#COD fic
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
THINGS WERE GOING SO GOOD JOHN-
Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 43: Lies
Summary: Things are getting better...or are they?
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 5,029 words
Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, omegaverse, angst, kissing, 'mega being a badass, angst, emotions, fluff, angst
A/N: Sorry not sorry
“Kyle.”
The name is whispered in the silence, floating through the air around you. There’s no response from the body wrapped around you aside from a quiet snore. You drive your elbow back into his chest, whispering his name once more.
“Kyle.”
He lets out a snore, jolting out of sleep suddenly as your elbow digs into his pectoral muscle. “Hm, what?” He slurs, still half asleep.
“Kyle, I didn’t have a nightmare last night.” You say quietly, kicking the volume up to just above a whisper.
“Mmm that’s good.” He murmurs sleepily, scooting closer to you to press his face against your shoulder blade. “Really good.”
“No Phil this time either.” You say, excitement starting to bubble in your stomach. No nightmares, no sign of Phil haunting your mind in sleep or awake.
Maybe Dr. Keller is right and you really are healing.
It’s been weeks since he died, since you drove that knife into his neck. The memories of warm blood spurting onto your skin, the life leaving his eyes still has your stomach twisting with nausea, but the nightmares of his haunting presence have ceased for now.
“It’s been a year today,” You say into the silence. “Since I joined the pack.”
“Mhm.” Kyle hums against your shoulder, pressing his face closer against your skin.
“So much has happened in such a short amount of time.” You muse.
Kyle’s arm moves from around your waist, lifting up towards your face. His hand covers your mouth, cutting off the words that had been on the tip of your tongue. “‘S too early.” He murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”
His lips brushing your skin with every word has butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It feels much like it did in the early stages of your integration into their pack, back when you had small crushes on each of them, when the relationships were new and exciting. They feel new now, the dynamics changing between all of you since that day you sat them down and set the record straight.
“Sit down and listen.” You try to stop your voice from shaking as you stand before the four giant forms that make up the rest of your pack. Dr. Keller has gone out for the day, leaving just the five of you alone.
You may or may not have asked her to do so.
The four of them look surprised by your authoritative tone, shocked even. They stand there dumbly, staring at you with wide eyes.
You let out a quiet sigh. This is going to be harder than you thought it was going to be.
“I said, sit down and listen.” You repeat, the four of them slowly sinking down onto their seats. Their eyes are still on you, still filled with surprise at this sudden change.
You stare at them, John seated in the chair across from you, the most taken aback at this sudden shift in your attitude. Johnny and Kyle are seated to your right, both of them staring at you in surprise. Simon looks the least surprised by this outburst, yet his eyes are still softer than the hardened gaze he’s been giving you for weeks.
You clear your throat, straightening your back as you stand before them. “We have some things to discuss as a pack.” You shift on your feet, trying to shove down those nervous butterflies in your stomach.
This could go south fast if they wanted it to.
“Some things about where we stand,” You continue. “How things are going to look moving forward.” You fall silent for a moment, looking at each of them. The surprise has faded, all of them focused and dialed in on you.
You can’t help but wonder if this is how they looked during debriefs, so laser focused and in tune with what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if they’re shifting into that mindset, if they’re viewing this as a mission and not as what it should be.
You shove those thoughts back into the recesses of your mind, steeling yourself again for the coming storm you’re about to brew.
“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were.” You say, your hands tugging at your shirt nervously. “They didn’t work that way. Well, they might have worked for you, but they didn’t for me and that’s why we’re here today. To have a conversation we should have had at the start.”
They stay sitting there, all of them scarily still as you speak. You’re not even sure they’re still breathing. You may as well be talking to a bunch of statues. You stare at John until he blinks just to be sure.
“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were because it wasn’t fair for me. You were all kind and welcoming and you treated me well, but you weren’t supportive of me and what I needed.” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat. “I know you were trying, but it wasn’t right and I was too afraid to say anything. Omegas are supposed to be the glue that holds packs together.” You quote the book, the one you tried to keep secret from them until Simon found it. “We’re the ones doing the heavy lifting, the ones clinging to the threads of bonds for dear life. Even if I’m not involved in your bonds with each other, I’m still holding those strings. I fall, you all fall.” You clear your throat. “I think we’ve seen enough proof of that over the past couple months.”
None of them move as you speak. You hope they already knew what you were addressing, that they already understood. You hope this isn’t news to them, that you’re not walking them through some mind-boggling discovery.
“I’m the one holding this pack together, so I should be treated fairly.” You take a breath to steady yourself. “I know you tried before, but you weren’t...doing it right. You weren’t allowing me into the places I should have been, into the roles I’m supposed to play.” You gulp, your eyes flicking over the four of them. “I’m in charge.”
Finally one of them moves, John shifting slightly in his seat. It’s a direct challenge to his status, to his role in the pack, and it’s coming from an omega. In hindsight, you could have worded it better, but you were too worried about losing the nerve that’s fueled you up to this moment.
“I’m the one in charge of how these bonds develop, how they work, how they flow together, so I need to be in charge of things that might affect those bonds.” Your eyes are glued to John’s, watching his face. “I need a voice in this pack. I may not be able to point us in a direction, but I need to know what that direction is so I can understand how that direction might affect us as a pack, and if it's worth it.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions starting to rise in you. Nerves still twist in your stomach as you continue, their lack of reactions only fueling the nerves. What are they thinking? How are they going to react? None of them have interrupted you so far, berating you for making such demands or shutting you down before you can get much further.
They really are sitting and listening to you.
“I know the situation made that impossible. I know it wasn’t any of your faults for the way things had to be because of the military and your jobs and all of the secrecy, but it can’t be like that anymore. I know you kept me separated and in the dark for my own safety, but...” You hold your arms out. “Look at where it got us anyway. No matter what happens next, I can’t be in the dark anymore. It’s...it’s killing me. It almost did kill me.”
They all shift at your words. Voicing that reality has struck a chord deep within them. They’ve all thought it, but none of them have acknowledged it outright. None of them quite understand the gravity of what happened at the level you do...except perhaps Simon. He was knee deep in it with you. He’s the reason it didn’t kill you.
“No matter what happens next, no matter what unfolds, I can’t be an outsider anymore.” Your voice has softened, your tone lowering as the nerves begin to settle. You’re losing steam, your overworked adrenal glands wearing out faster than you might have planned. “I just...I don’t want this pack to fall apart, and...I can’t do it alone. I’m not supposed to be alone. None of us are.” You shift on your feet. “So kiss and make up already because you’re driving me crazy.”
They all let out quiet chuckles at your words, the nerves settling even more at their reactions. No screaming, no berating, no opposition. Just sitting and listening like you said.
John leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I think we can all agree with what you said. It wasn’t fair, the way we treated you. Sure the situation was complicated, but things could have been done differently. We could have let you in more than we did.”
“We cut ye off too much.” Johnny says.
“You’re right.” John continues, taking you by surprise. “Alphas and omegas are supposed to work together. We all have our roles we play, and alpha and omega should be equal.” He glances around at the rest of the pack. “We shouldn’t go back to the way things were. They won’t ever be like that again, and that’s a good thing. We’ve all learned from our mistakes, mistakes that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. We’ll never truly be able to make up for them, but we can work to fix what can be repaired.”
You stare at him for a long moment, realizing he’s waiting for your approval. It makes you feel good, proud. Your omega preens happily, some of the weight being removed from your shoulders. They’re willing to work with you, willing to bend the knee and allow you to lead them in this.
You nod. “Good. I’m glad we could come to this agreement.”
You feel like passing out as the tension and adrenaline starts to wear off. You plop down on the couch next to Simon, letting out a long breath.
“You okay?” Kyle asks.
You huff out a laugh. “That was scary.”
Kyle’s hand droops from your mouth, sliding down to rest under your chin. Butterflies still flutter in your stomach as his warm breath fans across your skin. It feels so close and intimate now after weeks of separation and distance between everyone. You know they’ve taken your words to heart, rebuilding those bonds between them. You can feel it, the strings starting to strengthen, no longer fraying and clinging on by a hair. You’re not holding the weight of the world anymore, clinging to those rapidly fraying bonds in desperation.
The load has been eased off of your shoulders, your alpha starting to carry some of that weight for you.
Your alpha.
It feels almost foreign calling him that again. He hasn’t felt like your alpha in so long the bond almost feels like it’s rebuilding itself from the ground up. A new bond, a changed one from the weak one that held the two of you together before. Your fingers lift to brush over your mark. It throbs, but not in pain this time. Your fingers brush Kyle’s hand where it’s tucked under your chin as you lower them from your mark. You wrap your fingers around his hand, pulling his arm so it’s wrapped around you instead.
“Kyle?” You whisper, but you get nothing more than a snore in return.
***
“You seem happier.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you.
“I feel happier.” You say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were right, about having that conversation. It’s helped a lot.”
“I knew it would. They were trying, they just needed a bit of direction.” She takes a sip of her tea.
“Military men.” You roll your eyes. “Can’t do anything without being told what to do first.”
“I think that’s just all men.” Dr. Keller says.
You laugh, a genuine laugh. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t attracted to them.”
“I don’t blame you.” She huffs out a laugh. “That is one small mercy I was granted in this life.”
You smile softly. “I’m happy for you.” You glance at her. “You deserve it, after everything you’ve done for me, for us.”
“Just doing my job.” She shrugs.
“I think you’ve gone above and beyond your job lately.” You say. “Thank you, for getting me through this.”
“Of course. I wasn’t going to leave you floundering.”
“Some might have.” You say, and it’s the truth. A different omega specialist might have run as soon as things went south. Dr. Keller went halfway across the globe and back to help you in a vulnerable time. She’s put in more work in the last few weeks to try and keep you alive, to try and keep your pack in one piece than she should have ever had to.
“Then they shouldn’t be omega specialists.” She says. “Lines can get blurry in this profession, but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if it means even one omega can have a chance at a good life.”
“Consider that a success, then.” You say with a small smile.
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” She squeezes your hand. “You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
“I know. Maybe someday soon you’ll even be family.” You give her a knowing grin.
“Well, I wouldn’t put too much stock in that right away.” She says, shifting in her seat.
“You really like her.”
“It’s hard not to.” She says. “The Garrick family might be the closest we have to angels on earth.”
“They are just so...perfect.” You agree.
“Some people just have it all, don’t they?”
“Must be nice.” You muse. “I think we’re both pretty lucky though, snagging ourselves one of those angels.”
Dr. Keller smiles at you. “I can hardly disagree.”
It feels good to see them finally getting over themselves. Sitting closer, lingering touches, even holding hands. You did that. You forced them together to work out those barriers they put between themselves. The pack is healing because of you.
It makes your omega preen in happiness. She’s finally settled, finally tucked back in her cage with the door shut tight. She’s content with the strong bonds beginning to reform. There’s no need for her now that the threat of danger has passed, now that your pack is beginning to come together again. That safety and security of the bonds has shoved her back into her place where she rests contently.
Yet, despite that you still feel a bit on edge, still waiting for that shoe to drop. Sure things are getting better, but what about you? Where do you stand with all of them? It still feels like they're tiptoeing around you, like they don’t know where to start, where to jump back in. Where does that boundary lie now that things are beginning to improve?
You’re not even quite so sure yourself. You can’t just jump back into where things were when they fell apart. It doesn’t feel right. You’re not ready for that yet, but you can’t help the desires starting to burn in you again as those bonds repair themselves. You got far the first time, but yet no one is willing to take it that far right away.
Not even you.
You have to lay that barrier, mark down in the sand where that line is between where you were and where you are. How far would they push it if you left it up to them? They might never push it further with how they’re tiptoeing around you. You might get stuck in this realm of the unknown if you leave it up to them. But, how will they react if you do push it? Will they push back? Are they ready for things to move forward? Are they ready for the relationships to develop like that once more?
A rock and a hard place.
Maybe you should push it. Maybe you should be the one to test the boundaries this time. They’ve had their chance, and they’re not going to push it any further. You’re tired of this dance, so maybe you should take the plunge for them.
Omegas always have to do the hard work.
“Are you drawing me again?”
The soft scratch of pencil on paper that has filled the quiet of the house pauses.
“I cannae help it.” Johnny murmurs, shifting in his seat. “Yer the perfect model, kitten.”
“Why, cause I can sit and dissociate for hours at a time?” You tease.
“Cause yer so beautiful.” He counters.
Your face warms at his words, not expecting such a comeback. You quickly tuck yourself further under the blanket, hiding part of your face bashfully. “Am not.”
“Are too.” He argues playfully. “The most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.”
Woman, not omega. You half expected him to designate you to your status, but instead he’s surprised you once more. Your face warms at his words, yet you can’t help that tickle in the back of your mind. This is coming from somewhere.
You side-eye him, giving him a suspicious look. “What do you want?”
“What?” He asks in mock surprise.
“You’re buttering me up for something.” You say, turning to face him.
“I dinnae what ye mean.” He shrugs. “Can’t I just compliment my beautiful omega?”
You give him a look.
“I do mean it.” He says, setting his notebook on the table before joining you on the couch. He tugs you into his chest, making you nearly fall against him at the sudden movement. “Yer stunning, kitten.”
“Alright, alright, fine.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “I get it.”
You stare up at him, tracing his jawline with your eyes. “Now what is it you want?”
“Nothing.” He says, holding his hands up. “Swear it.”
You hum, lifting your head up so you can stare at him. He stares back with those bright blue eyes, soft with emotion as he studies your face. You feel like you’re staring at him for the first time again, studying his features. Your finger traces the scar on his chin, the short hairs of his stubble tickling your fingers. He’s shaved recently, trimming down the sides of his hair too. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, trimming scraggly beards and long hair. At least longer than you’ve ever seen.
You take it as a sign of the improvement in your pack. You’re no longer drowning in the depths of fraying bonds. There’s life in the pack once more. You’re back in the pack once more.
You continue to stare at Johnny, getting lost in those sea blue eyes. Your heart starts to beat faster, pounding away in your chest. You’re worried he might be able to hear it from how hard it’s beating. There’s a slight tremble to your fingers as you slide them from his chin up to his lips.
You really want to kiss him.
He presses a soft kiss to your fingertips, the soft touch lingering as your hand drops away. The air in the cottage is electric, the heat of the fire suddenly unnecessary as warmth blooms under your skin.
Take the plunge.
You can’t stop yourself as you start to move, leaning in closer to him.
He doesn’t move, staying freakishly still as you lean closer and closer. You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you linger there for a moment. His lips have parted, his warm breath fanning against your own lips. They suddenly feel chapped, your tongue darting out to wet them. A soft sound leaves his lips at the action, a long, warm breath fanning across your face.
You close the gap between the two of you, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, nothing more than a test of the waters. He doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t push you off of him. Instead his arm tightens around you, his other hand lifting to cup your cheek. You take it as a good sign, kissing him again.
He holds you tightly against him as you kiss him harder this time. Your hand slides from his jaw to the side of his neck. You can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingers, beating almost as fast as yours. It’s a relief more than anything, to feel him as excited about this as you are. You doubt he’d be kissing you back if he wasn’t, but it’s still a nice sign that you haven’t pushed the boundaries too far.
He hums contently against your lips, a smile tugging at his.
“You’re going to be insufferable after this aren’t you?” You murmur as you pull back.
“I’ll try not to be.” He murmurs back.
“Something tells me I shouldn’t believe you.” You lean in for another soft kiss.
He hums against your lips, unable to stop his grin. “First again.”
“There we go.” You say, pulling back.
“I promise.” He says, letting you go.
“I still don’t believe you.” You say.
“Probably shouldn’t.” He says, poking your nose softly. “Now go back tae the way ye were so I can finish my drawing.”
You roll your eyes but acquiesce, adjusting your position on the couch once more.
You know it’s coming before it happens.
You could feel it, the shift in the air, the change in the atmosphere of the house. Something happened, something is going to happen. There’s something lingering on the precipice and it’s affecting the entire pack. They’re all on edge, all tiptoeing again. You hate it, but you can’t figure out what it is to fix it. It makes you almost feel sick with worry, your exhausted adrenal glands kicking back into high gear. You’re getting stressed and you don’t like it.
You don’t know what it is, until you catch part of a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear.
It’s midday and you’ve just woken from your daily nap. The sun is out for the first time in a week, though you know it’s still chilly outside. It’s shining in through the window, through the curtains you forgot to close. It’s a peaceful afternoon, or at least you thought it was.
That’s when you hear the footsteps coming down the steps. Heavy, rushed thudding of boots. Two pairs of feet, you think, judging by the sound. Hushed voices murmur through the wall in a muffled conversation that has obviously begun upstairs. It sounds intense, something being debated or argued.
Curiosity and that omega need to know what’s causing such a disagreement has you rising from your prone position. You kick the covers back quietly, slipping off of the mattress. You move slowly, tiptoeing across the floor until you reach the door. You’re quiet as you lean against it, pressing your ear to the wood.
You don’t like what you’re hearing.
It’s John and Simon, speaking hurriedly and angrily about something, something you don’t like the sounds of. You catch words here and there as they move across the living room towards the front door. A nervous twisting begins in your stomach as you stand there and listen to them, picking up a few words here and there from their conversation. Johnny and Kyle have left the house, and it’s likely they think you’re still sleeping, otherwise they wouldn’t be discussing this so out in the open.
The conversation has stopped abruptly as the front door opens, boots storming out of the house before the door closes rather harshly. You stand there, holding your breath for a moment before footsteps turn, approaching your door. Your eyes widen as you push away from the wood, nearly leaping across the floor to dive onto the bed. You curl up in a ball, tugging the blanket over yourself seconds before the door opens.
You have half a mind to feign sleep as footsteps approach the bed, but you know it will be useless. The stench of your nervous energy has permeated the room, the proof of your stressed state hanging heavily in the air. Emotions twist in your chest like the roiling of a stormy sea. He’d be able to tell in that way he always does, even if you could try to mask your scent.
The side of the bed sinks as John sits down with a sigh. You lay there still for a moment before slowly rolling over onto your back. His shoulders are tense and tight, his hands closed into fists as he leans his elbows on his knees. It’s not hard to tell that the conversation ended on a negative note. Even if you hadn’t gotten up to listen in, you would have known by the slamming of the door and the tension in his body.
He knows you listened in, but he doesn’t say anything as he sits there. Slowly you move, pushing yourself up to sit. You pull your knees into your chest, staring at the side of his face. He’s waiting for you to make the first move, to admit that you know what that argument between alphas was about.
“You’re leaving.” Tears prick behind your eyes as you voice the summation of what you overheard from the conversation. Putting it into words has those roiling emotions stirring, rising in your chest until they threaten to choke you.
He lets out another sigh, his gaze on the floor. “I have to do this.”
So he really is leaving. The finality in his tone tells you there’s no convincing him otherwise. Those words tell you no matter how hard you fight, there’s no changing his mind. He’s going to do this no matter what. He’s going to leave no matter what you say, no matter how hard you try to stop him. He has to do this. He has to leave. Or, at least he thinks he does.
Things were going so well. Things were finally starting to heal and now he’s threatening to undo them all once again.
You can never have anything nice, can you?
“But you don’t.” You say, your voice wavering. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the threat of confrontation making your insides turn into a mushy soup. You have to try. You know it’s useless, but you have to try. At least you can tell yourself you did your best, you tried your hardest to convince him when he is gone.
“I don’t have a choice.” He says, pushing himself upright. His eyes are hard and focused as he turns to stare at you. “I have to be sure.”
“What about the rest of us? What about me?” You argue. “You can just up and leave when things are finally starting to heal and improve?”
“For this, yes.” He reaches for you but you flinch back. You’ll regret it later, but you don’t care about that right now. Right now, you’re too angry.
“The job always comes first, right?” You say, staring at his hand where it lands on the bed. You sound broken and defeated.
“This is more complex than that.” He shakes his head.
“Is it?” You snap, holding his gaze. “Is it different? You said things would change.”
“They will.” He tries to reassure you. “But this is something I have to do.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing down the words you want to scream at him. You want to hit him, shove him out of the room and lock the door. He promised you things would change, but then again, he’s broken promises before. He’s really willing to just up and leave in such a delicate time when bonds are being rebuilt within the pack. How little he thinks of you, of the rest of your pack. They won’t stop him either. He probably had to stop them from wanting to go too, to be there to assist him in this errand.
Nothing has changed. It was all just empty promises from your pack. They can’t help what they are. They’ll never be able to stop doing what it is they were trained to do. Everything was a lie to placate you into healing, to stop you from severing the ties that hold you all together.
You thought things were going to get better.
How stupid you were.
There’s a sour taste in your mouth as you sit there, staring hard at him. Of course he’d do this. Of course he’d break his promises. Of course he’d leave in a moment’s notice. You’re shocked he’s even told you. You’re shocked you got any warning at all. You wouldn’t put it past him to just up and leave, just like that without any warning.
“You’re really leaving.” You whimper, your voice shaking with the emotions and the adrenaline pumping through your body.
You don’t move your hand this time as he reaches for it, his fingers brushing over yours before curling around them. It should feel nice and grounding and reassuring, but instead it feels hollow and empty. You want to hate him, you want to get angry and scream at him, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do that. Not after everything. You’re just so tired, so exhausted from fighting for this pack, for your place in it, for things to work.
All that fighting and it was for nothing.
“I have to.” He says, squeezing your hand. He stares down at your hands for a moment before looking back up at him. “Do you want me to come back?”
You sit there staring at him, anger and resentment swirling inside of you like a violent storm.
To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications
#call of duty#call of duty fic#cod fic#141 x reader#poly 141#john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#soap x reader#a/b/o#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#omegaverse
588 notes
·
View notes
Text
part one || part two || part three || part four || this is part five
You were Simon Riley's first proper girlfriend. Obviously there was that girl from year 2 at school who he 'married' in the playground, as well as numerous failed attempts at dating, but you? You were different. The thought of committing to you made him nervous, but in a fuck, I'm head over heels way. The thought of not committing to you, on the other hand, made him feel sick with the idea of you not being around.
You'd made it official about a week or two ago, and had been taking it slowly since then. Nor you or Simon wanted to rush into anything, but after a few dates it started to seem so... real.
The most recent date is what really made up your mind about the soldier (who had already pretty much written out your wedding vows). It had made you realise quite how strong your feelings were. It was a romantic night... Ghost had spend hours sifting through his phone for restaurants in the area; it had to be faultless... the lighting couldn't be too bright, it had to be great food, he wasn't going to let it be a busy place, et cetera...
Once he had found the flawless place he booked a table for two, and on the actual day he got dressed hours before he needed too, picking out his best clothes. He was wearing black jeans and a slightly unbuttoned shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, because in all honestly he was a little hot from nerves. He wanted the night to be perfect.
You were also nervous... the afternoon was spent on facetime with your friends, debating over what jewellery went with what dress and whether to wear makeup and if so what eyeshadow and which lip gloss and... it was all a blur, really. By the time you were ready both your dressing table and bedroom floor looked like bombs had gone off; clothes were everywhere and there was a mess of makeup wipes from when you'd aggressively scrubbed off your full face again and again to re-apply with pin-point intricacy.
Finally 7 pm had drawn around. You'd arranged to meet outside of the restaurant, so you walked over from your place. Simon had arrived 20 minutes early so he stood outside awkwardly, rocking on the balls of his feet and nodding uncomfortably at people passing by who gave the skull mask a weird look. He knew it made him look a bit odd... he wasn't used to wearing smart clothes and the scars and tattoos on his arms as well as the balaclava were a stark juxtaposition to the slightly fancier setting.
As he saw you walking over, he straightened himself up, brushing invisible dust from his attire and lifting his hand in a mechanical looking wave. You giggled slightly, looking down and grinning. "Hello," You say, voice warm.
"You..." Simon starts, eyes round beneath the mask. "You look absolutely stunning," He mumbles, voice gravelly as hooked his arm around your back before you and him start to walk towards the restaurant. He held the door open for you before nodding at a member of staff in the entrance. "I... er I got... I mean, have, a reservation for two," He stutters, fumbling around with the rolled up sleeves as he tries to pull them down.
"What name is that under?" The waitress asks, smiling politely. You try to hold back your smirk, yet again staring at the floor.
"That's under Gho- no- fuck-" He falters, expression embarrassed. Just the sight of you alone had sent him into flustered and in love mode. "It's under Riley," You chime in, taking Simon's hand and squeezing it gently. Once sat down at a table with menus, you burst into laughter, clapping your hand over your mouth as you attempt to compose yourself. "It's great to see you again," You beam, eyes glistening as you see Ghost's eyes crinkle in the corners with happiness. It only took a little smile from you to make everything feel lighter for the man who had once been so emotionless.
At the end of the meal, Simon refused to let you even just consider paying the bill. As soon as the the card reader was presented he swooped in with his card, smiling smugly under the mask at your protests. You fold your arms and pout with mock anger, but soon your were grinning again as he held out your jacket for you and slipped his arm around your waist as the two of you walked out.
You make your way into the night, streetlamps gently lighting the paved street. Simon nods forwards and you cross the road as he begins to speak. "We should go on a little walk, eh?" He tilts his head at you, smiling under the mask.
"That sounds nice," You said, taking his hand as you start to walk. Ghost knew just where he would take you, so he guided you to a small, pretty bridge going over a gentle river.
"This is so pretty," You murmur, stopping in the middle of the bridge and leaning on the railing. "Mhm," Simon replies, his eyes set firmly on you and only you... the way the moonlight washed over your face in that way. He wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you in as your hands shift to gently rest on his chest. "Mhm," He repeats, moving his spare hand to tug at the balaclava. He grunts, flushing red under the fabric from a mixture of anticipation and embarrassment "Can you just..." He pulls at the mask again and you huff with laughter.
"Sure..." You whisper, tugging the fabric to his nosebridge.
"All the way off," He mumbles, suddenly feeling that feeling.
Your eyes widen slightly and you nod, gently pulling the whole mask off. You lean backwards for a moment, running your eyes over his flushed face. Every scar was like a location on a map, dotted around his face and sloped jawline. You feel your breath hitch slightly as you take him in, your eyes round with adoration and cheeks becoming hot.
Simon tilts your chin up as you stretch onto tiptoes (what with the large height difference) and he pulls you in closer, smirking slightly at your fixed gaze on his face. "Creepin' me out..." He chuckles, just standing there for a minute, not wanting to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. "Simon hurry up," You giggle, finally breaking the silence and blinking.
"Hurry up and what?" He furrows his brows, a look of genuine confusion flashing over his face. "Oh..." At that point, his cheeks might as well have been scarlet. "Shit." Ghost whispers to himself before taking a deep breath and leaning in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your frame as his slightly chapped lips brushed against your soft lips. He quickly pulls backwards, expression concerned. "That's what you meant, yeah?"
You just giggle, tiptoeing again to loosely place your arms on his shoulders and around his neck, the mask still bunched up in your palms. "Of course it was, silly," You murmur, stretching to kiss him again.
Simon's heart rate was racing and his eyes fluttered shut, kind of just accepting his amazing fate. Even though he could feel his palms growing clammy, he slid a hand to cup the back of your head, his fingers raking into your hair.
Your first kiss. And oh, what a kiss it was... calm yet passionate, lips connecting in a way that ensured nor you or Simon wanted to pull away. You'd kissed other people in the past, sure, but nothing was like this. You could have sworn you felt your whole body buzz because in all honesty this was new; nothing like those mediocre kisses that it was safe to say you had left in the past.
This? This was love.
Simon pulls away, catching his breath as he strokes your hair with his thumb. "That was..." He stammers, looking away slightly.
He was not used to being this vulnerable, especially without the balaclava on. He felt exposed, but in a weird safe way. It was new, as were a lot of these feelings, all caused by you, but he was strangely welcoming to every single on of them.
"Yeah it was..." You respond, a smile pinching at the corners of your mouth and eyes.
"That was perfect," He manages, looking back at you, his ocean blue eyes that were once so haunted softening. Ever since he first set eyes on you, through the window, you had this exact effect on him. The one that made his whole body feel light and made him feel so at home, because, in all honesty, you were... you are his home.
hope you enjoyed pt 5!! I'm so sorry for the lateness... I've been SO busy ;w;
anyways, if you have any suggestions or rq's for a possible pt 6 or for anything else, make sure to comment or leave me an ask!
#call of duty#cod#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod x you#cod fic#cod mw2#cod x all readers#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#cod smut#soap cod#john soap mactavish#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#kyle garrick#ghost cod#kyle gaz garrick#cod men#call of duty x reader#call of duty fanfic#simon riley x you#soap x y/n#simon ghost x you#soap x you#reader x character#task force 141
210 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Widow's Bite | Simon Riley x Black Widow!Reader
Fic Masterlist- First fic kind of? ❋ Read this on Ao3 ❋
Main tags: Innocent reader is accused of being a traitor trope, torture and interrogation, AFAB reader, questionably platonic bed sharing, strangers to lovers, sloooow burn, eventual smut, angst/hurt/comfort, kidfic Words so far: 94,028 Chapters: 25/28 (On Ao3)
Summary: Barkov is dead, the Red Room is falling apart without his leadership, and the 141 are determined to remove his legacy from the world. You are trying to achieve the impossible: 1. Run for your freedom and 2. Kill every last person affiliated with the Red Room to prevent it from rising from the ashes. The kill count rises, things get complicated, and it’s only a matter of time before you run headfirst into the man known only as 'Ghost'.
Chapter 1
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#cod#cod fic#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x you#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x you
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about johnny who just like–loses a part of himself after he got shot in the head, yes because he totally survived that. i don't know how to describe it, and neither does he.
he just spends a lot of his time disassociating, it creeps you out honestly. oftentimes you find him staring at the wall, the ceiling, and you. he doesn't speak as much as he used to as well, so you're still growing used to the silence.
then one day, johnny just goes missing. he's nowhere to be found, so you go out to try and find him hopefully. along the way, passing by the flower shop you coincidentally meet simon who was just getting out of the shop, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
with your voice still shaky, you ask him if he has seen johnny at all today. and to your surprise he replies with "what do you mean, luv? it's johnny's death anniversary today?"
...who the fuck was in your house..for practically a whole year?
#cod#call of duty#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod soap#cod imagine#soap cod#cod thoughts#cod drabble#cod fanfiction#cod fic#cod x fem!reader#cod x y/n#cod x gn!reader#cod x you#cod x male reader#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap x you#johnny mctavish x reader#johnny mactavish#john mactavish x you#cod john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#johnny soap mctavish x you
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dove (A Zombie!Ghost Story) Chapter Twelve
Summary: “‘rrrreeetttyyyy…” The mangled word came from deep in his chest, rumbling out in a low, gravelly voice. Lelia’s cheeks grew rosy and she bit her lip, trying and failing to hide a smile. Simon’s hand smoothed over her bare shoulder and down her arm to clumsily play with the delicate pearl sleeve. He could break it so easily—could tear the dress off of her in a second and throw her onto the bed, have her naked and vulnerable beneath him. She would be his to claim. His to devour. Word Count: 3692 Warnings: no smut but Ghost has horny thoughts as usual, mentions of past abuse Notes: This chapter is the last one I have pre-written (well, the last one in order I have pre written, i have some later chapters/scenes written to but I need to write the connecting parts still), and the semester starts tomorrow, so I don't know if I will be able to update again next Sunday. I hope to be able to, but it all depends on how difficult this first week is, and if I can figure out what I want to write next lol. I have ideas/plans but I'm struggling with the execution a bit. If any of you guys have ideas/scenes you'd like to see, feel free to comment them, it helps me organize my own thoughts and is very motivating. Oh, and the dress Lelia finds in this chapter is based off of Padme Amidala's nightgown from ROTS lol. I love that dress. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
AO3 | Masterlist
Nearly a week had passed, and the snowstorm still hadn’t let up.
Ghost scavenged for supplies everyday, clearing more and more of the village as he did. On the fifth day, he found a cottage that was in nearly perfect shape, with an actual working fireplace. He’d given into Lelia’s begging a few nights ago to try and light a fire in the current cottage they were holed up in, unable to stand seeing her shiver constantly, only to find that it had been sealed off. She had been devastated, but hadn’t complained. The only reason he knew she was still freezing was because she couldn’t keep her teeth from chattering all night. She’d tried to muffle the sound by pressing her face into the fur of the teddy bear he’d found for her the day after she’d told him about the one her ex-husband had thrown away—her face had sort of crumpled in on itself when he presented it to her, but she’d hugged him for hours without letting go, and snuggled with it every night since then, so he was sure she liked it—but it didn’t make much of a difference, not with his enhanced hearing.
But in this new cottage, there was even a clawfoot tub that his dove could take a hot bath in, if they warmed some buckets of water on the wood burning stove first. It was perfect, and he couldn’t wait to show her.
It was dark by the time he got back, though, so the move had to wait until morning. Like hell he’d risk her stumbling around outside in the dead of night. Lelia was none too pleased when he woke her up early to brave the cold, but she followed him regardless, muttering under her breath about ‘stupid zombies and their stupid ideas.’ He tried bloody hard not to laugh when he heard her, knowing it’d only piss her off more.
He failed.
Thankfully, it didn’t take too long to get to the new house, though they were both soaking wet by the time they got there, and Lelia was shaking like a leaf from the frigid temperatures. He gestured at the fireplace, silently letting Lelia know it worked. She grinned and rushed over after digging out the matchbook from their supplies and shedding her wet layers, setting about to light the fire, just like he’d taught her. He felt a flush of pride at the sight. His dove was a quick learner.
He stripped his own wet layers before joining her, watching her blow gently on the little flame to coax it higher. The firelight flickered across her delicate features, bathing them in a soft, orange glow.
Fucking hell, he would never get over how beautiful she was.
He grunted in approval when the flames in the hearth began to crackle loudly, and a pleased grin spread across her face. He knew she liked the praise. Made him wonder how she’d react to being lavished with compliments in bed.
Such a good girl for me, Dove, takin’ my cock so well. Look at you, you gorgeous little thing, gonna fuck all the thoughts outta that pretty head of yours, hmm?
Ghost didn’t need to breathe, but he sucked in a rattling breath anyway to clear his head. This was a hunger that he couldn’t satisfy with the flesh of some furry creature. He'd eaten just yesterday—but not before he’d banished himself from the house for a couple days. The blizzard had kept him from being able to hunt before Lelia started looking irresistibly delicious—in a less human way. She’d been loud about her displeasure of having to watch him sit on the stoop of the house like a stray dog, surrounded by snow drifts, white powder covering him in a blanket every morning when he came out of his nightly almost-meditation. But he hadn’t budged, and she hadn’t pushed—though she’d insisted on him joining her in bed last night, layers of blankets between them so she could cuddle up to him.
He hadn’t protested, of course—with a full belly, he’d get as close to Lelia as she let him. She didn’t always want him in the room while she slept, but he no longer took it personally, knowing what he did about her past. Just felt honored when she did pull him close and let sleep steal her away.
Like now, when she laid down on the floor in front of the fire, resting her head in his lap. He didn’t twitch, too well trained to let his surprise show. This was a new position for them. For once, he was glad his cock didn't work. Wouldn’t want to scare her if she woke up to it poking her cheek like an overeager mutt.
He kept his hands planted firmly on the plush rug beneath him—at least until Lelia huffed and grabbed the one closest to her, lacing their fingers together and placing their joined hands on her belly. Simon went very still, but his mind ran wild.
Lelia, no longer skin and bones with a concave stomach, but plump and healthy with a round belly, their child snuggled safely inside her, just below her heart.
Lelia, cradling their baby to her breast as it nursed, a soft, adoring smile on her face as she gazed down at the little bundle of joy in her arms.
Lelia, a toddler in her lap as Simon sat behind her, listening attentively as she taught both of them how to read.
Ghost closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the bittersweet images. He never hated that zombies couldn’t sleep more than he did then. If he could, then maybe he'd at least get to live that life in his dreams.
The days settled into a routine, now that he’d found a true place for his dove to nest in and wait out the winter. There was a hiccup when he tried to surprise her with a hot bath one morning, only for her to immediately start sobbing and screaming the second she saw the tub filled up with steaming water. It was worse than the episode with the leather jacket, worse than her panicked state after her nightmare. The terror on her face was closer to that of when he first found her—she’d looked like she thought she was going to die.
It had taken hours to calm her down, and though she hadn’t exactly told him why she’d been so afraid—for as much as his dove liked to talk, she was surprisingly good at keeping secrets—he didn’t need to be a genius to put two and two together. Her wariness of the stream all those weeks ago, her downright fear at the river, and her reaction to the bath… it painted a picture that had him tearing apart his next kill far more viciously than usual, imagining it was the people who hurt her.
Other than that, things were surprisingly calm. The snow storm abated only a couple days after they’d moved into the new cottage, and she could join him again on his daily hunts for supplies. With a more permanent base, he no longer had to say no to the less useful—”They’re not junk, Simon!”— things she wanted to keep. The house was soon filled with little animal figurines, make-up, even small, framed pictures of random people. Lelia liked to think up stories about them. They always ended happily, despite both of them knowing those people had probably died gruesome deaths.
But this… this was new.
A delighted squeal from the room across the hall caught his attention. They had been scavenging for around half the day already, but hadn’t yet turned up more than a single can of soup. Ghost was familiar enough with his dove’s excited noises to know that this one didn’t mean she’d found something useful like food or water, but another pretty thing to add to her rapidly growing collection. Rather than being annoyed, though, he kicked his arse into gear and hustled over to her, wanting to see the happy look on her face for himself.
Except at the threshold of the room, he was met by a shifty Lelia, her hands outstretched to stop him.
“Wait,” she said, as if he wasn’t reeling from embarrassment at being so predictable that she knew he’d come running. Bloody hell, the things she did to him. Had him acting like a school boy with a crush rather than a highly trained soldier. “I want it to be a surprise.”
Simon raised a brow beneath his mask, but backed up into the hallway. Lelia giggled before closing the door in his face. He could hear her moving around in the room, the rustle of fabric, and the soft clack of what sounded like beads.
A moment later, his dove opened the door. Backlit by the weak winter sun streaming in from the window, she was a vision as she stood there wearing a big smile and a dress that made his mouth water.
It wasn’t even all that revealing, but somehow, that just drove him crazier. Pale blue and silky, it left Lelia’s shoulders and collarbones bare, but everything below that was covered. At the center of the neckline sat a swirl of white, glowy metal, so delicate-looking Ghost was sure he’d break it with a single touch. Three strands of pearls were draped over the middle of her upper arms, like useless, sexy sleeves.
“Isn’t it just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?” Lelia asked, doing a little twirl for him. He swallowed a hungry growl, but he couldn’t help but reach out to run his fingers over the fabric at the small of her back. His dove jumped, but then went still, looking over her shoulder at him, loose auburn curls spilling tantalizingly over her bare skin as big brown doe eyes gazed at him hopefully. “Do you like it?”
Simon knew he should pull away. Instead, he flattened his palm against the base of her spine as he nodded, staring down at her intensely. He stepped closer, crossing the threshold, and his chest burned with arousal as he remembered the sounds of rustling fabric. She’d been naked just a moment ago, the only thing separating him from her was the thin wood of the door—and he hadn’t even known.
His hand slowly dragged up the length of her back, until it finally met bare skin. Lelia shivered from the chill of his skin, but he could see her nipples were stiff beneath the silk, and her sweet, musky scent filled the air. She liked this. She liked how he touched her. And he knew he could make her feel so fucking good…
“‘rrrreeetttyyyy…”
The mangled word came from deep in his chest, rumbling out in a low, gravelly voice. Lelia’s cheeks grew rosy and she bit her lip, trying and failing to hide a smile. Simon’s hand smoothed over her bare shoulder and down her arm to clumsily play with the delicate pearl sleeve. He could break it so easily—could tear the dress off of her in a second and throw her onto the bed, have her naked and vulnerable beneath him. She would be his to claim. His to devour.
With a grunt, he lowered his hand and stepped away, cock aching even though it didn't so much as twitch in his trousers. Christ, this was the worst fucking case of blue balls he’d ever had, and he couldn't even rub one out to make it better.
He was still half tempted to try.
Lelia’s face fell a little, but she quickly recovered, giving him a sheepish, slightly strained look. She said something about needing to focus on finding supplies, then shut the door in his face. The sounds of her getting undressed reached his ears, and he swiftly walked downstairs so he didn't try to take a peek.
Back at the house, Lelia wiped herself down with a clean rag, a bar of soap, and a bowl of water heated on the stove. There were several layers of towels piled below her on the toilet’s tiled floor, as she couldn’t bear to stand in the tub even if it was empty. She had to work quick, as the air was chilly even with the fireplace lit, as she didn’t want to catch a cold. Even a little case of the sniffles could spell her death in this new world.
Washing her hair was the worst part, and she always saved it for last incase it sent her into a panic. She took a deep breath, screwed her eyes shut, held her head over the sink—not the tub, never the tub—and dumped a second bowl of lukewarm water over it. She kept her lips clenched tightly together as the world went foggy, but when she finally let out a breath, unable to hold it any longer, she began to calm when water didn't suddenly rush into her mouth and fill her lungs.
With shaking hands, she worked a little bit of the rose-scented shampoo she’d found through her locks, careful to conserve as much as she could. Who was to say when they’d stumble upon another bottle? Especially one that made her hair all shiny and soft like this one did.
Lelia sighed and mentally prepared herself for the second rinse. Once it was done, she wrapped her wet hair up in a fluffy towel and dried her body off with another before changing into an oversized set of flannels she’d designated as her sleepwear after finding it a week ago. She was tired of sleeping in dirty clothing. She was tired of wearing dirty, ugly clothing in general—she’d picked up a few new shirts and even a new pair of jeans since she and Simon had truly settled into the village, but none of them were her style. Not until the dress today.
Lelia blushed at the memory. She’d been so excited to find such a stunning piece of clothing—but even more so to model it for Simon.
His reaction had taken her breath away. For some reason, the feeling of his bare, cold skin against her own had made her feel hot all over. And the way he’d looked at her…
It had been similar to the way he looked at her when he hadn’t eaten in too long—but not quite the same. There was something more human to it. She almost thought it might have been lust, but there was no cruel glint in his eyes. Lelia had learned that that always came hand in hand with a man’s desire.
The shameful part was that Lelia would have welcomed it. The aching emptiness inside her got worse everyday. She was anxious most of the time now, even more so than usual. Like she was just waiting for someone to stumble across her and take away her choice again. She thought perhaps that was the crux of it—she couldn’t truly bring herself to believe it would never happen again, and so her body was making her crave it. It was telling her to get it over with and have sex, so at least for once, it would be her choice.
None of that made her feel like any less of a whore, though.
Lelia sighed, moving over to the bedroom door and knocking on it to let Simon know she was done. He always hid himself away in there when she bathed, so she could keep the toilet door open and let in the heat from the fireplace. The first time she’d done it, he’d tried to wait outside, but she hadn’t let him. Just because he didn't feel the cold didn't mean he needed to get soaked through with snow.
A moment later, Simon stood in front of her, eyeing the towel on her head warily. She giggled a little. Simon had found out the hard way that her hair was wrapped up in it—she’d fallen asleep with it on, and he’d tried to pull it off to her, only to wake her up as she yelped in pain. He’d been horrified, but once the instinctual fear left her, she’d just found it funny.
She’d also enjoyed him cradling her in his arms and gently petting her hair for an hour straight, like he was trying to apologize to the very strands themselves.
Lelia took Simon’s hand and led him over to the couch, picking up her poetry book and sitting down on the soft cushions. Simon piled several blankets on top of her before joining her, throwing his arm over the backrest so she could curl up against his side.
She paged through the book before she found the poem she’d been looking for. Reading to Simon had become a part of their daily routine since that first time, and they’d gotten through the little book twice now, including the poems in Russian.
The only ones she hadn’t read to him were her own.
She paused, looking up at Simon. He tilted his head in a silent question. She raised a hand to tap her fingers nervously against her lips, but then spoke.
“Would you… would you want to hear a poem that I wrote?” She asked, voice whisper-quiet. “None of mine are very good, but at least it will be something new…”
Simon let out a grunt of agreement, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners and he leaned in closer to her, eager. Lelia blushed, turning back to the book and then flipping to a new page.
“This one is called Springtime,” she started, but then stopped, embarrassment already creeping up on her. She set the book down and pulled the towel off her head, tossing it on the floor and beginning to fiddle with her damp hair. “It’s stupid, I should just read one of the real poems, you don’t want to hear this drivel—”
Cold fingers gently gripped her chin, turning her to face Simon. Lelia’s heart skipped a beat and she looked up at him with wide eyes. He lightly shook her head, like he was trying to shake some sense into her, before letting go. He pointed at her, then at the book in her lap, and then her again. The message was clear. Read the damn poem.
Lelia had never heard Simon swear, but some of his frustrated growls sounded suspiciously close to curses, so she figured that he would if he could.
“It’s very short,” she continued trying to stall, but when Simon growled at her, she raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I’ll read.
“Into the abyss of love we dove,” Lelia recited, cheeks already bright red, “headfirst; there was no sun for you are my sun. My love, my vision of springtime.
“I told you it was bad,” Lelia muttered, refusing to look at Simon as she burned hotly with humiliation. She’d written it after watching a particularly sappy romance film, when her head was still full of dreams in which the man she married would cherish her rather than destroy her.
“No. Ss’ggoood,” Simon said. He was getting better at speaking—or maybe Lelia was just getting better at understanding him. “Lll— llliike iit.”
Lelia was quiet for a long moment, picking at her cuticles. Simon shifted next to her, placing a hand on top of hers to halt the anxious habit. She let out a deep breath, taking his hand in hers.
“Do you really think so?” She asked softly as she played with his fingers. They were still cold, but they weren’t nearly as stiff as they used to be. They were almost as quick as hers, nowadays.
“Mmmm,” Simon hummed, the sound throaty and a little off-putting. She knew that meant he was trying to soften the noise for her, and her lips tugged up into a small smile. Simon cupped the back of her head with his free hand, and guided it to rest against his chest as he pet her wet hair. Her breath caught in her throat, and he stilled, but she quickly snuggled into him, not wanting him to stop. “Ss’ggoood, Dddoove.”
“I’ve never shown anyone my poems before,” she admitted in a whisper, staring at where their joined hands rested in his lap. “You’re the first.”
Simon’s petting paused for a moment before starting up again, and Lelia realized that she’d surprised him. She huffed a laugh, wiping away an unwelcome tear. It was just that there was a reason no one had ever heard her poems—no one had ever cared enough about her to want to.
Lelia lifted her head, gazing into Simon’s cloudy eyes. The shadows from the flickering fire almost made it seem like there were swirls of onyx dancing in the white irises. Lelia couldn’t help but think that the color suited him.
“You’re the first person to make me truly happy, too” she confessed, voice soft. “I wish I had met you before—” before the world ended. Before you died. Before I was forced to marry Andrew and a part of me died, “Well. Before everything, I suppose.”
Simon stroked her damp hair, and she could see the skin around his eyes tighten and his jaw quiver, a sign that he wanted to say something but wasn’t able to with his limited words. She just smiled at him, reaching up to cup his cheek, absentmindedly using her flannel to wipe away a bit of drool.
“It’s alright,” she soothed him, before yawning and laying her head on his chest once more. She snuggled even closer to him, so she was half in his lap, the fire in the hearth keeping her warm despite Simon’s lack of body heat. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Simon grunted, frustrated, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into his lap fully. She let out a pleased sound, letting her eyes flutter shut. She was just on the cusp of sleep when he finally spoke, the words making her smile even as they escaped the grasp of her memory.
“Yyyouu are… eeerr’rryy… thhhiinnng… ttoo… ‘eee…”
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley fanfiction#ghost cod#call of duty#zombie ghost#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon ghost x oc#simon riley x oc#simon riley cod#simon riley call of duty#simon ghost riley fluff#simon ghost riley fic#simon ghost fluff#zombie ghost x oc#zombie simon riley#zombie ghost cod#zombie!ghost#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst#simon ghost riley angst#simon riley fanfic#simon riley fic#call of duty fic#call of duty fanfic#cod fanfic#cod fic#cod mw ghost#Dove
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
Kissy krueger 👉👈
a little breadcrumb for you all... i have some fic ideas for elden ring in my mind palace right now
thinking of nikto x krueger now,.. WHO SAID THAT!!
krueger is a sick, twisted man-- but who is he to deny kisses from his sweetheart?
he lets you cup his ravaged face under the cover of night. his eyes leer at you beneath his furrowed brow as you pepper kisses on the apples of his cheeks and the fat under his lips. he pouts like he does not enjoy your reverent touch (he begged for a kiss moments ago).
he is well-loved and knows it. he is nothing if not a man who likes to take. he loves it, loves the feeling of your lips pressing love into his weathered skin. even cruel men like him have their secret indulgences.
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
do we still like "Yes, General." chat?
#phillip graves#call of duty#cod mw2#call of duty fanfiction#Yes General - Fic#call of duty fanfic#cod fic#cod fanfic#phillip graves cod
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
In His Steady Hands
FT: Soap x Reader
Warnings: Chronic illness, emotional vulnerability, mentions of anxiety, descriptions of dystonia episodes (muscle spasms, physical struggle).
SUM: Soap’s unexpected visit disrupts your carefully constructed solitude, exposing the vulnerabilities you’ve worked so hard to hide. When an episode overtakes you, Soap’s unwavering support and kind words challenge your fears of being a burden, showing you the possibility of connection beyond your walls.
A/N: This one’s for the overthinkers out there 🤍. Remember: the right people will stay, even when you feel like a storm. 🌀✨
In His Steady Hands Masterlist
Part 6: Breaking Down Walls
It had been a number of weeks since you'd last heard from Soap, but that didn’t make his sudden appearance at your door any less jarring. There was no warning, no message, just a knock that broke the silence of your cramped apartment. You’d been trying to push him from your mind, but now here he was, standing in your doorway, his presence like a storm. You should’ve known this moment was coming, but it still felt like an intrusion—an explosion in the midst of the fragile peace you’d tried to carve out in the quiet of your isolation.
You were barely holding it together. Your mind had been consumed with the weight of college exams, the stress of work, and the exhausting task of keeping your walls high. You’d lost countless hours of sleep and it made your limbs feel like they were constantly filled with the static of an old TV. Every day felt like a battle, but the hardest part had been keeping yourself hidden, away from anyone who might see the cracks you tried so hard to keep sealed.
But Soap... Soap had never been good at staying away, had he? And now here he was, eyes soft with concern, standing in front of you like he had every right to be there. Your breath caught in your chest. You could feel a familiar pressure tightening around your ribs and strangling your spine, your body bracing for a confrontation you weren’t ready for.
"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, the words barely more than a whisper.
Soap's smile softened, but there was an unmistakable firmness in his gaze. “I’m here for you, whatever’s going on. We need to talk."
You felt your pulse quicken, the room closing in. You didn’t want this—not now, not when you were barely keeping yourself together. The storm inside you, the waves of emotion that you’d pushed down for so long, started to break. The fear, the self-doubt, the exhaustion—they were too much. And in a split second, you felt the telltale signs of your dystonia taking hold—the static turning to strangulation. You tried to breathe through it, to keep it at bay, but it was no use.
Your body betrayed you.
It always did.
Suddenly, you were seized with spasms, your muscles locking up, the tension in your limbs making it impossible to control your movements. The world tilted, everything slipping out of focus as the episode escalated. The room seemed to pulse with your heartbeat, every beat echoing like a hammer in your ears. You stumbled back, hand grasping for support, but it was as if the ground itself had become unsteady.
"No," you gasped, your body jerking, your vision swimming. You tried to steady yourself, but your muscles wouldn’t cooperate. This was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
You had always kept this hidden from him—the truth of what you lived with every day. The secret you carried, buried deep within yourself, was no longer something you could conceal. And now, Soap was witnessing all of it. You felt the fragile thread of connection you’d managed to build with him slipping away, your fear swelling into something suffocating.
But to your surprise, Soap didn’t step back. He didn’t pull away in confusion or disgust. His voice, calm and steady, cut through the chaos. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his hands steadying your shoulders, guiding you down gently onto the couch. His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of panic. “Just breathe with me, okay? I’m here.”
There was no judgment in his eyes—just concern, just a quiet determination to help. It should’ve been easier to pull away, to shut him out, but something in his presence grounded you. You wanted to hide, to escape, to push him away, but the warmth of his touch, the steadiness in his voice, made it impossible to retreat this time. You had always feared that showing this side of yourself would make him leave. But now, as your body shook and your breath came in ragged gasps, Soap didn’t leave. He stayed.
“Focus on me, alright? You’re okay,” he continued, his hands gentle as they rested on your trembling arms. He didn’t demand answers, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. He just stayed with you, unyielding, his presence a constant amidst the overwhelming swirl of your symptoms.
You didn’t know how long it took—minutes, hours, or maybe just a few moments—but gradually, the episode began to ebb. The spasms subsided, leaving you shaking, drained, and utterly exhausted. But somehow, you weren’t alone in the aftermath this time around. Soap was there, by your side, his hand steady on your arm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise.
You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to regain your breath, the tension in your chest had eased, if only slightly. There was still a lingering tremor in your limbs, but it was easier to bear with him by your side.
“I didn’t want you to see that,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you spoke. “I didn’t want you to—”
He cut you off gently, placing a finger to your lips. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t owe me anything.”
The aftermath of the episode left you shaken, vulnerable in a way you’d never allowed yourself to be before. Every nerve in your body felt raw and exposed, as if your own skin had turned against you. Your breath came in shallow bursts, but there was a sense of relief, too—relief that Soap hadn’t turned away like others in the past. He hadn’t recoiled in fear or disappointment. He was still here, quietly waiting, a steady presence in the storm that had threatened to drown you at a moment’s notice.
You couldn’t hide anymore. The walls that you had painstakingly built to protect yourself from the world, to shield others from the dark reality of your condition, crumbled in an instant. With your defenses in ruins, the flood of emotions you’d kept locked away for so long came rushing to the surface. Fear, shame, loneliness—they all surged forward, and there was no holding them back.
You could feel the tears welling up, threatening to break through the rubble of your walls, but you tried to hold them at bay. It was too much. Too much to admit. Too much to face.
“I—I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your own vulnerability. The words barely felt like your own, slipping out in a shaky rush, almost as if you were confessing a crime. “I’m scared that... that one day, it’s going to be too much for you. I’ll just... weigh you down. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be the reason you... leave.”
The silence that followed your confession was thick, but it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t the silence of rejection or disdain. No, it was the silence of someone listening. Really listening. Soap didn’t rush to speak, didn’t fill the space with empty reassurances or awkward words. Instead, he sat beside you, his presence as unwavering as it had been during your episode.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but it cut through the heaviness that surrounded you. “You’re not a burden,” he said simply, his words acting as a balm for your frayed nerves. “You’re a person. You’re not broken, not something to be fixed. You’re just... you.”
His words weren’t the grand gestures of someone trying to solve your problems. They were something far more grounding—simple, honest, and unyielding. He didn’t see your dystonia as a burden to bear; he saw it as a part of you, a part of the whole person you were. And that was something you hadn’t expected, didn’t dare to hope for in the slightest.
“I don’t see you as a burden,” he repeated, his hand gently reaching out to cover yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in a quiet reassurance. “You’re not too much. You never have been.”
And then, something shifted within you. You could feel the tightness in your chest loosening, the anxiety you’d carried for so long beginning to ebb away in the presence of his unwavering kindness. You weren’t sure if you were ready to fully let him in, but with every word, every gentle touch, you found yourself inching closer to trusting him.
“I’m scared of being too much,” you admitted again, quieter this time, but the weight of the words wasn’t so suffocating. “Scared that one day, you won’t be able to handle it. Because so far no one’s been able to... hell, not even me.” A slight bitterness was caught in your voice as the last part left your lips.
Soap’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something that could only be described as certainty. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I don’t care about your condition. I care about you—all of you. The good, the bad, and the messy parts. That’s what makes you who you are.”
His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe them. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You didn’t have to pretend. For all the fear you’d felt about being too much, about being seen as broken, Soap’s words showed you that there was another way to be seen.
Slowly, the last of your walls began to crack. The defenses you’d spent so long building began to crumble, piece by piece, letting in the light you’d kept so carefully at bay. You could feel trust creeping in, tentative at first, but slowly, it began to take root. It wasn’t an instant transformation, but it was a beginning—a quiet, fragile beginning.
Soap didn’t rush you. He didn’t push you to talk more than you were ready to. He just stayed, sitting beside you, his hand resting lightly on yours. There was no expectation, no hurry. Just presence.
And in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe before: maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought. Maybe, just maybe, you could trust him. And in turn, trust yourself to be seen.
Want to see what's up next? Click here!
#bt extra#call of duty#cod#fanfic#cod fic#gn reader#soap x you#soap#soap x reader#soap cod#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#dystonia#civilian au#in his steady hands
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey, Hi! Could I request some Soap x reader hcs please? :3
(Она такой милашка :D )
☆ Caught The Sergeant's Eye — Soap x GN Reader HCs ☆
Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed
──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Soap's no stranger to confidence. He'll easily motivate you through anything you're hesitant on. Feeling too bummed to finish a project? He's got you. Don't wanna get started on the day? He'll talk with you until you're ready. Worries weighing you down? Not for long!
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Definitely an early bird, and he'll try to get you out of bed with him whenever he's starting his morning routine. Even if you're stubborn to rouse, he insists on getting a head start to the day. He makes you your breakfast while waiting for you to join
ᯓᡣ𐭩 You were a little surprised to see he's much more of a cat person than a dog person, figuring his extroverted personality would be the perfect fit for a lab or some other energetic breed. But the first time he talked about adopting pets together, it was a stray cat that followed him home instead
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pretty used to learning through actions, and that applies to relationships too. He can be a bit overbearing at times, but he learns with you when too much is too much and accommodates your preferences
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Though he prefers to be out and about with dates, he's pretty flexible to whatever you prefer. Beneath his energy he's rather laid back, so changing plans never trips him up too much
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't have any problem speaking up for you if you need, but he'll just as quickly have your back when you take on a situation yourself. He won't step in if you don't want, but he does have a habit of being a little defensive when it comes to anyone being a prick to you. He doesn't want you to be stepped over, but he'll back off when told
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Absolutely loves holding you around the waist or resting his chin on your shoulder/head. He just feels so comfortable being able to lean on you, especially when you pet his back in return
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pretty big on gift giving. Not really anything huge or extravagant 24/7, moreso small and personal tokens of affection. He remembers your favorite movies, snacks, brands, anything that could make a good present, always accompanied with classics like flowers or candy
ᯓᡣ𐭩 His recklessness might be a point of conflict between you two a bit, depending on how it manifests. You've had to give him mild scoldings plenty of times, but he doesn't mind, especially when you fuss at him as you're patching it up. It's how he knows you're not too mad
ᯓᡣ𐭩 Flops directly on top of you whenever he's back from a mission or particularly tired. Even if he smells like utter mud, he thinks it's funny with how you now have to shift around him to give him a proper welcome back hug
#cod mw2#cod#cod fanfic#cod fic#cod fluff#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap x reader#cod mw2 soap#call of duty#call of duty soap#cod soap#soap x you#soap x y/n#cod soap x reader#call of duty soap x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#gn reader#x reader fanfiction#fandom x reader#x reader headcanons#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty x y/n#soap x reader headcanons#writing requests#headcanon request
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
ghost and cat chronicles part two!!
i literally feel so sigma!!!!! :3 pt 1
Johnny and Garrick found out about Cat, all hell was about to break loose. Ghost was snapped out of thought when he felt something start attacking the laces of his combat boots and sure enough Cat was right there, trying to catch the laces. “Oi, quit it.” He grumbled, trying to shake Cat off but unfortunately he failed. He gave up with an annoyed sigh as the cat chewed up his already beat up shoelaces.
The eye patch was still on, and Cat was surprisingly good at taking the antibiotics. “Piss off, woman.” He sighed, as Cat lost her interest in his boot and walked over to her water bowl for a quick drink. Ghost had woken up multiple times throughout the night to see Cat snuggled up in weird fucking places, under his mask, in his armpit and in between his legs. Cat let out a meow as she walked over to the door and hissed, and then Ghost heard a knock with familiar voices giggling and whispering away. Johnny and Kyle, bloody hell they were going to be annoying.
He got up and off his bed as he opened the door to see the two men standing there with a bag of shite from the pet store, at least he could save money. He felt something scurry past him and Cat was running to hide under his bed, the thing adored him but apparently hated everyone else.
“Come in, and shut up. I know what your here for.” He said, holding the door open for the sergeants as they walked in, Kyle crouched down to wave at Cat but she hissed and swatted her claws at him, scratching his hand as Ghost chuckled silently. “So LT, ye’ got a new lass?” Johnny asked, standing next to him as Kyle tried to ‘pspsps’ Cat out of her hiding spot.
“I’m not keeping her.” Ghost replied. “You can have her if you want.” He added and Johnny raised an eyebrow. He didn’t plan on keeping the cat, right? Because God forbid he fall in love with a stray, no matter how much they were alike.
“Johnny- look! She looks like Ghost, and meows like him too.” Kyle said with a chuckle as Cat glared at the man. Swatting her claws every time he got too close, Johnny laughed and laid next to Kyle as Cat looked at him and let out a signature grumpy meow.
#call of duty#cheeseatlantic#cod fluff#cod modern warfare#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#cat#patches#cod fic#simon riley#simon riley x you
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Simon.” You mumble against his muscular chest, face squished into the fabric of his shirt.
“Yes, love?”
“Is this attempted murder?”
“No, love.” He grumbles sleepily, his heavy weight only pressing further into where he has you pinned beneath him. “‘M just hugging’ ya…” his sentence ends in a yawn, covering up the sound of your groan in protest.
“Si, this hug feels like attempted murder.” You could attempt to wriggle out from underneath him, but that’s a lost cause and you know it.
Bending your knees, you slide your bare feet up the back of his calves.
“Fuck!” He shouts, finally fully waking up and rolling off you. He doesn’t go far though, landing next to you on the mattress and instantly pulling you into his embrace. “Fuckin’ toes are freezin’. You got any feeling left in those feet o’ yours?”
“None at all, actually. Glad you asked. You can massage them for me.”
“With pleasure. One o’ them happy endin’ massages, aye?”
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty fic#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost fanfic#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley fluff#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost#cod fic
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩
The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.
“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.
“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.
You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.
“I’m talking about this one.”
#cod x reader#gaz x reader#lepetitepatisserie#post#soap x reader#cod drabble#141 x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#simon riley#kyle garrick x reader#cod fluff#call of duty#cod x female reader#cod#cod fic#cod fanfic#John price x reader#thank you for 1k!#thank you for 2k!#1k#2k#thank you for 3k!#3k#thank you for 4k!#4k#5k#6k#ahhhh! thank you for 10k!
13K notes
·
View notes
Text
college!bf!könig × female!reader
warnings: +18, smut, risky sex!
college!boyfriend!könig fucking you in his room, not caring that his roommate is there. He wrapped his strong arms around you, making sure you didn't escape anywhere while one of his hands covered your mouth.
"shh, be quiet, honey." He murmurs in your ear with his hoarse voice. "You don't want him to realize what's going on here."
both of your eyes are locked on the other boy in the room, who has his back to you at his desk working on his essay, having no idea what's going on behind him. König had developed a taste for fucking you in places where both of you could be discovered, his bedroom being his favorite place.
könig's thick cock slowly entered and exited your pussy, hitting your most sensitive spot with each thrust and making you moan lightly. Your thighs were wet as were his balls, making a sticky sound every time he entered you. His roommate continued working, totally focused on his laptop despite both of you moaning.
"i'm sweating... Let me cool off." In one movement König removed the blanket that covered you both, leaving you completely exposed.
you tried to cover yourself but he held your wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed your leg. König increased the speed of his thrusts, fucking you as if you were the only ones in the room. Without a blanket over you, the sounds of your bodies colliding could be heard clearly as well as the moans that escaped your mouth. His cock moved in and out of you at a cruel, totally pleasurable pace that made you completely forget that anyone else was there with you.
it wasn't enough for your orgasm to come, followed by König's who grunted as he filled your insides with his hot semen. When you managed to calm down you looked at the roommate who was now wearing his headphones and playing music at full volume. he had definitely heard you. oops!
#konig call of duty#konig x reader#cod smut#cod x reader#konig smut#konig cod#cod#könig call of duty#könig cod#könig smut#könig x reader#könig#college!könig#bf!konig#bf!könig#cod fic#cod fanfic#call of duty smut
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
steamy shower sex with simon.
the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.
so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.
"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.
you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.
however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.
which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?
the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.
rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"
he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.
your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.
the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.
"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.
"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."
and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.
holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.
it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.
"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"
but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.
(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)
#cod mw2#cod au#cod fic#cod smut#cod x reader smut#ghost cod smut#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod mwii#cod#ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#call of duty smut#call of duty#sanriovin#smut
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
rolling over, half asleep, in the middle of the night and when you stretch your arm out you end up smacking ghost in the face, and you can’t help but fling yourself back with a loud gasp before realizing it’s just your man, who yet again, snuck inside and cozied up to you without stirring you (bc he hates waking up his baby) bc he was able to come home early and chose to surprise you. and after you relax and begin apologizing for hitting him you hear his low, growly chuckle as he sits up to pull you into his chest, kissing your forehead before mumbling into your sweet smelling hair “it’s all right lovie, di’n’t mean to scare you.”
#you fall asleep on his chest and stay in his arms all night#he kisses your head gently every so often as he holds you#AHHHHH :(((#*:・゚✧*:・゚ ewok writes#*:・゚✧*:・゚ ewok rambles#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x reader#fanfic#ghost x female reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cod imagine#cod fic#cod#call of duty
12K notes
·
View notes