head wound, grimacing at the sight.

" We don't know. He says that he doesn't remember. " Ghost said.

" We checked the bodies. No bullets wounds. " Price said quickly. " Where is Soap? "

" Upstairs, looking for intel. "

Ghost let go of the man's arm, seeing that the man won't go anywhere.

" I will let the base know to get a doctor ready. " Price said, waving the man over. The man walked over.

" Come on, you are going to wait in the van. " Price said, leading the man out. They need to secure the house and search from top to bottom.

After everything was secure, they went back to their base in UK. The doctor checked him out. The doctor confirmed that the man had amnesia and that he doesn't know who is he. However, they did take his DNA and fingerprints.

" We will send them to Interpol and other agencies to try to figure his identity. " The doctor said, writing something down on a clipboard.

" Is he awake? " Price asked.

" Yes. I treated the wound and gave him some painkillers. And don't stress him out. Let him relax. It's difficult to not know who you are. "

Price nodded and thanked the doctor. The captain entered the room, immediately seeing the bed where the man was laying. The man tensed when he saw the captain. Price raised his hands in defense.

" Don't worry. I'm just here to talk. "

The man relaxed, pulling the covers higher. Price sat down next to him on a chair.

" I don't think that I will be much help. I don't remember anything. " The man said looking down, clearly troubled by the amnesia.

" That's okay. Some time needs to pass and you will probably remember it. We also sent your fingerprints and DNA to Interpol and other agencies. We will know something more in a few more days. " Price said to the man.

" Thank you... Can I ask you a question? " The man asked and Price could sense the hesitation.

" Of course you can. "

" What were you looking for in that house? "

Price explained everything he could about the terrorist organization, about the new leader and the new radical change. With every word, the man's face paled.

" How did I end up in that house? " The man whispered to himself. Price put his hand on the man's shoulder.

" Hey, don't think about that now, you are a victim here. "

" But if I'm not? What if I am part of their group? " The man asked Price, who didn't have an answer to that.

" Then we go from there. One step at a time. " Price said, trying to calm him down. The chances of him being a member of this group was low.

After a few days they knew who the man was. His name is (Y/N) (L/N) and he had no ties to any terrorist groups. However, he is former SAS soldier. An injury forced him to leave, but with an honorable discharge.

Price felt relaxed knowing that he didn't have any connection with the any terrorist groups. He was going to the medical wing and he heard laughter. John was confused at first, but everything fell into place when he heard Soap.

All of the boys were talking to him, hoping to trigger something and to lift his mood. Even Ghost talked to him. He mostly talked about his knives and about different techniques you could use to take down your enemy.

And if Soap was there, that means that they were talking about explosives. Well, Soap was talking more about it then (Y/N). Price knocked on the door, making Soap stop talking for a second.

" Soap, could you leave us? "

" Of course sir. We will continue talking later. " Soap said to the man, now (Y/N) and left.

Price showed the file to (Y/N), making (Y/N) tilt his head. Price noted how adorable that was.

" We know who you are. "

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up and he sat up straighter. Price sat down on a chair next to the bed, opening the file.

" So, your name is (Y/N) (L/N). You have no criminal record, just to put it out there. You are a former SAS soldier. You served for a long while, but an injury forced you to retire. You were honorably discharged and my guess is started a peaceful and a normal life. " Price said, taking the photographs out. (Y/N) took them.

They were the photos of his old squad, platoon, whatever you will call it. It was overwhelming to see them. (Y/N) wiped his tears and smiled. For the first time in a couple of days he smiled.

" We also have your house address. If you want to, you can go with someone. "

(Y/N) just nodded in happiness, giving Price a hug. Price was shocked, but he hugged the man nonetheless.

And after the doctor said (Y/N) was fine, (Y/N) and Ghost went to (Y/N)'s apartment. Ghost picked the lock for (Y/N) and they stepped into the dark hallway. (Y/N) turned the lights on. It was a small apartment, but it held a cozy vibe.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when he heard a meow. A black kitten came to him, rubbing himself against his ankle. Ghost watched in fascination.

" Oh you must be hungry. Come on, little one. " (Y/N) said to the little black kitten, searching for the kitchen. When he found it, he saw a bag of cat food for kittens.

He took a small plate and put the food on it. He put the plate down and got a plate of water for the kitten. The kitten went straight for it.

" You have a cat? " Ghost asked him.

" I guess so. Can I take him or her to the base? " (Y/N) asked Ghost.

Ghost wasn't sure, but he knew that an animal would he helpful to soldiers.

" I think you can. It would be nice to have an animal at the base. "

(Y/N) nodded, thankful for an answer he got. He searched for his room. Once he found it, he took the bag from Ghost to put clothes in it. He was going to stay at the base until they figure out how he ended in that house. He also searched through the drawers. He found his dog tags. He clutched them close to his chest.

Ghost stood in the doorway, silent, letting (Y/N) have his moment of mourning. He didn't say anything, instead, he walked over to (Y/N) and put his hand on his shoulder.

" Come on, we have to go. "

(Y/N) nodded, putting his tags on his neck.

He found a little carrier for the kitten, his bed and all of his toys. Ghost was kind enough to carry all of the heavy stuff. (Y/N) just carried the little kitten.

" Thank you Ghost. " (Y/N) said to Ghost once they were in the car. Ghost just nodded and started the car.

" Come on (Y/N). " Soap said, as if he wasn't dragging (Y/N) to the gym. (Y/N) wasn't in the mood for anything like that. He just wanted to go to bed and cuddle with his cat.

" Soap- "

" No. You need to exercise. It will help you. "

(Y/N) sighed, but knew that Soap was right. Exercise always helps, not just for the physical, but for mental health too. The gym wasn't packed, which was a little bit odd for Soap, but he didn't complain.

" Okay, let's warm up and lets go on the benches to lift. "

(Y/N) nodded, taking his shirt off. Soap was shocked by how the man's body was toned. No. He must stay focused. They ran on the machines for about 30 minutes before moving to the bench. Soap was going first, (Y/N) standing above the metal bar, ready to spot him.

(Y/N) was definitely impressed with the amount he can lift. (Y/N) couldn't lift that for the life of him. After Soap was done, (Y/N) took Soap's spot, ready to lift, but with much lesser plates. When he looked at the old photos, he saw that he was in much better shape then rather than now.

Back then, he could have lifted more than this.

Soap had to take a deep breath to control himself. (Y/N)'s body was gorgeous.

" Soap, help- " (Y/N) wheezed out, Soap quickly scrambled to lift the heavy bar up.

" Sorry, I just got distracted. " Soap apologized.

" Just be careful next time. " (Y/N) said, warning the sergeant.

" Will do sir. "

(Y/N) has gotten a few of his memories back, one of that being that he was good in hand to hand combat. So, what better way to test that was to spar?

Everyone else was busy, but Gaz wasn't. And he was happy to help to the man. And that's why he was here in the gym, in the ring, getting ready to spar.

(Y/N) wrapped his hands, almost automatically. He must have done this a lot of times if he does this on auto pilot.

" You ready? " Gaz asked, leaning on the ropes of the ring.

(Y/N) nodded, shaking his hands off. He took a deep breath. He faced Gaz, nodding towards the young man. Gaz nodded and he pounced. (Y/N) sidestepped. They were going like this for a while and it ended with Gaz on top of him.

Both of them were breathing heavily, looking into each others eyes. Clapping sound made them turn their heads. What the hell? It was Price, Ghost and Soap. Price was the one clapping.

Just how long were they there?

" Impressive (Y/N). " Price said. Gaz scrambled of off (Y/N), quickly helping him up.

" Thanks, uhm, I will go to my room now. " (Y/N) said, excusing himself from the room.

Once (Y/N) was gone, the task force members looked at each other with scowls on their faces.

" You lot can back off, he is mine. " Soap said, anger sipping through his voice.

Price chuckled. Does he really think that he has a chance with (Y/N)?

" You know, I don't care. I'm not going to stop and there is nothing you can do. " Soap said.

" That's fine. Then we can fight for him. " Gaz said quickly.

" Stop thinking about a (Y/N) as a prize to be won. You guys are like dogs fighting for a bone. " Ghost said.

" Then what do we do? " Soap asked.

" We can share him, if he wants to. That way we won't fight about it and he won't be a prize. " Ghost added.

The others looked at each other, clearly intrigued by the idea. It was an interesting idea. Maybe (Y/N) would be interested in that.

#ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #gaz x male reader #john price x male reader #simon riley x male reader #John mactavish x male reader #call of duty 2022 #call of duty x male reader

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vvampir3s · 6 months

Text

☆ One Last Kiss.

✮ pairing:

Stalker!König x fem!Reader

✮ warnings:

stalking, mentions of cnc, brief mention of murder, PLEASE tell me if i missed any 😭.

✮ word count:

1.1k words (sorry for the shortness 🙏).

✮ a/n:

couldn’t stop listening to this song, had to write this! absolutely adore the result, and the first time im posting a drabble/fic?? 🙏.

this is just the first verse!

uhh thats basically it, this was kinda self indulgent but wtv 🤷‍♀️. stalker and slasher könig fics got a chokehold on me atp 🤭.

“Heavy humid night, corner of Park and Main,”

You were sitting on the cold wooden bench, late at night. Dumped by your boyfriend a mere 15 minutes ago, just as you were about to go on a dinner date. Dressed in a short black slip on dress, your favourite navy blue heels, your hair straightened with bouncy curled ends.

Hugging your knees to your chest tight, you silently cried, unbeknownst to the man stalking walking along the park trail towards you. As you sobbed in a ball, you felt and heard the bench creak under someone’s weight, not yours, of course. Someone just sat down next to you, earning a jolt of surprise and gasp from your end.

— “Heard you were crying, ma’am.”

Said the Austrian man with a gruff voice, placing a handkerchief in your small palm. His touch lingered for a brief moment, before pulling away almost sheepishly. Despite his hardened appearance at the moment, his eyes softened upon seeing your teary bloodshot eyes.

He fucking hated seeing you cry. His little taube, no one and nothing deserved her mere breath. He would slaughter the scum who even think to upset her, let alone make her cry. Or maybe, he had already done it.

— “Thank you..?”

You sniffled, feeling yourself burn with shame for crying in a public setting. Alone. At night, in the pouring rain for gods sake. With an obsessive piece of shit following you.

“Cast that first glance, your smile, my veins,”

He thought his heart would burst. Just as you wiped your tears away, cleaned your nose free of snot, you looked to him with a soft, appreciative, painfully angelic smile. He should’ve known what he was getting into. His veins boiling, his heart pounding, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts, mostly perversions.

— “No problem, mein liebling.”

He said with a small nod, leaning back against the bench. It was silent between the two of you, only the noise of the rain pouring down to fill the void. But you enjoyed it nonetheless, putting your knees back down, crossing a leg over the other, with your hands resting in your lap.

You couldn’t help but look him over, noticing large, muscular beefy build. One of a Greek god at that, really. His black combat boots, large grey hoodie, and black cargo pants. Unfortunately, his face concealed by a sniper hood. He had his sleeves rolled up slightly, his large, somewhat veiny, calloused hands in view for you to ogle at.

“At maximum capacity, blood pumpin' so fast,”

He knew you were staring. God, just the feeling of your eyes on him had him overdosing on pleasure. On one hand, he wanted to take you home, shower you with love and affection, wife you up, have a little family back in Austria, practically domestic you all for himself.

On the other hand… he was fighting back the sickening urge to just take you here and there, lap at you like a starved man, make you gag on his monster of a fucking dick, fill you to the brim with his seed, paint your walls—

All the while you thought you were being sneaky about it, he simply acted oblivious. Believably enough, too.

Snapping out of your trance like state, you were about to call for a taxi to drive you home. Meanwhile, he put his left arm over the top of the back bench, practically wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He rested his arm there, slouching back and spreading his legs out comfortably.

— “What happened, schatz? I’m all yours.”

— “Pardon me, sir?”

Did he just say that? Fuck, it slipped from his tongue. Whatever, act natural. His little liebe is too innocent to see past his ill intentions.

— “I’m all ears.”

Must’ve been your imagination, or the rain messing with your ears. He seemed like a nice man, right?

“My girl, if looks gave heart attacks,”

— “You’ll make fun of me, sir.”

— “I would never, mein kleiner liebling. No need to adress me as sir. Just König.”

You poured out your heart to him. Your shitty boyfriend who just dumped you, left you here to rot after planning a whole date with you, giving you a half-assed apology of “I’m so sorry, I don’t have feelings anymore,” when really, he just got bored of you.

Tears pricking the corners of your eyes, your bottom lip quivering, your eyebrows creasing throughout the whole explanation.

Just one more word about your shitty ex would send you reeling back into a hot mess of sobbing and crying. You couldn’t help it, as the pathetic, naive, and desperate little girl you always have been.

König listened. He nodded along, adding a few words of “I’m sorry about that,” and “You deserve so much more than him, hase.” You knew he was speaking another language, but not sure what he was saying. It sounded sweet and comforting, so you appreciated it nonetheless.

His fucking blood was boiling. Not like before, when he was overheating with lust, love, and pleasure for you. No, now he was fucking pissed.

How your ex used you with his pathetic little 10cm dick, never gave you attention, barely ever looked your way? Slept with other useless dirty whores, all the while you adored him with all you had?

Fuck, he’d treat you so right. He’d fuck you just right as well. The thought of you with him got him hard, whether that be willing or not, friends or foes. He hated himself for the lack of control, but you were an irresistible little thing.

But paired along with that anger, was fear. You loved another man so easily, who was to say another couldn’t just sweep you off your feet? He couldn’t imagine you with another man, hand in hand, kissing, hugging, fucking. It drove him mad. Fucking mad with obsession and possession.

That’s it, he decided. Whoever was to lay a hand on you, speak a word of romantic affection for you, or even think of you romantically, will fucking face his wrath. He was a literal colonel, a fucking beast.

— “I’m so sorry that happened to you, liebste. Say, how about I take you out, a harmless little dinner? To make up for your shitty boyfriend.”

You couldn’t believe it. He was really about to take you out, after hearing your sob story of a ex?

— “I… would love that, really. Thank you so much, König.”

He walked alongside you, listening to you rabble on. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Hearing you say his name was enough, for now. But soon enough, you’ll be mewling his name over and over as he’d pound into you relentlessly, hot tears streaming down your face.

All he had to do now was take you on a little date, take you back to his place, and fuck you dumb.

Ah, after he cleaned up your ex boyfriend’s dead body in the basement of his house. Forgot about that part.

#könig x you #könig x reader #yandere könig #könig fanfiction #könig x y/n #older könig #obsessive love #stalker könig

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reds-skull · 28 days

Text

There’s Something Odd About Sergeant MacTavish

[AO3]

This monster of an oneshot got me in a chokehold the moment I started writing. Had a lot to say about this version of Soap and Ghost, apparently.

Friendship is not on the field manual, he told Johnny a long time ago. No protocols for personal relationships between soldiers, no set procedures for what he asked for, so many months ago.

Despite that, what Ghost and Soap have can’t not be friendship - not with the way they practically spend all their free time glued to each other. Morning, sipping tea and coffee together. Noon, checking in before splitting for their respective duties. Afternoon, lunch and paperwork in Ghost’s office. Evening, relaxing in the 141 common room. Bid each other goodnight, go to sleep, rinse and repeat, ad infinitum.

His routine used to numb him. Same shite, day in, day out, only finding excitement on missions.

Johnny, in his own annoyingly endearing way, ‘blew it all teh high hell’, as he would gleefully shout after shaking the earth to its very core with an explosion.

And Simon, as much as he puts on a front and complains, wouldn’t have it any other way. Or… no.

Better not be greedy.

His schedule was clear for the rest of the day, something that in the past would’ve irritated him to no end (nothing worse than wasting time). Now, however, it just gives him a chance to trail behind Johnny.

His blue eyes flicker over the training recruits, sharp as ever as they search for weaknesses to correct. Ghost can pinpoint the exact moment he zeroed in on a soldier, his jaw working before he shouts, “Rogers! Put yer arms higher, don’t give ‘em easy access teh yer throat!”.

Soap stomps over to the pair, forcing Rogers’ hands to the right position. His Sergeant makes another round, tapping a boot at the back of another recruit’s knees. Ghost narrows his eyes when he sees the man open his mouth to retort, but the soldier thinks better of it. It may not be his lesson to teach, but Ghost wouldn’t pass an opportunity to put an idiot in his rightful place.

The second half of the recruits, who have been watching and learning from their peers’ mistakes, start talking in hushed voiced among themselves. Ghost doesn’t pay them any mind until Soap’s name comes up.

“There’s something… odd about Sergeant MacTavish.”

“Right?? He’s not this annoying usually.”

Ghost’s lips pull back in a sneer.

“Lieutenant Ghost must be rubbin’ off on him, the bloody bastard”

“Oh, you know they’re doing a whole lot more than just ‘rubbing’-”

Ghost places a hand on both the recruits’ shoulders, making them jump. They both turn their head comically slow to stare up at him, “s-sir, we… we just-”

“I don’t think you two are training hard enough, if you’re sitting ‘ere chatting like old ladies.” Ghost squeezes their shoulders, a gesture that would almost be comforting if not for his ice-cold tone, “think two weeks at the latrines will really make you appreciate the Sergeant.”

The recruits don’t dare talk back to the Ghost, so they’re left with gaping mouths. Ghost gives them a shove forward, making the two stumble, “go on then, bathroom’s not gonna clean itself.”

The rest of them are deathly quiet after the interaction. As they should’ve been from the start. Ghost internally sighs, refocusing back on Johnny. Who has noticed the commotion, and is now gazing at the retreating backs of the misbehaving recruits.

Ghost watches the muscles of his neck twitch, and Soap rolling his shoulders with a face of mild discomfort. It goes away quickly enough, and his Sergeant goes back to screaming at the soldiers, but he still makes a mental note to investigate that at a later point in time.

He keeps to the sidelines until the recruits are dismissed. The hungry soldiers practically run to mess, and while Ghost does his best to walk around them towards Johnny, when they finally fuck off Soap is nowhere to be found.

Ghost stands alone on the training mats, uselessly swiveling his head.

Friendship is not on the field manual, and blasted schoolboy crushes on your subordinates most certainly aren’t.

Ghost wishes he could say he knew when it started. Maybe, knowing the root of the cause would’ve allowed him to chop down the entire tree. Somewhere between Chicago, Soap’s life almost slipping between his fingers, and now, he fell in love.

Even thinking about it makes him want to scoff. Those words don’t fit someone like him, someone with enough blood on their hands to fill several swimming pools, someone that keeps everyone at arm’s length, so mistrusting of his surroundings he wears a literal skull mask everywhere he goes.

But how else would he describe it? That warm feeling that spreads through his chest every time Johnny smiles up at him? The urge to let a brief touch linger, the need to stay near him at all times? That desperate part of him, that wishes for more?

Love is a disgustingly soft concept, not made for men like Ghost. But it’s what Johnny means to him. Johnny is love, simple as.

If only it was simple as.

Ghost has been looking for him the entire day, since the incident on the mats. For someone as loud and bright as Soap is, he sure can just fuckin’ disappear with no trace. He’s about to give up for the day, a bitterness weighing heavy on his tongue, when he spots a familiar shadow walking around the edge of the base.

It’s a more wild area, a small bit of thick forest, a place usually reserved for sniping drills. The figure appears between trees, slowly walking deeper.

Ghost quickly catches up, trailing the man. Only when he’s in reach, he notifies Soap of his presence.

“Didn’t know you could physically be this quiet, Johnny.”

Soap doesn’t startle, nor does he turn to acknowledge him. They both stop walking.

Ghost tried to lean over to see his face, but his Sergeant turns away. “Ah know when Ah need to shut it, LT.”

“Never stopped you from going loud anyway.”

Soap huffs, “aye, guess no’”.

Ghost waits for him to elaborate like he usually does, the growing silence unsettling him more and more. Did those recruits really bother him that much?

“I sent those tossers to the latrines, you know.”

Johnny glances at him, before returning to watch over the quiet forest, “I know.”

Soap knows their opinion is worth fuck all, young wankers still wet behind the ears. He should know, he’s worth a hundred of them, on the field and off.

Johnny eventually breaks the silence, “think it will just make things-” he exhales heavily, passing a hand through his hair, “let’s jus’ go back to base, LT. Sorry I disappeared on ye.”

“Don’t worry about that…” Ghost lets his words trail when Soap starts walking without him, head seemingly drowning in thoughts. He follows him, overcast by his shadow.

He thinks the dark is playing tricks on him when he sees the muscles of Johnny’s back convulse weirdly.

Ghost tries to fight it. That all encompassing want, need, to have Soap. And while he’s no stranger to war, this enemy is one tough fucker.

The Ghost, most feared soldier in the SAS, survivor of the worst of the worst. Bested by fucking emotions. He felt like he was winning, for a while there. That no one could tell, just what’s going on behind the mask.

As the days go on, though, it is clear people are catching on.

“I haven’t seen Sergeant MacTavish around Lieutenant Ghost as often anymore…”

And people love to fucking gossip.

“Think they had a fight?”

“A love quarrel, perhaps”

The resounding laughs make him grasp his fork tighter. Couldn’t they at least wait long enough to be out of earshot of the person they’re talking about?

“No wonder the Sergeant has been this pent-up. Just heard Christopher got yelled at again, for being late by two minutes. Two minutes!”

Ghost is about to show them what yelling really is, when another Lieutenant comes by and shuts the bastards right up. He turns his eyes to Johnny, who is sitting in front of him, like every morning.

Unlike every morning, he doesn’t drink his coffee. Or speaks. Just stares at his breakfast.

“Johnny? Alright?”

Soap snaps his eyes to his, the blue in them looking almost… red? No… must be the light.

He blinks rapidly, and they return to their usual blue-grey, “aye, LT.”

“Not hungry?”

Soap smiles, or at least tries to, ending up with more of a grimace than anything, “think I’m catching something, not feeling up to it today.”

Ghost hums. Could explain his demeanor as of late, “get to medical after mess, I’ll take care of your assignments for the day.”

“Ye really don’t have teh do that-”

“Soap.” Ghost uses his commanding voice, “...let me take care of it.” he adds in a softer tone.

Let me take care of you.

Johnny smiles, a small but genuine thing, “...thanks.” he gets up, not before patting his bicep, “next time we’re in a pub, I’ll get ye a drink.”

Ghost basks in the brief contact, “it better not be the shite you like.”

Soap laughs as he walks away, “no promises!”

He can’t help the smile spreading on his lips. Love is a dumb concept, not made for him, but…

But fuck if it doesn’t make him feel elated, to hear that voice happy and laughing.

It used to scare Ghost, how colossal those emotions he felt for Johnny were, at first. Would keep him awake at night, spiraling into haunting himself with lines of thought.

‘What would I do if he died? How would I go on?’

It used to scare him, how at those moments, he knew he’d give anything to make sure Soap lived. Fuck his life, fuck the SAS, fuck the world, if Johnny MacTavish wasn’t a part of it.

Soap is damn lucky he loves him so much, if only because he wouldn’t go train these fucking daft idiots instead of him otherwise. Ghost is starting to understand why Soap is getting more agitated these days.

He ended their exercise early, when one of them managed to break a finger by misplacing it when shooting a rifle. It’s like they never held a damn firearm in their whole life.

Fucking hell. He needs to punch something, before he punches someone.

As he gets closer to the gym, Ghost starts hearing shouts. Sounds more like a damn fight ring than a military workout. The recruits are doing something stupid again, he can already tell.

Looks like he might end up having to punch someone instead today. That’s fine by him. He cracks his knuckles.

At least he’ll get to release all this energy somewhere.

The doors smack loudly into the wall behind them when he opens them, and very quickly his theory is proven right. In the center of the room, a large crowd formed a ring around two fighters, the grunts and cracks of punches thrown drowning in the circle of soldiers.

He starts making his way through, recruits snapping their head to shout at him before closing their mouth with a click when they realize who they’re talking to. The crowd begins dispersing, some attempt to run off before they could feel the wrath of their superiors. All the while, Ghost lets his anger build, ready to crash it all down on the unfortunate bastards that decided today is a good day to re-enact Fight Club on base.

When he reaches the center, that rage comes crashing down, alright.

The view of Soap’s bloody form, nose running red and knuckles redder, makes it all fizzle out. His opponent staggers away, clearly the loser of the match, but Ghost doesn’t give a fuck about him.

“What the fuck are you doing, MacTavish?!”

His Sergeant heaves a breath, spitting out a bit of blood, “what does it look like, LT?” he answers, an edge of sarcasm underlining his words. Ghost is well versed in Soap’s insubordination, but it was never directed towards him. Not like that.

He doesn’t look away from Soap’s eyes when he growls to the group, “out.”

The soldiers falter for a moment, so Ghost turns to them, snarling, “OUT! Before I make you all do ten more laps around base!”

They all practically sprint out, leaving Soap and him alone. Johnny holds himself up shakily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, searching for another face to punch. Ghost grabs his bicep, and wordlessly drags him to the showers.

Trains of thought rush through his mind, trying to find reason in Soap’s actions. Anger and worry mix, most of all the frustration that comes with being unable to help.

Something’s clearly bothering Johnny, and Ghost doesn’t know where to start fixing it.

He sets the Sergeant down on a bench, and goes to search for a first aid kit, when Soap huffs, “yer overreacting. We were just sparring.”

Ghost slams the kit next to Johnny’s thigh, the man not flinching even a bit, “what was going on out there was not ‘sparring’, and we both know it.”

Soap’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t retort. Ghost takes his bruised hands in his, examining the torn skin on his knuckles.

“Johnny-”

Soap groans, “aye, I know, I fucked up.” he scrubs his free hand over his face, wincing as Ghost sanitized the wounds, “I’m sorry ye had to go and deal with the recruits. Guess it was all fer nothin’-”

“The fuck’s up with you?” the words come out not as gently as Ghost hoped they would.

Johnny glares at him, “oh, don’t you start as well! We all know what’s wrong with me, don’t we? Everyone’s got somethin’ teh say about MacTavish, about how Ah’m too loud, too annoying, too distracted.” he pulls his hands away from Ghost’s, when the muscles under his skin strain against the tension lining his form, “Ah know! Ah’m fuckin’- Ah’m tryin’, alright?! Don’t need ye teh start tellin’ me that as well!”

Ghost leans back, knowing full well shock must be written all over his features, but Johnny’s too far deep in his own head to recognize it.

“Johnny-”

“Ah’ll do better, sir, Ah just- they were talkin’ shit, and Ah had teh-”

“You’re enough, Soap.”

Johnny’s brows fly up, “...huh?”

Ghost sighs, “you’re good enough already. You’re the only one that comes close to beating me in sparring, excluding Gaz. You can make bloody bombs on the go with generic kitchen appliances. Your shots land, even when you’re tired and broken. You keep going, even if everyone else gave up.”

Soap’s eyes soften, and Ghost takes his other hand, starting to treat it as well, “the recruits can’t tell their asses from their mouths, Johnny. They don’t know what it truly means to be a good soldier, a good man.”

He lets his fingers gently graze Soap’s, “you’re… important to all of us.”

You’re important to me.

Johnny looks down at their hands, “I… I could be better, though.”

“You could”, Ghost agrees, and Soap’s eyes gaze up, “we all could. Won’t come from destroying yourself, though, Sergeant.”

Soap nods slowly. He breaks the contact, raising to his feet and rolling his shoulders, “aye. Thanks, LT.”

Ghost follows him when he chucks off his shirt, eyes trailing on the bruises littering his back. The thickly corded muscles (that Ghost will refuse to drool over, even if they are undoubtably impressive) twist as Johnny takes out his towel for the shower.

Ghost is about to turn around, let his Sergeant have his privacy, when those muscles start convulsing, like he thought he saw back in the forest. He hears Johnny hiss, and decides to voice his concern, “you seem tense.”

Soap turns around, a sheepish smile on his lips, “uh, aye, probably all the… ‘sparring’.”

He nods, back straightening in determination. Finally, something Ghost can fix. “Give it ‘ere, then.”

Soap blinks, “huh?”

“Come ‘ere, Johnny. Can help with that.” he guides Soap back on the bench, walking around and settling behind him.

Ghost takes off his gloves. He hasn’t given a massage to someone else in… years, probably. But he’s sure he remembers enough to help Johnny, even a little bit.

The moment he rests his hand on his Sergeant’s shoulders, he has to hold back his surprise. The muscles are so tense, they feel more like rocks than damn flesh and bone. He pushes away the shock, and begins slowly kneading them. By Johnny’s appreciative hum, Ghost reckons he must be doing something right.

He tries digging in a little into the solid muscles, but soon enough his fingers ache from the resistance. “You feel tenser than Price when he runs out of cigars.”

Soap gives him a half-laugh, “can’t say Ah had anyone teh give me back massages, LT.”

“No bird back home?”

That makes Johnny fully laugh, “no, Ah’m not… not the type teh keep someone fer that long.” he groans at a particular twist of Ghost’s hands, “where did ye even learn teh do this? Ye should consider changing jobs.”

He trails his hands down, mildly concerned that the muscles don’t get any less tense, “had a sister-in-law, she had muscle cramps when she was pregnant…”

Johnny turns his head to stare at him, “ye got a sister-in-law??”

“Had.”

He didn’t elaborate, but from Soap’s silence, he knows the other understood it wasn’t divorce that took her away.

“Ah’m sure she appreciated it.” Johnny sighed, “Ah know I am.”

Ghost smiled, patting his Sergeant’s shoulder, “feeling better?” he flexes his sore hands. Soap’s muscles certainly don’t feel any less tense. At least he seems cheerier.

“Aye, now I owe ye two drinks.”

Ghost goes to leave the showers, “just stay out of trouble next time.”

He hears a small, “...yes, sir.” before the door closes.

If someone were to look inside his head, it will very quickly be clear just how much he’s infatuated with his Sergeant. They might ask, ‘why not tell him?’.

Ghost could never. His vocal cords weren’t built for such soft confessions, his fingers not shaped for holding. And even if they were, Ghost is not one to ask more than he can receive. Being around Johnny as much as humanly possible is enough.

It has to be enough.

Still, he can’t help that ache in his heart, deep in his rib cage, that wishes it could hold Johnny, and never let go. It’s one he can ignore, like most of his aches, on the daily, but…

Soap isn’t around now to distract him. They were sent on separate missions, Johnny on an intel run, and himself on lookout duty, over this slimy bastard or another. Ghost doesn’t give a fuck, mounting his aches on the man behind his crosshairs. Can’t even fuckin’ shoot the bloody man, because he’s ‘too valuable’ or some shite.

He returned a couple of days ago. Soap’s squad is still out there, had some delay in their exfil. When he asked Price about it, apparently he didn’t have clearance to know more.

The Captain barely managed to kick him out of his office before Ghost went on a rampage.

Only after a long, painful, empty week later, does he finally hear some good news - Soap’s team will arrive in a few hours.

Ghost’s feet take him to the tarmac, and only once he sees the distant shape of the helo, does that ache subsides. He impatiently walks to the doors before they open, making sure to be the very first to see Johnny.

And when he, at last, sees him - those blue eyes were not all that blue.

Bloodshot, darkened by the shadows of the helo that seemingly wrap around his figure, Johnny didn’t spare him a glance before stomping off. The rest of the squad trickled out of the chopper, and Ghost saw 3 body bags in the back.

“You heard what happened on Soap’s mission?”

“He fucked it, right?”

“Well, it was more of Rogers’ fault, the idiot got caught and cornered. Sergeant just had to save him.”

“‘Had’. Should’ve left him for after the intel. Should’ve known it was rigged to blow. Isn’t he a damn expert at that?”

Ghost barely listens after that. They all filtered into the briefing room, generals looking furious. Soap didn’t even have time to change, still in full gear and absolutely covered in grime and blood. He has his arms crossed, and to Ghost it almost looks like he’s holding himself together.

It takes hours for them to finally leave, Ghost’s team dismissed before Soap’s. He stays behind, listening to the muted screams of the COs, before the doors slam open, his Sergeant walking away with unexpected speed.

Ghost, as he always does, silently follows.

He catches up to Soap while he’s struggling to remove his gear, movements uncoordinated, agitated, tense.

“Johnny.” his Sergeant ignores him. Ghost gently takes his hand, and lifts it off the straps of his vest. “I’ll get it.”

Soap, for his part, turns his head away. Ghost’s heart squeezes horribly when he feels the shakiness of him. It takes every cell in his body to not give in to the urge to wrap his arms around Johnny, a feeble attempt to shield him from it all.

“Ah’m…” Ghost slowly takes the vest off, and starts working on the various tools strapped to his hips, “ye told me Ah’m good enough.” Johnny whispers.

“You are.” the shaking in Soap’s limbs worsens.

He’s still not looking at him. “The… the mission failed. Because of me. Three recruits are dead. Because of me.”

The lights in the armory flicker. Soap crosses his arms again, forcibly.

Ghost risks crouching down, catching Soap’s eyes, “you didn’t know-”

“I SHOULD HAVE!” Soap’s voice quivers, the flickering light casting a shadow over his eyes. Yet, Ghost can still tell how much he’s hurting.

Ghost gives in.

He pulls Johnny into a hug, ignores his thumping fists, “let go- Ghost, let go of me!” Soap growls. He can almost feel Johnny’s heart thump hard against his chest as well, and he presses closer.

“Making a mistake doesn’t erase all the good you’ve done before.” he murmurs to his warhawk. Johnny’s hands stop trying to push him away.

“You’re a good man, Johnny.”

Soap grasps tightly at the back of his hoodie, “stop-”

Ghost softens his tone, “I’m serious. I…”

I love you. I love you as you are. I love you because of what you are. I love you I love you I love you-

Ghost swallows thickly around the words clawing their way up his throat, “let's go back to the common room, hm? I’m sure Garrick and Price will be happy to see you.”

Soap lets his head rest on Ghost’s shoulder, “at least someone is…”

Ghost delicately raises his head, “I’m happy to see you as well, Sergeant.”

Johnny’s answering smile may be only a shadow of its usual brightness, but it eases the ache. They leave the armory behind, the lights instantly stopping their flickering.

It hurts, sometimes, to love someone so wholly, Ghost discovers. Love makes you want, and for Ghost, that never panned out well.

And yet, he wouldn’t see a world where Johnny didn’t mean so much to him.

Soap knocks his knee to his, the action negligible in the eyes of others, but for his heart it means everything.

They haven’t moved an inch away from the other since their talk in the armory. Ghost was about to leave, let his Sergeant catch some well needed rest, when they were called back to action.

Less than 24 hours since the failed mission, Ghost and Soap are on their way back, accompanied by a fresh batch of recruits. He can tell Soap is determined to fix his mistakes, finish the objective, and get everyone out alive.

Johnny’s knee starts bouncing, his fingers dig into the flesh of his forearms, teeth ravaging his lower lip. Leaving dark red behind.

Ghost watches him for a moment, before intervening.

“What’s on your mind, Sergeant?” he lowers his head to privately whisper in Soap’s ear.

Johnny stops his movements for a second, “the mission, sir.”

“What about the mission?” Ghost lets a hand rest on his shaking leg.

Soap sighs, finally letting some tension bleed away, “Ah need… I can’t fuck this up.”

“You won’t.” Soap opens his mouth to argue, but Ghost continues, “you won’t. If something goes bad, it’s on me. I’m your superior, I’ll take the blame.”

Displeasure paint’s Johnny’s features, “ye shouldn’t do that fer my mistakes.”

I would take on each and every sin you committed, if only to lessen your burden a tad, if I could.

“It’s my job, Johnny.” he takes his hand away, “stay focused, now. Landing in 5.”

Soap frowns, the thoughts passing through his mind almost visible through those turbulent eyes, “...aye.”

The compound reminds Ghost of his time working as a butcher. Walls stripped to their foundations, rooms gutted and wiped clean. Dark gunpowder mixes with dried, flaking blood. The carcass of an animal, a bloody maw for them to pass through.

The farther in they walk, the more signs of life appear - makeshift covers, forgotten MREs, recently discarded ammo magazines. Hostiles that need to be dealt with.

In the brief he received on the helo, Ghost learned that the compound splits into two sections here: a research facility, where the intel was supposed to be, and a base for the soldiers protecting the sensitive information the former building contains.

“Soap”, his Sergeant turns to face him, previous anxiousness hidden away behind his professional facade, “take Alpha 1-3, 1-5 and 1-6, go clear the research facility. Might still have intel to salvage from there.”

Johnny recognizes the opportunity Ghost is giving him, “aye sir!”

“The rest of you, on me!”

He can’t waste time watching Soap’s form disappearing behind the corner. As much as he hates separating from him, if they do find intel, Ghost knows it will ease the guilt gnawing at Johnny.

Ghost clears hallway after hallway, finding only a handful of hostiles. The soldiers are obviously unprepared for another attack at this scale, still licking at the wounds Soap left on them. It all goes smoothly, far too smoothly for Ghost’s liking.

He learned to not trust his luck far back, in rooms with smoke-stained, peeling wallpapers, and broken beer bottles.

Static from his comms makes the hair on his nape raise, the crunching unnatural and disturbing. “Soap? Alpha 1-3? How copy?” he attempts to decipher the white noise, straining his ears to hear the almost-there words.

A shrill scream cuts through the buzzing, “-NO! GET AWAY-!!!”

“Johnny?! Answer me, now!” fear, a chilling venom, spreads through his veins.

The other recruits look back at him with a similar terror. Bits and pieces pass through their radios, “I DIDN’T MEAN IT, PLEASE-!”, “-I’M SORRY, I’M SOR-”, “-HELP!!!-”

“S-sir?” 1-4 wobbly asks, “what do we-”

Ghost bursts into a sprint, holding his radio tightly, “Soap! This is 0-7, we’re on our way to back you up!” he addresses the recruits, “keep yourselves sharp, and stay together! This could be a trap!”

A chorus of “yes sir!” sounds behind him, lost in the winding halls of the compound. His boots thump the tile floor with the beat of his heart, his fear carved into the burning in his lungs.

A deep rumbling takes over the static, the recruits wincing and pulling the comms away from their ears. A primal fear, one Ghost hasn’t felt since digging himself out of the grave, spreads through him.

“...LEAVE….. ME………”

Yet, something else rises within him. That voice… the words leave an ache in his heart.

“Sir… whatever the fuck that thing is… We can’t just go there, right?” Alpha 1-2 asks him, the rest nodding in agreement.

Ghost wastes a moment to tower over him, “your teammates are stuck with that thing. Are you going to leave them to die?”

“N-no sir.”

“Louder!”

“NO SIR!” the dread washes away from the recruit’s face, determination replacing it.

Ghost sharply nods, “then let’s move!”

He’s not leaving any man behind today. No matter what’s waiting on the side - a deranged hostile or a damn fairy tale monster. They go out as a team.

Ghost tries to push away the voice he didn’t hear yet, the glaring silence a hole burrowing into his chest. Nothing could distract him enough, the ache growing and growing. But he can’t sink just yet.

Soap still could be out there, incapacitated in some way, or without comms. Possibly having to go dark, in light of the thing that rumbled through their radios.

He’s not optimistic, never tries to be.

But he can’t accept defeat.

Only Johnny’s body would be the final nail in his coffin.

The first recruit their group encounters is alive. Covered in blood, catatonic, and deep in shock, but alive. Ghost attempts to question him, but it becomes clear the man doesn’t even hear him.

He leaves one soldier with him, ordering him to call for a med evac. The rest continue with Ghost, disturbed by the state of their teammate but obedient to his commands. He doesn’t voice the questions that keep rising in his mind. Ghost needs them as sharp as they could be about now.

The winding hallways open wider in the next turn, and the scene in front of them only confuses him further.

The first thing Ghost registers is red. His first instinct is to call it blood, but the webs covering the walls are very much not blood. They’re… unlike anything he has ever seen.

The recruits are the second. Alpha 1-3 and 1-6… the rest of the missing team. Except…

Don’t think about it. There’s no body.

Yet-

“Rogers”, he calls for 1-3, who’s crouching over 1-6’s still form, “give me sitrep, now!”

Rogers’ eyes are wide, akin to a prey animal cornered by its hunter. He looks anywhere but at Ghost, mumbling lowly. In frustration, Ghost twists a fist in his collar, and drags him up, “answer me! Where is Sergeant MacTavish?!”

“He’s not- not him- n-not him-”

Ghost grits his teeth, growling, “speak clearly.”

“There’s something wrong about Sergeant MacTavish!” Rogers finally spits out, tears springing from his frantic eyes, “that’s not- he did this- he did this!” his breath hitches on sobs, arm weakly pointing to the crimson tendrils hanging from the ceiling around them.

Fucking hell. Bastard lost his mind.

Ghost lets go of him, vitriol evident in his voice when he grounds, “stay here. All of you.”

He takes a step towards the red mess, when a hand grasps at his pant leg.

“Y-y-you can’t go there! Don’t go there! It hurts!!!” Rogers cries, the other recruits trying to gently pull him back.

Ghost gives him a cold stare, “stand down.”

Rogers, in the recesses of his mind, understands the threat for what it is, and lets his shaking fingers fall away from his leg.

The recruits look up at him, all expressions lost, and they don’t dare follow when Ghost leaves them behind, steps dead silent.

Whatever this shite is, he’s getting Soap out.

Whether it’s alive or dead, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let him rot in this literal hell.

Johnny deserves so much more than that.

The red webs become thicker, the deeper he traverses. They now cover the walls, the floors, every single inch of the compound’s structure.

Deeper into the beast’s belly Ghost goes.

The rumbling they heard on comms now echoes among these walls, a heavy breathing of a thing he dreads to identify. Every instinct in his body tells him to run, every step a monumental task to reject the need to turn back.

But he can’t. Not without Johnny.

Even the light is covered now, red beams barely peeking among the webs. Ghost attempts ignoring his current reality, if only to try and submerge the fear clawing at his very cells.

What he imagines instead, is him.

“Creeping Jesus, sir. Yer seeing this shite? Right out o’ a horror movie.”

Ghost can almost hear his lilting Scottish accent, the rough way it sounds the words.

“Ye fit right in, already got the outfit an’ all. Guess that makes me the helpless lass runnin’ awa’ from ye.”

His eyelids flutter, at the memory of Soap’s cheery tone, when he’s trying to joke but failing at holding his laughter back.

It sends a stab of pain through his heart, but Ghost would prefer that to the all encompassing terror. A distraction he welcomes, perhaps too openly.

It makes him lose his focus, and his boot crunches loudly on the red floor.

Ghost freezes, breath caught in his lungs.

“....LEAVE….!!!!!!”

The webs pulsate, winding tighter around the concrete walls. It shakes the entire building, threatening to collapse on everyone.

Ghost’s hands shake, even as he strengthens the grip on his rifle.

The world doesn’t matter, things both understood and incomprehensible, if Johnny isn’t by his side.

He rounds the corner, the lights flickering, the world blinking in and out of existence.

In front of him, is a figure.

As red as fresh blood, as twisted as corded muscles, as imposing as a knife to the throat.

The origin of the crimson strings.

His legs refuse to move, and Ghost is left helpless for the first time since he donned on the mask. His eyes drag down the imitation of a man.

Beneath him, a chest cavity is cracked open. The body is laid crumpled on the floor, a dark warhawk popping against the bright reds.

“......WHY….. ARE YOU HERE……..?”

Ghost understands the source of his ache, why his heart twists at every word of the bloodied man.

“...Johnny?”

The red man quivers, veins pulsating.

“......GET OUT……..”

Ghost inhales sharply, using every drop of willpower to make his legs unstick and move.

“I’m not leaving without you.”

The red tries to catch on Ghost’s boots, try to pull him away from the bodies.

“.........I TRIED… TO KEEP IT IN…… BUT THEY HURT ME… THEY HURT THEM…….”

He recognizes the rumbling sounds for what they are now.

Soap is crying.

“Who?”

“.....IT WAS A TRAP…..THEY BLAMED ME…AND THEY WERE RIGHT…I WASN’T ENOUGH…….NEVER ENOUGH……….”

The webs pull strongly at his right leg, and Ghost falls to the ground with a grunt.

“You’re enough, Soap. I told you, this time I take the blame-”

“IT WAS ME, GHOST! IT WAS ALL ME!!!”

The walls shake with the force of his voice, Ghost hastily covering his ears with a wince.

He crawls forward, inch by inch.

“Johnny-”

“I KILLED EVERYONE! LEFT THEM DEAD…. THEY TRUSTED ME! THEY TRUSTED ME!!!”

Ghost strains his muscles against the tendrils, belatedly realizing the contact is burning through his clothes.

“Who? Who did you kill?”

He can almost reach him… Just a little more…

“OUR TEAM, GHOST! I- I KILLED THEM!”

Ghost frowns, “they’re not dead, Johnny.”

The red man halts, his exposed heart thumping. His face is a mangled form of muscles and veins, eyes dark red and glassy.

“....DON’T……..DON’T LIE…………..” the man heaves, heart stuttering, “.....THE AMBUSH……I COULDN’T HOLD IT TOGETHER……….”

Ghost is close enough to see Johnny’s face, red splattering his pale cheeks, face twisted in pure anguish.

Hands around his chest, as if he tried to physically push the man back in and failed.

“I saw them. Alpha 1-3, 1-5, 1-6. They were scared shitless, but they’re fucking alive.”

Red tears drip down the crimson man’s cheeks, some falling on Ghost and burning his palms.

“......DON’T LIE-”

“Johnny.”

The red man closes his mouth, tilting his head and finally looking at him.

“Do you trust me?”

Ghost reaches a hand, but the man flinches away.

“......I TRUST YOU…….”

It hurts. Every touch of that crimson substance shoots pain throughout his system.

But more than that, the tone of his voice, the defeat. Ghost’s heart hurts with his.

“Let me help you, Johnny.”

The man shakes his head minutely, leaning back as far as he can.

“.....I’LL HURT YOU……”

Ghost lays a hand on the crimson man’s hand. It does hurt, it hurts a lot.

“Then we will be in pain together.”

Ghost uses the last of his strength to shoot up, wrapping his arms around the man.

The muscles convulse, red enveloping him. It feels like hugging thorns.

He squeezes harder.

“......WHY…?”

The heart, beating so hard it shakes Ghost to his core, feels so fragile between them. He pulls one hand away to gently cup it.

“I… I kept things from you as well, Johnny.” Ghost confesses, “I was afraid, you’d see the bloody mess inside of me, and run away.”

The heart in his hand beats louder.

“It doesn’t matter how ugly the things you hide from me are.”

He looks at the red eyes.

“I’d love you in any form you take.”

Thump.

The crimson heart melts, taking with it the man, and the webs that twisted around them. Ghost falls to his knees, body curling in on itself in pain. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing harshly.

A hand on his cheek lifts his head carefully. He cracks his eyes open.

Blue greets him.

“Simon…” Johnny whispers, eyes filling with tears, crystalline drops.

Ghost lifts his hand, ignores the aching. It holds nothing compared to the balm over his heart.

He doesn’t know who pulled the other first.

All that mattered at that moment, is the hesitant touch of their lips.

It tasted like a vow.

‘You may hold my heart

If I can hold yours.’

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod soap #cod ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #you can probably tell by now how i like to write my oneshots #its all one big metaphor baby #and its alllll pain. Up until the very end :)

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