#Makarov is his own warning

[thegnomelord]

You ever hear the gross stories about people putting peanut butter on their junk and having a dog lick it off? This sounds bad but stay with me here, imagine it's marakov doing this with hound. Like it's a humiliation thing to break hound down or something and drive it into his head that he's no better than an actual dog. Marakov starving hound for awhile so he's famished and then pulling the peanut butter out. If hound wants to eat then the only food he can have will be the peanut butter he'll have to lick off marakovs cock.

Oh fuck that is disgusting and SOOO something Makarov would do. So here's a lil ficlet cause you got my brain going Brrrr

CW:NSFW, MDNI, Makarov x male reader, blowjob, peanutbutter food sex, toxic relationship, dom/sub dub-con, rough and quick, I дворняга - mongrel, mutt есть - eat, нет - no.

Rough fingers grip your jaw until it hurts, Makarov's thumb pressing down on your tongue to keep it flush with the bottom of your mouth. Drool and a bit of blood run down your chin, a small puddle already forming between your folded knees. The fingers on of his other hand wiggle your canine, uncaring of how your jaw trembles in an attempt not to bite him.

"Poor дворняга," Makarov chuckles, "Not liking your new teeth?"

Your 'new' teeth hurt like hell and that's saying something, gums around them still raw and irritated, knives stabbing at your entire jaw and down your throat whenever he wiggles the tooth even slightly. But you can't show that, don't bite the hand that feeds. So you swallow the sound of pain bubbling in your chest and shake your head as much as he allows you to do so.

You can see his smirk past the tears blurring your vision. "Good dog." He chuckles, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pat your head. "You must be hungry."

You are. Starving. You can't remember the last time you've been fed, probably before Makarov had your canines ripped from your mouth and replaced with metal, but the constant pain buzzing in your body makes it hard to keep track as the days blur together. You wordlessly nod your head, knowing better than to speak when he hasn't given you permission yet (you doubt you even could with how much your jaw hurts.)

Makarov leans back on your bunk, letting go of your jaw to fiddle with the jar of peanut butter. Unscrewing the lid he dips his pointer finder in and scoops up a big dollop of it. He holds it out for you, resting the back of his finger on your tongue. "Есть." He orders, tone leaving no room for arguing and you're quick to close your lips around his finger, tongue moving to lick it clean and trying to avoid nudging your teeth.

You've always hated the stuff since Price got you to try some when you were in America, the taste and texture making your skin crawl, but right now it may as well be ichor of the gods. Your stomach rumbles at finally being able to devour something, even if it's just a small scoop of peanut butter.

You open your mouth when you're done, spit clinging to Makarov's finger, and try your best to make a small whine. "Good, finally learning." He hums and sets the jaw down, unbuckling his belt.

Your heart stutters and drops to your stomach as you watch Makarov fish his half hard cock from his boxers, only needing a few strokes to get him fully erect. Makarov laughs at the face you make when he scoops up a good amount of the peanut butter and uses it like lube on his cock.

"Oh, did you think you would just get to eat?" He snorts, holding the base of his cock, "Нет, нет, нет you dumb mutt." He spreads his legs wider, patting his thigh. "You'll have to work for it, now есть."

You hesitate, some meager part of your pride absolutely unwilling, your stomach telling you to forget about that. Makarov waits, judgmental eyes locked on you, easily able to see the turmoil swirling in your eyes. He knows how to be patient, while he usually wouldn't tolerate disobedience, he knows he can't set up a hunting dog for failure and expect success so soon into your training.

His efforts bear fruit and you slowly shuffle forward on your knees. Even starved as you are, the wide span of your shoulders still forces his legs to spread wider. You hesitate some more, looking past his cock up at him, wondering if he really wants you to do this; is this a reward or just another way to tear you down?

"Do not make me repeat myself." He says, voice even and cool, but you're still perceptive enough to notice the sharp edge of danger in his tone, like a knife pressed into your throat.

Tentatively you lean in, fists clenching against your thighs as your tongue lolls out to hesitantly lick at his shaft. He doesn't rush you, doesn't degrade you, but his hand does settle on the back of your skull. You freeze, but he only hums, "Good dog." His hips twitch until his shaft bumps against your nose.

The hand on your head keeps you from pulling away, and your hunger soon wins out so you give a few experimental kitten licks. You start at the bottom, still uneasy about this, your tongue licking across his knuckles. Makarov purrs something in Russian you're not familiar with, his tone not sweet enough to make you think it's an insult, so you slowly continue up his shaft.

His precum mixes with the peanut butter, giving it a saltier tang that makes disgust curl in your stomach, humiliation making your face burn. Even your mind mocks you; Price's voice echoes somewhere in your ears "This is why we left you, you were just waiting for a chance to be a terrorist's whore." but that voice slowly gets quieter as Makarov's hand pets your head, making thinking about anything but the creamy peanut butter on your tongue difficult.

"Good dog, doing so well for me." Makarov hums, a pleased sound escaping his chest. The pleasure your mouth brings is miniscule compared to the sight of you - on your knees, eyes slowly closing as your malleable mind settles into static, drool smeared lips wrapping around his head to suck all the food your tongue missed - oh it's something else. He's seen many powerful men brought down to their knees, but nothing has ever made him harder than you right now.

You pop off his cockhead, chest frantically moving to draw breath, unfocused eyes staring at his drooling head before you look up. "Now wasn't that a good treat?" He asks, receiving your mumble in return, using your spaced out mind to smear more peanut butter on his head. "But you missed a spot. Go on, есть."

[shotmrmiller]

neighbor ghoap deciding it’s time to quickly put their plan into action once they get a taste of reader’s own sounds through the walls.

Brought home some guy off tinder, and they were seething the whole time. They heard the door slam, noting that the guy had left, and your moans started again. This time they were different, real, which just made Simon start laughing.

no cuz johnny almost bit through the skin of his knuckles in fury.

see, he's the one that's nudging at simon about how he needs to have you, even if it's the once.

(it's not gonna be but what simon don't know won't kill him)

simon is a bit reluctant because he's not used to sharing. what's his is his. period.

but johnny's got a honey mouth. he can spin straw into gold.

it takes a couple of deep throat blowjobs, and a few nights of murmuring directly into simon's ear as he gets fucked into the mattress to make simon see (his) reason.

and then you've gone and brought someone home. some bawbag that sounds like a cow about to breathe it's last. he feels rage, white hot, deep in his chest. his blood is practically at a rolling boil under his skin.

the last time he felt this angry was when they had makarov in the plane.

he can't even hear your sweet little whimpers you usually let out when you masturbate.

johnny turns to simon, who's absentmindedly cleaning his gun on the table and tells him to get up.

"make sure tha' feartie doesnae come back when he leaves, aye?" he snarls.

simon tips his head wordlessly. he'll let johnny order him around, just this once. the scrunched skin of johnny's nose as he bares his teeth in aggression is adorable.

he racks the slide of the gun and places it down with an audible clack, grabs his leather jacket from the chair and shrugs it on.

"does he need to disappear?"

johnny makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. "i dinnae care! just make sure he goes and stays gone."

simon moves quick- light on his feet toward him and fists his hair cruelly, forcibly craning johnny's neck back to lock eyes with him.

down boy.

"watch the attitude, or i'll be fuckin' it outta ya 'n there won't be anyone tell tha' imbecile t'piss off, yeah?" simon's voice rumbles with his warning.

if johnny had ears, they'd be pinned flat to his head. "aye."

he gives a soft slap to johnny's cheek. "good. i'll be back," and is out the door in seconds.

-

the next day, johnny corners approaches you in the lift, and rubs the back of his neck, feigning discomfort.

he watches your eyes widen, mouth gape in sheer horror as he tells you that he got no sleep, some guy couldn't stop caterwauling like a cat in heat last night.

oh, you look like you're about to burst into tears. he can't help but unabashedly stare at you. that expression is moving all the blood in his head south.

please cry. he'd come in his pants if you did.

the lift pings and the moment is broken, so johnny wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and does that he's always done best.

use his honeyed tongue.

"grab a tea with me? i promise to not bite." he walks out and steps to the side, extending a hand towards you.

he notices your hesitance, so he amps up his charm. johnny's lips curl into a roguish smile, the blunt edges of his white teeth barely visible.

"please? jus' a tea. i'll pay." simon's always said he looks best while begging.

you must seem to think so too, because you're sliding your much smaller, softer hand in his- fingers grazing the rings that adorn his hand.

"atta lass. we'll take a cab."

-

a few days later, johnny has the tv running in the background as he cooks dinner, when he hears:

'a man crashed into the bay, possibly under the influence...'

you're all theirs, now.

only theirs.

[burstinn]

THE EVERY GAY MANS DREAM READER

TALL, BUFF, BIG BOOBS AND ASS everything

Can't find no good pic for this so..

This post includes:Ghost, Graves, Price, Soap, Nikto, Riptide, Krueger, Konig, Alejandro, Rudy, Gaz, Horangi, Makarov, Velikan, Keegan, Roach. In that order

Yes I wrote all those, yes because I haven't written in a while

Notes:

- NSFW and SFW (Bottom male and top male reader mentioned)

-since y'all like the big buff n' tall male reader, made him bigger and taller basically mixed everything I wrote about male reader, tall, big buff, big cake, big boobs it's like a package in one this will probably be the last of this type of reader since running out ideas. It was hard making original headcanons 💔💔.

-Omg I haven't written in a while so like this might get idk boring?

- Yes again headcanons,you're favs

- strictly MALE READER not Gn rn

- readers age is ambiguous but if you can't think and want an age for reader my thinking is somewhere near late 30s or early 40s

- Some of the HCS have where y'all ain't in a relationship some HCS have y'all r in a relationship

- these headcanons definitely are mischaracterized but let me pretend for a bit 💔💔

- Tiktok got to me now I have brainrot language, so Trigger warning wooohh braiinroot

- can't believe this post was long enough to make my phone lag just a lil bit

- When he first saw you of course he was 😦😧😮

GHOST

- Like okay overkill, like you're taller, buffer and probably have a huger cock??? (Something he can investigate.. For purposes..)

Like you also got smoobs?? A plumpy ass??

Like save some for the rest Jesus 😒😒

- Nonstop staring secretly ofc, You be like in a room then you feel someone staring just to see Ghost somewhere in the corner of the room. You can't tell if he's staring or not but being that you are in an empty room.. Yknow it's kind of obv--

- BUT if you are not in an empty room you will not shake off the staring I mean holy shit look at you like 😨😨🍑✋

- You can literally hear him breathing heavily under his mask like how can he control himself when HE a person who is supposed to be looked up to literally and figuratively now has to look up at YOU?? do you know what does to a person??

-That's right it makes them freaky..

-Probably jerks off to you too

- I mean who doesn't want to get railed by a 7 ft tall man? Especially ESPECIALLY when you've been the supposed dominant person your whole life??

- OMG immediately Cumming to the thought

- I mean he won't mind topping you it also drives his own ego seeing a dominant man get absolutely wrecked, imagine the begging and whining

- plus he won't mind being the person who feels protected not always doing the protecting like 💔💔 he wants to feel protected too 😞

GRAVES

- Immediate gay awakening

- thinks making his western accent more prominent would make you think he sounds more hot

- Will dress up as a cowboy and will will ask (beg) you to do it as well

- because you know.. Hat thing.. Riding.. Graves grabs your hat puts it on his head or Graves grabs his hat puts it on your head, either way one of you is riding something and it ain't a horse

- because of the amazing quote on who ever came up w/ that is "save a horse ride a cowboy"

- Graves is obviously the type of guy to look at your ass and whistle maybe slap it, nah definitely slap it

PRICE

- He thinks of you like a bear

- like You're soo- big and cuddly? Definitely intimidating

- I mean you're near the same age bracket so it's not bad to have some.. Thoughts right?

- You're definitely hairy underneath or not but pls be he wants pubes to tickle his nose

- if you don't have a beard for reader then he would KILL to see have a beard like aughh perfect bear look, if you have a beard immediately cumming(/j) or (not /j)

- Like imagine you and price who are basically like bears like parent bears and and you the other 141 boys are like your children 🥺🥺

SOAP

- DEFINITELY became more gayer

- errrmmm.. Like his eyes are BASICALLY near like chest height

- bumping into you and his face touches your chest like omgg.. Such an accident 💔💔

- Obviously flirting about going to pound town

- like imagine You and Him? In a relationship? Having the most feral sex??? Like it's obv jokes (it's not)

- He would also do anything to see a big man whimper like a little bicth slut, who wouldn't want to see a demon of a man roll his eyes back and whine like a wheoeororoe❤, I mean if he tops I'd imagine him saying "cmon you're a big boy ain't cha'? You can handle a few more inches". While you are also getting the malevolent backshots.

- He would also want a big strong arm to man handle him as he takes the most vigorous backshots known to man

- Have you ever thought or seen a very tall wall like 10 or 11 ft high and you being you, Soap asks (demands) for you to carry him on your shoulder because he wants to see what's over the wall

NIKTO

- intimidating guy and intimidating guy typa relationship but your not in a relationship.. Yet.

- watch him watch you

- shows off his knife collection to you, yes I think he has a knife collection and he will show it to people that he wants to impress (he wants to get freaky with you)

- I like to think if he strips off the gear he gives the most desperate kind of touchy hug, to those he feels close with of course which is you

- lucky you

RIPTIDE

- Offers to teach you how to swim yknow just in case

- there is none, he wants to see you wet

- tells you to wear a white shirt and shorts because its Essential for training, it's a lie he wants to see the water wet your clothes making it stick to your body.. Yknow the white shirt showing whats underneath and the shorts outlining what package you've been hiding even though you weren't really hiding it

- He gets too distracted, the others are too, he forgets how to teach you

KRUEGER

- indefinite eye contact while your doing it

- likes staring into them, if you get shy and look away he will grab your jaw and make you have eye contact with him

- angry fierce ahh eyes

- he's an emotional grumpy guy, rip off his mask and aggressively kiss his face

- He wants the after sex laying on the chest while the other is rubbing their head, goes both ways.

- trace his tattoos and compliment them the bedroom will be locked the whole day, trust 🙏

KÖNIG

- The same as Ghosts

- Imagine being the one to get carried instead of the one carrying

- König would definitely come up to you and ask to be carried while you kiss his face multiple times❤❤

- Imagine how hard he gets because you have to look down at him to talk like HNGRHRRGGGRGRRR

- Definitely likes giving you homemade arts and crafts gear because you know.. The headcanon where König makes his own gear and what if he does it for other people too as gifts💔

- likes seeing you wear his mask it makes him imagine what people see when they see König definitely a change of perspective. He can see how intimidating you are and he gets hard.

ALEJANDRO

- will definitely compliment you in Spanish when talking about you with other people even when you're in front or behind him.

- I mean you don't understand Spanish right?

- if you don't, you're oblivious and only just watch curiously on what he's talking about. Buuut but but if you do understand you don't tell him you undeestrand this thing literally feeds your ego like Alejandro thinks of you this way? 🥺🥺

- Thigh riding type of guy idc who thigh riding

RUDY

- everytime I look at him he looks like a soft vanilla type

- I know he's a strong guy but look at him

- He wants soft sex 😞😞

- He also likes being complimented if you whisper a praise to him when he's doing ANYTHING. Imagine the babies you'd both have together.

- He likes toddlers and babies and if you do too a plus for him,makes him fall even more 💯💯

GAZ

- One time he Got injured and was sitting on the floor and then He saw you running towards him he simultaneously screamed in fear and how hard he got

- Likes to style your clothes, If he was off the military right now he really really likes fashion and if he sees you.. You can't fashion and he sees you wearing.. That, He's appalled, horrified, mortified I'm over exaggerating. But he is now in charge of your fashion now, But if you do know how to style you both will share tips with eachother. You can share different tips too ❤❤

- drags you in his barracks and strips you of your clothes except shorts.. And he's telling you this because he wants to "style" you.

- We both know damn well that's an excuse to get the boombayah freaky on.. He's just to shy to tell you upfront or he thinks it's fun to tease you like that before you get freaky

HORANGI

- gets freaky..

- Like he understands the women who get all giggly and nervous when they see a big man who can destroy them (ignore König 💔)

- is definitely not above thigh crushing, boob crushing, face sitting he'd do all at as long as it's you

- Like one time he pretended he broke his leg and won't let anyone else carry him until you came, acting all princessy and shit as you carry him bridal style to the medics

- He felt like a prince omg

- will definitely get on you and treat your real life size anime men boobs as a squishy toy

- How long is it and will he be able to take it??? Who knows he will find out!! Basically searched how long can someone's cock be if they are built like a god and is 7ft tall in Google

- someone gotta tell me Horangi's height and basic Google searching ain't doing it for me I'm too lazy to search for one line of a spicy headcanon line mb

MAKAROV

- You're basically ascary dog he owns

- You're tall and intimidating

- You can get information out of people quickly

- And he's not above telling you to torture anyone with a strength and body like yours

- most of the time you get the info done and folded

- Makarov uses you for intimidation and strength buuttt if you ever THINK of betraying him he already has a plan to get rid of someone like you

- Can and will turn you into one of those supersoldiers

- Will make you murder people right in front of him for entertainment and will rewward you!

- you know what reward it will be, Because when he asked what reward you wanted you got a bit to freaky you thought you be dead rn but nah he agreed actually he seems to enjoy it more than you do..

VELIKAN

- He's the dog in this one have you heard his voice?? Rough as hell imagine hearing him grunt

- Sounds cocky as hieeeellll too

- Would definitely like showing off to you since he wants to look cool in front of you

- Like you seen velikans skins?? Definitely wears the best ones to show you he can not only be a trained assassin But can also dress cool as hell

- If you compliment him it like makes his day, will not stop thinking about it

- Like a cool person complimenting a cool person like him? Ego boost (It's him feeling gay)

- This guys definitely a smoker (headcanon!!) Because voice sounds like he smoked 100 packs in 1 day and doesn't drink an ounce of water /jk I love him he's so hot.

- So if you want a smoke he purposely hides the lighter saying.. 'Oh no I asked someone elses lighter.. I don't have mine right now' or like 'my lighter ran out of fuel ohh

- So you have to put the cigarette in your mouth as you touch it with his cigarette to light ur own that type of trope 💫💫

- If you're not a smoker he will try his best to not smoke in front of you will use fresh mints to hide his breath of smoke

- after sex he will want a smoke, outside he goes or you both share the one cigarette

KEEGAN

- is it wrong to want to be choked by a big buff meaty arm?

- yknow the tiktok thing where girls put a ribbon on their boyfriends arm and the girls just put their face in the middle as their faces get squished??

- Yeah he wants that but gay

- will try to compare dick sizes even though yours is OBVIOUSLY the superior one!!

- Heads or tails on who's bottoming tonight

- Would like to be wrapped around your arms if you are hugging or sleeping keeps him warm

- Especially when it's snowing will force you to hug with him. ESPECIALLY when your in a mission and your in the tents he will definitely force you to hug it out with him

ROACH

- remember the other tall HC where the reader wasn't taller than König

- yes roach does the same thing here.. He's crawling on you like a tree

- If he wants a kiss instead of asking he crawls up to you and kisses you

- definitely likes to sit on your shoulders as you walk around, he feels tall like that

- this is like a distance relationship 💔💔

- Likes it when you bend over to talk to him also when you bend over when youre doing sum since it's slappable opportunity

- because bent over = double D cake will be slapped

- How will it fit? By the power of friendship of course!!

- probably more of say gex desperation but you get it

- Obviously switch switch

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission. 

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside. 

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size. 

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him. 

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was. 

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning. 

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it. 

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny. 

Not because they would have not loved him back. 

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask. 

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one. 

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body. 

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now. 

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast. 

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest. 

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing. 

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too. 

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms. 

Warm and breathing. 

He can only imagine what you went through. 

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse. 

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him. 

He already knew that. 

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment. 

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny. 

A scarred, angry Johnny. 

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease. 

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel. 

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately. 

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart. 

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else. 

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other. 

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning. 

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes. 

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked. 

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him. 

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't. 

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest. 

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon. 

Not the greatest first impression. 

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years? 

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour. 

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection. 

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him. 

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up. 

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him. 

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you. 

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat. 

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care. 

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name. 

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear. 

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length. 

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed. 

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

Taglist: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

[mockerycrow]

Frozen Fingertips [1/2] (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist - part two

Summary: You and Simon are in an extremely cold and snow covered area of Russia and manage to get separated from everyone else when a blizzard comes out of nowhere. Ghost helps keep you alive.

[WARNINGS: Light descriptions of developing hypothermia and frostbite, angst, hurt/comfort, ghost is actually worried.]

THE EXTREMELY COLD air bit at the little skin that’s exposed on your face and invades your lungs, nearly feeling like it’s sending frost to bite at the most inner corners of your esophagus. Dressed in snow boots, a snow suit as well as a snow jacket with a bullet proof vest, a thick scarf, two layers of gloves—a pair of thin gloves and then your snow gloves—as well as a beanie with your hood up. You tried to tie your scarf in such a way where it covers the lower portion of your face, but movement has made the fabric crumble down. The conditions of the snowy forest you’re trudging through are harsh; the snow is several feet deep, nearly up to your mid-thigh, causing you to have to quite literally pull your leg through dense snow, and of course you forgot your sunglasses for this trip. The bright sun is shining onto the snow surrounding you, successfully blinding you, causing you to squint until you give yourself a headache.

You have no idea what temperature it is, but all you know is that the fact that you’re moving through the snow is the only thing getting you through this. Your nose burns from the cold and so do your cheekbones, and any other skin that is exposed. You hold your rifle tighter to your chest in an attempt to maintain warmth, and despite all of your protective clothing, you don’t feel warm at all. You’re traveling with Ghost, while Soap, Price, and Gaz are infiltrating a nearby safehouse, owned by Makarov. You and Ghost are making your way to the exfil point after providing overwatch—the weather was beginning to pick up, blocking your line of sight. You shudder as some snow lands on the tip of your nose and melt, but nearly immediately freeze due to the temperature.

You keep dragging your feet through the snow, one foot after the other, trying to think warm thoughts to keep you going. Your radio crackles to life and Ghost’s muffled voice comes through; he’s only in front of you, but the snow can act as a sound muffler. “Doin’ alright?” His voice is like a wave of warmth washing over you, and you close your eyes for a moment as you walk. You open them and mumble, “Freezing my ass off, sir.” Ghost lets out a huff that almost sounds like a chuckle. “Keep moving, sergeant. You’ll keep your strength and warmth up.” You don’t bother to respond as you continue to trudge on. The wind begins to pick up as well as the falling snow slowly turns into a mini blizzard. “This is Price to Ghost and [Name], how copy?”

You don’t bother to respond as you’re focused on keeping yourself upright—when did you begin to feel so tired? “Loud and clear, Price. The weather’s pickin’ up.”

When did you begin to feel so.. warm? ..What?

You blink and suddenly you find yourself collapsed into the snow. You don’t question it, because you’re quite comfortable. The coldness of the snow feels good against your suddenly warm skin. You’re violently shivering, but you don’t mind. You’re warm. A pair of hands grab your coat, flipping you over so you’re no longer face down into the snow. You whine and weakly try to push whoever is touching you because their gloved hands are on your face, brushing snow off of your skin. “Stop,” You slur, your voice wobbling. Your hearing tappers out for a moment, and apparently so does your vision because the next thing you know—you find yourself in a cabin.

The first thing you feel is warmth—and then extreme coldness, and then numbness, and it’s a repeating cycle, causing you constantly shiver where you’re laying. Your limbs feel so heavy and you just want to stay laying down, but you’re hit with the thought of Ghost. Did he bring you here? Or did something happen, causing someone to take you? Your thoughts are in disarray, that much is clear. You can’t even form a coherent thought. You blink slowly as to focus your gaze, and you see a tall and bulky figure bent down by a fireplace, which you’re laying near. Huh. You’re somehow stuffed inside your sleeping bag. The figure’s back is turned to you, so whatever they’re doing, you’re unable to see. “C’mon,” The rough voice hisses. Oh, it’s Ghost.. Duh. You let out a choked noise as a weird pain of blistering pain radiates through your skull, and you’re vaguely aware of the feeling of your blood quickly rushing back into your fingertips, the humming sensation in your fingers nearing painful. They were lightly tingling before.

You blink again; time has passed. There’s a fire going now, a steady one, but it’s clearly not enough. Not with the way Ghost’s intense eyes are staring into yours, him saying something about you staying awake, something about how he knows you want to sleep—which he’s right about—but you can’t, and that you shouldn’t. You nearly wanna reach over and smack him about that, and you would have if you could move without the sluggish and heavy weighted feelings in your limbs. Who is he, to tell you, what you can and cannot do?? “I’m tired, Ghost.. Lemme sleep.” You croak out—your voice is trembling and you don’t understand why, but your body doesn’t give you enough energy to properly question it and you lay your head back down, trying to turn it away.

“Need you to keep those eyes open, [Name],” Ghost’s voice is suddenly.. very, very, very close to your ears. Your eyes flutter back open—you don’t even remember closing them—and you’re face to face to his mask. His brown eyes burrow into yours, nearing unreadable, but one thought pops up when your head allows it; he’s worried. Ghost is worried. “M’here,” You mutter, feeling yourself shake in your sleeping bag. “I’m here.” You watch as Ghost gets up from his position, which was looming over you, to add more fuel to the fireplace. The fire cracks and sparks alive once again, and you never noticed it died down. Must’ve been a while, of you being in and out. Your head is finally allowing you think more clearly. “How..” You lick your dry and cold lips before continuing. “How long has it been?”

Ghost looks over at you, pausing for a moment before poking at the burning wood with a fireplace poker. “You don’t know?” He questions, his voice tense. Bad sign. You not remembering how much time has passed is a very bad sign. You shake your head, tugging your sleeping bag closer to your body in a sluggish manner. Ghost’s quiet as he moves back over to you, grabbing his own sleeping bag which is tightly rolled up and attached to his backpack. Ghost begins to unravel the fabric and unzip it, in an attempt to make a blanket. “Well, a big blizzard started up as we were headin’ to the RV. Found you face down in the snow a bit behind me, and knew you..” He trails off as pulls the zippers down, hesitating in his movements. “..knew you needed to rest, needed help.”

You press your lips together because it’s so clear Ghost is avoiding what he wanted to say; what you both know what he meant. A harsh shiver rolls out through your body, harsh enough to make your vision spin, causing Ghost to huff. He drapes his unzipped sleeping bag over your body, tucking the extra fabric under your body. You groan quietly and you shut your eyes for a moment. Ghost is shifting stuff around and you his gloves fingers push your hat up ever so slightly and then you feel.. skin pressing against your forehead?? Your eyes open sleepily to the sight of Ghost’s mask pushed to above his nose, exposing his scarred lips and cheeks. You open your mouth to say something but a quiet whimper leaves you as your vision swims again—not giving you a moment to think about his kiss against your forehead. “Cold.” He mutters as he grabs the edge of his mask and pulls it back over the rest of his face, down to his neck. You watch as Ghost takes off his scarf and wraps it around your neck instead, and then he lays down next to you and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. You try to question why he’s doing this, but Ghost is already three steps ahead of you. “You’re not of any help if you’re dead, love.” His voice is steady, but it’s on edge—like he’s scared.

You shut your eyes and you lean into his everlasting warmth, and you decide to not point out how his gloved fingers are stroking the exposed skin of your face in a soothing manner.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

You're mine, all mine Y/N.

Y/N x COD characters

What happens when someone tries to flirt with you and they don't have a clue that you're not alone?.

For this one I wanted to use Makarov, Soap and König.

Warning: images are not mine, credits to whoever they belong to! Spelling and grammatical errors everywhere, mentions of violence, murder but nothing specific, not a very good text but I hope someone likes it.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Makarov.

You're at the mall just walking while your boyfriend is buying a new pair of chemises as if he needed more, you stopped out of a jewelry store, there's a beautiful set of necklace, earrings and ring, incrustations of ruby and emeralds, it's pure luxury, of course you can ask Vladimir to buy it for you and for sure he will buy it because you deserve the best of the best, but, no, it's too much, too expensive in your opinion, one of the workers had seen you contemplating the jewelry and not only that, he's too focused on your beauty and that perfect body shape, oh god, he's devouring you with his eyes. You're ready to keep walking when he approaches you.

- Good morning, I see that you liked this ruby and emerald jewelry set, would you like to try it?

- Oh no, i bet it is too expensive, there's no need...

- I insist, you have a very long neck, come on darling, such a beauty like you needs beautiful accessories...

He actually doesn't even care if you buy or not he only wants to know you better, flirt, poor little guy, he doesn't have a clue of who your man is.

At the end he convinced you. You send a quick text to Vladimir to let him know where you are, while this guy asks you about your name, your work and other stuff, he thinks you're single, you already tried to mention your relationship status but he talks a lot.

Finally the necklace rests around your neck and looks beautiful over your chest, you're beautiful, you want it, of course you want it, you need to have it. But still, no, you still believe it is a lot of money for something like that.

- What do you think? Do you like it?

He runs his hands over your shoulders, you try to avoid the uncomfortable feeling of them.

- Of course I like it, but as I said before... (You sighed) I bet it costs a fortune.

- I'm not gonna lie, it is, but maybe I can give you a good discount, huh.

You look at him clearly in confusion, why would he do that?

- Why would you do that?

- Because you're very beautiful and because I have to sell it. So it's a way to help each other, don't you think?... Of course I will just ask you a little favor.

He presses your shoulder while he observes you with a malicious look.

- Excuse me?

You put the necklace carefully on the box where it was, this is not going in a friendly way, maybe it's time to mention Makarov.

- A dinner, that's all I ask in exchange.

- Oh I have a boyfr...

- Love?

Both turn back and Makarov is standing on the door. You walk to him and kiss his lips.

- Did you find something?

He asked, You try to avoid the uncomfortable moment with the poor seller and quickly you tell Makarov about the necklace and how expensive it is.

- It's beautiful... But the price doesn't convince me...

Makarov is observing the set cautiously while you explain, for a moment it looks like it's only you and him In the store, until the other guy speaks.

- Oh well, if you think it's too much I have some other cheaper if the money is the problem.

He looks pissed but not as Makarov, your man observes this guy as if it was a bug, ready to put his expensive pair of shoes over his throat to suffocate him.

You think he will punch this stupid guy, so without thinking you mention that he was talking about the discount.

- Babe, this... Young boy was telling me about a discount...

- Ahhh, really? In exchange of what?

Makarov looks at the young man in front of him, he's not happy, he intimidates just with that look.

- Sorry sir, I didn't know you were with (y/n)...

Fuck, you messed up, but you keep quiet. Vladimir looks like he wants to kill this man, how he dares to even call you by your name, where's the respect?.

- I see, well, the money is not a problem, I'll buy it...

- But, honey...

- Shh, you deserve it my love. Even better, I'll buy all you have in this store. Right now.

There are no words, Makarov looks pleased to buy you every object of the store, for a second you think he won't lose his mind killing this man or something. The bags and boxes are in the car, you don't think clearly, you're in shock. He opens the door for you and then he pretends he forgot something in the store so he asks you to wait.

Twenty minutes later he's back, once you're at home he's watching the news when you listen what happened at the mall.

«In other news, the mall will be closed this weekend, Police will be investigating the murdered and fire at the jewelry store, The owner can't explain what could happen, the cameras were sabotaged, the corpse found belongs to the seller on shift...»

- Vlad, what did you do?

- Love, You can't be serious. Do you really think I would let that guy alive? No one who doesn't respect you or me can live long enough.

Soap.

Johnny and you visit the local bar every time he's back in town, you're not the kind of person who enjoys places like this, but for love everybody needs to make little sacrifices.

Johnny leaves you while he quickly goes to get more beer, you're observing the group of men who are singing and playing the old piano of the bar, you can't deny it, it's a funny night, until...

- Hey, can I sit?

A man who you have never seen before is smiling at you, he doesn't wait for your answer and sits.

- Sorry, you can't sit here, I'm waiting for someone...

- Oh I bet he doesn't care, if he leaves you here alone... Anyway, Tell me, what's your name? Can I invite you a drink?

- No thanks, my bo...

- I don't see no one at the sight, come on, tell me your name or give me your number...

You have enough of this shit so you simply stand up, you're leaving the table when this man takes your forearm.

- Hey. Come on, give me something sweet, Dove.

You're ready to respond and curse him when Johnny appears behind you.

- Hey! That's my seat and she/he is mine too. So, fuck off.

- Man, don't be so rude, I think we can share, look at her/him, such a dessert. I wouldn't care about some relays.

This guy is stupid as hell and also very drunk, he doesn't have a clue of who he is provoking, In less than a second you're behind Soap while he breaks the beer bottle on the man's head, a bar fight, the Cherry on the cake.

Lucky for you, the bar owner is a good friend of your parents so at least you will not be kicked out of the place.

After a few punches Soap dragged that guy out of the bar, everybody is in silence, when he comes back he feels eyes on him.

He smiles and yells «Sorry for the inconveniences, but I can't handle well when someone touches my Y/n!»

And as if nothing happened everyone continues the party, the music plays again, the laughs and conversation filled the place again.

Once both are sitting and with beer on your hands again you simply look at Soap, he's a little blushed, he smiles at you and asks why are you giving him that look.

- Am I your (Y/N)?

- Shut up, you know you are, I hate that not many people understand or respect that tho!

You laugh loudly and give him a little kiss on his lips.

König.

König tries his best to not be insecure or jealous when you and him are out doing couple stuff together, he feels like he's too old for you, but you always insist age is just a number, he can't avoid the thoughts of people of your age flirting with you, taking you away from him, poor man, he really tries but some days he simply can't deal with that. And today is one of those days.

Both are at the supermarket, doing your weekly shopping. He went to look for his personal stuff, shampoo, conditioner, body soap, shaving cream, while you decide between two cereal boxes. He loves when you debate with yourself about the products you will take but sometimes you take too long, so he leaves and goes for other things while you finish.

You're observing all the boxes of cereal, you're sure you still have chocolate cereal at home, so the decision is between a healthy option or another sugar bomb.

You're debating In silence when a young man interrupts you.

- Hey, excuse me, can you help me? I don't know where to find the dish soap. I'm Tommy by the way.

- Oh, it's in the aisle 5.

That's all you say and you go back to your internal debate, when once again your thoughts are interrupted by this guy.

- Are you new in town? I think I've never seen you here before.

- No, I live here with my...

- NO WAY! I would remember that beautiful face.

You sighed, clearly annoyed but this man is not getting it. You don't continue the conversation, you simply put both boxes in your cart and continue walking. As a fly, Tommy follows close enough, asking stupid questions, your dry answers apparently don't affect him.

You find an offer about a big box full of heart shaped containers for meals but you can see it well because the box is placed on top.

You're getting angry, this boy keeps talking and asking and doesn't let you think properly. You're always too kind, you can't be rude, it's not in your nature so you try to read what the box of containers have.

Suddenly, a big shadow appears at the corner of the aisle, König is walking to you without paying much attention to what you're doing, he's reading the instructions of a new shaving cream he found.

- DADDY! Where have you been? I need some help here.

You're doing those puppy eyes he loves, so he approaches quickly, meanwhile Tommy is observing how tall your... Wait? You call him daddy, is he your father or is your boyfriend? These days it is hard to guess it.

König takes the box of containers so you can read better about what it has, while you read König finally notices Tommy's presence. With a dark look and clearly jealous he simply asks...

- Can we help you?

Tommy doesn't respond but you talk for him.

- Ah, Daddy this is... Mmm sorry I forgot your name, Bobby?

- Tommy.

- Ah, sorry, well, Tommy asked me if I knew where the dish soap was.

- So what? Can't he find it by himself?

- Yeah..., no, I mean... Well, I have to go... (He looks on your direction avoiding the jealous look König is giving him) but if your father doesn't mind can I have your number?.

He's brave... But an idiot too, looks so weak and tiny his body could easily break, that's what König thought after he heard that question. But wait... Did he say 'Father'?.

You and König look at each other and then you laugh, while König blushes and gets angrier at the same time. The young man does not understand why you laugh.

- Sorry, am I losing something?

- He is not my father, he's my...

- I'm her husband, now fuck off, rotzig. (snotty-faced)

The young boy quickly leaves without protest, meanwhile you look at König with your pretty puppy eyes full of joy and bright.

- Why are you making that face, Mein Schatz?

- Are you my husband now?

He smirks and then kisses your forehead.

- Ja! I'm your husband now, mein Leben.

- I wanna see the ring on my finger then! You're such a jealous man König, I love that.

[shadow4-1]

(This one is pretty dark folks, just a heads up!)

I'm imagining being Ghost's wife and being entrusted with Soap's care while he's away on active duty.

As a now ex-medic, and the love of his life, you're the only person Ghost can truly trust to help aid Soap. If it weren't for you, Soap would've certainly died anyway. You were the first to respond and stabilize him for evac despite your own life-threatening injuries. Both of you were discharged together weeks ago.

Ghost would much rather help nurse both you and Johnny back to good health, but Makarov is still free. And as long as he's free, both you and Soap are in danger.

At first, you have no qualms with looking after Soap while Ghost's away. But after a few weeks you start to realize something awful. The doctors warned you that Soap's brain chemistry had been altered forever by Makarov's bullet. You didn't want to see it at the time, but now...you have no choice.

Soap has changed.

He takes to standing in your bedroom doorway with nothing in his eyes. When he does talk, which is now rare, he's no longer a charming prince. He's abrasive. He openly admits to the thoughts that he's having about wanting to "fuck you bloody raw". He shows no hesitation or remorse for his actions, even when you try to tell him off.

He knows you're Ghost's wife. He doesn't remember much anymore, but he does remember being the best man at your wedding. Mentally though, he doesn't have the capacity to care anymore. The only thing he seems concerned about now is keeping you quiet when he fucks you hard on your marital bed. Your squealing cries make his perpetual headache worse, but when he cums inside you the pain disappears completely for a few, merciful seconds.

[mistydeyes]

Sorry to bother and I completely understand if you dont have time or if you're busy but I saw this tiktok and was like worth a shot to ask, if you could write something kinda angst with it.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT82P5PHR/

OKAY when i saw this tiktok it literally made my jaw drop like this idea is so good and also so angsty. this my first time ever writing something like this ahh but thank you so so much for requesting!!

behind closed doors

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summary: When all signs lead to you as the mole, the 141 demands answers and they will get it whatever way necessary.

read part ii here! and part iii!

pairing: Taskforce 141 x gn!reader (but like not even a pairing at this point lol)

okay real talk here please do not read if you are not comfortable with ANY OF THIS! it is upsetting in all aspects

warnings: torture/violence, mentions of blood, bruises, and cuts, swearing, abusive language, ANGST WITH NO HAPPY ENDING

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"No, no, no," Ghost whispered in a sickly soft tone, "Keep your eyes open, Eclipse." He held a gloved hand to your face and sharply pulled your leaning head upright. "Please," you hoarsely coughed out, "I don't know anything." Your eyes stung with salty tears as he coldly looked back into your eyes. "We all know that's bullshit," he spat before turning from you and looking at a variety of tools at his disposal. You gritted your teeth and shut your eyes in preparation. Each member had their own method of "questioning" from Gaz's psychological mind games and sensory deprivation to the degradation and waterboarding methods from Price, you were thrown into hysterics after each session. You had long forgotten the comfort of a warm meal by now as you were fed the bare minimum and received the smallest of water droplets. While your limbs were sore from the restraints and the small burns from the cigarettes and cigars from your former team, you always feared when Ghost was in the room. The cruelty you had endured these last few days specifically from your lieutenant made you feel like you had gone to hell. 

You heard a variety of tools clatter around as you tried to think of a paradise far from the one you were in. A week ago, your team was compromised on a mission with an assassination initiative. After the dust settled, the internal hard drives, records of communications, and hidden listening devices lead to you as the mole. Despite your protests, you were dragged into an all too familiar area. "Open your eyes, Eclipse," Ghost demanded but you shook your head violently. Your insolence was met with a hard punch to the nose and as blood dripped slowly onto your bruised face, you saw in your clouded vision the violent sparks of a taser. You couldn't help but sob upon seeing him tease you with the device, activating it close to your face and mocking you with it. "Just tell us where Makarov is and we'll let you go," he comforted. You shook violently in protest before you were sent teeth gritting and toes gripping into a violent shock sent to your abdomen. "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING." you protested but the assault continued with your screams becoming enveloped into the soundproof walls. Despite being a trained soldier, there was nothing that could prepare you for this. Every time you fell out of consciousness, you would wake to his cold eyes staring back at you. "I'm getting Soap," he said with the same nauseating tone, "I think it's time you get some rest."

You shuttered and tried to hold in the tears that burned into the various cuts on your face and chest. When Soap entered the room with a bitter demeanor, you tried to scream in a fruitless attempt at ceasing this ordeal. "No one can hear you," he joked before he violently pushed your chair backward and you fell in a painful thud on the floor. "What are you going to do with me?" you whispered in fear before you felt him turn the chair back over with your face hitting the cold concrete. Before he could do anything more, there was a knock at the door. Ghost and Soap looked at one another before Ghost opened the door to reveal Price and Gaz with horrified expressions. "Yes, Captain?" Ghost asked impatiently before Price gestured for Soap to come closer to the group. While your ears rang in pain from the sudden movements, you knew you heard what your captain said. "It's not them," he uttered and you could see everyone's stained boots turn to your beaten, bruised, and broken form. Price and Gaz rushed to undo your binds, screaming apologies and promises for treatment. You couldn't help but have a tired smile on your bleeding lip as you looked at Ghost. Despite your gaze on his, he couldn't bring himself to look back at you. He only knew that the hands covered in blood, your blood, were irreversible.

[fixfoxnox]

I Know You Didn't Take Requests But Just Curiosity... What Would Happen If Makarov Was Obsessed With A Nervous Russian Woman?

Kissing you (with your permission) for asking about Makarov I've been wanting to write with him so much since the newest trailer dropped AHHHH also I'm gonna take this as an x reader Makarov headcanon request if thats alright

Makarov Obsessed with Nervous Russian Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dub-con, loosely implied non-con, kidnapping, stalking, obsession, knife kink and blood kink, jealousy, murder

Makarov and reader meet before his time as an ultranationalist, when he's still at least a little good.

He's Spetsnaz and you're just a secretary trying to stay under the radar and make a living for yourself. Being around hungry men, men constantly away from their respective families or partners, never quite allows you to settle into peace.

You're one of the only women working on the base, and the men laugh when you jump at their sudden arrivals or hands on your shoulder. You don't find it funny, but they assure you that you have no reason to be nervous. You don't believe them, you're nervous all the time in a place like that.

There's one man who doesn't laugh at you. He's a captain and any time he makes you jump, he apologizes. He's kind and charming and, honestly, the only man on base you're able to find any sort of comfort in.

Makarov isn't sure what it is that starts his obsession with you. Perhaps its the amusement he feels when you stutter over yourself as you speak. Maybe its just that he enjoys having someone kind around. Maybe he just latched on to someone and you happened to be the unlucky victim.

Either way, it didn't matter. After a week of knowing you, Makarov is enamored. He's interested.

When Makarov is interested it means research. Research means watching you even when you think you're alone. Sneaking into your home or desk and snooping to understand more about you. He watches and learns all of your little quirks, everything that makes you tick. And Makarov is good at his job, so it's not surprising that you never realize.

Then the papers are sent. Makarov is discharged and the rumor floating around base is that it was an order by the UN after his cruel and inhumane treatment during war.

You don't believe its true, you don't believe Makarov is capable. Still, you're only a woman on a base surrounded by men, you can't voice your thoughts to anyone.

To you, Makarov dissapears. In reality, he's still around.

He joins the ultranationalists and stops trying to hide who he really is. With them, he's appreciated. His bloodlust is praised. He thrives under the guiding hand of Imran Zhakaev.

As he thrives, he doesn't forget you. He watches from the shadows, keeping tabs on your every move as he works himself up the totem pole of Ultranationalists. He keeps you as close as he can without you ever knowing.

And, in the shadows, he pushes and prods reader exactly how he wants her. He keeps men away from you, many of them never showing for plans you made. He encourages activities and learning about certain topics with hidden items for you to find.

And, when Makarov is made Zhakaev's second (only behind his son) and given more control and power, he takes no time in claiming his obsession.

He wouldn't be gentle about it. You'd been out of his grasp for far too long and now he had you here? Well the idea of bruises or bleeding skin only lit him up with excitement.

Now he isn't violent when he kidnaps you. Only disciplinary, as he says. You struggle and he corrects that action. And, as he settles you in to the base he's been staying at, you understand this is your new future.

Makarov is obsessed with you, he wants to own you, he wants every piece of you to be his. And that desire involves you giving yourself to him, giving in to his own wicked desires and playing along.

Maybe you resist at first, but at the end of the day you're a nervous person and you can do nothing but cower behind him. You're in deep, a madman is obsessed with you, and you're trapped behind enemy lines. What choice do you have but to give in and become Makarov's play thing.

Now, once you do give in, Makarov treats you like a queen. You are his after all, and what belongs to him gets taken care of.

I think Makarov is the type to shower his partner in gifts. Jewelry and silk. Anything that he would be able to physically see on his partner like a mark of his ownership over them.

He's an overprotective and jealous man. God help any ultranationalist who tries to flirt with you or insult you. After Makarov is done dealing with them in the only way he knows how, his ire often falls to you.

He takes his anger out in the bedroom in those moments. Making you beg and declare his ownership over you repeatedly.

Now, this doesn't define your more intimate moments with him. As much as Makarov loves having control, he's more than willing to let you take over and do what you will to him until he orders you to stop. He likes to let his inhibitions go under your touch.

Makarov likes to play domesticity. He likes it when you make him breakfast and see him off for the day with a kiss to his lips. He likes to have you waiting in the room for him, ready to cater to his needs. He likes playing house, pretending to be the perfect husband of a normal family.

He doesn't succeed most of the time. Meetings upon meetings often bleed into the sanctuary he wants with you and, more often then not, you find Makarov entering the room speaking in a quiet and clipped voice with other men, future plans for the Ultranationalists being discussed between them.

And finally, I think Makarov enjoys showing you off, to an extent. He's obsessed with you and he has you, of course he wants everyone to know it. Of course he wants to show you off.

But, at the same time, Makarov hates the ideas of others looking at you, of anyone else even possibly thinking that they could hold you and have you like he did

This often results in meetings or casual sit downs where you're pulled onto his lap or tucked against his side. You keep your eyes down and Makarov watches like a shark, ready to attack anyone who would so much as look at you.

Also knives in the bedroom and you should probably get used to blood, because you'll be helping clean it off of him most days, whether that's running him a bath and scrubbing it from his skin, or joining him in a shower for a much more intimate approach to ridding him of the blood.

[justadeadreaper]

okay so I'm curious- puptrapping you say? That you'd need another post to go into? I'd like to encourage this please

Puptrapping?

You want to hear about puptrapping, you say?

Anon, your wish is my command.

Just so you know, this is like you encouraging a crack addict by finding them a new dealer. I am not joking because this is my obsession at this point, but I do encourage you to send in more asks about Omega!Makarov or ideas you want me to write about because I will. I never originally thought of puptrapping; instead, it was my dear friend @frogchiro who said that she thought he would based on a comment I made about him tying you down to make sure you cum in him. Also, do thank @frogchiro because she helped me form these ideas in our late-night rants, and she is my biggest encourager.

Now that I have written this, I am tempted to write about Omega!Makarov with pups or a fic based on this idea if anyone wants it.

Obvious warnings for puptrapping (omegaverse version of babytrapping) and all the shit that goes with it, Omega!Makarov spiking your drink with an omegaverse version of Viagra (that sounds so fucking weird), but also a big misunderstanding between Omega!Makarov and reader.

This whole idea is based on it being a misunderstanding. Omega!Makarov is a feared man; no one even knows he is an omega; you were only allowed that grace of knowledge due to being his alpha -specifically chosen for being the most desired for your size and strength-. Knowing how secretive he was about his second gender, you presumed that he would never want pups as it would reveal his identity to the world, and he could not have that, could he? Hell, you did not even think he loved you; he only used you to satisfy his natural instincts that come with being an omega so that he would not be on a constant edge from having his subconscious desires not be fulfilled. You enforced the rule around using some form of protection as you did not want to force or pressure him into having pups that he would never want in a million years.

But oh, you poor, dumb alpha. How wrong could you be?

Omega!Makarov is infatuated with you. As soon as he saw you, he knew that you had to be his; no one else would be able to satisfy him after he saw you. Yes, he may be a cruel, heartless man but he loves you in his own special way and let me tell you he loves you with all his heart! He genuinely does! Now, being that he loves you so much, it is only natural that he wants your pups; it is only made worse by him being an omega and having the natural instincts to breed and have pups that poor omegas like him have. He knew he wanted pups from a young age, even if he knew that he did not love like a normal person does. Another part of him wanting to have pups is his own relationship with his father. A narcissistic, bullheaded alpha that abused Makarov and his poor brother for being omegas, Makarov had to watch as his poor mother was abused for not giving that asshole the alpha sons he desperately wanted. His father was never nice to him; he was a horrid father who chickened out at the last minute instead of suffering the consequences of his actions. Makarov does not want to be like that; he instead wants to be the best father he can be and have as many pups as he can to shove it to the old man who damaged him so much, to embrace the one thing his father abused him for and always forced him to hide.

So, for you to say that you need to use birth control? That is the biggest insult to him! Do you not love him? Do you not think he is a good enough omega to have your pups? Are you just using him to get yourself off? Are you planning on just dropping him off one day? Why do you not feel like him? He wants your pups so badly, why do you not want to give them to him?

He damn near hissed at you for suggesting such a thing, but he decided to hold his tongue as he knows he will get his way, he always has.

Now it just. depends on what type of birth control you force him to use for what he does to still be able to have your pups.

Condoms? Expect every single one to have multiple puncture holes from the set of pins that used to belong to his mother. Small enough for you not to notice but just big enough to allow enough cum to come through to give him a nice litter of pups. But that is only if you are stupid enough to allow him to be the only one to supply the condoms or allow him to be around the box by himself for longer than two minutes. If you buy them and never let him near them, you can be sure that those things will rip because, for some reason, your knot was a lot bigger than it normally is causing the condom to rip.

Birth control? He is lying about being on it. The prescription he showed you was a fake he forced a poor pharmacist to make as the pills inside that he showed you were nothing more than sugar pills mixed with the omegaverse version of Viagra known as an Amplifa that helps people knot while also increasing their fertility that he forced the drug dealers he hires to make. Each day, he will take them in front of you, knowing that they do not work. But if you are the one to supply the pills, then he is finding any pill or herb known to man to counteract it so that the birth control fails.

The Amplifa he uses to spike your drink and his own have a few side effects. I imagine omegas to have a reverse knot to match an alpha’s knot, which means they are doubly bonded. How it works is by inflating the sides of the passage like how, for an alpha, the base inflates to lock inside; it is to make sure that the alpha is being milked of all their cum and that the omega is too tight for the alpha to pull out. Since both he and you have been spiked with it, it causes your knot to inflate beyond the point of it being pulled out while he is too tight that it hurts to try and pull out. It also makes the knots last for hours upon hours instead of the normal half an hour to an hour, as it makes you cum so much. Not to mention it makes you incredibly more horny so you could fuck for longer.

With everything prepared, he has sex with you.

Once you are close to cumming he leg locks you making sure you can not push him off as you cum. Your knot inflating inside him as he milks you dry, all while he is still moving his hips in a specific motion to cause more friction that stimulates you and makes you hard yet again. Wiggling his hips and whining as you have yet another orgasm while the two of you are stuck together as his reverse knot will just not let go. Watching as his tummy begins to form a bump already as it grows from how much cum you have stuffed inside of it with every orgasm. He puts on the “I’m innocent, I swear!” act; he uses all the manipulation tactics he knows, the fake tears, the lies, the everything. He is just a simple omega who was trying to enjoy sex with his alpha; he has no idea what is going on. Whining over how worried he is since with this much cum he is most definitely already pregnant, even if you were being safe. All of this while he continues to move his hips as you cum once more.

And as soon as you are asleep from exhaustion and overstimulation he is gently caressing his stomach as he purrs. He can already imagine the litter of pups he will be having in a few months and how much of a happy family you all will be...

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Don't Do That To Me - 1

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price x Techie!Reader

SUMMARY: What happens when your recklessness almost costs you your life? Will John regret putting an end to your "hush-hush" relationship? Will he even care?

WARNINGS: A pinch of angst, inaccuracies of military operations, inaccuracies of hacking, and John being a silent simp.

WORD COUNT: 2,252 (Yeah, it's a lot for me 😅)

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

You take off your vest and put it on the 7-year-old boy who trembles in fear. Your hand itching to take a hold of the gun that’s pocketed in your thigh holster, you turn to look at Soap and Gaz as they do the rest of the sweep of the warehouse.

You look back at the boy and place a hand on his shoulder, “You are ok, we will get you out.” He nods shakily at your statement, and his mother wraps her arms around him tighter as they huddle near the window.

You get up from your crouch position and walk over to Gaz, who has just entered the room. “Found it?” you ask hopefully to which Gaz nods. “You’re lucky it’s a portable one,” he replies and hands you the Toughbook. Your eyes widen as you take it immediately and place it on the nearby desk and you flip it open and start typing away.

Your fingers work mindlessly as you concentrate hard.

You hear Soap talk to Gaz regarding something about communications being jammed, you don’t remember when Soap walked in.

“Guys, wait, this Toughbook controls some satellite connections within, like, a three-mile radius,” you stop and turn and look at the two sergeants.

Soap walks forward and leans over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen, “Looks like gibberish to me, bonnie.” You huff slightly and turn back to the toughbook, “I can try to reconnect the comms back to Captain, I just need-,”

“Go ahead,” Gaz says while looking at the hostages. You hear him walking to stand on the other side of you, “why did you give up your vest.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

A statement to you stupidity.

You, yourself, wouldn’t call it ‘stupidity’ per se.

You would call it your everlasting kindness.

Even though that boy’s father may have info on some plans that maybe the solid scheme to breaking out Makarov, the boy is still a child. A child shouldn’t be harmed for what his father has committed.

You tell your whole pity story to Gaz, and he just rolls his eyes and mutters something like “reason why you’re a techie and not a soldier”.

You roll your own eyes and elbow his thigh.

You type for a while longer until you’re so sure that your work was right and click “Enter”.

***

John hears the static come through and he sits straighter in his chair, so does Ghost. “Team?” he says into the mic in front of him.

“Hear you loud and clear, Captain.” Your voice pulls through and he almost sighs in relief.

Almost

“Copy, Sergeant.” He sinks back into his chair and listens as Soap gives in the summary of what has happened and the hostages, they have in their keeps.

John and Simon are stationed at base, by Laswell’s orders, to stay put and help the team through comms. So, they both, along with Laswell and other military grade personnel, sit in the meeting room looking at the various screens hooked on the wall.

John’s focus was primarily on his own Toughbook as he sees the intel you’re sending over from your side.

For him it feels like yesterday.

Yesterday, when he held you in his arms.

Yesterday, when he kissed you senseless.

Yesterday, when you said you loved him.

Yesterday, when he fucked you good and held you while your slept in each other’s arms.

Yesterday, when you both argued about the fact your relationship was a secret.

Yesterday, when you stopped talking to him.

He hated himself for trying to put an end to what you both had. He tried to wish you luck before the OP but Soap told him that you didn’t want to talk to Price, something about “getting her head straight and in focus.”

Now, you’re on the field, your fingers smacking on some keyboard of some Toughbook and send him the intel on whatever you can get your hands on.

His eyes caught something on one of the screens.

One of the techie’s has somehow managed to get a street camera that’s angled to the window of the warehouse you, Soap and Gaz are currently in.

“Sergeant’s, we got eyes on the hostage, through a window. Over,” Laswell’s says into the table mic.

A second later Soap’s face pops on the screen, and John’s brow’s twitch.

You’re in there, somewhere.

He straightens his face again; he can’t let the board know that he was (ex-)fucking the most talented Technical Sergeant he’s ever had to work with.

Soap and Laswell converse over the comms, but John’s eyes are focused on the screen as he see’s Soap step away from the window.

Then he sees it…The red dot

***

You finalise you’re typing and see the loading bar as it slowly increases per second.

“Laswell, the data is slowly being transferred over to your database, over.” You press on to the comms as you convey your message to your Chief Officer.

You turn around to see the child and his mother again.

And that when you spot it…The red dot.

“Shit, kill the lights,” you whisper-yell to Gaz. Gaz furrows his eyebrows at your words and the way you crouch. You nod at the mother, at the one, then two, then three red dots appear on her body.

Snipers

You hear Gaz and Soap swear and get their guns ready, and one of them shuts the lights off.

“Laswell, we got a situation here.” You hear Soap’s static words through the earpiece.

Gaz tells you and Soap to stay put as he exits the room. You hear Laswell and John swear. Firstly, your heart stutters at John’s voice (but you quickly push that feeling aside). Secondly, you turn to see the son witness what’s on his mother’s body and soon screams.

“Hey, buddy. Eyes on me,” you cringe first at his shrill tone, then you whisper and calmly wave him over. He shook his head, but you’re assuming his mother knew what was happening and slowly convinced him to come towards you.

When he reaches you, you tighten your vest on him and give him a reassuring look.

Soon there’s some static and a new voice is heard, a distorted voice with a bit of an Arabic accent.

“Hand us the boy.”

You look at Soap, and he looks at you.

“Hand us the boy, and no one gets hurt.”

You go to click on your comms, and Soap stops you as he shakes his head.

“Let me,” you whisper back, Soap sighs and let’s go of your wrist shaking his head because he knows that he can’t stop you.

You nod and click and hold onto your comms button, “You’d willingly hurt your wife?” You look back at the woman, she clutches onto her hijab as she silently mutters her prayers.

“No questions, just hand us the boy. We won’t kill you if you do,” the voice replies.

***

John clenches his jaw as he hears the voice threaten you.

He hates that you are in this situation, he hates the fact he can’t be there to actually see what or how you are doing.

***

“Look, to whoever this is, there’s no way we are returning the boy. And there is no way you are killing his mother,” you say sternly into the comms.

Soap paces with his grip on his rifle tight as ever, he listens as you talk into the comms and make sure the voice on the other side is aware that you are not giving up.

You rub at your forehead as you sit on the floor and share a look of sympathy with the woman whose life is on the line.

***

Thirty-Five minutes.

That’s how long it has been since the start of their incident.

“What’s the plan, Cap,” Ghost’s rough voice breaks John out of reverie.

He turns slightly to face the man in the skull mask, “can’t really say without being there. If only-.”

Laswell cuts him off.

“No John, I was never gonna let you go on the operation. I knew the beef you have with the kid’s father. You would let you anger blind you,” she says in her boss voice.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she raises her hand to silence him. “Maybe not by lot, but at least by a little bit John.”

He keeps quiet at that.

Because he knows that its true.

He also knowns that if something to you, he will never forgive himself, and hunt down the person behind the distorted voice.

He grumbles as he crosses his arms as he eyes the screen of the live camera footage.

***

“What are we going to do,” Soap says as he stays vigilant. You are not physically vigilant you’re stuck in the middle as you rub your temples, your mind being the extremely vigilant one.

“We have to make a distraction, also where the hell is Gaz-?” Your voice gets cut off but the distorted voice again.

“Time’s up, shot’s being taken,” the static breaks through your earpiece and your heart drops.

Soap looks at you and you look at Soap with your eyes widening.

“No!” you yell and run to the window and push the woman aside and take her place instead, the red dots now covering your form.

***

The voice cuts through the speakers and the words make John become alert.

The meaning behind them, makes everyone in the board room sit straighter and murmurs go around the room.

Then his heart drops.

He sees you push the woman away and stand in front of the window yourself.

The first time he sees you after a long time, is when your life is at risk.

He stands up abruptly, and while he moves to the screen, his throat closing as he sees the red dots being aimed at your head.

“Laswell, act now,” he turns and dips his head as his voice drops an octave.

Laswell sees the seriousness in his face and begins to throw out orders, and people start running around.

John, however, stays put.

He watches your face, the face he’d caresses every night when you spend the nights in one another’s bed.

“Don’t do that, princess,” he mutters to himself as he feels his headache at the pressure in him.

***

You hand slightly trembles as you make eye contact with the street camera Laswell was talking about.

You breathe out shakily.

“The hell you’re doin’, Lass,” Soap whisper yells at you.

You ignore him and press on the comms, “you have me now.”

The distorted voice fills the caves of your mind as it chuckles, “even better.”

The sound of the gunshot rents the air

***

“No,” John mutters as his breath gets caught in his chest and walks closer to the screen as he hears the gunshot too.

He’s breathing becomes laboured.

A few seconds later, there’s static through the comms.

“Hostile eliminated, I repeat, Hostile eliminated,” Gaz voice pours in through the speakers.

Never in his life, has John let out the biggest sigh of relief.

***

You hear Gaz’s word through the plastic in your ear and start laughing, you laugh at the thought of losing your life a second ago.

“Gaz, you fucker, I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you,” you let your voice take over the comms.

***

It’s been half a day since Gaz took down the person behind the distorted voice.

Turns out the voice belongs to the best friend of the main man you wanted info on, but thanks to Gaz, you don’t have to worry about much in the moment.

The helicopter touches down so cleanly it takes you out of your train of thought.

Soap pats you knee and gives a friendly smile before hopping out, and you do the same.

The duffle bag digs into your shoulder as you tap away at your phone, recollecting every single aspect of the mission. It’s your thing, to nitpick a mission after you’re done with it.

You finally look up and make eye contact with a specific pair of cold blue eyes.

You stutter in your step as you watch him take off the familiar boonie at the sight of you. You nod at him in politeness (as much politeness could be covered in a sergeant and captain relationship) before turning and walking away.

***

You body just sinks into the sofa, and you sigh.

“Yup, definitely needed this,” you adjust the strap of your tank top and tug at the hem of your shorts to prevent the incoming wedgie.

You grab your bucket of ice cream and spoon off from your coffee table and resume the show you mindless put on.

But before you could press play, there’s a knock on your apartment door.

You groan at feeling off your relaxation being taken away at the last moment.

You set your things on the table again and get up to walk to your front door.

At this point you want to tell the person to ‘piss off’, and that is the plan when you open the door.

But when you open door, there are no words coming from you.

The 6 foot something man stands with his head dipped and his eyes solemn on you, the bouquet of your favourite tulips in his hands don’t even hold your attention.

It was his eyes.

The eyes that belonged to John Price.

🎀🎀🎀

Hey Lovelies!

Here we are babygirls, the first fic for my delicious and yummy man, John Price.

Legit was inspired by that one scene in Scandal, legit Tom Goldwyn is so hot like a DILF 😌.

Also, don't mind the diabolical amount of mistakes, this is a result of my doom-scrolling and a bit of late-night urge for productivity.

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged!

Also....

Lemme know what y'all think!

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 

“It’s rude to stare.�� You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 

Too bad you had a combative mouth. 

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

~

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

[buckysmith]

You’re clumsy

Mw2/CoD Headcanons

Warnings: mention of injuries and in accidentally hurting yourself , a bit fluffy

Includes

Ghost, soap, price, Rudy, Alejandro, Valeria, König, laswell Gus and Makarov

Ghost:

- it's certainly not the first time you've fallen flat on your face in front of him, and he's sure it won't be the last either

- you two were walking holding hands and there was a pleasant silence between you

- he let go of your hand for a moment to answer his cell phone which was vibrating, excused himself and walked a little away from you

- you wanted to take advantage of the time and get you both an ice cream, because first of all it was warm and secondly, who had anything against ice cream on a hot day?

- the moment he hung up he looked at you and saw you walking towards him with two ice cream corns in your hands and his only thought was . >>hopefully you won't fall now<<

- and it was as if he had sensed it you tripped over your own feet and the ice came flying towards him

- it was the moment where he stared at the ice that was now on the ground before he walked over to you and knelt down to you

- he couldn't help but grin a little though

- but that changed when he saw that you had scraped your knees.

- only a sigh escaped him when he looked into your eyes and saw that your knees hurt

- your way home was quite fast and when you arrived home he first cleaned your wound and then bandaged it before he made himself comfortable with you on the sofa to firstly make sure that you wouldn't hurt yourself again and secondly to make sure that you wouldn't break him or your apartment by your clumsiness

- do not worry, you still came to your ice cream

Soap:

- he himself is not necessarily a man who is pursued by luck, at least not in private.

- he rides motorcross with his brothers and friends? It's actually a hundred percent certain that he'll hit the only tree in a hundred miles.

- he thought he was clumsy, but after he met you he was sure he was harmless unlike you

- there wasn't a day you didn't hurt yourself unintentionally

- you missed a step and fell down the stairs, once again

- you had cut your own finger while cutting vegetables

- or you touched something from the hot oven.

- Soap wasn't sure from then on whether you were just clumsy or cursed

- because of you he never had any bandages at home because they were always needed by you

- he really loved you, but he was sure you were the reason he would have a heart attack someday

Price :

- he had already made his house baby safe, hoping you would hurt yourself less, but somehow you still managed to do it

- he found you on a ladder trying to change a light bulb and the moment he saw you and you saw him it was like someone kicked you off the ladder

- out of the blue the ladder collapsed and Price tried to catch you

- he succeeded but now he was sure he needed a new back and discs

- the problem was your clumsiness hurt not only you but him as well

- once a hot frying pan slipped out of your hand and fell on his foot

- you twisted your ankle on a hiking trail and pushed him to keep your balance, so he fell six feet and landed in mud.

- the list went on

- he also had half a pharmacy at home because of you

- he really loved you, but he was getting really scared that you were trying to kill him

Alejandro

- he just looked at you, no emotion was in his face and inside he wondered how unlucky he had been

- it was Rudy who pulled him out of his stupor and offered him a towel, while you just looked at him shocked as if it wasn't your fault that he was now standing completely wet in front of his base

- he took the towel from Rudy's hand without breaking eye contact before his eyebrow twitched and you started running away from him

- he didn't even have to run after you extremely fast because only after a few seconds you tripped over your feet and you fell down

- it was the moment he saw your wounds that he threw his revenge plan in the garbage to take care of you

- he tried to calm you down in spanish, while he took care of your wounds

- but he didn't miss the chance to swear in spanish as well

- after all he was completely soaked and already left a puddle under himself

- he could not be angry with you, but he was sure that the next time you try to water flowers he will be far away from you

- and that from now on he would take change clothes with him...

Rudy:

- You tried to help your husband

- and he knew the danger how clumsy you are and still he allowed you to help him sort the files

- you were almost done, when you somehow got caught with your sleeve on one of the thousand folders and threw them all on the floor, which with your luck also opened and all the sheets spread across the room

- and as if that wasn't bad enough you also cut yourself on one of the sheets

- and then again

- and again

- and in the end you had more little wounds than you could count

- and he was out of band-aids

- well the whole headquarters was out of band-aids

Graves:

- he thinks it's absolutely cute how clumsy you are, it makes him feel so strong right away because he can help you then

- he might have some problems yk

- but he only thinks it's cute when you trip and hold on to him and blush in shame

- but as soon as you hurt yourself he thinks about taking you to a safe place where you can't hurt yourself

- while he's bandaging you he says how brave you are and how proud he is of you

- for him it is nothing new, but still he never gets used to your clumsiness

König

- König himself was not necessarily the most skillful person living on earth

- he was military and also in an elite unit but in private nothing was safe from him

- as often as he ran by his size against a door frame or unintentionally knocked something over because it was not in his vision

- but together with you it was a disaster at your home

- you could actually go to Walmart, Target or Ikea every week to replace something in your apartment because it was broken

- you both had new bruises, wounds or other injuries all the time

- so it was nothing new for him that you hurt yourself cutting potatoes and he took care of your finger like a pro

- you joked so often about how he had to take care of you that maybe he shouldn't become a medic.

Valeria

- if she could she would wrap you up in cotton and let you live in a rubber cell where you can't hurt yourself

- she's so tired of your clumsiness that sometimes it hurts her even to see you in pain

- besides, you often manage to hurt not only yourself but also the people around you

- you trip on the stairs and take Valeria down with you?

- happened more than once

- you twist your ankle and accidentally hit Diego?

- also happened already

- a flowerpot falls out of your hand while you were standing on the balcony and hit one of Valeria's people?

- also already happened

- she is now used to you coming into her office and showing her a new wound so she just sighs and prays to god you don't kill yourself unintentionally

- or someone else

Laswell

- she can hear a knock on your door and already knows you've hurt yourself again

- her office at your home is now half a hospital ward as often as she has to fix you up

- she's incredibly glad you're not in the military, because even though she loves you to death, she knows you wouldn't last even five minutes in combat...

- or you'd accidentally kill someone of ur own in the first five minutes....

- When you first met Captain Price and his boys, Soap took you to the firing range while Kate talked to Price.

- by the end of the nice little talk they had your gun had slipped out of your hand while u shot and you had managed to broke Soap's nose while breaking your own index finger.

- That was the deciding factor for Kate to keep you away from weapons of any kind.

- She prefers you alive.

- and she doesn't want 141 to die cause of you ...

Gus

- he is sure that an evil spirit or something like that must be haunting you with how unlucky and how clumsy you are

- he loves you but he is permanently worried about you, especially when he is not at home and can keep an eye on himself

- of course you are never alone because his whole family lives where you live but it's just not the same

- they can't protect you like he can and he knows that too

- because of you he even has a little first aid kit in every room, cause you already hurt yourself in the most unbelievable ways

- it was especially funny when you fell down the stairs and with him

- he was the one who broke his arm while you landed softly on top of him

- so for him it's nothing new, but he's still afraid that you'll die one day because of your clumsiness.

Makarov:

- he is so done with you

- he is one of the most dangerous men

- one who has survived thanks to his intelligence and skill

- and then there was you in his life

- you were by far the only person he cared about and then you of all people had to be so clumsy and hurt yourself all the time

- he had even moved his guns out of your reach because of you so you wouldn't accidentally shoot his ass again

- he had asked you to bring him a gun while he was standing at the table and going through the plans of the next attack

- the gun fell out of your hand and you released the trigger, and shot him in the ass

- he was so pissed and it took him a lot not to scream at you

- he liked how you cared for him afterwards tho…. He might consider to give u a gun again just so he can have all your attention to himself

- and because he loves your guilty filled eyes

- he’s an bastard

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ PISTOL WHIPPED

RATING R - Restricted [Content warnings: 18+ mdni, f!sub!reader, dom!Makarov, he’s a mean man, mistranslated Russian, mention and depiction of firearms, gunplay, smut, cockwarming, degradation, light praise, riding ]

SYNOPSIS Makarov is a busy man in every sense of the word, and while most tasks are highly important and meticulous, there are some that are more mundane than others - such as taking care of his weapons. Which... is exactly what he's occupied himself with doing now. But even though he's busy, you deserve some attention, don't you? (Based on the image above, credits to @loneghostwolf for the render).

WORD COUNT 2.1k

"Vladimir..."

You whine out softly, nose pressed into the crook of his neck as your fingers desperately hold onto his bare shoulders. Your legs hang loosely, dangling beside the legs of the metal chair, though, you’d much rather they be wrapped around his hips right now.

He lets out a dismissive hum, his head right next to your ear as he peers over your shoulder, chin barely an inch above it as he focuses on dragging the cloth along the disassembled component in his hands - the slide - seeming to be far more focused on it than you.

Another pathetic whine passes through your lips, and you can feel his cock throb inside of your warm, wet walls, your slick drooling down your inner thighs and, no doubt, standing the fabric of his dark slacks with the mess you’ve made of yourself.

“Please, Vlad…”

You practically hiccup out, whimpering out pitifully, your pussy squeeze around him as tight at you can, just barely shifting your hips in hopes of getting so much as an ounce of friction, to urge him to leave what he’s doing and fuck you-

“If you do not stop acting like a desperate, impatient mutt, you will have to wait for much longer for me to fuck you than it takes to clean a few guns.”

Another whimper passes through your lips - which, funnily enough, does sound very similar to that of a dog, only further proving his words. Your grip on his shoulders tighten as your hips still, bottom lip trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Truthfully, you had no one but yourself to blame but yourself for the predicament you find yourself in now, sat in Vladimir’s lap, cockwarming him for what has felt like hours now.

If only you had been patient, if only you had been good and waited until he was done with his task like he had ask of you, if only you hadn’t been so needy and desperate for his attention and his cock that you willingly agreed to cockwarming him until he was done.

But no, you hadn’t done any of that, so now you can only curse yourself for the torture he’s putting you through - that you put yourself through. Though, you suppose there is an upside to having him shirtless as he works to complete the task at hand.

He’s cleaned four or five guns through completely at this point, disassembling and reassembling them in their entirety, all clean and laid neatly across cloth to the left of his work station.

The one he’s currently focused on - a Five Seven - lays completely disassembled before him as he cleans it, a multitude of different cleaning items strewn around meticulously, with two more handguns to go on his right.

It’s a process he prides himself in, it would seem, and with the expertise he displays, it’s clear that this is an often occurrence.

“Убогий жопа.” (Needy brat)

He mumbles out to himself, almost as if to chastise you, resting his chin gently against your shoulder as he listens to all of the pathetic little sounds you make - irritating, maybe, but at least you’re listening.

His bare chest presses flush against your own clothed one, the planes of it hard as it presses against you. He’s lean, but not lacking in body heat, his concentrated breaths, his skin, and his cock all practically searing you.

“So desperate when I have already given you so much.”

You let out another whimper, the sound bleeding into a moan as he ever-so subtly rocks his hips before stilling. It’s cruel, giving you the friction you so desperately desire, only for him to not continue on any further.

“I’m sorry…”

You hiccup, sniffling out, cunt squeezing him and drooling messy slick around him, just as needy as you are.

He hums, this time not dismissive, but rather acknowledging, one of his dirty, oiled, greasy hands moving to rest atop one of your hips, smearing the dark substance all over your skin.

“Are you going to behave?”

He asks, tone still cold and harsh as it typically is, leaving the impression that he’s sick and tired of your antics, but the softness in his actions combats it - though, he does lightly slap your hip, urging you to answer.

“Mhmm! I promise. I won’t move, I swear. Not an inch. I won’t move at all. I’ll stay still. Won’t even make sounds if you want me to. I can be quiet. Patient, too. I promise. I can wait. I can be good.”

Your words come out in a desperate ramble and flurry of vowels and consonants, eager to please and prove to him that you can listen. It’s pathetic and desperate, yes, but to you it’s required.

He clicks his tongue softly, slowly, breathing out through his nostrils as he brings his hand back away from your hip and continues to meticulously clean through each of the different areas of the firearm.

He seems pleased by your answer, you think, but it’s impossible to tell. To you and nearly everyone that knows him, Vladimir is a man who doesn’t slip up. He’s cold, calculating, and ensures every move he makes is in his favor.

The sounds of cloth gliding across metal and the brush gliding through as it works to clean the interior parts fill the air. The sounds are barely audible, but they blend well with the sound of your heavy breathing - his is silent.

It’s only when he’s wiping off his hands and reassembling the Five Seven that he speaks again, voice low and rough as it rumbles right next to your ear, the metal clicking and moving where it should as per his movements.

“I expected you to be much less patient, you know, but you have surprised me. You have been as patient as you can, considering how… full you are right now.”

He emphasizes his words with a sharp buck of his hips, a moan effortlessly slipping out past your lips, a soft plap sounding out, muffled only by the fabric of his slacks as they pull back and meet your slick-soaked thighs.

The minimal contact already works to steal the breath from your lungs, his cock molding itself into your poor, sopping pussy. Your eyes unfocus for a brief moment, dazed and dizzy, but it feels so good.

“Perhaps I should reward you, да?”

He muses, detaching his chest from your own as he leans backwards as he lets his back rest against the back of the metal chair. He spreads his legs out, thighs straining against his slacks as he shifts, getting comfortable.

He rolls his shoulders backwards, one of his hands coming to rest atop your thigh, pressing into the flesh as he moves his palm up and down - towards your hip, then back down to your thigh.

His other hand, however, holds the reassembled Five Seven, the cool metal tapping against the side of your ass.

Unloaded, of course, given how he had just cleaned it, but that doesn’t stop the sharp spark of anticipation that settles in your stomach. The danger that surrounds the weapon soaks your cunt impossibly further.

“Move.”

The command barely has a moment to pass through the air and through your ears before you can comprehend what he means by his words. He’s spread himself all out for you, offering you what you’ve been craving this entire time.

And you’d be stupid to not take him up on his generosity.

Your hold tightens on his shoulders as you ground yourself against him, rolling your hips forwards with a keen, letting out a hiccup, mumbling out soft “thank you”s over and over to him as you grind into him.

A shaky, uneven breath escapes his lungs, his expression hardening as he works to not make a single noise - the task, though, is much more difficult than it appears - his body remaining still as he lets you do all of the work.

He drags the barrel of the gun across your skin, the coolness of the metal juxtaposing the heat that radiates from your skin. His other hand grips harshly onto your hip, following your motions with a strangled groan.

He splits you open and overwhelms you in the best way possible, his cock filling you up so well as you rock back and forth along the length of it, raising and dropping your hips as you force his tip to kiss your cervix.

Vladimir lets out a strangled Russian curse, fighting against his own body to keep still as you continue to bounce on his cock, his slacks no doubt ruined by now from how much of your slick and his pre-cum has soaked into it.

But he can’t complain - he has more than enough pairs as is, and you just look too pretty riding him, so desperate and needy for what only he can give you. How could he ever be upset?

Wet tears streams down your cheeks and onto the skin of his bare shoulder, rolling down across his inked chest as you whine, bullying and bruising his cock to completely ruin your poor pussy.

It’s too much, but you can’t stop.

“V- … oh, fuck. Vlad, please. M’so close. Please let me cum. Please.”

You whine, sweat soaking through your clothes as you pick your head up from his shoulder, hiccuping, whining, whimpering, and moaning out like a whore as you lose yourself, completely and utterly cockdrunk.

His fingers tense, both against your skin and the handgun, your flesh spilling out between the gaps between his fingers. He brings the pistol down across your thigh, slotting it between them so that the barrel can press right against your clit.

Even as you try to pull away from the cool, hard metal, he doesn’t let you, keeping it presses tightly to your clit so that, with every motion, you grind down against it, dragging across the smooth surface.

Even if you wanted to protest, you can’t, the pressure in your lower tummy tightening so much, toes curling as your nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure streams through your veins.

Your pussy completely gushes around him, flooding his cock as you squeeze him like a vice, breaths coming out in shaky, desperate gasps and choked moans spilling past your lips.

You cum hard enough that it leaves you dizzy, boneless and breathless, hips jerking as your body trembles with spasms in aftershocks of pleasure, drool trailing past your lips as you babble out to him needily.

He taps the barrel of the gun against your clit, drawing out your orgasm until it’s too much, leaving you writhing. Still, he doesn’t let you pull away, eyes focused solely on the point of contact between you and the weapon.

He grits his teeth, looking down at you as sweat drips down the side of his head, bucking his hips upwards. He knows how overstimulated you must be as he now puts his efforts into fucking up into you, but he doesn’t care.

All he’s focused on is filling your sweet, needy cunt with his cum and nothing more.

It only takes a few thrusts on his part, the way you had been rising and sinking down on his cock earlier in the chase for your own release making his lose his mind - not that he would ever openly admit it.

With a sharp curse, arching his back and pressing his hips up into you as much as his current position will allow, the sounds of your desperation for mercy filling the air, he feels his balls tighten, letting out a strangled groan as his cock pumps rope after rope of his cum into your waiting cunt.

The air between you both, now as his hips drop and he stills, is filled with nothing but gasps and pants, the two of you completely and utterly breathless, soaked with sweat and bodily fluids.

“It turns out better when you listen, does it not?”

He mumbles out rhetorically, giving one last weak buck of his hips before he brings his hand up and behind you, unceremoniously dropping the handgun - now covered with a mixture of your cum and his - back onto the table.

He can clean it later, just as he can with the other waiting to be cleaned. For now, all he’s concerned with is catching his breath before he makes an even bigger mess of his work station and bends you over it. It’s all he’ll ever need.

[forsworned]

SAVING SERGEANT MACTAVISH

Sypnosis: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽?

Warning(s): 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽/𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌.

Author's note: 𝖺𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌!! 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗆𝖾! 𝗂 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!!!!

𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌: 𝖼𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾! ˑ༄

⤷ 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈

CHAPTER ONE: KNOCKING AT DEATH'S DOOR

TUESDAY 23 NOVEMBER 2023

A surge of adrenaline kicked through your system as you navigated the labyrinthine train tunnels, flanked by your comrades, Johnny and Price. The thunderous rhythm of your heartbeat drowned out the distant whirring of passing trains. Your stomach still lurching at the sight of all the civilians dead on your way through the chunnel as you slid on the opposite side of where Johnny was crouched, reloading his gun. Anger brimmed against your tightened sternum as you were in hot pursuit of Makarov, shooting at Konni and hacking their sentry guns.

You couldn't help but inwardly scoff at the notion of an easy victory as you switched over to your pistol and shot at a soldier just a meter away. As if it weren't bad enough that Makarov was blowing up stadiums, stealing missiles, trapping women into prostitution rings, and gassing military bases, he was more than likely setting up another attack down here. The gravity of the situation was slowly setting heavily upon your burning chest, heightening your senses and sharpening your focus.

Locking eyes with Johnny behind the shelter of Jersey barriers that were getting plastered with ricocheting bullets, there was an unspoken reassurance passed between you—a silent nod in the form of a check-in in the face of danger. His swift action in engaging Konni soldiers echoed your own steadfastness, punctuated by the raid and sharp crack of gunfire.

In the heat of battle, your mind wandered in and out of throngs of memories over the course of months in light of your new diagnosis. You couldn't forget the way your teammates faces fell as they crowded the small doctor's office during your check up.

"But she's so young..." Price voice fell quiet as he stood beside you. Your feet swinging over the edge of the infirmary bed as you kept your gaze on the cold, white tiled floors.

"Hypertension is a common diagnosis amongst people in your field." The doctor took off his gloves, foot on the button of the trash to lift the lid as he tossed the latex into the bin. "I've had firefighters, cops, military personnel come by all the time being diagnosed with the same thing, usually asking for worker's comp." The doctor crossed his arms and peered over at the five of you.

Of course, they weren't going to just let you go to the doctor by yourself. It was practically an intervention at that point. After months of your complaints about the onset of severe headaches, blurred vision, chest pain, and the final straw—passing out on a mission. Price had had absolutely enough of it, nearly dragging you by the ear to come in and get a check up.

They all turned to you. Johnny was just so obviously dying to partake in the scolding fest you were soon going to endure from them, grinning from ear to ear with that mischevious glint in his eye. "Looks like we've gotta look after you, lassie."

It almost tickled you to see the soldier transitioning out of his silly, flirtatious persona who was always causing shenanigans and mishaps to one of a true, hardened sergeant who has more than earned his title. Your admiration and fondness for him had grown over the past few years of working along side him in the service. Feelings that you hadn't consciously prioritized, but rather somewhere in the backlog of your subconscious that was in the form of wet dreams, and the occasional rub out. Still, finding love on the battlefield wasn't ideal...

As cacophony erupted around you, and the world blurred momentarily, time became elusive as you found yourself sprawled upon the cold ground and a growing ache emerged to the bridge of your nose. Through the haze, Johnny's concerned figure materialized, disarming and jutting a knife coldly through your perpertator's throat before he urgently made his way to you. A lifeline in the midst of turmoil as the ringing in your ears turned deafening.

"...y'er okay!...[name], y'er alright." His voice, a calming anchor in the storm had penetrated the disorientation clouding your senses. With a gentle helping hand, he guided you back to coherence, his touch a binding force in the commotion.

"Y'r good, lass. C'mon, up ya go." Price's arrival is a welcomed sight, amongst the havoc where he remained an authoritative presence that presided over them. Together, they lifted you from the ground, steadying you; a common theme amongst you all in the 141. You shook your head to rid yourself out of your stupor, reality shifting once more.

"Yeah? Y'good, lassie?" Johnny patted your shoulder and a fleeting, wry grin graced your cracked lips.

"Atta girl." Price simpered at you, though there was a strained discomfort framed into his expression that he couldn't quite hide when he glanced over at you.

That's the thing about men, they couldn't conceal how they felt even if they tried. Stress was etched into their features in the form of crow's feet and silver whiskers weaved into their beards and the hair on their heads. And though he would never, ever admit it aloud, the fact of the matter was, you were the sole female on their squad and that left Price with a heightened sense of responsibility toward you, surpassing even that toward your male counterparts. The sentiment only deepened after your diagnosis, casting a shadow of concern over his every interaction with you.

But it didn't stop at him. Kyle, Simon and Johnny were constantly nagging, harking over it with meal plans and making sure you were taking your medication. Even going as far as not letting you come out of your room, so you could replenish your strength. It was obvious to you that it was for your best interest, but clearly at the cost of your own autonomy.

In the eerie silence punctuated only by the relentless rush of passing trains, the gravity of the situation becomes palpable once again. Fluorescent light reflecting off the shiny metal of the trains had bounced against your face, revealing the blood that trickled down your nose to your squadmates. A stark reminder of the perilous stakes at hand—a testament to the sacrifices demanded by duty.

"Here, lassie." Johnny shoved his hand in his pocket to fish out a wad of napkins and you couldn't help but snort a bit at his resourcefulness. He quickly dabbed at your nose, before taking your hand in his and holding it up to your nose and securing it place. "Chin up." His calloused fingertips under your chin quickened the pace of your heart, and small smile found the corners of his pink lips.

"SFO secure a perimeter!" Price's command sliced through the silence with unfaltering authority.

Johnny and Price exchanged a knowing glance, before the Scotsman left your side and scouted the area. He stopped in his tracks, and his cerculean eyes reamed at the sight of it.

"Captain, Konni's guardin' a bomb..." His words hang heavy in the air, the magnitude of the revelation sank in.

The looming threat of the undetonated vessel creeping back in to the imminent danger posed by Makarov's machinations—a threat that had be neutralized at any cost. The urgency snapped you from your reverie, a swift gesture of wiping away the blood from your nose with the back of your hand as you shoved the bloody napkin into your back pocket, and you're back in the fray.

Price doesn't waste any time, though a look of grit washed over his grim features. "Soap--Get on that bomb!"

Yet, Johnny is already at work, his expertise in demolition evident as he knelt beside the device. A skillset you sorely lacked, almost a little too grateful for the presence of Johnny and Price to avert disaster because let's face it, you'd be shit out of luck otherwise. "Two minutes, sir...!"

"All Bravo--Bomb located in crossover platform! I need cover here--NOW!" Price bellowed out over the comms. It felt like at any moment Konni soldier's were going to rush the group.

"Rog--Pushing your way!" Kyle's response is swift, the clatter of metal meeting concrete punctuated by the billowing smoke obscuring the enemy's advance.

"Contact!" A soldier's cry jolted you into action.

Price's molars mashed together at the sight. "Fuckin' hell--Get to work, Soap!"

"Six, bomb is a two man job...work with me...! Captain, I need you with me on the bomb now!" Johnny's voice resonated with haste as he beckoned to Price. You can only watch from the sidelines as the two of them delved into the intricate task of disarming the bomb.

Your gaze shifted frantically from one position to another, vigilant against any attempts by the enemy to flank you. And yet, even in the middle of a state of disorder, you maintained your composure, every shot calculated and precise. Each moment felt like an eternity as you stood your ground, ensuring the safety of your team while they work profusely.

"Price, be advised, Makarov is in the chunnel--He's headin' y'r way!" Ghost rasped over the comms and your heart is set into action once more. With every passing second, the peril of the situation crystallized, casting aside any illusions of safety or reprieve. Not even a moment to process the heaviness you were starting to feel in your eyes, nor the brewing, dull onset of the migraine you were to receive, itching at the back of your head.

There was a barter between Johnny and Price that fell on deaf ears, as you protected them from the onslaught of bullets. But despite your focused efforts to shield them, a chilling realization dawned upon you as Johnny's pained cry reverberated in your ears. You paused turning back to him but he seemingly continued his task despite blood gushing out of his gunshot wound.

There was an unpleasant dryness in your mouth as your jaw ticked, knowing you couldn't drop your position to help patch him up.

"It'll blow if I let go, Captain! [name]! Cover me!" Johnny called out over the noise. In one swift movement you're alongside Price in an effort to support Johnny from being injured any further to complete the job.

"Fuuuck...We need...NOW!" Price's voice was drowning in and out of your auditary pathways. Another exchange over the comms added to the disorientation, each word blending into a blur as panic threatened to overwhelm you. Fear was setting in...no, no, not fear. It was the fiery intensity of your intuition tottering you back in an effort to safeguard Johnny even at the cost of your life.

The two of you cleared the room out, before he's called back to Johnny's side to help him disarm the threat. Their voices going in and out.

"...red wire."

"Red wire...got it."

There was an impeding sense of doom that struck right through your heart before you let your weapon fall slightly to the side to reload it, your head instinctually whipping a mere nanosecond before the man of the hour emerged from the darkness of the tunnels with his men.

"Makarov!" You exclaimed, but you felt the oxygen withdrawing from your lungs and your vocal chords didn't seem to be functioning.

What the fuck...?

"Stay back. They're mine...!!" Makarov's chilling command made all the blood drain from your face.

Gunshots rang out behind you, but Johnny and Price were already down, blood staining the ground beneath them. Frozen in horror, you watched helplessly as Makarov asserted his dominance, his foot pressing down on Price's neck.

Your mind raced, neurons firing wildly as you struggled to react. Was it the blow from the AK-47 or a possible stroke that rendered you moored where you sat? You didn't know.

Without skipping a beat, the Scotsman is back up, a swift movement to stab Makarov to the arm.

No...

You saw it coming from a mile away. Not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes as the Russian lifted his gun to shoot Johnny point blank in the head.

"No!!" Price roared out, but it's too late. Johnny's lifeless body hit the ground and the world seemed to move in a familiar slow motion.

Your eyes never leaving Johnny's body. Blood trickled out of his gunshot wound and you were completely immobile. Enemy forces moved in and the echoing of voices continued, vibrating into your skull. Pain radiated from your neck, jaw, shoulders, arms and even to your back and you struggled to swallow the vomit that was starting to brim up your esophagus.

"...Captain!!"

"Price, Johnny!!"

The eardrum shattering noise of gunshot clattered loudly against your senses as you felt the air leaving your lungs. Simon and Kyle rushed in as the Konni soldiers and Makarov made a run for it. And just like that, he's gone once again, slipping right through your fingers. The whirring of the train was nothing but a fading memory, crushing the body of a Konni soldier that Makarov pawned.

Checkmate.

"Johnny!" Simon is knelt beside Johnny's corpse, extending his fingers to his pulse. But of course, he felt nothing. Just the warmth leaving his deceased body as Kyle and Price work meticulously to disarm the bomb. Your vision blurred as you felt a pang hitting deep in your chest and suddenly you heard yourself heaving, clawing at your chest for any ounce of oxygen.

The sound of the beeping stopped. "Disarmed...disarmed...we're clear." Kyle announced as he and Price rose from their kneeling positions to turn back to Simon and Johnny, too preoccupied with the horrific sight in front of them to see that you were gasping for air.

"All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe...KIA..."

KIA...

You felt your body lose control of all its senses as the room began to spin and your vision was doubling.

"[name]." Price's head snapped in your direction. The recognizable dread alerting his senses as he took one look at your form before it dropped to the floor. "...[name]...! [name]! ....stay with me!"

Several voices were calling out to you, but they were slowly inundating. A soothing warmth enveloped you, cocooning you in a comforting embrace. Sensations of weightlessness engulfed you, as if you were suspended in the void, detached from the world around you.

Was this death?

It seemed plausible. After all, you had lived a life of righteousness, fighting tirelessly for what you believed in. At least, that's what your comrades and therapist had assured you. When was your last therapy session? A week ago? Or was it your psych eval?

You couldn't recall. It felt nice. This was nice.

In the haze of uncertainty, the image of Johnny's warm, reassuring smile materialized before you, tugging at your heartstrings with an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"I failed you." You whispered, the weight of regret heavy in your words.

"No, ye didn't. There's still time." His thick, Scottish accent echoed in your mind, a plea tinged with desperation. His image beginning to dissipate, fading into a bright white light as you attempted to grab him but you were met with nothing.

"Johnny, wait...!"

And in that moment, you jolted awake, gasping for air, the remnants of the dream clinging to your consciousness like a lingering shadow. Cold sweat clung to your clothes and the baby hairs on your forehead, as you felt your pulse going wild at the sight of your room. Sunlight filtered through your blinds as you drank in the familiar scenery. Like you had lived this day before.

How long had you been out?

Your fitbit beeping loudly on your wrist, hoisting you back into your "reality" and the rapping on your door jostled you awake.

"[Name], are ye alright?"

What...

Your body went rigid at the voice. That rich, Scottish accent that you adored was undeniable. It couldn't be.

Slowly, but surely you peeled off your sheets making a stride for the door.

More rapping. "[name]." He sighed. "Need t'know yer alright, lassie."

You simply had to be dreaming at this point. Right. It was a dream. Nothing more. You were just reliving one of your memories with him, a flash of your life right before your very eyes as you passed away, moving gently into the light. But still. Something about the way everything was exactly as it should have been was uncanny.

The decor on your walls, the crooked framed photo of you and your squadmates clinking beer glasses together, even down right to the idiotic bobblehead of Price that Johnny gifted you for your birthday as a gag gift. It was all there.

Or maybe you just had a detail-oriented mind that had the ability to recall everything as it was. You wouldn't put it past you.

"Ya know maybe, 'll jus' eat the banana choco chip pancakes I made for ye." He teased, behind the door as your shaky hand gripped the knob. You felt your lip quiver for a moment. Emotions were starting to overwhelm you. Damned it all to hell if it were a dream. You'd give anything to see him alive again.

"C'mon, open up!"

He laughed, but there was a pause as he heard the slight jingle of the knob as you touched it. Your dry lips were flaky under the quick swipe of your tongue as your hand trembled, grappling with the reality of the situation. With a deep breath, you summoned the courage to twist the knob, your heart pounding in your chest as anticipation mingled with disbelief.

As the door creaked open, revealing the figure on the other side, your breath caught in your throat. There he stood, unmistakably Johnny, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he met your gaze with warmth and affection.

"Ah, there ye are, lassie," he exclaimed, his voice a comforting melody that washed over you like a gentle wave. "Ye had me worried fer a moment there."

The sight of him standing before you, so vivid and real, defied all logic and reason. Was this truly happening, or were you still ensnared in the clutches of a dream?

𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 ࣪ೀ ࣪ 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 © 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[seiakii]

dragneel n. — sfw

summary: you finally came back from a long, long, mission (you were gone for a week)

warning: none! fluffy content <3

notes: i want natsu so bad rn. this is so self indulgent. lowercase intended. it’s been forever since i last wrote, i feel like i’m rusty.

everyone was getting a little fed up with natsu, as he had been causing a lot more fights with everyone lately, though they aren’t too surprised seeing as how you were gone on a mission without him. happy was watching his pink haired friend sulk, an aura of sadness and gloom surrounding him. happy decided to fly over to natsu.

“hey natsu! wanna go fishing?”

“nah man… i’m good.” natsu replied sourly. happy internally groaned. suddenly natsu’s head perked up with his nose sniffing something out. within seconds, the guildhall doors opened up, revealing natsu’s ever so missed girlfriend, you! you walked in looking around before you spot natsu with a grin on his face. he immediately started running towards you, almost stumbling over his own feet.

“you’re back!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body deep into his. you returned the gesture by wrapping your arms around his neck. “yes, i am! i couldn’t stay away from my flame head for too long.” you said between giggles. natsu buried his face into your neck, taking in your scent that he missed so much.

“welcome back y/n. i expect a report on the mission, but i see you may have more important things to deal with.” makarov said while gesturing to the dragon slayer clinging to you. you laughed lightly while nodding. you decided you wanted to go home since you were sweaty and tired from your solo mission. the second you said the word “home” natsu started dragging the both of you there.

when you two reach home you two immediately are pulled into bed, natsu clinging to you as if it was your last day. he was sitting on the bed as you sat on his lap. he pulled his face away from your chest, only for his lips to meet yours. his lips warm against yours, making your whole body warm up. he pulls away, “never go on a mission without me again.” you brought your hands to the side of his face, holding his close to yours.

“never.” you responded.

omlll that was terrible i am so sorry lolll