#Kyle is drunk again what do you expect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-kokeshi · 9 months ago

Note

How would TF141+Konig,Nikolai react if their reader drunk and told them about how reader family used to sold reader at brotherel.

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about prostitution, mention of trauma, and foreshadowing on murdering.

A/N: Definitely took my time writing this, so I hope you enjoy it!

Captain “Price” John:

Whiplashes at you, nearly breaking his neck as he places his cold-glass down on the table.

“Sorry, what?”

He’s pissed. He cannot fathom why anyone could possibly do something so awful to his sweet darling, but he’s heartbroken, too. His heart shatters when you explain it, going into detail of what happened. And soon, John’s hands find themselves on yours within a heartbeat, thumbs grazing over your knuckles, and squeezes them occasionally.

If you blow it off, saying it’s no biggie, John gets angrier. It’s not fine, and his tone is firm, and large hands that’s on top of yours aren’t letting go. And soon, he softens — bringing you into his lap, kissing the crown of your head. Hands running up and down your back, whispering to you of how special you are.

And soon enough, later that night when you’re sleeping, his mind is wide-awake and angered. Wondering if your family is worthwhile to get a visit, teach ‘em a lesson or two.

From now on, John is so gentle with you; checking in with you first and won’t push you for anything. He even suggests therapy, or perhaps couple-therapy, to help you in some way. He wants you to know he’s here for you, as that’s all you have.

Your parents are nowhere to be seen. The news has reported them missing, and it’s weird that John had come home after an hour when their bodies had been found, right?

—

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Whiplashes so hard, his neck popped as he looked at you. The cheap beer that you and him were drinking is set down, the loud clanking making the silence even louder, and his brown-doe eyes are staring at you.

“You bein’ serious?”

Simon is fuming, absolutely seething with rage at how they used and hurt you. And he’s extremely tempted to find all of them and break every single bone in their miserable body. How on the earth could they hurt and betray you, you, the literal light in his life like that?

“Love, you can’t jus’ drop a bomb like that and expect me to be all natural with it,” His tone seethed. He tries to soften it, he really does, but his rage with what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through the built-in cracks. And it’s clearly showing his not-so pretty side.

But as soon as he sees your face, his heart re-breaks all over again. And within seconds, he pulls you into his arms, whispering sweet words of love and promises of safety; kissing every part he can reach until you tell him to stop.

If you haven’t already cut ties with your family, Simon immediately does it for you — anger shown and his tone sharp. He removes them from any way possible of how they could connect to you, even going as far to put a restraining order against them. But, if they decide to be snide, and try to take you back? Simon is more than happy to use his physical strength to scare them away.

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

He laughs uncomfortably, before he really thinks and chews on the words a little more. His eyebrows crease against each other, fingers tightening around the beer bottle, as he looks at you very concerned.

“Wait– what was that?”

Kyle watches you go on, rambling about it as if it’s not a big deal, and he’s in pure shock. He’s not sure if you’re putting a brave face on, or if it’s the alcohol, but either way, it’s making him mad. His hands are shaking, his heart thundering in his chest, mind going a mile a minute, trying to understand the concept, but he can’t seem to get past the anger part.

“Baby… when did this happen?” he generally questions, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as he looks for something in you. He’s worrying. Wonder what it’s done to you, someone he loves so deeply, and he can’t fathom the idea that something so horrific happened to you.

Within seconds, he apologizes. Brown eyes looking at yours, barely forming tears. He’s pulling you into a tight hug, holding you deeply, and finding a way to blame himself. If he’d known you sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. He could’ve protected you.

But, that doesn’t help the situation — so he focuses on you, helping you through things and ensuring you’ll be safe. Because you’ll always be with him.

Kyle tries to help you in every shape and form, making sure your boundaries are set and that he follows them knee-deep. And that, of course, your family doesn’t come near you. If they try to push through the cracks, he’s immediately acting viciously. And it’s not pretty.

—

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He chokes on his drink, coughing up a storm. Hitting him like a ton of bricks, and somehow, you look at him like he’s the one who said some type of sex joke at the wrong time.

“I– beg your pardon?”

He’s right in the same area with Ghost, furious in many aspects. His face shows it. His body language, and thick voice. When you’re describing the multiple incidents, it just makes him want to track down your family and rip them in two.

Comfort is immediately given, Johnny’s arms find yours within seconds, and you’re brought into a cuddle session — one where he kisses every part, and promises that you’ll never have to face them again. He looks at you, blue eyes just admiring you before kissing your cheek, “Nobody will hurt ya’ again, swear on my and ma’s life, sweets.”

And he goes with it. Days pass, and he’s still thinking about it. He sees you so strongly, and how you’re able to go about your day and act as if it’s normal; his heart beats faster at your sewn thoughts of even crying.

Without saying, Johnny despises your family. A bitter emotion that can be easily shown if you bring them up into a conversation. His hands crunch in remembrance of their scared face, and you won’t be seeing them anymore. You can’t.

—

König:

He just looks at you, seemingly going deeper into your soul. Which, of course, creeps you out. König watches you explain, with a flushed look, and he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek.

“Hase, what’d you say?”

He just keeps staring at you. And he doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, because he’s not — never in a million years, but it’s devastating to him. How could someone, a family that you’re supposed to trust, do that to you?

“König?” your voice brings him out of his deep thoughts, bloody thoughts, and he just looks at you before bringing you into his chest; a man, so large and beefy, has a voice so little and fragile, that you could barely hear it. He sighs, “Why did you hide it? I’d much rather you talk to me, okay?”

He’s obviously affected, but not as much as you are. He’s in a state of disbelief, and the fact you just blurted it out, whilst in a vulnerable state, makes him sick.

He’s unbelievably more clingy the next few days, ensuring you know your own worth and how strong you are. Everywhere you go, he’s touching you — smoothing the wrinkles in your clothes as his hands crawl underneath the fabric. Kissing you and nearly suffocating you with his weight.

As for your family, he ignores and diverts the questions of them into a different conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you, but with the things he’s done, König is certain you’d be smart to connect the dots.

—

Nikolai:

Not a single laugh, or fun look comes from Nikolai. He’s immediately concerned, the shot glass being put down as he really looks at you, biting his lip.

“Think that’s enough alcohol, Lyubimyy. Why don’t we head to bed, hm?”

He doesn’t necessarily react — but more so tries to make you sidetrack so you two can focus on something else. Until, the next morning, is where he re-brings it up and asks. He’s concerned, dark eyes showing sadness that’s covered by anger. But your feelings matter. They will always come first. And when he sees your reaction, Nikolai quickly understands, “We can talk whenever you’re ready, mkay lovey?”

Nikolai comforts you with the best of his abilities, ensuring that you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite, and you’re so strong. His hugs become deeper, kisses become longer and more intimate.

And the gifts he brings home, even to the grocery store, are enormous. His sly smile as he carries them in definitely takes your head off some things, no?

Your parents are immediately cut out of your life. Nikolai has secrets of his own, and once in a while, he has to take out the dirty trash, right? Before he leaves for the day, a mission needed for Laswell, he promises to be back before 5 PM; and he does, arriving all giddy and flirty. But his hands seem a bit too warm, a bit odd.

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rookiesbookies · 11 months ago

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Boys reacting to their s/o smacking their ass

Here’s the boys I write for (might add Horangi and Kruger to the roster)

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always

Please for the love of god leave me request, TELL ME WHAT YOU ALL WANT <3

Fic under the cut

Price

Whoever let his wife on base the day they were breaking in new recruit was so fucking dead. He bets it was Simon. Yeah, his wife always brought a home cooked meal for the team. Yeah, he always got smooches and got to feel her up at work. But he never expected this behavior from his sweet little wife when she knew how new recruit days were.

He bets it was Soap and Gaz, daring her to do it. They loved trying to get her in trouble, which is why he never allowed his kids to be watched by them. Lord knows how much trouble the two would encourage.

He heard it before he felt it. It echoed in the open field. Probably heard for miles.

She let out a squeak as he slowly turned to look at her, recruits had stopped the exercises they were doing and she bolted from the stand they were on watching.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that loud!” She squeaked, “Gaz and Soap told me to do it! They said you’d find it funny! That if I did it they wouldn’t beg me for baked goods ever again!”

As she jogged ahead to keep the distance between them as his long strides were closing the distance with ease.

“Simon has the kids, I should really go check on him! Your sons can be quite the handful! I think I hear him calling for me now, I should really go!” She squeaked out more, her jog quickly turning to a run as she took off through the base.

He quickly snatched her up.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to Kyle and Johnny.” John grumbled.

Soap

Stupid fucking booty shorts. Soap had found her stupid booty short in his laundry. He was now prancing around the shared apartment in them. They were so small on him she was surprised he could fit in them and knew he was in no way comfortable, he was however, a great actor. They were so short the bottoms of his spandex underwear were longer by like 2 inches.

“Johnny, take them off.”

“No,” he retorted proudly, “they were in my laundry so they’re mine now.”

That was the line she used to steal his undershirts so they could be used as nightgowns.

She grumbled, “fine,” before getting an idea.

He was making pancakes in the kitchen, breakfast for dinner Saturdays, as they both had started. His apron was even longer than the short, jeez. He continued shaking ass to whatever song was in his headphones as he hummed along to it.

“Target locked,” she mumbled to herself. Sneaking in.

The smack echoed. His ass was pulled so tight in them it basically slipped out to jiggle from the hit. He folded backwards in dramatics.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!” He cried as if he was radioing to his team. “Taking the enemy down with me, sir!”

She was laughing too hard to pay attention as his hand connected with her ass. The sweatpants muffled it but she fell to the ground too.

Ghost

She always pinched his ass. Especially if he was fresh from the gym. The first time had surprised him but after that he was pretty good at predicting it and catching her hand.

However, a full on smack at a pub celebrating with the boys? Oh that was new.

She was drunk, so he had expected something dumb from her. He was bound to do something dumb too. But he was going to wait until they got home and not when he was bent over the bar slightly to talk to the bartender over the loud music.

He thought he heard a record scratch as her hand connected with his butt. He turned around, throwing his card at Johnny. Letting him know to buy himself a drink and pay for their tab before pulling her out as she giggled.

He’d handle this at home.

But for now he planted a light pat pat on her butt and her eyes went wide.

“Haha sorry Simon, I’ve sobered up now! You can put me down!”

Konig

She had been hugging him from behind after his most recent return from a mission. He was stirring the soup she had started for herself, not expecting him to be home for another week or so.

“Meine Taube, can you go put my mask up.” He handed her his mask off his face, leaning down to give a peck on the lips, “I will give you the kiss you deserve when you return.”

She had pittered off down the hall a bit when she got an idea. Perhaps revenge for how he had surprised her when he got home.

She was listening to music loudly, swaying her hips and humming when he got home. It was dark out so she hadn’t noticed the car being his as it drove past, and she hadn’t noticed the sound of the front door unlocking either.

All she knew was a hand connected with her ass while another covered her mouth to muffle her scream, while she had been cooking. She was so scared it was an intruder.

So she began to seek out revenge. She slid on the hood and did her best quiet walk before getting behind Konig who thought she was back from putting up his mask.

SMACK.

It echoed down the hall as she bolted. His heavy steps followed with an all too large smirk on his face.

He found her hiding behind a giant laundry basket and pulled her out from behind it by her ankle. She clutched the mask to her chest with wide eyes, forgetting the size of her husband.

“There was this crazy noise, I think it was a gunshot! I had to duck for cover, I thought they had come for you!” She rambled as she pulled her down the hall by her ankle, her back to the floor and her shirt riding up. “I was so worried but that was a crazy noise! I wonder where it came from!”

“Uh-huh.”

Keegan

This man is 8 kinds of caked up. His girlfriend knows it and so does he. Its not like Gaz’s relationship where only the girlfriend does the ass smacking, in Keegan’s it goes both ways.

“Hey, lovey, can you reach the cinnamon for me?”

Little did this poor man know, this was a set up. The cinnamon never ends up that high up. So when he reached, a crack echoed through the apartment.

She fell over laughing so hard at the noise it made. She curled up laughing on the floor. She almost couldn’t breath as Keegan went over to the fridge and added a tally to her side of the mini white board.

“Damn, you’re three ahead of me this month! I'm impressed. You’re getting sneakier,” he said as she gasped she was laughing so hard. “Did you even need the cinnamon?”

She shook her head and he sighed.

“Ah hell. I gotta catch up now.”

It wasn’t until after dinner when he did, sneaking one in as she was washing plates. She almost dropped the one she had been scrubbing.

Gaz

Gaz wasn't one for grabbing or smacking people's behinds, but his girlfriend was a different story—she seemed to have made a sport out of it. Every time he bent over or even when he least expected it, she was there to strike.

Soap seemed to encourage this behavior.

It was a rare sight to see Simon giggle, but this was the only time it happened.

Even Price couldn't help but stifle a laugh every time Gaz looked shocked at his girlfriend's antics.

What Gaz never mentioned was that he didn't really mind it and had never asked her to stop. There was one time when she didn't do it, and he turned around looking genuinely concerned, asking if that was how she was breaking up with him. Feeling guilty, she had to continue the act because Gaz was in on it, though the others didn't know. They enjoyed making Simon laugh so much he had to bite his mask to muffle it.

When they were drunk, she and Soap even played a game to see if Gaz could figure out who did it. Sometimes, Gaz would turn around to see his girlfriend across the bar, completely confused.

The whole situation was a hilarious secret between them, with Gaz never letting on that he was actually into it. Gaz saw no reason to let the cat out of the bag. The amused glances and hidden smirks between him and his girlfriend were their little inside joke.

Remember to submit requests, check out the masterlist pinned on my account, and let me know what you want to see!

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sunny-ssunset · 3 months ago

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Honest south park dating headcanons🔥💯

dividers by pinterest

Masterlist!

♡Im writing so much bc i literally have nothing else to do so enjoy 🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

♡Anyways honest headcanons about how i think the main 4 would act in a relationship with you (all aged up) mostly gender neutral but there is like mentions of boobies :)

TW Mentions of s*x, dr*gs and v*mit

Stan

•Honestly you wouldnt have to put much effort in to get with him

•Mother fuckers desprate for love

•Hes actually a bit of a wreck once you date him

•Crying because he is scared you'll leave him

•You are defo a rebound

•To be fair he'd start to fall for you though

•And because of that he'd throw up all over you

•He'd break up with you if wendy said she missed him

•In his eyes theres always someone better

•And im sorry but he moves on fast

•If wendy breaks up with him again though

•Expect a drunk call at 3 am saying how much he misses you and how he fucked up and if you can get back together

•Its your choice if you get back with him though lmao

Kyle

•He is extremely awkward

•Kyle has high ass standards so when he sees someone that meets those standards he'll fall hard

•This man cannot talk to people he likes

•If he doesnt like you he is the rizziest rizzler ever

•And 0 rizz if he does lmao

•He'd start SWEATING

•He would be stumpted for words

•Then when you leave he'd blame someone else for 'fucking up his chance'

•If however you did start dating him (god knows how)

•He'll probably dump you over the smallest thing

•If you vape or smoke though its a big no no

•And like you would argue over the smallest thing

•He'd rant and rant and rant and rant about something cartman did that day

•Probably would put work or school before you

•He forgets your his s/o sometimes

•He'll treat you like a therapist

•However he is really fucking good in bed 😩😏

Cartman

•This man would always be looking out for no. 1

•Genuinely would not give a fuck about you until you show any value to him

•Kyle has a s/o? DAMN GUESS WHO ALSO HAS ONE NOW

•Always trying to prove he is better than everyone else (especially kyle)

•He listens to alpha male podcasts

•Andrew tate supporter

•To be honest despite him also being plus sized

•He wont date someone who is also plus sized

•Its because andrew tate said he can do better

•He is delusional and doesnt believe you when you say he is fat

•Its apparently just baby fat

•He would let you in on his schemes and let you tag along but would also throw you under the bus and say it was all your idea if he gets caught

•Manipulative as fuck

•Would get pissy if you said no to anything he asks you

•He'd leave you because "He can do better"

Kenny

•He fucking stinks

•Its either he'll stink of zaza or just plain stinkyness

•He like never showers even when he had the opportunity to

•He'll have a huge crush on you and you'll find out through other kids

•Cartman probably spread it around

•He'll always be staring at your boobs or ass

•Says word like "GYATT DAMN" "WHAT THE SIGMA"

•He doesnt have tiktok only youtube shorts

•Has a shitty cracked iphone 6 in rose gold with no case

•He'll be very loyal like he would never get with someone else

•However always staring at someone elses boobs or ass if not yours

•Will compare you to 'attractive celebrities'

•Hes done many many dr*gs

•Him and his mates probably made a list of all the hottest people in the school (god knows where you are on it)

•He has no rizz at all because hes extremely shy

•Probably only got with you bc of how big your gyatt was

•Hes always really h*rny

dividers by @k1ssyoursister

#kenny mccormick fluff #kenny mccormick south park #south park kenny mccormick #south park kenny #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle broflovski fluff #kyle broflovski smut #stan marsh fluff #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x y/n #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman headcanons #south park headcanons

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pricegouge · 4 months ago

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Well, exactly one person interacted but that's all I need. Behold:

141 and piss play 🤭

I already talked about Ghost and Soap here but let's expand on that.

We all know Soap is desperate for you in any way he can get you, but his heart would probably just completely stop if you asked him to pee on you. You may as well have asked him to tattoo his bite mark on your ass as far as he's concerned. He's not one for setting up scenes, exactly, but when you get home from work one night to find about eleven empty jugs of water and a empty fucking kiddie pool in the living room, it finally dawns on you that you might've fucked up.

Simon's kink is incidental until it isn't - when he starts to associate it with you cumming hard enough to make you see god. He's always on the hunt for it now, pressing on your belly until he can feel himself moving within you, until he's shuddering right along with you when you get overwhelmed, releasing hot and wet across his belly and thighs.

You were hesitant to tell Gaz about your interest in the kink until he confidently proclaimed one night that he was a try anything twice kinda guy. You'd both been drinking, and you're at that floaty stage where just saying to hell with it and asking him how he'd feel about fucking you til you pissed yourself, or perhaps pissing on you. You'd been expecting some negotiation, some hesitancy. You got none. Kyle was too drunk to fuck you properly, but all the alcohol in his system made him need to pee like a racehorse every three minutes and he was eager to please so he pulled your to the shower right then and there, putting you on your knees and making you close your mouth and eyes. No need to rush into it, he figured, not when he'd already told you he'd be willing to try it at least once more. It's hotter than you'd expected - hotter even than the water from the shower head. It stinks, obviously, but the thrill of it, the degradation, has you begging him to try it again. "No problem, luv," he says, stroking his cock almost absently, whiskey dick preventing him from even properly fucking you after debasing you like this. "Nearly finished a bottle of tequila all on my own tonight. Just give me a minute and I can mark those pretty tits."

It's easy enough to know John's a controlling man, another thing entirely to accept this side of him. He's clever about it though; has clearly dealt with pushback from previous partners. You don't even realize what he's doing when he starts mainlining you water each night ("You look dehydrated, love. Tough day at work?), the tricky bastard. And you find it odd when he starts asking if you need to stop and use the restroom whenever the two of you are out and about but it never occurs to you what he's really doing, because how could it? What normal person tries to control their partner's bladder? But that's exactly what he's doing. Took you long enough to figure it out, but by the time he's telling you to wait until the next commercial break, you've run out of convenient excuses for him. "Have to pee now, John," you gripe, but he just smirks, caught - not at all ashamed. He tries explaining it away as a desire to watch you squirm, but you know him better than that. If John Price wanted to make you squirm he would simply do it. No need for the delayed satisfaction of plying you full of liquids first. Still, you don't realize exactly what he's after until he nearly beats you over the head with it - stops your squirming with a firm palm pressed against the apex of your thighs at the next commercial break, exactly when he'd said. He's mean about it, pressing into your full bladder just as much as he coos at you about it all being okay, that he'll reward you real prettily if you just do as he says.

#rent lowering post #piss cw #141 x reader #💷🔪

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st-el-la-luna · 8 months ago

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I Was Kidding Part One: The Set-Up (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)

NSFW 18+

Gaz wakes up hungover with little memory of the night before. Luckily, you, his friend, are there to help him piece it together ➔ alcohol consumption, drunkeness, hangovers, jealousy, accidental confessions, making out, mentions of wet dreams

3.7k words

part one part two

Gaz lets out a low groan, his voice but a growl, the vestiges of sleep still lingering in his tone. He rolls over in his bed and pulls the warm sheets up to his chin, nuzzling deeper into his pillow. He feels comfortable. Safe.

A noise somewhere in the distance has him groaning again. He shifts his position, burrowing further into the bundle of plush blankets. He raises his hand to rub at his eyes without opening them, As he does, he feels something that confuses him. Soft yet ticklish. His brows furrow and he tries to bat the offending texture away. Something about it is familiar. But he has no idea why. He especially doesn’t know what it's doing in his bed.

His eyes are as heavy as lead as he blinks them open. Gaz hisses, eyes narrowed in a squinting, vengeful glare at the window. Like if he glared hard enough, it would shatter and break. Golden light streams in, bathing the room in a warm glow. He drops his head back against the pillow and slings an arm over his eyes.

He feels like his skull was being split in two.

"You're awake,"

Kyle nearly jumps from his skin at the sudden voice. He turns to the source and frowns, head cocked to the side in confusion. Is he seeing things? He has to be. There’s no way…

He blinks. He rubs his eyes. He blinks again.

Nope. Still there.

This is real.

He grumbles your name, brows furrowed in confusion, the tip of his nose scrunching up in his bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

“In my flat?” you ask, your eyes sparkling with that teasing light he’s come to love. “Gee, I wonder.”

“Your flat?” Gaz echoes, brows furrowing. He glances around the room.

The walls are the right colour, the same drab beige as pretty much every flat in London, somewhere between sandpaper and ash. The posters and pictures that decorated the walls are familiar. At least, he thinks. His vision is still blurry. The big tell that this isn’t his room is the window had curtains. Kyle hasn’t had curtains since he accidentally set his on fire in November. His eyesight clears slightly, and he notices other things that don't add up. A shelf full of books. The plants that clutter the windowsill. The desk, not piled up with empty cans and bottles, loose bullets and dull knives. He looks down to the source of the strange texture from earlier and pulls up a small plush. That weird Webkinz that he always thought was a platypus but was apparently something called a ‘Googles’. He lets it drop onto the mattress beside him.

He is, in fact, not in his own room. He blinks dumbly. “Oh.”

You smile softly, handing him some aspirin and a glass of water. He has barely taken the glass from your hand when you’ve fished a little container of MIO from your pocket. You add two drops to the cup and watch him expectantly.

For a moment all he can do is stare back, his heart fluttering in his chest.

That's one thing that he loves about you. The little things you do for people that could be so easily overlooked. But Gaz never overlooked them. In fact, to him, those small acts meant the world. They're what made him fall for you in the first place.

Sure, a lot of people know he isn’t fond of water. He finds it plain. But most would simply hand him a glass and expect him to deal with it. Even Soap, who has known him for so long, doesn’t go out of his way to accommodate Gaz's tastes.

Gaz takes a small sip, wetting his lips which he’s only now realizing are dry. Strawberry Watermelon. His favourite. He finds himself wondering if you bought it just for him.

He takes the pills all at once, downing the rest of the glass in one go. He wipes at his lips with his wrist, staring down at the cup with a dopey grin.

He feels his heart swell, and he opens his mouth to speak only to snap it shut immediately after. He was so close to slipping, so close to saying those three words that would ruin everything.

Three words. It's crazy how three little words could mean so much. Then again, Gaz doubts that all the languages in the world combined have enough words to describe how he feels about you.

You are everything to him.

More important than his job, his team, his family or even the air that he breathes. He would do anything you asked him to without hesitation. It’s almost concerning. He'd probably thinkso if he wasn't so infatuated with you. But he is infatuated with you, truly head over heels, which is why he can never let those three words slip.

Three words. Three words that he has whispered to himself over and over in the dead of night as images of what could be but never would flash before his eyes. A mirage of you lying next to him, nose to nose, giggling at one of his jokes that he knew wasn’t funny. The memory of your touch, the fantasy of your fingers touching places they’ve never touched before. As you smiled up at him through your lashes and he couldn’t help the confession. A breathless whisper.

As soon as it escaped him, the illusion would shatter, as it did every night.

Three words that could change everything. Three words that could take years of friendship and hopeless pining and flush them down the drain. Three simple, stupid, horrible, gut-churning, heart-stopping, life-ending, amazing words.

I love you.

"Do want me to close the drapes?" you ask, taking his low groan as a ‘yes’. you walk over to the large window and pull the heavy curtains shut, filling the room with shadows.

"Better?" you ask, sitting delicately at the foot of the bed.

He grunts, nodding his head, a frown tugging at his lips. "What... What happened last night?"

You smile softly. "How much do you remember?"

Gaz furrows his brows.

Last night? Gaz could remember the mission, the last before break. The Task Force had succeede of course, thanks in large part to him.

Gaz could remember ignoring the officers and personnel after the aircraft touched down on the tarmac. He could remember going through the motions of nodding and thanking and passively agreeing. He could remember when finally, finally, he was able to break away and rush to where you were waiting at the edge of the landing strip.

You were bounding up and down in excitement, hands clasped before your chest. you were shouting, but he couldn’t make out what, the roaring of jet engines successfully drowning your words out. you had shouldered your way through the crowd to access the tarmac, colliding with him in a warm hug. He’d picked you up of the ground, and swung you around, treasuring the moment.

“Way to go!” You'd told him, grinning so wide Gaz had worried it may have hurt. “You did so well!”

He remembered not wanting to let you go, to leave you. But he had to get out of his sweaty clothes. So, with hesitation, he pulled away, and, grabbing one last quick hug, ran off after the rest of the team.

Gaz could remember arriving at the bar with the Task Force to celebrate their win. He could remember when you had arrived with your friends from the Intelligence Department not even ten minutes later. He remembered the way you had looked in your dress. Just thinking back on the memory of it makes Gaz's knees weak, and his chest hurt from yearning. Heat floods his body, the tips of his ears flushing at the memory.

He blinks and swallows, trying to ignore the molten arousal that’s starting to build.

He could remember mingling with people, accepting congratulations and toasts with a smile, you at his side. He remembered the burning jealousy that coursed through his veins when Johnny fucking MacTavish arrived. When you left Gaz's side for Soap... Soap, of all people! Gaz could remember the way his hands had clenched into fists, knuckles white, nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood, as the Scottsman picked up your hand and pressed his lips against it in a playful greeting.

He remembered glaring at Soap from across the room as he laughed and flirted with you. He remembered the pang in his heart as he'd seen your blush, giggling softly as you placed a hand on Soap’s. He remembered the burning anger intensifying as, after noticing your shivering from the cold, Soap pulled off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders.

Gaz could barely stand the sight.

You looked great in it. Of course you did. you would look good in anything or nothing. He just couldn’t fathom that the jacket wasn’t his. Oh, how wonderful you'd look. For a moment he pictured it was his sweater you were wearing. The colour of it suited you perfectly, looking absolutely adorable with your hands curled at the end of the sleeves in little sweater paws.

The illusion had broken when you’d turned, and he saw Soap’s name where his should have been.

Gaz can remember downing the rest of his bottle and immediately going to get another. He had hoped to drown out the burning jealousy with the burning of whisky. One shot. Then two. Then three. Then he'd moved on to rum. Then vodka. Then tequila. Then... nothing. He was drawing a blank.

"How did I get here?" he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Well, after what must've been your twentieth round of drinks, you were really out of it," you begin to tell the story, the soft smile gracing your lips a stark contrast to the emotions that are swirling in your eyes. Confusion. Concern. Guilt. Did you think this was your fault? He hopes you don't think this is your fault. "You then proceeded to stumble your way over to Soap and me."

Gaz can’t help the low growl that rumbles from deep within his chest at the mere mention of Johnny’s name. Jealousy and rage course through his veins like lightning, something primal stirring within him. You shoot him a look but don't press.

“One second, he and I are dancing, the next you have him up against the wall, shouting until you’re breathless. You threw him down and started to, like, choke him out. By the time Price was able to separate you you’d chipped one of his teeth, busted his lip and his nose.”

"Okay," Gaz nods. He can vaguely remember that. Not his best moment. Soap would never let him forget it. “But how did I get here?"

"I'm getting there," you tell him with a roll of your eyes. "You were obviously wasted so I told you I’d be taking you home. You refused, told me that you were going to get your dick wet and that I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

Gaz buries his face in his hands. “God I’m sorry.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology, simply continuing with your tale. “You stumbled around the party for another half hour after that, downing whatever you could get your hands on. I tried a number of times to get you to leave but you kept telling me ‘the night is young, baby!’ Then you threw up on Ghost’s dog and the bartender cut you off... I tried to say goodbye to everyone before leaving with you, but anytime I got close to someone, you would snarl at them and try to start a fight,"

He grabs his head between his hands. He could remember that. God, how stupid had he been?

"So eventually, I gave up and told Kate to do it for me, and I started to take you home," you smile softly and reach out to run a hand over his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Gaz hates how well it works; he melts into your touch immediately. "But you denied it and said that the only way I could get you to leave would be if I took you home with me," You gesture around the room, "and so here we are,"

"Oh God, you... I'm so sorry," he says, regret pooling in his eyes as equal parts guilt and shame bubble up in his stomach.

"Don't worry about it," you wave him off. "Parties aren't really my scene anyways. You should really be apologizing to Ghost and Riley. They’re the real victims here."

"I didn't..." he trails off for a moment, unsure of how he wants to word his next question. "I didn't say or do anything stupid to you, did I?"

"Well, I guess there's one thing..." you hum, tapping your chin with your index finger.

His eyes widen in panic, and he’s overcome with dread. "What? What did I do?"

"You professed your undying love to me, and we preceded to have hot, carnal sex until the wee hours of the morning,"

Kyle, far too hungover and caught up in a mess of his own anxieties to notice your teasing tone nor the mischievous glint in your eyes, pales. "Oh my God... I'm so sorry... Believe me; this isn't how I wanted this to go. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out in such a way. I-I... I love you so much, and I... God, I'm so fucking stupid."

When he looks up to meet your gaze, he can tell you’re surprised by his admission. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth dropped open to form a small ‘o’.

His lip trembles. "W-what?"

"I was kidding," you say.

"Oh," Gaz mutters, his voice wavering. "So we didn't...?"

"No," you shake your head, answering the unspoken question. "You passed out the second we got through the door. I had to practically drag you into bed."

He swallows hard, unable to meet your gaze.

"So..." You started hesitantly. "You love me, huh?"

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

You nod in response, pursing your lips. "Alright."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," He says, his voice cracking with overwhelming emotions. "I wasn't going to tell you at all. I don't want to ruin our friendship..."

Gaz hiccupps, furiously rubbing away his tears with the back of his hand. "I just can't help it! I've tried to stop liking you, I've tried so hard! But you're so smart and kind. You're an amazing cook, and you're insanely fucking funny, it's unreal. Not to mention beautiful, God, you're so fucking beautiful it's not even fair! It's like every time I see you is the first time. Like the air is being torn from my lungs, and I'm being picked apart and put back together over and over again, and I love it. I love you so much, and I think I always have."

He lets out a noise that lies somewhere between a laugh and a sob, gripping his head so hard that you wince just seeing him do it. But he doesn’t feel it. He can’t even feel the ache in his head anymore. All he can feel is the sinking in his gut and the pain in his heart. "I know that you don't feel the same way, and I know that you hate me now. And I'm just... I'm sorry, I’m so sorry."

Gaz feels the bed shift as you move to sit beside him. He turns his head away and tries to shrink in on himself, to make himself as small as possible in the hopes that he might disappear completely.

You take his chin gently in your hand and turned his head so that you’re both facing each other. Gaz wishes that he could hide from the soft look in your eyes. He knows what’s coming. He hated this part.

Kyle feels like throwing up, and not because of his hangover. He can only wish that you will let him down gently. His heart wouldn’t be able to take much more than that. It’s already splintering, sending painful shards all throughout his chest. He doubts it would ever be whole again.

And yet, despite everything, Gaz finds himself melting into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut on instinct. You've always had this effect on him, and he knows that you always will.

"I don't hate you, Kyle" Your voice is gentle and calm.

He blinks up at you through his tears. "You don't?"

"No," you shake your head, offering him a soft smile. "In fact..."

You lean in close, tilting your head to the side. Gaz's heart stops working, and his breath catches in his throat.

He doesn’t even register that you’re kissing him until a moment later. When his lungs kick back in, and he can inhale again. He's always felt giddy when he was with you, but now he feels like he is flying. Gaz, overeager and sloppy, accidentally knocks the tip of his nose into yours, as he returns the kiss feverishly. His heart feels as if it is dropping down a bottomless pit. Like it’s sinking deeper and deeper while his head becomes lighter and lighter.

You kiss him passionately, your hands reaching out to touch and hold. Gaz's hands latch onto your waist as he pulls you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. His fingers tugg at the hem of your shirt, clawing desperately at anything he can reach with trembling, shaky hands. Your hands slide up his sides and neck, stopping a moment to cup his face as you deepen the kiss. Then your hands drift higher, and you dig your fingers into his dark hair, nails dragging across the scalp. Black curls tangled around your fingers, you give his hair a gentle tug and Gaz can't help the whimpering moan that escapes his lips. He pulls you in closer until your bodies are pressed so tightly together that you practically became one.

Gaz's head is a mess. So much so that he can’t keep track of where his hands are supposed to go, or how he is being kissed. So much has happened in so little time. He is completely overwhelmed in the best possible way.

He wants to burn this into his memory forever. The pressure of your soft lips against his, the warmth of your body as you press against him, the weight of you comfortable and perfect on him, the plush of your thighs on his lap. Gaz wants to be able to remember this forever, when he’s scared or alone in the dark of night. When he’s out on a mission, unsure if he’ll ever make it back home. Home to you. Whenever his depression gets so bad he couldn’t think of anything to live for. When the memories of the things he’s done and the things he’s seen become too much. This is something to live for. The only thing.

He prays to whatever spirit there may be out there that this won't be the last time he'll get to touch you like this. That he won’t open his eyes only to find out that it was another cruel, torturous dream. That you won’t pull away from him and laugh.

If this is the last time, if this is a dream, if this is some heinous joke, Gaz doesn't care. He can’t bring himself to. Not when you’re in his lap, lips slotted against his, breath hot and heavy against sweaty, kiss swollen lips. He is going to make the most of this.

He runs his tongue against your lips, and you oblige, parting them slowly. Gaz grins into the kiss as he let his tongue explore your mouth, intertwining it with your own, like he’s trying to tie your tongues together, as he tries to swallow his sounds. He savours the feeling and the taste of you, and he knows that nothing else will ever satisfy him again.

When you let out a moan against his lips, Gaz can’t help but to roll his hips in response. You let out a soft gasp that quickly turns into a groan as he deepens the kiss further. Noses bumping into each other. Teeth clashing. Hands grabbing at anything that they can reach.

Gaz is out of control in the best possible way. Holding you in his arms. Kissing you. Making your his. It is more intoxicating than any alcohol he's ever had in his life. And he’s had a lot.

When you pull back for air, your chest is heaving, and your cheeks are flushed.

Gaz chases after you desperately. He feels like he can’t breathe without you, like without your lips on his, he'll suffocate and die.

You give him a quick kiss, holding it for no more than a second before backing away once more.

He draws in an uneven breath and stares up at you through a daze of wonder and disbelief. Your lips are swollen and red. A string of saliva runs from your mouth to his own, connecting you in the most delicious way. The spit snaps, falling down to him and only then does he realize that his chin is slick with a mixture of your combined spit, dribbling down his neck and soaking into his shirt.

A shiver runs up his spine, sending shock waves through his entire body. He can’t remember ever feeling so good.

"So," Gaz swallows, a deep blush staining his cheeks, flushed with heat of arousal.

"I love you too, dummy," you laugh breathlessly before leaning in and capturing his lips once more.

Gaz grins into the kiss, gripping your waist as you pressed your hips harder against his. He flips you over, pining you beneath him. He pulls back for a moment to admire the sight. He dives back into the kiss with renewed passion, hands sliding down to grab at your ass, taking greedy handfuls of the fat as he moans into your mouth.

Who knew that a drunken night could have turned out so well?

please comment and reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist!

#cod #call of duty #cod mwii #x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz

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bnm-girl · 11 months ago

Text

gaz. Kyle? Gaz.

gaz has the biggest dick. mouth in bed. bartender!gaz x fem!reader

tw: name calling, rough sex, creep trying to approach reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

summary: While you came to the club to try and get over a guy, you cant help but notice a certain staff member looking over.

minors dni!

no bcz hdssfvhjkj this man has me in a chokehold rn.

The lights are dim and colorful in the club, and some song is blasting over the speakers. You nurse your fruity cocktail while looking over at the dance floor. You came here to get over your shitbag of a boyfriend, but it seems like it’s going to be more difficult than you thought. A glance around just shows drunk snobs. You look down at your drink, remembering the cute bartender that gave you your drink. Flashbacking to when he slid the drink down the bar like a pro, with a wink, getting a laugh from you.

Your thoughts are interrupted when some dude comes up to you, giving you a tap on the shoulder. You feel a slight moment of hope, hoping you would actuslly find someone at this god forsaken club. But when you turn around, you are met with the sight on a 50 year old drunk, who smells horrible and something dripping down his tank. You instantly scrunch your nose up at the sight (and smell). He grins with a rancid breath and asks “hey sweetcheeks, you wanna have some fun?” Grinning again as you reel away from him. “Sorry sir, i’m having enough as is.” You reply curtly. He stumbles right in front on your face and grabs your arm, “cmongirlll, you don look like your havinggfun, stopp being sucha bitch and letloose some” panick floods your system, not knowing what to do nor respond without escalating the situation.

“sir, would you like a shot? Iss on the house” he looks over at the drunken man, he quickly walks over to him. You look at his nametag, reading ‘Kyle’. The man downs the shot and stumbles off. Kyle walks over to you and says “you alright dear? My god, his breath stinks!”

You laugh, “yes, and thank you so much.. Kyle? for for that.”

He smiles, “just call me gaz. I think i did pretty good eh? To be honest, we usually don’t deal with this many assholes. Let me get you a drink, sorry about that. What would you like?”

You quickly reply, quickly realizing that you did find a guy at the club, just not who you expected. You respond “just giving out drinks to everyone today huh?” His face was all fun and smiles, but his eyes held another feeling.

“nope, only pretty ladies and drunk assholes” his eyes running down your body, but you could barely catch it.

“You flirting with me gaz?”

“Only if you wan’ me to, and you’re in luck, because my shift end just about now” looking at his watch. He leans over the bar, leaning into your ear “So, you flirting with me?” He murmurs, voice just above the blasting speakers.

“So what if i am?” You grin, standing up from your seat.

He walks around the bar so he’s right next to you. He leans down into your face, “is that a yes i’m hearing?”

“yes.”

With hearing your consent, he grabs you by the wrist and leads you to the car. Even when in such a rush, he opens the door. He hops in and starts to drive, hand on your thigh. He is definitely driving above the speed limit, but that’s the least of your worries. As you look around, you notice how nice his car is.

“Gaz, not to be mean, but you’ve got a really nice car for a bartender”

“well love, that might be because i own the club.”

You flush at the pet name, you can’t help but squirm from his hand thats a little too high on your leg. You just hope he doesn’t brush his hand along the wet spot in your panties. You try to play off your evident horniness by responding back, “so this is undercover boss now?”

“if you want it to be, never really tried roleplaying but never say no.”

You flush even more. He knew what you were talking about, but he thought it would be better to tease you. You look at the nice apartment complex he lives in. Wether it be from the alcohol, lust, or anticipation, going up to the apartment was a blur. The snap back to reality is the second the door clicks, his mouth is on yours, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. He nips at your lip, and Gaz is convinced he might bust a nut right then and there.

He pushes you against a wall and rasps, “jump” he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. He sit you down and His hands wander all over, he then grabs the zipper to your dress and pulls it down. He groans, noticing you aren’t wearing a bra. He sucks on your neck, purple and pink blossoming on your neck. He makes his way down to your cunt,

“holy shittt, this has gotta be the prettiest cunt ive ever seen. Such a whore huh? Barely touched you and you’re already soaked through your panties huh?” He grabs the elastic of your underwear and snaps it against your stomach, causing your hips to buck. “Desperate slut.” He thumbs your clit through your underwear, causing you to whine out. He pushes your panties to the side and licks a long stripe up your pussy. You moan out almost instantly, trying to find purchase in grabbing the sheets. He sucks in your clit as you gush around his tounge, he licks it all up with eagerness. He then gets his middle finger and starts to probe at your hole. He pushes his finger in and curls up into that spongy spot. You moan out, the Pleasure becoming overwhelming. “Gaz- im gonna - gonna uh-“

“Come for me darling”

With noises you’ve only ever heard in pornos, you have the most earth shattering orgasmm of your life.

Gaz continues to lick up your juices as he finally, although begrudgingly, pulled away. His mouth was completely soaked in you. His shiny chin and lips were a sight to behold. The look of his blown out eyes and wet face almost got you to come again.

he notices you starting and says “take a picture, it’ll last longer”

He starts to unbutton his vest and shirt, when you start helping him unbuckle his pants. You kissed down his happy trail and noticed the veins leading to his dick.

“such a slut for this cock huh?”

When you finally pull his dick out of his boxers, your mouth starts to water. Long, but more on the thick side, slightly pointing up with a slightly red tip. It has a thick mushroom head and veins running alone the underside. You notice a bead of precum of his tip and kiss it off. He groans with delight.

“answer me pretty girl” he grabs his cock and starts tapping it on the side of your cheeck

“Just put it in you dickwad” you snap, the desperation becoming almost too much

“if you insist” he grins, he aligns his dick with your cunt, getting ready to put it in, but instead of sliding in, he rubs the head of his cock along your pussy. You whine, “please gaz, i need your cock in me”

He grins at your begging, his ego inflating. “As much as i would love to put my dick in your slobbering pussy, this is punishment for calling me a dickwad. Karma sweetie”

he continues to do that for what seems like forever, back an forth. You are so wet just from this that your fluids were dripping down his leg. Finally, with no warning, he shoves his cock into your pussy. You moan out, feeling like the breath has been knocked out from your lungs. His fat mushroom tip slams into your cervix every single time. The feeling of his veins along your walls feels euphoric. You were sure that the neighbors were going to call a noise complaint after this.

He leans forward and holds your back so he can thrust into you further. You wrap your legs around him and claw at his back and neck to find relief from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

He starts blabbering, “fuckk love you feel divine, what this pussy was made for innit? Yer cunts gonna mould to my dick, squeezing so tight gonna pull my dick off, betcha live this eh? Such a good whore, my little pretty slut— fuck”

You moan out, senses going into overdrive when he grabs your legs and slings then over his shoulders. “Gaz, i feel funny, i uh uh uh i feel like im gonna pee” He brings his hand down and rubs circles around your clit. Your back arches as his free hand plays with your boobs. You finally come again, but this time you squirt. You spray your juices all on gaz and you’re moaning so loud you know for a fact the whole building can hear.

He looks down and groans, “fuck yer a squirter huh, such a perfect little cunt, making such a mess on me eh? Betcha wont find anither guy like me” he them grabs your legs and folds you in half, solely focused on his pleasure now.

he continues to thrust into you, but soon later, he groans out “where?”

“in me fuck gaz, put a baby in me please lord”

with a few more thrusts, he leans in, filling you to the hilt, and busts a load in you. He pulls out and watches as his seed drips out of you, he grabs two fingers and pushes in back in.

“cant have you wasting my cum, no? Might be the hottest thing ive every done or seen”

you wake up the next morning in clean sheets and clothes too big, you see a note on the counter that says,

###-###-#### stay for today? Let me take you out on a date :)

-gaz

(lmk if yall wanna taglist)

#cod smut #smut #mw2 smut #gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #cod gaz

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l0velylecter · 2 years ago

Note

HEYOO, CHEF!

I was wondering if you could do hcs with a f!reader (who’s part of task force 141) for the codmw2 guys where the reader is a very happy/sappy drunk and flat out confesses that she loves them? The whole “you’re so great, I love you so much” typa thing?

TY FOR THIS AND HOPE YOURE HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY, MWAH - 🍽

P.S: IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED WITH ALL YOUR CODMW2 CONTENT, ITS GOT ME KICKING MY FEET ABOUT WJDNWJDNS EATING IT ALL UP WITH A 5 STAR RATING <3

— the cod : mw ii men + drunken confessions! characters : simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘soap’ mactavish, alejandro vargas, captain john price, phillip graves, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, rodolfo parra fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : f!reader, headcanons, kind of lengthy, i hope it’s not ooc because i tried to set a humorous tone, fluff ! additional warnings : mentions of drinking, cursing rating : t for teen and up audiences , sfw!

01| He noticed that you were always formal with him, sometimes to the point where it came off as awkward. While Price never blames you for it, he does carry his suspicions on why you're always so jittery and nervous despite having known him for years. He just didn't expect the confession to spill out of your mouth after three pitches of beer.

" I can't take it anymore !" You cried, somewhat sobbing into your hands, cheeks bright and voice desperate, " Captain, I'm so fucking sorry for what I'm about to say after this, but I like you! Fuck it — I'm not even sorry."

You slammed a hand on the table, and Price tried to calm you down, looking around at the heads that turned to face your way.

" You just had to light that cigar and lean back with your arms crossed! As if you don't know how cool and handsome and kissable you look at the moment! And it's unfair because," You let out a shuddering breath, throwing your arms up in the air, "you'll never like me back !"

At that moment, he grabbed your right wrist to pull you close, his grip warm and steady: thumb skimming over your racing pulse. He smiled at you affectionately, eyes softening and voice raspy, " Never say never, kid."

The morning after, he's at your door with a cup of coffee for the hangover, fueling your embarrassment further by telling you he didn't want to kiss you because you won't remember it. With a fond smile, Price set the cup on the bedside table.

" Drink your coffee, Sargeant," He smirked: raising a half-lit cigar onto his lips, " Then we can talk."

02| Drinking with the team is always fun, but drinking alone with a certain Scottish Sargeant is bound to get you in trouble. You know how loud and cheerful you get when you're drunk: it's the first tell-tale sign of your self-control checking out of your body to book itself a vacation. Without a filter, you're always nervous that you'll accidentally reveal your true feelings to Soap. It would've stayed a secret if you didn't accidentally lose count of how much scotch you had into the night.

" I love this," You hiccuped, grabbing Soap's shoulder's with both hands, head flat against his chest, " I love being here — hik! I love drinking, I love not dying on missions, I love..."

" You okay, hen?" Soap called out, easing you back on your seat, hands still cradling your shoulders to keep you upright. And you only grinned, eyes on the brink of closing when you lifted a finger to boop his nose.

" ...you. I love you most, Johnny."

With that, your head tipped forward and crashed into his neck, lips brushing his pulse point, causing him to freeze. Once he realized you were fast asleep, he hoisted you up to carry you back to the car, paying for your drinks almost sheepishly ( because he's sure at least three other people heard your confession.)

Once the door was closed, he looked at you sprawled on the passenger seat, softly brushing an index finger against your cheek, " I love you too, silly."

You’re never touching scottish scotch ever again.

03| It's not a secret that despite his determination and never-ending input of opinions during recons, Gaz gets embarrassed very quickly. Outside the field, whenever you go to a bar or have dinners with the team, he's always keeping to himself: quietly sipping his drink and talking to only people within the group. Once, he had to excuse himself from the table when Soap spilled his drink onto the person next to them because he couldn't handle the second-hand embarrassment. It was an interesting quirk of his, and maybe that's why he's currently trying to hide from all the attention as you announce his name into the mic.

" This is for the very, very, very handsome gentleman sitting by table 14, Kyle — I love you ! So this song’s for you, baby !"

He was begging for Price to come to get you from the stage, but the captain ignored him ( it was a small bar in the remote of nowhere after all), chuckling to himself as he knew what was to come. Everyone told you that your crush on Gaz was anything but subtle. It has gotten to the point where Simon himself had to intervene, voicing his frustration — " Just bloody fucking confess to him already and spare everyone from the bullshit."

So you singing your heart out on the stage, somewhat off key and mixing up some of the lyrics, was partly because of the lieutenant. While Gaz is shrinking in his seat and chuckling at how unbelievable you were, everyone could tell he was enjoying himself, admiring how you even gathered a small crowd to sing with you. Gaz had to carry you back into the car, still giggling and whooping in his arms, " How's that for a confession?"

Gaz tried to look angry, but he couldn't hide the laugh that escaped his mouth, " It was good."

You nodded in satisfaction, " Ghost, you sing next !"

" Fuck off."

04| There was this sense of mutual respect between you and Ghost. A kind of ' you watch his back, and he watches yours' bond. While Simon believes that friends aren't part of the rulebook, you're probably the closest he'll ever get to a friend. Considering that you've known him the longest and that even if you were separated multiple times, you always end up being reassigned with each other. Not wanting to ruin the peaceful dynamic, you never got around to confessing what you felt to him. That was until you were caught under a heavy storm, stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rickety, old safehouse and bottle of tequila to shield you from the rain and cold.

You leaned your head against the wall to stare at the flames, Simon throwing in more wood while you've nearly drunk half of the bottle.

" Don't be a brat. Save some for me."

You gave him a side-eye, raising the glass his way, " You're always so mean to me, Simon."

He stilled, watching you suspiciously as if he couldn't tell if you were truly upset or just drunk, " Never take it to the heart, kid."

You pursed your lips together, the alcohol in your bloodstream causing you to smile, " Can I take you ?"

This time he stopped midway to pull his hand away from the fire. The silence urging you to repeat yourself, " Can I take you to the heart, then? I don't know if that even makes sense but...I'm drunk."

" I can see that."

" I'm drunk and...I love you. You don't have to love me back though, no pressure. I know...it's been hard for you. I just wanted to let it out. That's all."

Even when you're intoxicated, you still try your best to comfort him. Always putting him first, always so selfless, the observation made Simon's eyes drop almost sadly behind the mask. He moved to sit next to you, arm nearly grazing yours.

You both listened to the heap of flames crackle and pop, and a few minutes passed before he turned to you, " I...care about you too."

You let out a laugh, wiping the corners of your eyes to rest your head atop his shoulder, " That's good to know."

That was enough, you thought. You've waited before, and you can wait again. And Simon doesn't pull away.

05| You like to think that crushing on Alejandro is the modern-day equivalent of sending yourself to a death sentence. The colonel always seemed out of reach, untouchable, a faraway dream for you to admire but never live through. You grew frustrated by the day, knowing that the chances of your feelings ever being returned are lower than zero. He was too busy. Too devoted to the city. Too selfless to let himself have a relationship. To make things worse, following her re-appearance, rumors about him and Valeria have circulated the base, haunting you with the worst-case possibility of him being a man still hung up on his war criminal *ex-girlfriend.

You were drowning out your sorrows at a local bar, knowing best to distract yourself with drinks and good company. You were well aware of how chatty you can be when drunk, always the avid storyteller when the alcohol starts to settle. In a few minutes, you have a small group around you, sympathizing with your current predicament. You continued to gush about how much you loved your crush to your new-found friends without noticing that he was behind you the entire time, having come to pick you up after Rodolfo told him you were having a bad day.

" I bet he gets marriage proposals daily! Tias outside his door lined up to match him with their daughters. I can't fucking compete!"

Behind you, Alejandro snorted at the ridiculous statement, shyly scratching the back of his neck and debating where he should stop you or let you continue.

" Oh, life is so fucking painful," You wailed dramatically, earning a chorus of pity and encouragement. You sighed, placing a chin atop your hand, " But I love him. I just wished he feels the same."

" I think you should ask him."

You turned around, briefly wondering why the voice sounded familiar, “Really?"

Alejandro beamed down at you, eyes full of understanding, " Really."

By this point, the crowd had dispersed, busy on their own, parting like ships in the sea. Still too drunk to notice it was him, you scooted closer, " But what if he says no?"

Alejandro played along, dropping his voice to pretend to whisper a secret, " I'm sure he won't, cariño."

The morning after, training got delayed by half an hour because no one in your team could coax you out of your room. ( Price and Simon had to kick the door open. You got toilet duty for a year.)

06 | Rodolfo knew you turn boisterous and loud when you're drunk. He didn't also expect you to suffer from temporary memory loss. You were practically crushing him in your arms, hugging him with your cheek pressed against his.

" I need to tell you a secret, but you cannot tell anyone. Okay?"

Rodolfo nodded dumbly, curious to see where this goes. Nothing could have prepared him for your sudden confession. His neck turned red.

" I think I have a crush on Sargeant Rodolfo Parra. You know the cute second in command? I think I like him a lot. He's always so sweet and so kind to me. Do you know if he happens to have a girlfriend ?"

Realizing that despite the state of intoxication, you were serious with your feelings, Rodolfo decided to play along, " I-I don't think he does."

You gave him a triumphant smirk, patting him on the chest, " That's good intel, soldier."

Rodolfo let out a small laugh, patting your head gently.

" Remember, you're not to tell a single soul. Promise?"

" Promise. Your secret's safe with me, (name)."

" Wait, how do you know my name?"

07| Most days, you feel like choking Graves, but some days, you have to face the fact that you're in love with him. Like an irritating plant by the sidewalk, it's horrifying how quickly he's grown on you. And even after his betrayal, you still find yourself missing him. Not that you'll ever tell anyone.

Once HQ confirmed that he survived the attack and was on the run with his shadow company, you've constantly been checking the radar for his whereabouts, hoping you were discreet enough to lure any suspicion from your teammates. When it comes to Graves, there were a lot of unspoken words inside of you, thoughts and feelings you'll never get to express.

So you decided to drink them away. After your fifth shot, you stared blankly at the empty glasses; situated by the furthest corner of the otherwise lively bar.

" What's a girl like you doing all alone?"

At the voice, your eyes widened. Even drunk, you still recognize the owner. Hell — you could be run over by a tank and you'd still recognize his voice. You raised your head, and there he stood: all smug, and handsome, and alive. As insufferable as it was to see him gloat at you, you started sobbing, happy tears streaming down your face as you pulled him in.

" It's alright now, baby," He chuckled, patting your hair while you babbled incoherently against his shoulder about how much he made you worry. Your tears: staining the crisp, white button-down he wore.

"Did you miss me that much? If I had known, I would've sent you a postcard."

" Just s-shut up and kiss me."

" Yes ma'am."

a/n : order up ! i hope this lived up to your expectations anon <3 thank you for requesting, i had fun writing this, but i am sorry if it ends up being too lengthy for hcs, i tend to get carried away hahaha ! happy holidays and thank you for the sweet compliments 🙈 ( enjoy the meal hehe )

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nightfang22 · 2 years ago

Text

Get Angry

As a special treat for my friend @p34ch-tr33 who always pulls out my best work! Enjoy!

TW:Angst,smut insinuation,alcohol,18+

A tear runs down my cheek as I blow out the last candle on the cake. 20 candles nearly completely melted, wax mixed with icing, I sat alone in the dark as I waited for him. He should've been here 5 hours ago. Kenny promised this year would be different. He promised. I scroll through my Snapchat just looking at people's stories and watching dog videos. I clicked on Stan's story expecting to see cute photos of Sparky or videos with Wendy. What I saw broke my heart. Stan's story was filled with nothing but videos of a party at Kenny's house. I could see Wendy and Bebe taking shots and Cartman and Heidi making out. Butters was hitting on some poor drunk girl in the corner and Kyle was playing video games. Craig and Tweek were watching Jimmy break dance on a cardboard box in the middle of the room. I choked back a hard sob stuck in my throat but ultimately I failed. Then I remembered what my father told me when I was little: Don't cry, get mad. And when you get mad, get even. I picked myself up and brushed myself off, tossing the ruined cake in the garbage before fixing my makeup. I grabbed my keys and sped off in my car to Kenny's house.

Ever since Kenny's dad got that oil rig job and is never home anymore, Kenny hasn't really been Kenny. We used to celebrate each other's birthdays together all the time when we were kids but he's missed the last couple of years. He always made it up to me in the end but this time he completely forgot and didn't invite me to his party! I'll show him. I pull into Kenny's driveway and get out of my car. I knock on the door but there's no answer. 'Maybe the music is too loud for them to hear anything else?' So I knock again but louder. Stan opens the door looking back over his shoulder laughing at something before turning his head to face me. His eyes widen in shock. "(Y/N), what are you doing here?" He has a glass in his hand that has a golden brown liquid in it. I relieve him of his glass and down it. 'Hm, Kenny's dad's Scotch from the fancy liquor cabinet.' "I just came to say hi to Kenny and to remind him of the date. You know, since he didn't invite me to his little shindig." I said through gritted teeth. Stan is just staring at me dumbfounded before saying, "What? Kenny told us you couldn't make it cause you were sick. Everyone was asking about you." I smile softly and hug him. That makes me feel a teensy bit better. "Thank you, Stan. Where's Kenny?" I ask, my voice now calm and soft. Stan steps aside to let me in and points over to his dad's recliner where Kenny is sat watching Kyle play Nintendo. I give Stan back the empty glass and march over to Kenny. I stand in front of him, blocking his view of Kyle's game. I see his eyes widen for but a moment before I kick him square in the junk. "KENNY MCCORMICK, YOU ARE THE WORST FRIEND AND BIGGEST ASSHOLE I'VE EVER MET AND THAT SAYS SOMETHING CONSIDERING WE'VE KNOWN CARTMAN OUR WHOLE GODDAMN LIVES!" I scream at him in front of everyone. He's not wearing his parka so I have a full view of his face and just how red his cheeks are from embarrassment. The music suddenly stops and the whole room falls silent as everyone has their eyes on us. "NOT ONLY DO YOU THROW A PARTY AND TELL EVERYONE I'M SICK BUT YOU FORGET MY GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY FOR THE THIRD YEAR IN A MOTHERFUCKING ROW, YOU PIECE OF ABSOLUTE DOGSHIT! I HOPE YOU GET TOSSED ONTO A PIKE YOU SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU GUYS BUT I THINK THAT KENNY KABOBS SOUND PRETTY GODDAMN GOOD RIGHT ABOUT NOW!" And I kick him square in the junk one more time. Just for good measure, of course. "Okay everyone, let the party continue! It is my birthday, after all!" I slit my eyes in Kenny's direction when I say the word 'birthday'.

The music starts up again and everyone goes back to partying like nothing even happened. I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a heavy drink when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I roll my eyes sighing. Spinning around, I say "Kenny, I'm not sorry for kicking you in the balls and I'm especially not sorry for crashing your party, either." But when I spin around I am not met with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. I am met with messy black hair peeking out of a cute blue hat. "I'm not sorry you did either of those things, too. He really deserved it." It's Craig. I look up at his rather tall frame. Craig has towered over me since we were little. "Oh, sorry. I thought you were Kenny." He fakes being wounded in the chest. "Ouch, (Y/N). That bad, huh?" I could only laugh at his cheesy joke and brush his arm as I reply, "Nah, you're way cuter." His cheeks turn bright pink and that's when I notice Kenny watching out of the corner of my eye. I wrap my arms around Craig's neck and pull him in. We start to makeout and he has me pressed up against the wall. I break away only to pull him up the staircase to Kenny's bedroom. I open the door as Craig takes off his shirt. I turn to him as he pins me to the door, shutting it. He pulls my shirt off and unclasps my bra. He moves me to the bed and takes his hat off, placing it gently atop my head. Removing my skirt and undergarments, Craig kisses his way up my legs before he has me pinned beneath him. I never thought that my first time would be like this. As a revenge tactic with someone I didn't love. Especially not with Craig Tucker. He's leaning down to kiss me again when the door slams wide open. Kenny bursts through the door and pulls Craig off of me by the back of his head, slamming him into the wall. I jump up to my elbows. It appears that Craig is rendered unconscious. He's still breathing at least. I can see his chest moving rhythmically. I stare at Kenny as his head turns to me, his breathing hot and heavy. I can see why. He has a raging boner in his jeans. He pulls off his shirt and crawls on top of me. We make very intense and intimate eye contact for a few silent moments. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have forgotten." I clear my throat. "Or lied to everyone about you being sick. Can you please forgive me?" Kenny gives me his best puppy eyes, the ones that always got me to do whatever he wanted when we were little and even still to this day. "Okay, fine. I'll forgive you." He smiled at me softly kissing me on the lips. "You weren't really about to give away what's mine to Craig, right?" I shake my head while giggling. He chuckles. "Good. Now let me give you your birthday gift." He strips his bottoms and I flip him over. "Let me." I whisper. I get real close to his face before I whisper, "Nice try, asshole." I sit back up and slap him across the face. "You could never have me no matter how bad you want me, McCormick." I spit in his face as I got up, Craig's hat still atop my head. I saunter over to the door taking a final turn to look at Kenny. "You'd just die on me anyways, you fucking flip phone." Those were the last words I ever spoke to Kenny McCormick as I left him laying there confused and sexually frustrated with his cock out in a room with an unconscious Craig.

Word Count:1,358

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silentglassbreak · 10 months ago

Text

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Here's the 3rd part. Hoping to also get this one up quick. This story is really coming together in my head. Also, I know I promised smut, and so far have not delivered. That is coming, pinkly promise. We've got to get the foundation man!

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 3 - The Grey

Sleep was a wild idea, given everything I had learned last night. I couldn't seem to quit scrolling through Google, YouTube, listening. I felt as though I was educating myself. Learning, in some way, what I was getting into. I wanted to see what I could learn about him, but he was an overall private human, even for a musician.

I did learn he is a Scorpio, born on Halloween. Originally from Virginia. The names of his bandmates. He had quite a few wonderful songs that I had added to my iTunes quickly after hearing them. So far, my favorite was Limits, which was saying a lot, given Just Pretend was still so incredible.

Throughout all of my 'research', the most important fact I learned was that Noah was very good at hiding his alcoholism. I expected to see articles, tweets, or even a TikTok about some scandal. An arrest? A fight? A drunken performance? I found nothing.

I suspect Noah is what I consider a silent drunk. Someone who doesn't drink for fun, but for release. For something to escape to. This had to be true, because I found zero evidence of his addiction on social media or in the depths of Google. I even shamelessly searched 'Noah Sebastian alcoholic' and came up with some very strange fanfiction. Interesting thought...

This almost worried me more. This meant I was going into this blind. The rockstar lifestyle was something not only musicians lived. So how did he manage to do it so quietly? Was his publicist just that good? Did he even have one?

Despite my determination, sleep finally took hold about 4AM, me waking up at noon with the videos of their music still playing on YouTube. I slammed my laptop closed and wiped the drool from my lips.

I needed caffeine.

I slipped into my house slippers, and sauntered to the kitchen, Angel following behind. I heard his quiet whine, and quickly paced to the back door to let him out before he had an accident.

Once I had slurped down half of my energy drink and let Angel back in, I snatched my phone from my bedside table. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I checked through my notifications.

Given it was my day off, I wasn't surprised to see a text from Sam asking if I wanted to come in and help him with his case files. I didn't even open it. That should answer that question.

I opened my messages to reach out to Laura. Her and I needed to speak immediately.

Before I could open her thread, I noticed a message from Noah, which made my throat dry.

Noah: Hollywood Palladium. Doors open at 6PM, but you should get there about 5 to get into your suite. I'll text you once I get offstage and we can figure out how you'll smuggle me out. We go on before Motionless in White.

Noah: Thank you again, Leena. I know this is a pain for you.

This guy isn't actually real. He is sweet as honey. Smooth as butter. And wakes up at 6:30AM, apparently? Who the fuck is this guy?

Me: I'll be there. I haven't told Laura yet. Pray for me.

His response came quickly.

Noah: Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name...

I only responded with laughing emojis and flipped to Laura's thread.

Me: Can you talk?

This was our code. She was working and if she was busy, she would respond. If she wasn't, she'd call.

My phone vibrated in my hand immediately.

"Hey." My voice was a fucking mess. I realized I hadn't used it at all yet.

"What the fuck is up, Kyle? You getting sick?" I cleared my throat and sighed.

"No. Just woke up."

"Late night? You doing okay?" I could hear the concern. 3 years sober, didn't mean it wasn't still something to keep an eye on.

"Yeah babe, I'm good. I need to fucking talk to you, though."

"Sure, what's going on?"

I sighed, not even knowing how to begin. I couldn't exactly tell her the lead singer of one of her favorite bands was a newly recovering alcoholic. Not without permission.

"I uh..." My brain drew a blank. "have not thought this through."

The other end was silent.

"You sure you're okay?"

I sighed hard. "I met Noah Sebastian."

Now there was dead silence on the phone.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I've lost my mind. Can you repeat that?" Her voice was deadly.

"You heard me."

"Noah Sebastian? From Bad Omens?!" I could hear her voice raising some octaves.

"Yeah a few days ago."

"Fucking where?!" I had to hold the phone at a distance from my ear.

"At...my work." My brain worked overtime to work out this lie.

"I call bullshit." She is too good at seeing through me.

"Laura, would you fucking listen?"

"Noah Sebastian did not walk into a fucking mortgage office and just happen to meet my best friend, the loan officer. Bullshit."

"Laura, listen!"

"Fuck! Fine! What?!" I could feel her irritation.

"I have tickets to their show tonight. In their VIP booth."

"Did you help him buy a house or some shit?!" That actually wasn't bad.

"Possibly. Still up in the air."

"You're such a fucking liar."

"Do you want to go or not? We'll be seeing him after."

I could feel her jaw drop to the floor. "We're going to meet the band?"

"No, not the band. I don't think. Just Noah."

"Just Noah? Christ Mileena, did you fuck him or something?!"

"Absolutely not! Laura what the hell?!"

"What?? You don't even listen to Bad Omens." I scoffed at that.

"I fucking do now."

After a solid hour of interrogatories from Laura, planning on getting to the event (I would drive, obviously) and what we would wear, we finally hung up.

I had about three and a half hours before I had to leave to pick her up. I had enough time for a walk with Angel, lunch, and to get ready.

When Angel and I set out on the sidewalk, and I had set up my AirPods (3 guesses who I was listening to), my phone chimed with a text. I groaned. Didn't we get through enough details?

When I saw the text though, I was surprised to see Noah's name.

Noah: Hey, weird request, but could I call you for like ten minutes?

I was puzzled, but typed a quick affirmative response.

My phone rang a few moments later.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm sorry." His immediate apology confused me.

"Sorry for what?" I could hear him chuckle, his voice slightly hushed.

"Calling. I know it's weird." I half-smiled. There was a level of innocence to Noah that made me feel better about this entire situation.

"Noah, I'm your sponsor. You're allowed to call me any time, day or night."

"But what if I call you at 3AM cause I'm craving sugar?"

I shook my head, weaving down the sidewalk with Angel heeling nicely at my left.

"Then we go get ice cream?"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "No way. You don't mean that."

I proudly responded. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He only snorted in response. I did wonder why he needed to call.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm, yeah. We're at the venue. Did sound check a while ago. The guys cracked open some beers. I told them I was going to take a quick walk to get some air. I feel like they might know something." His concern was thick in his words.

"Ah, okay. Well, super proud of you for walking away. That's amazing on it's own."

"Yeah?" He sounded unsure.

"Oh, one hundred percent."

"Thanks Leena." He sighed. His voice then came out a little smoother. "Did you talk to Laura?"

"I did."

"And how did that go?"

I smirked. "Well, she doesn't believe that I met you at work, so now she's got horrific ideas of how I met you, but she's in."

This made him laugh. "Horrific like how?!"

"I won't repeat it. But either way, she doesn't know how we actually know each other. I'm struggling to figure out how I'm going to explain us giving you a ride home?"

He was quiet, my guess was thinking. "How well do you know her?"

"Better than anyone, why?"

"You trust her?"

"With my life."

"Tell her. It's easier that way. Just maybe ask we don't all chat about it?" This took me back. As private as he is, and he doesn't even know me that well? Why trust me, or someone I trust, with this secret? His reputation is somewhat on the line.

"You sure?"

"Should I not be?"

I sighed. "I wouldn't risk your good name Noah. I promise."

"Thanks Leena." I heard muffled voices in the background. "Hey, I've got to go. See you later?"

I agreed, and we disconnected the call.

The ride to the venue was mostly quiet, aside from the soft music on the radio playing.

"So...anything else I should know before we walk in there? Ronnie Radke isn't going to be hanging with us too, is he?"

I chuckled at this.

"Listen babe, I've got to tell you something."

She lifted her eyebrow in a knowing look. "Knew you were lying."

I shrugged. "Look, I'm going to tell you this, but this is covert level secrecy. No one can know. Or Noah is fucked. So promise me? Not even your husband gets to know?"

Her look turned more serious.

"Of course babe. Anything."

"I'm Noah's sponsor." Her jaw dropped open, almost unnaturally so.

"He's in AA too?" I nodded.

"He just started. And he needed a sponsor. I offered. He needed help getting through this show and the after party. So he's going to pretend to be sick after, meet us backstage, and we're going to smuggle him out and drive him home."

I could see the wheels in her head turning. She believed me now. She knew I never lied about AA.

"Oh my God, babe." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I pried too hard. Jesus, I feel like an asshole."

I waved her off. "Don't, my love. He gave me permission to tell you." She nodded at that, sitting back in her seat.

After a beat, she giggled to herself. "You sure are the luckiest sponsor ever." That made me laugh. I wasn't so sure yet.

The show was electric. The man on stage, singing, was a different person entirely. If it weren't for the fact that he made direct eye contact with me several times throughout the night, I would've never believed him to be the same shy, unsure, uncomfortable man he was in group. On stage, he was confident, he was in control, he was the leader, and the crowd, his flock. It was insane to watch, and I would be lying if I hadn't said I felt absolutely mystified at points. I teared up when they played Just Pretend, vehemently singing along. This was not lost on him, and I caught the smirk he got when he saw my glassy-eyed singing. No different than any other fan. That's okay, that's who I was for now.

We were to not be seen or noticed. We were shadows waiting to seamlessly remove him.

Once the set ended, and everyone waited for Motionless in White to come out, moving in and out of their seats toward the bars and bathrooms, Laura and I followed the security guard who had been told to allow us backstage.

I checked my phone a few times, but still had not heard from him. As we made our way to the meet and greet area, we saw the giant line of fans waiting for their band to show up. We slyly waited against a wall behind the line. We blended in.

"Have you heard from him?" I checked my phone again with no results.

"No, but I would bet he has to do meet and greet first. I don't strike him as the type to disappoint fans."

She nodded in agreement, so we waited.

After about twenty minutes, we heard screaming, and looked over to see them come out, waving at everyone waiting in line. I saw his eyes searching. Was he looking for us?

Pulling out my phone, I shot a quick message.

Me: By the trash cans.

He was talking to a girl with his face on her shirt when he slipped his phone from his pocket and his eyes immediately scanned and found mine. The smallest hint of a smile lifted his lips. I saw him turn his back for a moment, and turning back to sign autographs

Noah: Thought I lost you. M&G will be over in 45min. Meet me in the parking lot?

I sent a thumbs up, instructed Laura of our plans, and we began our trek to the car. Once in the car, I sent a quick location pin to him so he could find us. I got a response a few minutes later.

Noah: Just look for the ancient Tahoe. Roger that.

I rolled my eyes, and despite Laura watching her concert videos, she noticed.

"What?" I showed her my phone, and she smiled.

"Well, he's funny, huh?" I nodded.

"An absolute dork." She bit her lip, turning in my seat.

"Leena?" I looked up at her from my phone screen, looking at my own videos.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like him?" I paid little attention to the question.

"Oh sure, he's a nice guy." She put her hand on my shoulder, making me give her my full attention.

"No, Mileena," she pushed my phone down. "do you like him?"

This made me scoff. "Laura, I barely know him!"

"What's to know? He's a singer in a near famous band. He's got the voice of an angel. He's adorable." This made me roll my eyes again.

"I'm his sponsor." She threw her hands up.

"Is it illegal?" I shook my head.

"No, but it's awful and would make me a terrible human. And I work very hard to be a good human."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't believe that, but okay. I respect it." I smiled at her.

"Thank you Laura."

"But I still think you like him."

I was silent in response, not amused by her pushing.

“He has a girlfriend anyway, Laura.”

I watched her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “He does?!”

“Yeah, he told me yesterday.” I could see the disbelief on her face.

“I’ve never heard that. What’s her name?” I sighed, thinking back to our conversation the day before.

“He…didn’t say? Just mentioned he had one, and she didn’t know about AA yet.”

Her lips pursed. “Not buying it.”

This made my eyes widen.

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend but doesn’t even tell you her name? And doesn’t tell her he’s made a life changing decision to get well? I’m not buying.”

I rolled my eyes. “Christ, Laura, you’ve got trust issues.”

She pointed at me. “Facts. But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t believe it.” She sat back in her seat.

“I’ll just ask him when he gets here, no worries.”

This caused a flood of panic through me. “Please don’t! He’s not the type to talk about personal stuff. He’s actually pretty withdrawn.”

Her blank expression was telling. “Noah? Noah Sebastian? The guy who just went absolutely insane on that stage? Is withdrawn? Mhm, sure.”

I sat back in my chair and groaned.

“Please? That’s his personal business.”

She nodded. “Fine, but you should ask him.”

I didn’t respond, attention now on the text I had from him saying he was headed our way. I started the car, ready for a quick getaway.

After about ten minutes, I saw his tall frame in the doorway of the elevator, jogging over to the car. I snuck a glance at Laura, who looked as though she may absolutely burst.

“Here comes the rockstar.” She let out in a sing-song voice.

The back left door opened, and he slid inside the seat quickly, buckling his seatbelt and running his fingers through his long, and now greasy, hair.

“Hey!” My voice was about three pitches higher for truly no reason at all. This was not lost on my best friend, whose eyes I saw flash over to be before turning around and looking at Noah, eyes absolutely bulging.

“Jesus, it’s like trying to escape a wild pack of hyenas!” He sat back and sighed heavily as my truck backed out of the space and began moving down the aisle. “I mean the guys, not the fans.”

I looked up in my rearview. “Did you do like we talked about?”

“Yes. Made sure to gag as loudly as possible and everything.” I could see the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

He turned his attention to Laura, holding out his hand. “I’m so rude, I’m sorry.” She took his hand, looking absolutely stunned. “I’m Noah.”

All I heard from her was a weak ‘Laura’ in response.

Once we hit the darkened streets, putting the venue behind us, the tension in the truck relaxed.

I looked up in my mirror again, catching Noah’s attention.

“Do you mind if I drop Laura home first? She’s got to get up early for work tomorrow and her house isn’t very far.”

He smiled. “Of course. I’m all the way in Calabasas, so no worries at all.”

I just nodded. The ride was smooth for a moment, until I heard the familiar ring of an iPhone. It was Noah’s.

“Hello?” I couldn’t hear the voice from the other end. “Hey babe.”

Laura’s face whipped over to me, I’m sure seeing my expression darken ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m not sure what happened, but I started feeling off before the set and by the end, I was throwing up.” He waited for the response. “No, uh…” he hesitated. “I actually haven’t drank at all today.”

Something in my chest swelled. I was such a proud sponsor. He was making an effort, and all I could do was appreciate it.

He nervously laughed. “Yeah, right? Shocking, I know.”

I could hear his tone. It broke my heart for him. I knew that conversation, I had many myself. When people don’t believe you haven’t been drinking, or are shocked to hear it. They’ll even go so far as to get angry at you for quitting. It’s a long, torturous road he’s set down, but hopefully with the right support, he will stay on track.

“Well I just caught an Uber, and I’m going to go home and pass out. Try to get over it.”

I made a conscious effort not to look at him, doing my best to respect his privacy. I could see Laura doing the same, scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, uh, maybe we should wait until Monday? Make sure I’m not contagious, and all that?” His voice almost sounded brightened, but I was likely imagining things.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But do you want to catch this crap?” He made a sound of approval. “Thought so. I’m almost home so I’ll talk to you later babe.” He wasn’t, but okay. “Mhm, I love you too.” Slight poke to the abdomen. Nothing to worry about. “Bye.”

My hands relaxed slightly on the wheel. No one spoke for a little while. I could see his eyes just watching the streetlights fly past the window. He almost looked sad, but I couldn’t piece together why exactly. I could guess, however, that this is harder than he initially anticipated. It always is.

Laura shared my concern, so she spoke up.

“The show tonight was awesome, Noah! Better than the one back in November!”

This sure perked him, making him sit up in his seat. “Yeah? Thank you for saying that.”

“Oh fuck yeah, dude! Watching you guys play is spiritual, honestly.” This made him crack a wide grin.

I felt a poke on my shoulder, causing me to look up.

“What’d you think Leena? How was your first Bad Omens show?” I could see him searching for my answer, but he’s not the only one who could be a smartass.

I waved my hand in a topsy-turvy fashion. “It was alright.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, you cried during Just Pretend.” Laura was triumphantly smiling.

She’s so dead.

My cheeks were getting warmer, and I instinctively cracked my window. When did it get so hot in here?

Noah let out a giggle, an actual fucking giggle. “I thought I saw that.”

“Dude, how can you see anything up there? Fire? Smoke? Lights?”

He shook his head dismissively and flopped back in his seat. “Please. I can see anything if I’m looking for it.”

His words rang out followed by silence. Laura’s face was deadpanned.

What the fuck does that mean? In a literal sense, I get what he meant but wow, what an innuendo to make. Unintentionally, I’m sure.

The context wasn’t lost on Noah, who only cleared his throat, not speaking another word.

Luckily, we were already cruising down Laura’s street, stopping in front of her driveway.

“Welp, this is my stop.” She turned to look in the backseat. “Thank you so much for the concert. It really was awesome.”

This earned her a grateful head nod from him. “Anytime.”

She wouldn’t be forgetting that.

“I love you babes, call me tomorrow?” She wrapped an arm around me while I agreed to her request. She hopped out of the car and within seconds, she was gone.

“You want to stay back there, or hop up front?”

Without answering, a long leg reached over my console, plopping Noah in the passenger’s seat. I stared at him incredulously while he beamed at me.

I shook my head and put the truck back in drive, waiting for him to direct me to his house.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

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kyleraynermybeloved · 1 year ago

Text

One Of A Kind -Chapter Two

Pairing: Kyle Rayner x Batsis!Reader

Summary: A surprise is discovered. Is it terrifying? Absolutely!

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of morning sickness, pregnancy, canon-level violence, my bad writing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I'm very late but HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! Its FINALLY here, and guess who has covid! Sorry it took ages to arrive. If the pacing feels a bit off it's bc I wrote this a little drunk a while ago. (I did end up misplacing it and i finally found it so no proof read, we die like heroes) I hope yall enjoy this, if not then I'm sorry :/ ALSO, this is going to be the last short chapter of the series so expect the others to be a little longer from now on!

OOAK Masterlist

The overwhelming nausea woke you up, and you barely made it to the toilet before the contents of your stomach emptied out. You heaved some more, your body shaking from the force after each one. The bile in your mouth was enough to make you wince and spit into the toilet hoping to get rid of the taste.

Groaning, you set your head against the cold seat as the dizziness subsided a little. It was just the wake up call you needed before heading back to work. It seems the few days you had off were too short of time to readjust to your normal routine. You might as well get ready now that you’re up.

You were too busy leaving in a hurry to say bye to Billy once you checked the time, effectively running late. Hopefully you'd have time to check in with him later to see if he was faring the same. You had felt sick the entire time getting ready upon arriving on base, your stomach churning uncomfortably with unease. It might have been the food and drinks from last night or the winter air doing a number on you. For now, you shrugged it off to the best of your abilities.

There were plenty of other agents walking around when you arrived at the tarmac. A few faces you haven’t seen before looked towards you as you made your way to the chopper Sormael had instructed you to from this morning's message. They might’ve been the new hires you heard about coming in the other day. Deciding to put on a friendly face, you smiled and waved towards them as you continued walking.

“Thrasher! About time you made it, what happened to always being on time?” Sormael engulfed you in a hug, giving a firm little shake before breaking away.

“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t feeling all too well this morning and that seemed to cut into my arrival time. Won’t happen again, unless the husband has a say in it.”

“They do love to make things a little more interesting don’t you think? Are you feeling better, or do I need you to sit this one out? I have Zeru on standby seven klicks out from the target site.”

“Negative, sir. I’m much better now, only needed some fresh air and to see your wonderful face,” You bumped his shoulder against yours, sending him a lopsided grin. A gesture you’ve done countless times to let him know you were fine.

There was no chance in hell you would let Zeru, a colleague you’ve been competing against, take this job just because you felt a little sick. The two of you had an ongoing bet to see who could get more jobs done in the span of eight months, the loser had to buy the winner dinner for three weeks. And the eighth month was now coming to a close, you had one job on him but it was only a matter of time before he caught up.

“Alright, well, here’s everything you need to know,” Sormael handed you a folder that was banded shut. “It’s a covert mission, a simple extraction job. Retrieve the data and get to the rendezvous point for further instructions. Like usual, you’ll have a ride there but you’ll need to find a way back to ensure no one can link you back here. Stay safe, the roads are freezing over. Do whatever you need to get back to us.”

“Always am.” Nodding your head in affirmation you turn to the awaiting helicopter. The snowfall began to pick up causing you to pull your coat closer to fight against the bitter cold. Harsh snowflakes pelted against your face once you got to the aircraft door. The aircraft shielded you from the oncoming storm once you got inside, sliding the door shut and getting situated in your seat.

“Morning, Agent Thrasher. Our eta is four hours, I would catch more sleep if I were you.” The pilot you recognized from previous assignments spoke through the headset. Giving him a half-assed response you went to look at the contents of the folder.

It was a fairly light folder, flipping through the papers and memorizing everything given. Information on the building’s layout and number of personale working. Only select people had access to the server room which was located on the fifth floor, third room on the right. Attached to the last page was a small flash drive still wrapped in the package.

The nausea had finally settled down, giving you a break for the time being. But you had a sneaking suspicion that it would come back. If that was the case you'd have to make this quick.

You sent Kyle a brief text, letting him know of your whereabouts for the next few hours and decided against telling him of your sickness from the morning.

The sun had peaked through the clouds once you were high enough in airspace, warming you up from the chilly temperature. It was odd that you were cold for this long, your body had gotten used to adapting to the different temperatures over the years of constant traveling in different climates. Pulling your thick coat impossibly closer you thought it best to reserve your energy and get some sleep while you still had time.

*****

You had everything under control, the mission was going smoothly. Entering the building and getting into the server room had gone seamlessly. The flash drive had all the needed information and the only thing left was your escape.

The earpiece you had in your ear was patched into a secure channel only the rendezvous team had access to. It was silent for now.

Normally, you would have to reach out first once in range of any rendezvous point or an appointed team member would reach out if you’ve been dark for too long.

You had carefully tucked the flash drive into a secure pocket, adjusting to make sure it was unnoticeable. The uniform you had acquired once getting into the lobby at the beginning of the mission had been doing its job perfectly as a disguise. No one was the wiser when you had gone in and when exiting the server room, the door locked after shutting closed.

Keeping your head down you walked through the hallway successfully keeping attention off of you. Turning around the corner to the stairwell, you quickly descended down the flight of stairs only passing by two people as they left through the door you just went through.

After reaching the second level another wave of nausea washed over you making you unsteady. Not again, you could only do so much while your whole world was spinning. The stale air wasn’t helping at all either. It made everything feel more restricted and claustrophobic.

You carefully walked down the remaining steps to the floor level, supporting most of your weight on the railing and wall so as to not stumble down. The more you had turned the corners of the staircase the harder it got to keep your composure. There was only one more turn before the ground floor, deciding it would be best to take a breather once you were far enough away from the building, you pushed on. Finally leaving the stairwell and taking the closest exit towards you welcomed the fresh winter air, inhaling deep breaths as it helped ease the bile that was threatening to come up long enough to make it past the parking lot to a lone car where you had stashed your things.

You shed the uniform changing into the spare outfit you had packed in the warmth of the car. Digging through your bag you found something to ease the nausea for the time being until you could take something once you got home. For now, you just hoped it would work.

Little flecks of snow slowly drifted down, dark clouds were filling up the bright sky. You drove until you were three miles out from the rendezvous point, hidden well enough to not stick out to oncomers, after concealing the car and wiping it down of any prints left you grabbed your bag and walked the remaining way there.

As soon as you made it inside the hidden cabin and debriefed with the team after handing over the flash drive, you threw a few more logs into the dwindling flames of the fireplace to heat the small cabin up.

Your hands felt like icicles and your legs had gone numb a mile into the journey. The layers you’d put on did very little to help maintain heat.

The team informed you before they departed that the cabin was yours for the time being, well at least until after you leave before the cleaning crew arrives.

Knowing you had enough time to shower and change into more comfortable clothing made you physically relax, letting out a content sigh.

Thinking now was a good enough time to check your phone, possibly give Billy a call. If he was fairing as badly as you were then you definitely needed to apologize for possibly getting him sick.

“Billy speaking, what’s up?” He answered on the second ring, judging from the noise in the background he must’ve been home.

“Hey kid, glad I managed to reach you. Sounds like you’re home, did you make it back safely and in one piece?” Shifting the phone to hold it with your shoulder, you were able to take out an outfit and some essentials into the bathroom.

“Oh, yeah I made it back just a little after you left. I was gonna say something but you left in a hurry and I didn’t want to keep you back any later than you had to.” That seemed about right. Both you and Kyle had told him on many occasions that he didn’t need to keep things to himself, whatever it was that he needed the both of you would pause what you were doing and give him your undivided attention.

“No worries, next time go ahead and ask me to stay back a little. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask how you’re feeling? I’m feeling a little under the weather, it might’ve been the food from last night.”

“You know how I get, I just didn’t want to bother you too much. And I feel fine, if you want we can head over and bring you some soup or something?” There was a muffled sound on the line before he spoke up again. “Hey, I got to go. Keep me updated though, I think we’ll head over later today, if not tomorrow. See you later.”

“Will do, see you later kid.”

Well that was interesting. What else could be making you sick if not the food? At least he wasn’t under the weather, that made you feel better knowing you didn’t get him sick as well.

A ding from your phone pulled you out from your thoughts. It was a message from Kyle saying he was back on Earth. You sent a reply of your location and asked if he could bring a thermometer and cold medicine before hopping into the shower.

The water pressure wasn’t great but it also wasn’t the worst you had. It came out in soft bursts, fortunately the shower head was large so it covered more than a small area. The water did wonders for your aching muscles, which had been unusually sore and stiff for the past few weeks. You knew it couldn’t have been from either of the previous assignments you were on. Or for this one as a matter of fact.

At some point you must’ve dozed off, still on your feet. Deciding it was better to get out and get some actual rest without any incoming injuries, you turned off the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. Kyle would be on his way soon, in the meantime you could busy yourself getting ready and warming up on the couch in front of the fireplace.

By the time Kyle came around you were passed out.

“Hey sleepy, I wasn’t sure what to get so I bought whatever I could find. I also brought some soup from your favorite place, it should still be hot.” Kyle helped ease you up to sit on the couch, you must’ve laid d0wn while you were sleeping.

“Oh, hi,” you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with a smile. “How long have you been here?”

He put a hand to your forehead, “Long enough to know you were tossing and turning for a while. On the bright side you don’t have a temperature but better safe than sorry, take this.” He handed you a water bottle and two tylenol from one of the two bags he had, which you gladly accepted and took.

Once you finished your water Kyle traded it for a container of soup. It was still hot enough to warm you up. He plopped down next to you with his own food, digging in once he knew you could eat fully on your own.

“Thank you, I think the soup is helping me some. How are the fellas doing? Causing more chaos for the team I assume?”

“Oh you know it, nothing but the best from Guy. I also may have enabled him… just a little bit.” his smile had a hint of mischief with the knowing look he gave you.

“Of course, babe,” you nudged him with your shoulder, “ ‘Just a little bit’ my ass. You totally orchestrated whatever it was. I feel bad for the poor soul who was on the receiving end of you two maniacs.”

He threw his head back in a laugh. “You know me so well. It wasn’t too bad this time, I swear. Oh, I forgot. Before I left you said you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Ah, you had completely forgotten about that. You tried racking your brain for the right words to explain this best. After five years together it was kind of hard to just come out and say you had been lying to him all that time about yourself. Well, in a way you weren’t lying, just always avoiding mentoning your past and family.

“Uhm,” your hands clasped together in your lap as you leaned forward, “You know how I aoid talking about my past with you or brush it off when you ask me about it?”

He put his food down to give you his full attention, motioning for you to continue once he sat back, grabbing one of your hands in reassurance.

“Gosh this is hard, uhm. I want you to know that I didnt tell you because I don’t trust you, more because I was scared to tell you. I guess the best way is to rip the bandaid off. But more or less I was… Batman’s daughter, this was years ago of course. I don’t actually know if he told anyone in the league about me since I wasn’t one of the many side-kicks.”

“I think I remember Alfred having some photos of when you were young laying around the mansion when I lived there for a bit, I asked them about it but no one really said anything. Figured it was a sore subject. Im going to be honest, I’m a little hurt that you didn’t tell me sooner but I understand having moments of the past haunting you.”

“There’s more I would like to tell you,” I pulled him towards me more, “But I’d rather tell you once we get home. How about we head over once we’re done eating?”

“No problem, eat as much as you can and we'll take the leftovers with us.” Kyle grabbed his container and gestured at you to eat with a forkful halfway to his mouth.

*****

It had been two weeks later when you decided to see your agency’s doctor to check out your recent sickness. You had been expecting a stomach bug, or the flu, the last thing you expected was finding out you were ten weeks pregnant. Ten weeks. Kyle, who went with you almost and passed out from the news, was still taking his time processing everything you told him, rightfully so. The two of you were sent home with congratulations and several pictures of your growing bean. It had felt too surreal, and overwhelming.

All that happened three days ago, now you and Kyle were just entering your apartment after buying some pregnancy essentials for you when a noise from the kitchen alerted you of an intruder. You reached for your sheathed knives, usually strapped to your thighs, out of reflex before Kyle stopped you, rushing forward with the bat you normally kept by the front door.

“Fuck man, I could killed you!” Kyle’s alarmed voice steadied your racing heart after realizing it was someone he knew. You slowly made your way to the kitchen, their muffled voices getting clear the further you walked down te hallway. One being Kyle’s and the other you now recognized to be Guy Gardner, who you haven’t actually met but have seen through videos either of your boys have shown you.

“You’re brave for knocking up Batman’s long lost daughter,” Guy pointed to the ultrasound photo pinned on the fridge. “I don’t envy you one bit man. And you must be the lovely wife. Guy Gardner, great to finally meet the mysterious lady Rayner’s been hiding from me.”

“How’d you know we’re married?” Kyle looked alarmed and confused.

“Well, you do have your wedding pictures laying ‘round the place.” He pointed out to the living room where the photos had been conveniently placed on the coffee table.

With a sigh and shake of your head, you held out your hand to Guy. “Y/N Rayner, pleased to finally meet this doofus’ best friend he speaks highly of.”

Taglist:

@esposadomd

#kyleraynermybeloved #kyle rayner #kyle rayner fics #kyle rayner x reader #kyle rayner x batsis!reader #One Of A Kind series #kyleraynermybeloved one of a kind #pregnant reader

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mar3ggiata · 3 days ago

Text

professional help, c31. Four or five.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Lo que puede, puede. Ca7riel, Paco Amoroso.

abstract: Simon here. You're following the story alright? Good, cause I'm not. Getting more and more confusing and everywhere I go, she's following. I can't get her to stop invading my space, it's getting repetitive.

'Oh yeah?' What a stupid fucking thing to say, Simon get it together. She looked at him, beautiful, tired siren eyes, beautiful long lashes, sad gaze. She nodded. She knew his family was dead, she knew cause he told her. How they died, she didn't know. Addiction? Something else? 'Yes, 'twas a…', lie Alba, '…drunk driver'. He nodded, his eyes still on her. He felt sorry. Why didn't she talk about her family more, why did she move away? Why was she so far from home? 'It's tough.' That's all he could say. I lost all my family, he could have said. But how do you explain something like that, how do you even say it out loud? How can someone like her understand what happened to him, how can someone like her comprehend. What happened to him was out of this world, his family, death, the bodies, what he had been through. It wasn't the same, sure losing a family member was awful, but it wasn't the same. They weren't the same.

He got up from the chair, taking a step away from her. He couldn't even look at her, he mumbled something about not staying at the base at night. And he was gone. She wasn't mad, she wasn't offended. She cursed herself for saying that thing about her brother, wanting him to feel like he could share parts of his past. It was probably too much, too soon. But still, if he wanted to, he would. Especially after throwing that tantrum at her place on the 24th. Don't expect me to listen to you bitching and moaning about my lifestyle and your brother and not wonder about it.

She went home soon after, she wasn't concentrating on her tasks, she was too tired. A walk with the dog, dinner, a shower. Things were only getting more complicated. She laid in bed trying to put the pieces together, the gentle snoring of the dog in the other room, the wind outside the window. How she was gonna manage to stay on top of things and stay sane, she didn't know. She had a meeting with Price on Thursday, three days after her chat with Simon. Didn't go well. She was sitting with her back straight, hair in a slick bun. She had a skirt on, a turtleneck, big chunky glasses. Her, Roman and Honey were academics in a room full of soldiers and men of war. With their stupid dictionaries and stupid papers, all written in gibberish. Price was mad. Honey, who took control over the situation, was trying to explain their findings to the captain. Behind the three, stood Scotland, Simon and Kyle, along with two other people. Scary stuff, it felt like they were being interrogated. They got new information about the mission. First of all, the Serbian group was talking about transportation. They were talking random numbers, they all suspected drugs. 160 grams per unit, 663 grams per unit. They started wondering which substance they were talking about, since the shipping was intended to reach different countries, and it was going to be pricy. One hundred thousand per unit. Cocaine, meth?

'So you have no idea what we're dealing with?' asked Price.

She was fed up with the captain verbally abusing her and her colleagues, so she spoke, 'You know, they're not talking about shipping tons of heroine like they're talking about football captain', she was raising her shoulders, 'They're discreet.'

'Okay, what are you suggesting we do then, Jude? You guys have made no progress.'

She stopped him again, 'We did, we just told you…' she pointed at Roman's notes in front of her, 'they're shipping single units in separate containers, they're using trucks to make separate shippings, we know it's something expensive…'

She was calm, collected, she was fucking hot as hell. Simon stared at the back of her head as she controlled the room, she was assertive. She was tense, he could see the muscles in the back of her neck. 'You have two days', Price had said. When she got up from the chair she was too mad to even acknowledge him. She turned towards the other two translators, he didn't know who they were. They said something in italian he thought, they all knew italian? They left together. All three.

She didn't even look his way. What, cause she was pissed at Price it meant she was pissed at him as well? What did he do? He thought they could maybe talk, she could share more of what they found... Maybe these two new friends she was working with were taking his place, she didn't need him anymore. He watched her leave the room like they didn't know each other, and he felt a strange pressure on his chest. She didn't look his way, like she didn't care that he was in the room. And she was the only thing he was concentrating on every time they were together so... What a shame.

It all happened so fast, one random Tuesday at 5pm. Honey tapped his hand on the desk three times, she immediately turned around, getting tangled in her headphones. Roman spilled some tea in the attempt of running from his desk to Honey's. 'Shit shit shit', someone whispered. Honey took off his headset, turning up the volume so that everyone could hear. It was a male voice speaking, he was speaking broken English.

'At four, пет, не знам.'

She glanced up at her colleagues. She understood what they said. They said 'four or five'.

'They want job clear and fast, да, добро'. Clear.

Honey was scribbling on a piece of paper, trying to get everything down as the man spoke.

'Read that, да, not many men. како се каже, English… code, secret. Secret.'

He went on for a minute, when he finished they all went back to their stations, at the speed of light. The reason was, if some soldiers went to different rooms to speak about the attack that was just announced they could share thoughts and information, they had to be at the top of their game for the next thirty minutes. She put on her headset, trying to calm the beating of her heart that she thought could explode out of her chest. She heard Serbian, she heard English. Someone said Видим се. See ya, that was the translation. 'Alright…' someone whispered.

'Oh, oh porca troia raga…', that was the clue for Honey and Roman to quickly turn towards her.

Her eyes luminescent, her ears burning, quick fingers typing on the Word document in front of her.

'A job at four or five, don't know the date, they're shipping something to Iran, circa 20thousand maybe more, cocaine and something else, but I'm not sure…' It was Madison, she guessed, referring that information to them. He was whispering into the recording device, speaking quickly so that he could leave that spot without being suspicious. 'Sending you a copy of the paper, gotta go, they have prisoners, poor people, they're all sitting in a room…they're killing them, they want to kill them…' He soon after stepped out of the toilet.

She finishes writing, and got up. She looked at the two other people in the room, just as surprised and shocked as her. Shocked and happy, they finally got something. Shocked at what they just heard, people, prisoners…

'Job at four or five, are they selling drugs?' Roman asked. 'To Iran?' She tried, Honey understood immediately what she was on about. 'No way! Fuck, poor people in a room?' He covered his mouth with his right hand. She had never heard him swear, or lose composure. 'Honey, they're doing something for the Iranian at four or five, they're paying them to do something.' She got up from her chair. Poor people in a room…

'Holy shit…' That was Roman.

'I thought they were gonna attack them, sell the drugs at higher price'

Poor people in a room…

'Hold on, sorry…' Roman got up as well, a piece of paper in his hand. 'What we heard on Sunday, about the shippings. They're selling stupid amounts, look…' He got closer to the others, a paper with translations and calculations in hand. 'They're shipping to loads of countries, nearly 5 pounds, 4 hundred thousand for 5 pounds of what, heroine? Why are these prices so high?'

'Cause they're not talking about drugs. It's the poor people in the room.' She got it.

Her blood went cold. It was true, they had been going on about refrigerated containers, moving trucks that could fit tons and tons of materials inside, too large to go without being checked, too risky to use for a bit of marijuana. They were dealing with larger objects. Pricier material, fewer pieces. They had people to kill… No… They had prisoners, people in a room. The Iranian paid them cause they had the people. She clicked her tongue, shook her head. This was above them, this was… too much. It was the people.

'It's organs. It's organ trafficking.'

'Oi are you even listening?' Ghost turned his head towards the voice on his right, Johnny was walking beside him heading towards the hangar. 'Wot?' He said, an annoyed tone. 'I asked how many?' He wanted his head to explode, he had a migraine, he was tired, Johnny was speaking… 'How many what?' He raised his voice. He had things to do, reports to finish, he had to pack cause he was about to leave, and he didn't even know if he was deployed, they just told him 'in case we need help' and it was fucking stupid, did I mention he was tired? 'How many units per container, why are you not listening?' He rolled his eyes, they were walking towards Kyle. 'They're late cause of a bloody sandstorm', he informed. They had to wait for all the soldiers who were still in Al-Jareena to come back, they would have a meeting with Price and apparently Shepherd was back for a while.

'Where's Thomas?' Johnny asked, Kyle shook his head. 'Couldn't make it again, he still has problems with his back.'

'Ah shit'

'Oi, did you get that email about that human rights convention and what not?' They were walking beside him, they were not shutting up. He craved his bedroom, his childhood bedroom in the UK, he craved silence, he craved warmth of a fireplace and a steak…

'Did you get it L.t.?' I didn't. I don't care. He said no.

'You never answered my question, I was trying to do the math'

'What question?'

'How many units of drugs per container did they say, heroine or cocaine, cause the weight would be different...'

'I don't know, whatever Alba said.'

The ceiling collapsed, the floor crumbled under his feet, his body falling though the abyss of Hell. Blood rushing to his ears. He watched as the two men's faces went from shock to fear. They stopped in their tracks.

'What the fuck?'

'Who the fuck is Alba, mate?'

'How do you know?'

'No way, Jude is Alba?'

'No fucking way, it's her you've been seeing?'

'What do you mean, you're going out with her?'

Before he could register the immense mistake he had made, he heard a voice. A sweet, sincere voice. He heard the voice he normally heard in his dreams, in his mind. The two men were soon forgotten, she was coming his way. 'Hey!' She shouted. She stood in the middle of the hangar, making a few men turn towards her. Her, in all her grace, her dark aura, her aura of power and knowledge. She looked pale, she looked… she was crying? She looked scared. Watching all three soldiers stop and look at her, she signalled them to follow her with a single nod of her head. Come with me, that was the signal. 'All three' She said. They followed like they were some damn dogs.

'Are you out of your mind!?' Price's voice was loud, his hands on his hips. They were inside the listening post room, him, Johnny, Gaz, the captain and the three scientists. 'What?' She raised her voice as well, he had never heard her like this before. 'Literally, what is your problem?' She spoke to the captain, crossing her arms. Price went on for a few minutes scolding the three academics. The accusations and the theories on organ trafficking were serious, and they had always talked about drugs, why were they abandoning that route? 'Because it makes the most sense, captain.' Tried Honey. He showed Price the list of all the weights and measurements they had heard about, which, as they discovered, fit quite perfectly the average weight of kidneys, lungs and hearts. 'That explains the refrigerated containers', she chirped in. 'And the prices', Soap, unexpectedly, gave her a nod of credit. 'And the poor people', finished Honey.

They explained it wasn't rare for poor people to get into situations such as organ and human trafficking. They could make a lot of money, they were easy to convince, easy to manipulate and desperate. It all started to make even more sense when they found information in Serbian news articles online about people disappearing in the latest few months. They found many individuals started reporting to be victims, or suspect family members to have had illegal surgeries for organ trafficking. 'They said they're receiving a note with a code of some sort', she was standing on Simon's right, near her desk. Her hair was messy and undone on her shoulders, she glanced at the time on her phone from time to time. Have you got somewhere to be? 'Probably containing information on when the shipment might be made, or what to do with the people they're gonna take the organs from'. The room was filled with silence. It was sad, really. They were glad they made the discovery, but overall, not good news. Price crossed his arms, looking down at his feet. It was clearly more than they were expecting. Simon would't take his eyes off Alba. He was proud, he was sad she had to deal with this tremendous job. She looked at him. He gently tilted his head foreword, as to say, you're good. He didn't know why it was so important for him to let her know that he supported her. She gave him a small smile. He felt they were feeling the same emotion somehow.

'Will you be able to translate the code?' asked Price.

'Sure, yes, we'll do everything we can.' Honey.

Price sighed.

'Good work.'

notes: massive chapter, sorry!!!

taglist:

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@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

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iventig · 7 months ago

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“A new recruit? What do we would need a newbie for?”

“Soap, there's no use questioning it,the decision has been made months ago.Now quit bothering me.” Price is truly annoyed. Ever since he broke the news to his team,Soap has not stopped asking about why, when, how and for what reason this new teammate will arrive to the taskforce.

“Okay,Okay,I get it at least tell us where they’re from,I mean we need to work with them at the very best of our abilities and-“

“Johnny”

Finally, freedom and peace arrived in the menacing form of Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. Never, in his years of work had Price thought that peace and Ghost would occur in the same sentence within his thoughts. As he stood just a few meters away from his office,and the peaceful moments that he’d get by just getting through that door, Gaz came from behind.

“Captain,outside is -“

“what time is it Gaz?” Price asked in the most nice and calmest tone he could muster. Inside his chest panic rose, as he reminded himself of today's date. The recruit is coming today at exactly 16:15 pm

“Its 16:13, sir”

“Thanks Kyle, I need all of you to go. To your bunks,or the main hall,or somewhere else. Now.”

“Why?” again, Sergeant soap thought it was a good idea to talk again and so to break the last straw of his captain’s calmness.

“Ghost make sure this nuisance doesn’t get in my way with his stupid mouth today again, or he’ll gets to experience a whole week of outside recruitment training.Understood?”

With that Price turned on his heel and out of the sight of his teammates

“Fucking bloody muppets” he mutters as he made his way outside

“Great job, Soap.Now what?”

“I know we’re all thinking the same. So, Gaz , even if you don’t want to say it, Im going to say it.We’re going to follow him, obviously.”

Soap looked to his brothers, expecting a quick response,but none came.A minute of silence followed.

“Soap,no”

“C’mon L.t, I know you give more fucks about this as you let on,so if nobody’s going to stop me,I’ll be following my Captain.”

With that he to turned in a over dramatic way just as Price did three minutes ago, and got to follow his captain way outside.

“This godforsaken scottish bastard.A’right ill better follow him and get him back before the captain does, if anyone asks for me tell’em i’m dead or drunk. Thanks sergeant Garrick.”

And so Gaz now stood alone in front of his superiors office door , neither knowing how to react to the oder given or the situation that had just occurred, while he simply wanted to inform his captain of the helicopter sighted near the base. So, he decided, he will do as told by both his Lieutenant and Captain Price, staying right where he was and tell anyone who asked that the Captain is on his Period,Ghost is drunk and Sergeant McTavish turned feral.

A rather peaceful start for them, Garrick thought.

In the helicopter, a young man looked down at his wrist, the watch showing exactly 16:14.

In exactly one minute the helicopter should land,he’d get off his seat, take his duffel bag and backpack, depart the helicopter and meet the Task force 141, under command by the British army and the CIA. He would meet his new colleagues and captain, staying with them for a exactly three months before He would be seated in this exact position, back to his home country and comrades.in exactly 45 seconds he would be on time, he thought, in 46 he would be late.

He hated being late, he despised the thought of being where he was supposed to be even a millisecond late.He knew how much could change within a single minute or even second. His time out in the fields made it even mir obvious to him, how important it was to be accountable, accurate and quick. He dreaded the thought of being late, as he knew, the seconds one waste, may be the last of anothers life

How long are thirty seconds really?

He looked down at his watch, he laughed. It was a quick moment of bitter happiness filled by empty thoughts.

29…28….27

The Helicopter landing and the small ruckus of the helicopter as it touched the ground was the only thing he felt.

16:15 exactly on time, Second.

#call of duty #original character #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #tf 141 #fanfic #should i continue?#ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #cod #I may need a title if i continue this

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lcnelyghost · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing, can you please do how your first fight with the boys from AHS please? Like the reason why you fight and whatever else you think would be good? Thanks xx

troubled lovers//the ahs boys

pairings; fem reader with tate langdon, kit walker, kyle spencer, jimmy darling, james patrick march, tristan duffy, dandy mott, rudolph valentino, and michael langdon.

rating; potentially pg13

warnings; mentions of murder, alcohol abuse, drug use, and slight harsh language

tate langdon;

• It was you suddenly remembering what he did. And those horrible memories made you terribly uncomfortable whenever the thought of them happening again crept in. You forced yourself to interrogate him and ask why he did what he did

• Hates screaming, hates shouting, hates the whole lot

• He’ll get so frustrated to the point he’s tempted to rip his own hair own

• Passes out in you’re arms from the exhaustion of crying

• He makes himself psychically ill seeing as he cries way too hard and simply won’t stop

kit walker;

• I hope you’re expecting him apologising to you every other second of the day, because that’s just what the poor love does

• His Mom and Dad never got along when he was a kid, so he always feared raising his voice to anyone growing up

• You began to rant about something that was completely out of Kit’s control. His work hours. You felt like you never got to see him anymore and it finally pushed you over the edge

• He can’t help but defend himself in this situation. It’s something he can only try to fix but there’s no promising that he can convince his boss to stop the night shifts completely

• Even if it’s a screaming match, Kit REFUSES to say anything rude about you’re image, how you are, and you in general

kyle spencer;

• Kyle is terrified of fighting with anyone. He hates the atmosphere after all those horrible harsh words are said

• You grew tired of Kyle refusing to do anything he isn’t fond of doing. Not anything major, but more like things that a person simply just needs to get through in life. If it was something extreme he didn’t like, obviously you know there’s boundaries

• He can’t go to sleep until he knows you’re not mad at him anymore

• You feel like slapping yourself the minute you see tears trickling down his cheeks

• Lots of hugs and kisses after everything’s okay again

jimmy darling;

• You can’t put up with his non stop drinking. You practically stay up all night worried sick when he hasn’t arrived back home safe

• You’re so pissed if he’s that drunk he can’t leave his trailer because he’s unable to step away from the toilet without vomiting five minutes afterwards

• Even if it’s one little snide comment, if Jimmy feels anything is directed at him, he’s the one to turn it into a full blown argument

• He’d never put his hands on you. Hell no. But Jimmy tends to say a lot of things he ends up regretting

• You kick him out the trailer for about a day or two and that’s enough to make him grovel on his knees for you

james patrick march;

• He finally snapped after you admitted that you would still like to be alive as of now, and didn’t like the fact that James wanted you to take you’re life so you could be with him in the Cortez. You just weren’t ready yet

• If you flinch in any sort of way during the argument, the temptation of bursting into tears hits James hard

• He could never allow himself to put his hands on you in the wrong sort of way. Let alone leave any marks. He may have been a man who had good skills when it came to narcissism and manipulation, but he simply would never bring himself to hit a woman

• You storm off to bed, leaving James just sat there, slowly sipping on whatever beverage he currently had. And when he finally thought about what had just happened, he’d begin to sob with his head in his hands

• He’d come running back to you, apologising a million times. He knows you’ll always be loyal to him. So all you do is tell James that when the right time comes around, you’ll take you’re last breath in the Cortez, and spend the rest of eternity with you’re beloved

tristan duffy;

• He got real pissed at you when he finally noticed how close you were being with the rest of the male ghosts at the hotel. You yourself knew that it would annoy him, but you didn’t care. You felt so greedy when it came to the other men that roamed the halls of the Cortez. And unfortunately, Tristan was the one to suffer from it

• Whatever you do, don’t make ANY insensitive comments about him and his past drug use. It deeply hurts him inside and makes him feel like a total waste of space

• He sees the influence these other guys have on you, to the point it begins to terrify him

• Tristan loves you and everything you do. He truly admires you, and the thought of losing you to some sad fucker like Donovan makes him go crazy

• You realise that in the end, you were just being a total bitch. And you hated the fact that it took Tristan to eventually hit breaking point for you to see that

dandy mott;

• Y’all, it’s Dandy. THE MFN KING OF ARGUMENTS FOR GOD SAKE

• He isn’t satisfied when you tell him that you’re going out with you’re friends for the night. In fact, he knows how bored he’ll be, and he simply won’t allow it

• Literally begs you not to leave and swears he’ll take you out somewhere fancy, just don’t leave him by himself at all..

• He kicks up a stink and rants, and rants, AND RANTS..

• You grow tired of this so instead of leaving to stop him hurting you’re ears, you just take him out for ice cream lol

rudolph valentino;

• You guys NEVER fight. Like never fr. Never have, never will!

michael langdon;

• You try not to start a fight with Michael seeing as his past was a bit fucked up, but you’re the kind of girl who takes no one’s shit 💀

• You were really close with some of the witches, and after finding out Michael killed half of them? UH UH..

• You don’t wanna be like Constance here but you feel he NEEDS to know the kind of shit he’s done. Like you won’t stand for it at all. You couldn’t care less if you’re boyfriend was the Antichrist..

• You’re even more upset at him that this has rocked the boat with the rest of the witches and you’re the one they all keep throwing these comments at. Michael knew better than to put this on you..

• He tries to keep you out of the situation and knows he can’t hurt you. Even if one bit of anger is tempting enough for him to put you in any sort of danger, he can’t. Not you. You could be angry at him for all eternity and he’d still be madly in love with you. His people were annoyed by the fact that even the Antichrist could fall in love, he wasn’t supposed to, but this was the one thing Michael couldn’t control

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clickerflight · 1 year ago

Text

Burned at the stake - Part 1

Well. I have done it. 14K ish words. I'll put this out in about 5 bits me thinks. Anyways, enjoy!

Content: Vampire whumpee, out of body experience (?), mention of vampire trafficking, burning flesh

Let me know if you want to be on a tag list

.....................................

Fanatic was a word often tied to cults, to religious nuts, to conspiracy theorists, which really is quite narrow minded. The word fanatic more often applies to a wider range of people, more specifically known as anthropology students. After all, who else would spend outrageous amounts of money and time to go to some remote jungle that could most certainly kill them in a thousand different ways for the remote chance that they might find some ancient temple that some random drunk dude swore till he was blue was there, and also very haunted.

So, yes, Joanna was having just about as much fun as a human being could experience as she hacked her way through the brush ahead of her slightly less enthusiastic colleague, Kyle. Because he had more of his wits about her (more but not much more as he was a student of ancient languages and only here in case they found the temple and something needed to be translated) he was slowed by making sure they marked the path back clearly.

“Joanna, when was the last time you looked at the map?”

“Kyle, you know as well as I that time does not exist out here,” she replied, pausing to get a sip of water before pushing forward again. “But we do not need a map! All we need is our hearts and our minds!”

Kyle laughed as she flashed him a grin while reaching to pull out the map and check the compass. “Yeah, we’re on track.”

“Good,” Kyle replied. “Do you know how much farther we need to go?”

“Well, probably another 2 or 3 miles but…..”

Kyle paused, looking at Joanna who’s movements became more purposeful and smooth, like she was completing a ritual. Kyle felt it as well. There was a tension in the air. Something that said they would discover something interesting soon, like the forest was holding its breath while it waited for their reaction.

And now that he thought about it, the birds had all gone silent.

Joanna had noticed as well, and she slowed down so he could catch up with her. His shoulder brushed hers as she paused, leaning to see past the foliage ahead. It almost seemed as though there was a man-made clearing, and the tension in the air went from intriguing to nerve wracking. Kyle glanced past Joanna who tightened her grip on her machete and pushed forward. The foliage around the clearing was dense, and the effort to get through it left Joanna and Kyle exhausted as they took turns cutting the vines. Kyle was so exhausted, in fact, that when he broke through the foliage with one last swing his tired arms and legs didn’t expect the lack of resistance and he fell through into the clearing.

A cloud of fine particles filled the air around him, coating his mouth as Kyle took a surprised breath. Kyle coughed hard, stirring up the ash around him as he forced himself up and out of the cloud he had stirred into the air, trying to find fresh air as Joanna came out behind him.

Kyle continued coughing out a lung or two as she stood there silently, and as his voice came back to him, he choked out, “I’m fine, by the way.” He coughed, listening for Joanna’s apology or joke or-

He blinked hard, eyes watering as he turned to look at her. “Joanna? I-”

Joanna was pale and staring at something behind him. He turned quickly, ash swirling up around his feet. The ash was everywhere in the clearing. The clearing was huge, as well, as though it had been burned and razed. Or maybe the thick layers of ash were killing off life and keeping the plants from coming back in the clearing.

The immense expanse of ash, so strange and wrong compared to the jungle that refused to touch the clearing, was nothing compared to what was in the middle.

A pole jutted from the ground, silver chains nearly hidden in the ashes underneath the charred and blackened mass skewered on the pole. There was the faint shape of ribs in the mass, the whole thing smoking faintly in the sun.

“Uhhhhhhhh, what’s that?” Kyle asked softly, but his voice seemed to ring in his ears without the dense foliage to muffle it.

“I dunno, but I’m gonna touch it,” Joanna said, kicking her way through the ashes with a scared, though determined step.

“Joanna!? What do you mean you’re gonna touch it!?” he cried, reaching forward to stop her.

She dodged past him, turning grey as the ash melted into the sweat of her body. She reached the charred mass on the pole and reached out a hand, brushing over it. She screamed and jumped back as more ash and char crumbled through her fingers. Kyle reached her, nearly knee deep in ashes.

More of the black char crumbled away, and something pale peaked through what remained of the ribs. Something that pulsed and flinched.

Holding his breath, Kyle leaned forward as Joanna vigorously wiped her hand off on her pants.

“Er….. I think this was.. Is it a vampire?”

“What?”

“There’s a heart under here. Still beating,” Kyle replied, not removing his eyes from the heart which seemed to be fused to the pole which skewered up, just barely missing it. He was trying not to be sick, but his stomach churned right along with the pulsing of the vampire heart.

Joanna shoved him out of the way so she could look, and Kyle was glad for it as he hadn’t been sure he would be able to look away. He grabbed his water out and sipped on it, shivering slightly as he dealt with what he’d just seen.

“What do we…. What do we do with it?” Joanna asked, reaching in and touching the heart very gently, almost stroking it like one would do to the chest of a friendly bird. She watched as the heart fluttered and she touched it again gently. This time the heart pulsed in response and she found herself whispering, “It’s alright. We’re not leaving you here.”

“We’re not taking that thing, are we?” Kyle asked. “What if it was left here because it was, I dunno, a monster or something?”

“So we should just leave it here?”

“We… well, we shouldn’t leave it to suffer, obviously, but we could, er…. I’m sure we could find a stick…”

“We’re not killing it. That’s murder,” Joanna replied, still stroking the pale heart.

“We should call the government, then. This isn’t our problem!”

Joanna gave him a withering look, cupping the heart and shielding it from the sun as more of the chest cavity collapsed. “And they’ll kill it for sure. You know that this country doesn’t ‘waste’ resources on vampire recoveries.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Kyle said. He took another sip from his water and sighed. “Alright. Are we going to smuggle it back with us?”

“We have to.”

Kyle sighed. “Alright. We’d better take it back to the hotel and figure out how we’re going to get it back home. You’re carrying it.”

“Chicken,” Joanna said with a sharp grin. “Could you pass me your handkerchief?”

Kyle nodded and handed her a couple clean ones from his bag, most of them out of ziplocks and already damp to help with staying cool while they hiked, as he usually used them for.

Joanna gently wrapped them around the heart and cooed at it. “I’m sorry, love, this is gonna hurt.”

She gently pried the heart from the pole, which revealed itself to be made of silver and had burned the heart to the metal. The heart thumped irregularly as she pulled it away from the pole, leaving charred flesh behind. It nearly squirmed right out of her hands and she shushed it, pulling it more gently until she had the swathed heart shivering in her hands.

She stood up and turned, still cooing at the heart and stroking it gently, making sure the sun wouldn’t get to it by wrapping it in another piece of cloth.

“Let’s get out of here,” Kyle said with a heavy sigh. They turned back and made their way out of the jungle slowly and surely. With the heart tucked into her bag, they got a taxi in the rundown town to get back to their hotel room.

As soon as they had the door locked behind them and were all settled, she pulled the heart out. The wrappings were dried out now, though the heart looked a bit better for being damp. She went and made the handkerchiefs wet again, wrapping them around the heart, which still flinched when she touched it, but seemed to be beating at a steadier rate.

“We need a plan,” Joanna said.

Kyle sighed, sinking into the bed. “We can’t keep it here. There are only so many times we can extend the trip, and if it’s discovered it’ll be confiscated and destroyed…. Or worse.”

Joanna nodded faintly. The two of them were well acquainted with the fact that there were dark markets trading in pieces of vampire hearts, claiming them to be ancient creatures with fantastic knowledge of the past. Most of the time, the poor things weren’t allowed to grow and were just kept in a silver lined box and treated like an interesting old trinket. Or they were grown out, forced to tell all they knew, and then they had their hearts removed again so they could be easily stored or sold on. You didn’t get into anthropology without first dividing which side of that moral quandary you stood. Many of their peers were actually lobbying for even more rights for vampires so this sort of thing would be cracked down on a bit harder, though she knew that the laws they volleyed for were specifically ones that would put vampire hearts in the hands of people like them. Of course it would be in the name of helping ancient vampires transition with people who understand a bit of the world they used to live in before they were stripped of their bodies, but the motivations were the dreams of getting useful information first, and straight from the source.

Joanna would be lying if she didn’t have the same thoughts when they were riding back from the jungle.

“I guess that just leaves the matter of how we’re going to get it back,” Joanna said. “I used to know some guys we could have shipped it with, but they got arrested a couple of months ago….”

“It probably wouldn’t be safe to ship it. It might get eaten by rats on the way, or someone might hear it thumping,” Kyle replied, standing up to have a look at the heart. “I think you might have to hide it under your shirt or something.”

“Under my shirt?” She asked, annoyed. “Why my shirt?”

“Because you can use your bra to keep it from falling out,” Kyle said, sounding ashamed with having to even voice the idea out loud.

“Bold of you to assume I wear one,” Joanna said to get back at him. He spluttered in a very amusing fashion and she laughed, the heart in her hands picking up the pace for a moment.

“Alright,” she said when Kyle looked close to fainting with embarrassment. “I guess that’s fair. But someone at the gate will absolutely notice that my shirt is moving every time it does.”

Kyle sighed. “We have a few more days. Maybe we can find some way of making it be still for long enough to get through the gate. There has to be something.”

Joanna gave him a long-suffering look. “Fine. Hold this,” she said, passing the heart to him before pulling out her phone and typing ‘How to get a vampire heart to stop moving.’

………………………..

There had been pain for a very long time. How long? How does one count heartbeats when one does not have fingers to aid them? Does time even matter in the face of all of that pain? Reasoning certainly doesn’t. One learns to stop questioning the why of the pain, and try to adapt ways of ignoring it. Or using it in intervals to stay sane.

What was worse than the pain was when there was no more body to feel. Just a heartbeat to keep the time. The nothingness lasted…. Less than the pain? It was hard to tell. It was almost worse. There was no way to grow anymore, to try and escape from this place, so finding ways to stay sane became almost nonexistent. There was an occasional burning that would bring sanity back, but never for long, like the brush of a finger over a hot stone to remember what heat was like before it was doused out in a river.

Being a heart, you couldn’t properly muse. You couldn’t have proper thoughts. Just memories that played in an order of thinking. A mockery of it, like drawings of a sunrise to try and describe a sunset.

Still, it was all one had left when put in such a position. Playing memories over and over in a semblance of thoughts, hoping that the use of them in this way would not damage or destroy them.

The heart had given up on stringing memories into thoughts. It was tiresome and sad. Instead playing out favorites. The heart had grown quite good at this over time and had begun to use its infinite time to uncover new ones. Like digging. Brushing aside the sand of time like the sands in the -

“Maman! Can I dig in the garden?”

“Yes, Esial. Listen for me when I call for you!”

“Yes, Maman!”

Sand on the edge of the herb garden. Maman was a healer. Esial, the young boy with bright eyes and sticky fingers got to digging, using a nice stick he found. Usually, he would dig out lines and pull leaves off of plants and trees, shoving them in the dirt so he could have his own garden and he’d show his Maman, and she would always aww and coo at him and scoop him up. They would show father when he got home.

But just as he started this wonderful pastime, his stick scraped past a rock. He stopped and used his fingers to scoop away the dirt. The stone was small and rather round. The black color took hold of his imagination. It could be an amulet! It had to be! Why else would this small stone be so black and shiny? He giggled as he ran around, pretending to vanquish evil with every wave of the stone until his father came home and saw him.

His father had been very keen to listen to Esial describe the magic powers the stone had.

“I don’t know about putting flight and fire blasts into the same stone, but we can see what we can do.”

The workshop smelled like mint and sage and his father started painstakingly carving runes into the stone, whispering about what they meant and how they would protect his little Esial.

The Heart wished it could remember all the details.

“There,” his father said, putting a leather cord through the hole he’d drilled out with some sort of magic. “Try this on.”

Esial did, and was delighted. He loved his amulet more than anything! Except perhaps the blanket Nanan had made for him when he was born. He decided he would always keep it on him so he would-

“THERE! GET IT!!!”

Esial ran through the trees, heart thumping stolen blood through his body. He’d been so hungry. He’d needed something and it was better that it was an animal than a person, right?

“THIS WAY!”

Esial came sliding to a stop and ran in another direction, not wanting to be cut off by the hunters. He reached up to his chest to grab his amulet, but his pale fingers closed on empty air. His amulet? His AMULET! Where did he-

The Heart stopped that memory in its tracks. The Heart had control over the memories, and it didn’t want to watch that one again. Not again.

Instead, the heart reached for a memory of teenage years, pondering over them all to-

East blood.

There was a hand, pounding with east blood cradling the Heart. Why were there hands? Pain, burning, screams, flinching, fear-

The fingers smoothed over the Heart. Memories of Maman smoothing down hair lovingly surfaced and the Heart slowed, now more curious than scared. Something cool, moist, damp, was wrapped around it. The Heart relished in the feeling before the hands tugged. Sharp pain tore alongside the Heart as it was ripped from something and the fear came back as more cool, moist, damp was wrapped around it.

Time passed and the Heart got the sense of… movement. They were going somewhere. The Heart couldn’t sense the hands anymore, though. But it was moving

Eventually, the damp, cool, moist was pulled away and the East Hands stroked the heart directly. The Heart did not think, but it did hope.

The East hands placed the Heart in new ones. Rougher, bigger, Northwest blood. The Northwest hands held the Heart, though did not stroke it. The Heart grew nervous as it sensed the anxiety in the blood flow beneath it. Soon enough, though, the East hands were back and were stroking it again. The Heart relaxed just enough that, when the cold, dry, freezing touched its flesh, it was merely confused rather than afraid. That changed very soon as the East hands left and disappeared entirely. The fear became vivid and sharp as the cold enveloped The quickly beating Heart. But as the heart got cold, it grew tired. And even more so. The fear dropped to mild anxiety, then to malcontent tiredness. Then…. Nothing.

Part 2

@whumpsday

#vampire whumpee #rescue #carewhumper #having a hard time with tags right now #ancient vampire #What a good time this has been

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

Text

Once, when I was younger and would dress somewhat outrageously, I caught a stranger recording me on his phone as I danced on the tube, on my way to a gay club. The video never surfaced online to my knowledge – perhaps he simply sent it to a group chat – but for months I looked over my shoulder when dancing.

Turning strangers into online content for the purposes of comedy and entertainment has become a global pastime. And we lap it up. A drunk person relieves themselves in the street, a loved-up couple gets a bit steamy in a supermarket, a man is in his own world loudly singing out of tune on crowded public transport – the content is endless.But the line between lighthearted teasing and digital harassment seems to be getting thinner by the day.

Recently, a 64-year-old, retired man, Michael Peacock, was filmed dancing enthusiastically at Fabric nightclub in London. The video was uploaded online with the caption: “Yo I’ll never be going Fabric again.” The intention was clearly to laugh at the man’s dancing, and the clip also invited a range of homophobic and ageist responses, with the man in question reporting to Vice that his “heart sank” when he saw tweets about himself.

None of us can expect a legally protected right to absolute privacy when we step out in public. There are, however, basic ideas that we’re all supposed to hold around respect and dignity, which mean we should not invade others’ personal space through intrusion or fixed observation. It’s an unspoken code that is evaporating at a time where there are rewards to be gained by selling out another person’s privacy, making them go viral.

Cases such as Peacock’s might seem obviously cruel or unwarranted, but clearly not everyone sees it that way. After all, most of us have recording equipment in our pockets, designed not only to capture but to disseminate content in an instant. It takes active thought to see that what’s going on is too often a kind of antisocial behaviour: a rigorous policing of fun, spontaneity and expression, a disciplinary mechanism for social conformity.

Sometimes recording is not as spontaneous as spotting a stranger you think is ridiculous and snapping: in our age of YouTube and TikTok there are also the curated setups where a stranger becomes a supporting character in a skit they’ve not auditioned for. Like Candid Camera for generation Z, it’s commonplace for strangers to be pranked or misled for the purposes of content. These pranks usually have less sinister or malicious intent than spontaneous recording, but the feeling of being degraded is often the same, with uploaders potentially monetising the content.

For instance, a Melbourne woman who was made to participate in a “random act of kindness” TikTok without her knowledge, described being filmed without her consent as “dehumanising”. A friend of mine, Kyle Skies, recently fell victim to a YouTube prankster, in which he was provoked by a series of annoying questions. The video is incredibly funny (there’s no argument about that) but Skies didn’t see it that way.

“I had just run for and missed the train so I was already flustered and annoyed, and then that happened to me. I don’t know if my anxiety was kicking in but I was ready to fight,” he tells me. “I wanted to slap him but I had to think about where I was as a tall black man.” Though he felt he was being set up, he was still not prepared to see the video online. “My cousin sent it to me, because he’s of that age group. He was laughing, saying, ‘You’re so funny.’ But it didn’t feel nice. I got a bit of anxiety and my heart started pounding, I wasn’t ready for it.” Skies is powerless here – so long as footage is taken in public and does not reveal certain personal data, such as your bank details or medical history, you generally do not need the subject’s consent (though a professional production company making a prank show would certainly get written permissions from its subjects).

There are, of course, instances where recording strangers can be in the public interest: state abuses of power, such as police brutality, jump out. But we do need to start thinking more carefully about this dog-eat-dog culture of public spectacle. Take the example of someone, who appeared to be a school age child, filmed shouting at passengers on a commuter train this month after seemingly being asked not to vape. (It was viewed several million times on Twitter.) Many would argue that if you behave offensively, and cause a public scene, then you forfeit any right to expect a dignified social code of privacy, and that there should be appropriate social consequences for this behaviour.

Few people who negatively commented online seemed to consider that they might have been watching footage of a minor. Or that the intense gaze of multiple recording devices could have overwhelmed the subject, whose response was likely escalated by a defensive need to stand their ground and not look weak in front of the cameras. Their behaviour was certainly not appropriate, but what does it mean when bystanders can witness a young person vaping on the train and their first thought is to ridicule and humiliate? Would the incident have played out differently without cameras and the incentive to create content from other people’s meltdowns? And even if their behaviour was bad, was it really in the public interest for it to be shared, when the behaviour was simply disrespectful rather than violent or bigoted?

Until such practices become social faux pas there is the chance that you could step outside and become someone else’s ticket to social media stardom. The use of mobile recording devices has empowered us in many ways. Beefing up privacy laws to prevent the filming of strangers in public would be undesirable, not to mention unworkable. What can change is social and cultural – reacting with grace to each other’s embarrassments, and minding your own business more.

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