#Persistent Lieutenant | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lay-z · 2 days ago

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cotton candy clouds | 3

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; jealousy; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

*ESH – Emotional Support Hybrid

☁ ccc; masterlist

It’s 0400 in the morning, when Simon jerks awake from his light slumber by the sudden timid knock at his bedroom door.

Hoping he’s imagined it, like many other times he’s hallucinated before, he rubs a hand over his tired features with a soft groan; eyes squinting at the silhouette of his bedroom door in the darkness, breathing shallow to pick up more potential noises while hoping nothing will follow–

But there is another knock at his door, more distinct this time, and Simon accepts it with a heavy sigh before dragging himself out of his bed reluctantly, not bothering to put on another shirt. From past experiences, he knows better than to crudely grumble that this better be an emergency, because in nine out of 10 times, it turns out to be one.

Flinging his bedroom door open, his fingers find the hallway’s light switch by muscle memory, illuminating it brightly and revealing you to his dismay, as if you could’ve simply disappeared in the past hours like he’d wished you would before falling asleep, and he finds you shifting on your bare feet with unnatural urgency.

“Wot?” he gruffs out, voice even more rough and gravelly from a familiar combination of sleepiness and irritation. He pretends not to notice that you’ve changed into his shirt he’d previously given you; forces himself not to let his eyes flicker over your exposed legs, not even briefly, while the loose fabric conceals your curves from his direct view, its hem barely reaching up to the middle of your thighs.

Still shifting from one foot to the other, you crane your neck to meet his hard stare with equal persistency; your own eyes puffy like you haven’t slept a single minute yet. “I have to pee,” you explain bluntly.

He almost tuts, tilting his head to the side in slight disbelief. “And?” For a moment, you look confused about him daring to question why that is his problem; big eyes blinking up at him while your fluffy ears twitch a little before you finally solve the mystery for him: “Well, I always had to let Ryan know.”

Ryan? As in… your previous handler? You must’ve been able to read it all on his naturally expressive face; his right eyebrow, split by a scar, cocking in question, his curiosity piqued now. “And why’s tha’?” he asks, despite not wanting to, and crosses his burly arms in front of his bare chest standoffishly.

Without a hint of hesitation, you answer with the most innocent look on your face: “He liked to watch.” And Simon immediately regrets asking in the first place. His arms unfold, chest deflating as his empty stomach sinks, and to his horror, you continue yapping without a lick of pudency. “Sometimes he made me pee on his–“

“Gah! O’lright–” he nearly barks, eyes squeezing shut briefly while his whole body cringes at the mental image you just planted in his mind. “Stop, tha’s enough, okay? I get it.” He grumbles, muttering another “Fuck,” under his breath. Too much information.

While Simon eventually ushers you towards the small guest bathroom by the front door, his mind keeps wandering back to the revelation you hit him with oh so casually, like it’s not something you should have always kept locked away between yourself and your bloody partner–or handler, in this case. As if you’ve ever enjoyed any of the stuff that bloody twat, Ryan, has ever done to you.

His arms are crossed self-soothingly as he leans against the opposite wall of the bathroom door for no other reason than getting caught up in his own messy thoughts while you go on to do your business, when your earlier expression pops up into his head, and with it a revelation he should’ve come to sooner.

The stagy nonchalance, the perfectly crafted, sweet smile that didn’t quite reach your tired eyes when you’d told him what one of your previous handlers made you do, the forced eye contact with him–

And suddenly, Simon can feel that burning rage simmer in his gut, making his blood boil and the vein in his neck throb while his pulse quickens rapidly, when he comes to realize how people must’ve been taking advantage of you all your life, simply because of what you are, and what comes naturally to you with your nature as a hybrid��a bloody dog hybrid at that.

Obedience. Submission. Loyalty. The urge to serve and please.

When the water tap stops running and the door opens shortly after, his thoughts get interrupted and his mood changes promptly when his eyes lock with yours once more; long lashes fluttering against the bright light as you tilt your head back to meet his scrutiny.

“For the record,” Simon starts as he pushes himself off the wall, “if you need to use the bathroom, you won’t ask anyone for permission again, understood?”

Fidgeting with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, he notices the sudden tension in your shoulders before you give a hesitant nod. “Yes, sir.”

Simon huffs, nose wrinkling like he smelled something acidic. For someone so used to being met with respect and immediate obedience at a dekko, the word “sir” coming from your lips in his regard, makes him bristle. Who’s taught you to be so submissive? Are all *ESH’s like you? And which one of those fuckers made you refer to him as “sir” and only that like some perverted powerplay?

He doesn’t realize how meanly he’s glaring at you until you speak up again, your voice meek and unsure: “Can I sleep with you now?” His eyelids blink and the crease between his eyes smoothens out. The innuendo isn't lost on him, though he can't tell if it's intentional. If this is Price’s idea about shock therapy, he will have to tell his Captain to piss off even more firmly come tomorrow.

“In your bed... I mean.” You add with a hint of plea that leaves Simon horrified internally after the second of consideration he just gave to your request before simply grumbling a tired “No.” again.

And the door to his bedroom falls shut behind him anew, leaving you to your own devices once more.

It’s barely 0700, when Simon enters the Captain’s office with you and your things in tow. He doesn’t bother to knock; his nerves already fraying at the edges like cheap cotton yarn after having to refuse to take you out on a leash and ending up herding you through the base since you obviously have a knack for wandering off–and greeting every single bloody person you come across with a wagging tail.

Captain Price raises an amused eyebrow along with his coffee mug while Simon puts your suitcase and the untouched gift basket down in a corner before coming to stand stiffly in front of the large, cluttered mahogany desk.

His patience is running even thinner, when Price takes a slow, slurping sip of his coffee instead of assuring Simon that everything has been taken care of; that you’re no longer his problem now. “Well?” he asks brusquely, balling his gloved hands into fists.

“Good mornin’, sweetheart,” Price greets you, immediately catching your attention as you stand by the bookshelf in the corner. Simon rolls his eyes behind his mask when your white tail twitches happily at the attention, though he manages to contain his scoff.

“Hello! Good morning!” You chirp with a smile, taking a cautious step towards the other man while Simon catches the way your eyes flicker between him and his superior nervously, as if you’re unsure how to proceed with him present–and for a fleeting moment, it pleases him for some twisted reason.

“How was your night with Lieutenant Riley?”

Simon’s forehead creases underneath his balaclava at Price’s oddly phrased question and intervenes briskly before you can inhale enough air to answer: “Can we focus on the more important matters now, Cap’n? Did’ya come up with a solution yet?” Simon makes a vague gesture towards you while you stand nearby coyly, plucking pink lint from your cardigan out of your tail.

Price lets out an exasperated sigh before his broad shoulders shake with a rough chuckle that causes Simon’s frown to deepen. “Christ, it’s not even eight in the bloody morning on a Friday, Simon–”

“Sir, you promised to make the necessary arrangements, to find a solution–” Simon interrupts but stops himself, grinding his teeth hard enough to make his jaw hurt when Price shoots him a reprimanding glare.

The phone’s shrill ringing cuts through the sudden tension and Simon uses it to his advantage as Price reaches for the receiver; steel blue eyes watching the Lieutenant like a curious hawk while he answers the call.

Meanwhile, Simon’s dark tawny eyes fixate you as he takes one heavy step towards you. “Take a seat on that couch and stay here,” he tells you curtly, hoping his tone of voice is enough to get through your stubbornness. “Listen to what Price tells you, lass, because this is where we part, understood?”

And then he turns on his combat boots, heads for the door before you can so much as nod, and Simon ignores the soft, keening whine behind him as he leaves you behind.

And the day moves forward with its usual routine while Simon almost manages to forget about the whole ordeal with the hybrid as he deals with his rookies, upcoming drills and ignoring the paperwork he should’ve started taking care of last week, until he spots you across the parade grounds in the middle of chewing out one of his soldiers for fucking up an exercise for the third time in a row.

His dark eyes zero in on you, casually strolling next to Gaz, who seems to be showing you around base, and Simon bristles at the way you smile up at the young Sergeant; batting your eyelashes while you seem to be hanging on every word Gaz utters to you. He’s not sure if his mind is playing tricks on him again, but he’s sure there is something else–something way too dark and familiar–hiding behind your unnaturally sparkly eyes.

“S–Sir?” the rookie stutters nervously, pulling the Lieutenant out of his brief stupor.

“Wot?!” Simon snarls from behind his mask, accent thick and dark eyes blazing with even more pissed off fury as they snap back to the rookie while the latter continues to shrink under his Lieutenant's sharp glare.

And Simon ignores it when his soldiers start sharing new rumours and conspiracy theories among themselves about the cause of his particularly foul mood today.

By noon, Simon has dragged himself into the busy mess hall for another strong cup of tea, though he stops dead in his tracks as soon as his friend’s booming and thickly accented Scottish burr can be heard above the general noise of his surroundings.

It doesn’t take long to find the source, and Simon realizes that he must double his efforts to outrun your lingering presence.

Soap stands at a packed table, one boot-clad foot perched on a vacant chair while one arm is slung around your shoulders casually, tucking you against his side while he flaunts his other hand with animated gestures as he speaks.

Simon’s hands ball into fists at his sides, and the leather of his skeleton gloves creaks as he watches on, standing in the middle of the entryway to the mess hall, though everyone scatters and makes sure to swerve around him like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Soap is obviously showing you off to the other gawking soldiers as if you’re some prized possession–a mere thing, though Simon can’t tell what is worse–Soap acting like you belong with him now, or the fact that you’re obviously happy about it while your tail swishes behind you, all coy and jolly.

However, while Simon’s eyes keep lingering on you for another moment, he notices the way your cottony triangle-shaped ears twitch and swivel, basically doing recon, while your eyes flicker and sweep over the crowd like you wish to disappear, like you’re wishing for protection, like you’re searching for–

Simon’s jaw ticks under his mask as his teeth clench harshly, and with a shake of his head, he turns on his boots to walk out of the mess hall. Tea be damned.

When Simon enters Captain Price’s office at the end of the day, ready to sign out for the weekend, his stomach drops when he spots you sandwiched between Gaz and Soap on the small leather couch in the corner by the window, while both Sergeants continue to entertain you. To his surprise, you don’t even seem to notice his presence as your attention is held capture by the two men.

“Here to sign out, I assume,” Price remarks factually from behind his desk, not bothering to lift his eyes as he reads a document and takes a slow puff of his cigar. “Go on, then. Have a nice one, Lieutenant.” The Captain mutters through the thick plumes of smoke curling and dissolving into the air.

But Simon barely pays any mind to the underlying sarcasm in Price’s words as he watches with narrowed eyes how you start nuzzling along Soap’s jawline while the Scot strokes the whole length of your plush white tail almost lasciviously.

And suddenly, his swift feet carry him over there with a mind of their own, blood already boiling below the surface before Simon confronts the younger male: “The fuck ya think you’re doin’ there, Sergeant?” Sergeant, not Soap or Johnny, because Simon is vexed at the man for no other reason than feeling protective of someone who’s obviously being taken advantage of by his friend.

He’s more than aware of how much of an opportunist Johnny can be–especially when it comes to women. Catch the bloody git talking to some lass who’s vulnerable, recently broken up with, instead of getting with the one who’s obviously looking for some quick fun at the pub.

“Wha’?” Johnny blinks up at Simon with those freakishly big and bright blue eyes, feigning innocence. “Am doin’ nothin’, Lt. Jus’ showin’ the bonnie lass some much needed affection.”

Simon clenches his teeth at that, restraining himself from saying or doing something he might regret later, when his eyes flicker over to Gaz, who gets up at once to remove himself from the situation with an awkward cough. Meanwhile, you’re practically lounging in Johnny’s lap, tail wagging lazily as you gaze up at Simon; a picture of innocence.

There’s a moment of charged silence before Simon speaks up again; your name falling from his lips for the first time in a gruff command before he adds in a low growl: “Up.”

The way your spine seems to straighten immediately, ears twitching and eyes widening at his sharp order, makes him feel–something, and it’s nothing good. “I said get up,” he repeats to you, glaring at Johnny as if to dare him to keep you on his lap, though Johnny simply rolls his eyes and lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re comin’ with me, lass.”

Gaz, leaning against Price’s sturdy mahogany desk, long legs crossed at his ankles, shares a look with the Captain, who leans back in his office chair, one hand resting on his chest while he takes another slow drag from his cigar with a smug glint in his eyes– the one he always gets after a particularly successful mission.

Clutching your leash in his left hand, he ignores the way his mind is trying to warn him how the leather will soon burn through his glove like acid as much as he ignores the way you follow him so obediently, and Simon freezes when Captain Price addresses him again, producing a stack of papers from a black folder: “One more thing, Lieutenant–”

Bureaucracy. Lovely.

Simon groans internally as he reads the first few lines of the documents–your official handlership papers. “What if I refuse to sign ‘em?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet his Captain’s.

“Then I will!” Johnny calls out from his spot on the couch, earning a snicker from Gaz and a crooked smirk from Price while Simon shoots a glare in his friend’s direction.

Price shakes his head, still smiling, while he flicks through the pages, before finding one in particular. “You know the answer to that,” he says and pushes the paper over his desk towards Simon before holding out his good pen and giving you a little wink as you stand patiently behind your new handler.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Simon mutters under his breath, voice muffled by his mask as he snatches the pen out of his Captain’s grasp.

And he positions the tip of the pen at the signature line, hesitating as his heart thuds against his ribcage in a slow yet harsh beat. His eyes scan over the page again, his mind in a confused frenzy, until he spots your own signature at the bottom of the document–a delicate swirl of letters next to a date a few days prior.

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted

#cotton candy clouds #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #hybrid au #cod #cod hybrid au #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #simon riley smut #reader insert #hybrid!reader #handler!ghost

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girl-lostconnection · 9 days ago

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Continuation to this post, that came down to me like a message from a god.

“Lieutenant, you have to let go”, the voice is muffled, all sounds are, like you are underwater. The blood pumping in your ears is so loud you aren’t sure if you can still hear properly.

You aren’t sure if the rapid ascend of extraction shuttle didn’t burst your eardrums.

“Lieutenant, look at me.”, the voice is closer and you can’t help but curl away, your whole body tensing, grip tightening.

Why are they speaking to you? Why- shouldn’t there be medic by now? Shouldn’t someone come out? What’s going on?

There is a stubborn nagging feeling in your chest — poking and prodding, fraying your nerves, sending twitch to your nervous hands.

Your wrists ache, tension coming through them to your fingers, every knuckle burning but the pain is dull.

You are just so cold. Why are you so cold?

It’s not supposed to be so cold on the ship, you just paid for an upgrade, just fixed the ventilation and heating, just —

Another Helldiver crouches in front of you, their eyes unusually soft — glimmering through the visor of their helmet. You don’t know them, they probably came through on the SOS beacon you deployed, just a little too late. The mission is done.

You are out.

But you are wet and cold, lighter armour that let’s you run faster, that lets you get to the exfil as soon as possible is now clinging to your body — wet and sticky in a way that makes your skin crawl.

God, do you hate sweating that comes with running like a mad fucking chick through the terrain that’s never on your side.

“Lieutenant”, the voice of commander — their rank shining like a fucking supernova — is practically gentle. Almost soft.

Unusually so. It grates down on your nerves. Helldivers aren’t soft. You aren’t made to be soft, it gets trained out of you. You can’t be if you want to survive.

“Lieutenant”, but they are soft and you want to scream at them, rage and despair coiling in your belly, your wrists ache, your fingers burn. “You need to unclench your fingers”.

Your mind is so blank, so painfully empty but you just grip harder, your knees joining in, boxing in your valuable cargo against your body, your vision blurring for some reason.

“…Why?”, is a broken quiet whisper, your voice hoarse in a way that makes commander carefully cover your hands with theirs.

Prying your fingers open.

“They are gone, lieutenant”, their voice is just as quiet as yours when they get your right hand uncurled.

Off the vest of your teammate.

The notion hits you like a dumbbell, your eyes sliding to them, your whole body instinctively tries to curl harder around the diver you managed to shove into Pelikan-1 before it got off the ground.

It’s impossible.

You got them inside, you got them out, you two got back, what do they mean?

You saved them, you brought them back, medic will just need to patch them up, why isn’t medic there, why is no one here?

You don’t realise you are shaking until commander physically pulls you off the ground, their gauntlets cold against the torn fabric of your armour.

You don’t notice. You aren’t sure you remember how to breathe.

There is a small persistent sound, that reverberates through your chest, that rises to your head and your mind is so blank and you are shaking.

Sound just gets louder — raw and wet, broken wail no human should be able to make, no human should be made to make.

You realise that it’s yours only when commander forces your head in their shoulder, muffling it effectively.

“You did your due, lieutenant. Democracy’s dignity is protected”, they murmur the script you both know too well.

Words echo through your skull as another wail rocks your body with a force enough to make your knees buckle.

Whats good is your due right now? What’s use of this protection if you couldn’t save the young diver that answered your SOS beacon and bought you time?

“You did good. We’ll be able to bury them. You did good, lieutenant, you didn’t leave them behind”, the voice above your head is thick with something you can’t place and hands around you just get tighter.

Uniform clings to your skin, your body still shaking, awful sticky feeling making your skin crawl.

You don’t realise why until you get back to your quarters, mirror making you lightheaded with panic, suddenly clicking that it’s not sweat.

It’s blood

Gaz looks over your ship with the same excitement young cadets usually have, his eyes shining when he turns to you.

“This sure is something. You keep your bird in prime condition, captain”

You hum, helmet in your head shining with metal detailing in fluorescent lights of your ship.

Prime is an understatement. You poured all resources and money you earned into this ship. You still do.

“I was just wondering…”, sergeant starts carefully with the wariness of someone who knows that it’s not up to him to wonder. Not when it comes to things so much higher his pay grade. But you nod, encouraging him to speak his mind and he continues. “You don’t have med bay around here. Seems like you could use one in your line of work.”

Gaz smiles, lips curling wider and god, he’s so young.

Young and brilliant, eyes so bright you can feel the phantom feel of the blood seeping through your uniform again.

“Had one. But command pulled the funding and pulled the stuff while we were deployed. Said that it’s not profitable use of resources”, your tone is carefully level, your helmet covering your whole head. Nothing to give you out. Nothing to report.

You are a picture of devour Helldiver.

But Kyle’s eyes still sharpen.

Like he can sense years-old rage and despair under your breast plate.

Like he can see the blood seeping though your uniform.

(It’s impossible, you washed it so much skin on your palms started to peel. You washed it so much you no longer smelled anything other than bleach when you wore it)

“Must’ve costed you a lot of good soldiers”, he muses carefully and something in your chest snaps painfully.

Something important. Something soft.

“Well, you know how it is, sergeant”, you say and there is rage in your chest and years-old blood in the threads of your armour (you will need to wash the bloody thing again until you can’t remember how sticky it was).

Kyle’s eyes are sharp and he’s brilliant and you never wanted to get someone off your fucking ship this quickly.

Your voice strings higher but you push through it, turning away, your words coming out more of a script than human speech.

“We do our due, sergeant. We protect democracy’s dignity”

You don’t add that the same can’t be said about your own.

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tongue-like-a-razor · 3 months ago

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Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD

WC: 1800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.

“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.

Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”

You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”

You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.

“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”

You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”

Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.

Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.

You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.

He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”

“The one that brought you to my office?”

“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.

You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”

Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”

You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”

Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”

You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.

“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.

Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”

You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.

But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.

Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.

Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”

You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”

Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”

You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.

“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.

“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”

Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”

You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.

“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”

You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”

Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.

“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.

“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.

“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.

Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”

You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.

Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.

“And you?”

“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.

You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”

You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”

You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.

“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”

You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”

…

Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”

You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”

Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.

“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”

You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.

“Such as?” he asks.

You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”

Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”

You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.

You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”

Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”

Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”

You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.

“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.

You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.

Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.

Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.

Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”

You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”

Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”

You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.

Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”

“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”

“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.

Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”

You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”

Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”

You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”

“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.

“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.

Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.

You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.

Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

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3amfanfiction · 3 months ago

Note

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #i enjoyed writing this #asks #thank you nonnie for sending in this ask! i appreciate it more than you know #touch starved!simon riley #slow acclimatization #as it should be

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writersdrug · 5 months ago

Text

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

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starryylies · 30 days ago

Note

Simon with a small bubbly reader, like total opposite from Si being big and cold. And she wears like all pink and is very girly and the rest of the team can't believe their together

OPPOSITES ATTRACT

Simon Riley wasn’t really a big fan of colours, or people.

You on the other hand were both.

He doesn’t understand how you can always be so pink for every occasion. Like if he didn’t know you he’d probably think you’re advertising the Barbie movie.

When he first met you he thought you were ‘faking’ your nice attitude but he was proven wrong when you stepped up to help him during a rough patch after a difficult deployment, breaking through his walls brick by brick

Thought you were the happiest person until he saw you crumble while you talked about your past relationships and how badly you were treated and hurt.

This lead to him being angered and sending out a few of his men to do a background check up on your exes who soon won’t be seeing light above the ground anymore

Loves how you can be yourself around him and display your femininity without being judged.

Let’s you paint his nails pink and wears them to work next day because he knows it’s your way of claiming him.

Wearing it to work attracts a lot of attention though, a few people snicker in the background about how stupid he’s looking

While the rest are more astonished to know that their lieutenant is actually dating someone because why there is no other explanation to why he’d have his fingernails painted pink with heart nail-art on the middle finger.

Soap is one of the many people who tries his best to get tea from Simon during break time,

“So ya got y’rself a missus and didn’ even tell yr’ best friend ‘bout it?

Simon just laughs it off and ends the conversation.

Johnny being the persistent penguin he is, decides to show up at Simon’s house bringing Gaz and price as leverage

They’re shocked to see a real not imaginary girl open the door, such a pretty girl at that too

Simon hears the chatter outside and walks up to see if everything’s okay, only to see his team standing on his front porch with a biscuit box to gift in johnnys hand.

You invite them in and serve them snacks while they just stare at the bleak contrast between you and Simon.

You’re the definition of sunshine and well, he‘s just simon

Soap and gaz tease simon on how he managed to ‘bag Such a pretty thing”

While Simon just gives them a glare that says “fuck off”

While price asks for your muffin recipe.

After the boys leave, simon cuddles you right that night an mumbles how he’s so lucky to have you and how much he loves you.

(He got affected by what soap and gaz said about you and how you’re out of his league.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆ ੈ✩

Header credits to- @anitalenia

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erindrinkstea · 1 month ago

Text

Fractured Foundations

Poly! Dark! 141 x GN! Reader

TW: Dark Themes, Spicy Themes, Possesive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Angst, Violence, Blood and Death

Description, Part 1

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: First Chapter Rewrite!

The Task Force 141.

Everyone in the Military respected and looked up to the special task force.

They were perfectly disciplined soldiers working in perfect sync— extremely loyal with an unbreakable bond like no other.

Once, you used to look to them as well. You adored them and idolized them. That all changed the moment you had entered their circle— you had been faced with the cold hard truth. You were an outsider.

Your arrival to them disturbed their perfect balance. Unlike the rest of the team, Price did not choose you. He didn't want you and nor did the others.

You could not blame them, your first impression made a nasty mark on the team. It was one thing for the 141 to not like you but it was another for them to hate you.

Months before you joined the 141, you were a proud member of a different team. A team that happened to have been assigned accidentally to the same mission as the 141. In the confusion, mistaking Soap for the enemy— you took the shot. The shot that almost costed the Scot his life as it pierced straight through his jugular.

It was only after your Captain had knocked the rifle out of your hands did you realize what you gunned down wasn't the enemy but a fellow soldier. You were fortunate that your combat medic was able to patch him up or the 141 would have had your head.

They would have quite have your head. You thank whatever God is out there that your combat medic saved the scotsman's life and pleaded for yours to be spared.

The guilt of what happened clung to you like a shadow and stained your hands with red.

You thought you would never cross paths with the 141 again after the incident, ruining your impression with the task force. Years later, things changed after one mission gone wrong with your team.

Your Captain and fellow Lieutenant died. It wasn't a surprise that your team disbanded soon after, the rest taking it as a sign to finally retire.

You were the last remaining member of your team that still persisted to continue in your duty. You went to Laswell for reassignment and you were shocked once she announced you'd be going to the 141.

She spoke to you of how your potential can be properly utilized under the right team and she believes that the 141 would need an asset like you.

Need, not want. She should have told you that. She should have warned you.

The team did not see you as an asset, they saw you as a liability. A person that infiltrated their circle and is a walking reminder of what transpired years ago.

Captain John "Price". He's the team's steady leader, always maintaining a polite facade. You noticed that his signature handshakes and shoulder pats— a small yet important gesture of his trust— were absent when it came to you. He liked to keep his contact with you in the minimum. It hurt you seeing how he acts like touching you hurt him.

Sargeant John "Soap" Mactavish. He and his easy charm and chatty mouth. He was neutral around you, always quiet and keeping the conversation quick and straight to the point. You felt shame whenever he would trace the scar on his neck, never letting you forget what happened.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. He was known for showing affection to his team in subtle ways, never afraid to show his loyalty through actions. They did say actions speak louder than words and when he often actively avoided you— it stings. He may be subtle with his love for the team but his dislike to you was clear as day. His posture often becoming stiff when you were both in the same room.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. He wasn't just rude or cold like the others, he was terrifying. His tones always sharp, always scrutinizing your every move, and the weight of his glare made you feel like suffocating. Whatever respect he afforded his teammates, he withheld from you with deliberate intent.

You had tried to make amends.

For two years without relenting— you took up the responsibility of the reports, organizing the armory, and cooking meals after missions knowing that Gaz would be too exhausted.

But nothing you did seem to matter.

Today was just another reminder.

"Apologies, Lieutenant." You held back tears, feeling like a kid under the heat of Ghost's scolding. The mission went a bit sideways after an enemy managed to take you hostage— almost using you for escaping if not for Soap's clean shot.

The bullet slightly grazed you cheek as it landed a finishing blow in the enemy's head. "This better not happen again, Lieutenant." Ghost stormed off without another word, leaving you feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

It was unfair. You knew that they hold great resentment against you but still— "This isn't fair." You mumble, close to tears.

Why did you have to apologize? Soap never did when he made a mistake— everyone laughed it off. You got taken off guard and it wasn't your fault yet they still blamed you.

The team was supposed to stick together and they left you behind, never bothered to check if you were still following. Probably never noticed until you got taken hostage.

They never even felt scared for your life— you saw how Ghost looked at you when the enemy held you in gunpoint. He was ready to drop you for the mission. He had decided then and there that your life was not worth it. You saw how ready he was, never faltering his hold on his gun.

You snap out of your thoughts.

"Hey, sweet girl." You blinked away tears before it could escape as the German Shepherd entered the room. She immediately circled your feet and tilted her head curiously, sensing that you were upset. "I'm okay." You assured, kneeling down to rub her head.

After a while, you retreated back to your room. You slumped onto your bed and looked at the picture frame by your test. A photo of you and your former team. You missed them.

You missed being in a team that actually accepted you. A team where you actually belonged.

You drowned in your thoughts for a couple minutes before mumbling, "I don't wanna do this anymore." You don't want to retire but you didn't want to stay in the 141 any longer. It was torture.

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

You left your room, heading to the kitchen to get something to bite, food was always a welcome comfort. It was better than sulking.

You passed Gaz on the way but didn't bother with even acknowledging his presence. The Sargeant paused mid-step, glancing at you as you continued to pass him.

For once, he didn't become stiff but felt uncomfortable nonetheless. You looked... blank. A look that he had seen from tortured vitims that seem to have given up. It didn't well with him that you looked that way.

In the end, he didn't think much of it and brushed it off as exhaustion after the mission. But you were never the type to ignore a person even when tired and when you just passed him—

It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

#Erindrinkstea #Call of Duty #Task Force 141 #CoD #TF141 #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john price #Task Force 141 x Reader #Dark141

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kyokutsu-sama · 11 months ago

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Headcanons

"How would they react if you sat on their lap and hugged them while they were busy?" A/n: I had this one lost in my drafts for a while and I didn't even remember it😅(It was a bit of a random idea, but somehow it was cute❤️)

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Jushiro : Jushiro seemed focused on the papers that were on the table and had forgotten the world around him, but you decided to test him a little. You opened the door and saw the man with long white hair lost in his thoughts who didn't even realize you were there until you started approaching the table. He looked at you and smiled, you approached him and sat on his lap hugging him, which left him a little confused at first and asked you about it. "Are you okay, love?" He asked when he felt your fingers caressing the back of his neck "Yes, I just came to give you a hug and see how you were" He smiled and kissed your cheek as thanks for worrying about him. He's such a cutie and he wouldn't mind if you stayed there with him.

Shunsui : Shunsui, for the first time in his life, seemed to be doing his job properly. If it hadn't been for Nanao threatening him, saying that she would drag him to the office by his hair if she found him drunk in one of the bars in Seireitei, he wouldn't have been there. You met him in the office and smiled after seeing him working, you got close to him and he switched his attention to you. "Y/n! Good to see you here dear" He greeted, leaning back in the chair. You didn't say anything and sat on his lap and hugged him, he hugged you and placed a few kisses on your neck, still wondering why such a kind act and why you haven't said a word since you entered. "You missed me, didn't you?" He asked, moving your face away from his shoulder and looking at you "Actually, I just came by to hug you, but I can't say I didn't miss you a little" You said running your hands over his face "My lieutenant threatened me and that's the reason I'm here" You smiled and placed your head in the crook of his neck, keeping him close to you.

Byakuya : Busy as always, Byakuya had a somewhat tired look as he read and reread the endless reports on his desk. You opened the door a little and peeked inside only to find him focused on his work, you entered and went to him. He only realized that you were there when you got close to him and put him back in the chair and sat on his lap, then he raised an eyebrow, confused by the fact that you just sit on his lap and hugged him for no apparent reason. "Is everything okay Y/n?" He asked after a while "Yes, I'm just stopping by to see you" You said as you ran your fingers through his hair "I was working on---" "Just stop for a moment, okay ?"You smiled at him, caressing his cheek He took a long sigh but didn't want to persist, surrendering to your affection.

Kenpachi : Of all the places you thought he could be, the office was the one where you least expected him to be. He hated that part of the job, you were the one who took on that role and you even used to scold him for spending his days away or leaving all that work to you. You watched him for a while, still trying to believe what your eyes were seeing, who would have thought he would be there? You closed the door and walked over to him, you sat on his lap and hugged him. He dropped the papers on the table and didn't hesitate to question you about that action. "Are you trying something, woman?" He asked, frowning "No, I just came to check on you. Is it wrong to worry about you?" You asked, looking at his confused expression "No, it's not. Unless you have a good reason for sneaking in here and sitting on my lap" "Beyond concern and kindness, no, I don't think so" You smiled and tried to move away from him "You're playing with fire, woman. Come here"He said before pinning your body against his with one arm And that's it, now you were trapped in his arms and he wouldn't let you go anytime soon.

#bleach #bleach fandom #gotei 13 #shunsui kyoraku #zaraki kenpachi #jushiro ukitake #byakuya kuchiki #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach x reader

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thewulf · 10 months ago

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Lost and Found || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake x Reader. I was thinking a good friends situation where they were both interested in the other but didn’t want to mess up their friend group dynamic and so they never said anything. And of course they were each oblivious to the fact they were into each other,.. Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh sorry anon, this took forever to write as I was feeling uninspired. Turns out I just needed to watch TGM and whew! I forgot how much I love Jake Seresin and the TGM crew :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The air in Virginia was thick with the scent of saltwater and fresh possibility when you first noticed the cocky Lieutenant who was making a beeline towards you. It was a humid afternoon on the naval base, and you, a newly hired trauma surgeon, were immersed in your work, lost in the world of medical charts and patient files. And just as you were about to get up, he walked in with a cocky grin and an air of self-assurance that demanded attention. You knew the type, he had to be a pilot. They just had the air about them.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted you with a wink, his voice carrying across the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yeah, he was a pilot. Only they had the reassurance to be so fearless on a first interaction.

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness, unimpressed but intrigued by his approach. "Can I help you with something?" you replied, your tone cool and collected. You knew how to deal with his type. Be dismissive. Ignore them and eventually they’ll get bored enough to leave you alone.

The blonde-haired man slid into the seat opposite you, his grin never faltering as he leaned in closer. "Just couldn't resist the chance to introduce myself to the most captivating woman on base," he said smoothly, his words dripping with charm.

A chuckle escaped your lips, though you tried to suppress it. That was a new one for sure. "Flattery will get you nowhere Lieutenant," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grinned in response, undeterred by your playful resistance. His eyes flashed down to your chest which displayed your rank and last name. "Ah, but I'm not just trying to flatter you Lieutenant Commander. I genuinely want to know the name of the woman who's been keeping me up at night," he admitted, his tone sincere but laced with playful arrogance.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "Well, in that case, I suppose you'll have to earn it," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For whatever reason you were having fun with this interaction. It wasn’t often you would give these Navy boys much time but there was something about him. Something that had you setting down your charts to get a good look at him.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I'm Jake, by the way. And you are?"

You maintained a playful smile, keeping him guessing as you decided to reveal just a fragment of yourself. "I'm a trauma surgeon," you replied cryptically, letting the mystery linger in the air. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was. Blonde, clean-cut hair and deep green eyes… who wouldn’t swoon for that?

Jake's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily faltering. "A trauma surgeon? Now, that's impressive," he remarked, a newfound respect coloring his tone. "Here I am, just a pilot, and you're out there saving lives and I take them."

You chuckled softly at his dark humor, appreciating the humility that so rarely came from the pilots you had known in the past. "It's not a competition," You assured him, feeling a sense of something beginning to form between the two of you. No wonder he was so cocky. He was striking and a pilot to boot? It should’ve been over then and there, but he drew you in further than you had ever intended.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound sense of admiration. "I know, but still...what you do is pretty incredible. Badass even.” he said earnestly, a genuine warmth in his voice.

As the conversation continued to flow between you, a comfortable exchange began to form, fueled by mutual respect and a shared sense of adventure. And though you kept him guessing with your playful evasions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel drawn to Jake – to his confidence, his charm, and the undeniable spark that crackled between you. And so, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mess hall and the sounds of laughter filled the air, you found yourself fascinated by Jake, captivated by his irresistible charm and magnetic personality. Little did you know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a friendship – and perhaps something more – that would change the course of your lives forever.

Over time, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't quite explain. Despite the demands of your respective roles on the base, you made time to see each other whenever you could – stolen moments between shifts, late-night conversations beneath the stars, stolen glances in the dimly lit corridors of the barracks. Everyone knew of the two of you. Clearly in love but too stupid to do anything about it.

But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension between you, a lingering sense of longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both fiercely independent individuals, committed to your careers and reluctant to jeopardize the fragile balance of your friendship with something as unpredictable as love. So, you buried your feelings beneath layers of professionalism, convincing yourself that it was better this way – safer, more practical, less likely to end in utter heartbreak. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the spark between you refused to be extinguished, flickering to life with each passing glance, each fleeting touch.

Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Jake dropped a bombshell that shattered the delicate equilibrium you had worked so hard to maintain. "I'm being reassigned after this deployment," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "To Miramar."

As Jake's words sank in, a heavy silence enveloped the room, suffocating you with the weight of what his departure truly meant. You had been through so much together over the past three years. The highs and the lows, the laughter, and the tears. And now, faced with the prospect of his absence, you couldn't help but feel as though a piece of your heart was being torn away.

"Miramar? To Top Gun?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the ache in your heart. You knew it was everything he had been working towards. And you knew how damn good of a pilot he was. It just surprised you how soon he was getting sent there. He must’ve been the best of the best.

Jake nodded. His expression somber. "Yeah. It's everything I’ve been working towards, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud of regret.

But all you could feel was a sense of loss. For the friendship you had built, for the moments you had shared, for the possibility of something more that now seemed out of reach. "I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve it. You deserve the whole world." You forced the words out, though they felt like shards of glass tearing at your soul. A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a silent path down your cheek.

Jake reached out, gently wiping away the tear with a look of utter despair in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see you cry. "I wish you could come with me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a longing you knew mirrored your own. He grabbed for your hand joining his fingers in with yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I know," you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'm still in the middle of my fellowship. I can't just drop everything and leave. No matter how badly I want to." Another tear escaped as you realized what this meant. Your little bubble of happiness was going to vanish in an instant.

Jake nodded in understanding, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little while longer. "I know," he murmured, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within your own heart.

Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he flashed a small smile. "You know, I used to dream of being a Top Gun pilot when I was a kid," he confessed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to fly jets like that."

You couldn't help but smile through your tears, touched by his vulnerability. "You've come a long way from your childhood dreams Jake. I knew you’d be able to do it. If anybody could, it’s you," you remarked softly, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the ache in your heart. Because he did deserve it. He may have come off as an arrogant asshole at first, but he was anything but that. He was your best friend. The man who looked out for you over himself time and time again. You loved him but you held it close to your chest. Because you did love him you had to let him go. Let him go live his dreams.

And as the reality of his departure settled over you like a dark cloud. You couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to say goodbye to him. As you sat there together, holding hands beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the barracks, you realized that no matter where life took you, no matter how far apart you may be, the bond you shared with Jake would endure – a constant reminder of the love and friendship that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places.

After Jake's departure, life on the base took on a different rhythm. The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each passing moment marked by the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his unwavering presence by your side. Despite the distance, you and Jake still found solace in occasional phone calls and sporadic messages, though never as often as you wished.

On an ordinary day, your world was turned upside down once again. Your commanding officer called you into his office, his expression serious as he delivered the news. "Doctor Y/L/N. I have some important news for you," he began, his tone solemn. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we've had to make some adjustments to our staffing plan. You're being reassigned."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of unease settling over you. "Reassigned? But I thought I was heading to Austin for my next rotation. Replacing Doctor Warmack." you replied, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. You had plans. You were moving to Texas. You had a house picked out. A life you were planning to start. But then again, you were in the military. You should’ve expected this.

Your CO shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Plans have changed. Chula Vista is in urgent need of a trauma surgeon of your caliber," he explained, his words sending a jolt of shock through your system.

Upon hearing the news of your reassignment to Chula Vista, a whirlwind of questions surged within you. "Sir, may I ask where Chula Vista is located?" you inquired tentatively, your voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You hadn’t heard of that base. And you could’ve sworn you knew all the potential bases you could’ve been assigned to.

Your commanding officer, a seasoned veteran with a weathered expression, glanced up from his desk, his gaze thoughtful. "Chula Vista is a city just south of here, part of the San Diego metropolitan area," he explained as he pointed to the map of the states, his tone carrying a sense of gravitas. "It's home to several military installations, including Naval Air Station North Island and Naval Base Coronado. It's also in close proximity to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.”

The mention of North Island and Miramar sent a jolt of emotion through you, memories of Jake flooding your mind with a bittersweet intensity. "Chula Vista also supports Top Gun operations, among many other military endeavors," the CO continued, his voice steady as he provided further context.

You were heading to exactly where Jake was. A shiver of anxiety ripped through you as you processed his words. “Thank you, sir," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation swelling within you.

As you turned to leave, the weight of the news settled over you, mingling with a newfound sense of purpose. Chula Vista, a city steeped in military history, a place where your path will intersect with Jake's once more. And though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, there was a glimmer of hope shining through. The possibility of reconnecting with Jake and the chance to explore what the future held in store.

As the days passed and your departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a dilemma: should you reach out to Jake before making the move to Chula Vista, or should you let fate take its course and surprise him? The months of silence between you weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you uncertain of where you stood with him. Would he be glad to hear from you, or would your sudden reappearance only complicate things further?

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you and reconnect before the distance between you grew even wider. But another part of you feared rejection, feared that your efforts would be met with indifference or worse… that Jake had moved on without you.

In the end, you couldn't shake the feeling that fate was leading you back to Jake, guiding you toward a reunion that was long overdue. And so, with a leap of faith, you made the decision to keep your plans a secret, to let the element of surprise be your ally. With each passing day, your anticipation grew, your excitement mingling with a touch of nervousness as you prepared for your move to Chula Vista. And as you boarded the plane bound for your new home, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you, for Jake, and for the bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear you apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hard Deck. You found yourself seated at the bar, engaged in conversation with Penny, the owner of the establishment. The ambience was relaxed, with the murmur of chatter and the clinking of glasses providing a soothing backdrop to your discussion.

Penny, a vibrant and charismatic woman with a penchant for storytelling, leaned in with genuine interest as she got to know you. "So, what brings you to the Hard Deck? I haven’t seen you around here before," she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

You offered her a warm smile, appreciating her genuine curiosity. "Just got here a week ago. I've heard so much about this place from my coworkers," you explained, gesturing to the bustling bar around you. "They all recommended it as the must-visit bar in Miramar."

Penny's eyes lit up at your mention of coworkers. "Ah, you must be part of the base personnel then," she observed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between you. "I am! I'm a trauma surgeon over at the hospital in Chula Vista," you confirmed.

At the mention of your role, Penny's expression shifted, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait a minute... are you Y/N? Doctor Y/L/N?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and knowing of your name, you nodded cautiously. "Yes, that's me. But how did you...?" you trailed off, curious about Penny's sudden change in demeanor. Her excitement was palpable, you could feel it in the air.

Penny beamed at you. "Oh, Jake talks about you all the time! You're one of his favorites," she revealed, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

A warmth spread through your chest at her words, touched by Jake's apparent fondness for you. "He does?" you asked, unable to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! He's always mentioning how talented and dedicated you are. He won’t admit it… or he doesn’t recognize it, but that man is head over heels for you, Doctor," she added with a playful wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's teasing, feeling a flutter of anticipation as thoughts of Jake filled your mind. Little did you know, your reunion with him was just moments away, and the excitement of seeing him again filled you with a sense of joyful anticipation. Penny's mischievous grin widened as she caught sight of your reaction. "Oh, don't try to hide it, Y/N. I can see that spark in your eye," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. "Alright, you caught me," you admitted with a grin. "I'm looking forward to catching up with an old friend."

As you sat at the bar, lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the door swinging open, admitting a group of pilots. It wasn't until Penny nudged you once more and whispered excitedly that you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Jake among them.

Before you could react, Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a look of sheer astonishment crossing his face. In a flash, he broke into a wide grin and dashed toward you, weaving through the crowd with purpose. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was upon you, pulling you into a massive bear hug that lifted you off your feet. Laughter bubbled up from deep within you as he spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and excitement, the world around you fading away as you surrendered to the moment.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight as he held you close, his grip on you tight and unyielding. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a familiar cocoon. In that moment, it didn't matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was the sheer exhilaration of being reunited with Jake, of feeling his arms around you once again.

"What the hell are you doing here without telling me, Doc?" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with mock indignation as he held you close, refusing to let you go.

You laughed, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at the familiarity of his embrace. "Surprise?" you replied, unable to keep the grin from your face as you met his gaze.

Jake shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, consider me surprised," he admitted, his tone playful as he finally set you back down on solid ground. “I have to say, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time." As you stood there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the years that had passed since you last saw each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all. As though you had simply picked up right where you left off.

As the warmth of your embrace lingered, Jake's eyes remained fixed on yours, a softness settling over his features as he took in the sight of you. His hand remained firmly on your shoulder, his touch comforting and reassuring.

"I've missed you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "More than you'll ever know." You felt a swell of emotion rise within you at his words, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within your heart. Despite the distance and the time that had passed, the connection between you felt as strong as ever – a testament to the bond you shared.

Before you could respond, Jake's gaze softened even further, a flicker of determination shining in his eyes as he made a decision. Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to share."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face at his eagerness to spend time together. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of reconnecting with Jake.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, the sound of laughter and music fading into the background, Jake turned to you, his expression earnest. "Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued by his serious tone. "What is it, Jake?" you asked, concern flickering in your eyes.

Jake took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've thought about this moment for so long, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell you how I feel," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak. "How you feel?" you prompted, unable to contain the hope in your voice.

Jake's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I've been too afraid," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to make up for lost time and see where this goes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and as you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sincerity. His vulnerability touched you in a way you hadn't expected, and you felt a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. But before you could respond, Jake took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with determination.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, surprised by his respect and thoughtfulness. You nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Please, Jake," you replied with certainty, your voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

As Jake's lips met yours, a surge of warmth flooded through your entire body. It was as if every nerve in you ignited with a newfound energy, responding to the tender, loving touch of his kiss. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips against yours, soft and yielding yet filled with an undeniable passion. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle rhythm, each kiss sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. It was one of those kisses filled with longing and desire, a silent confession of the feelings that had been building between you for so long.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as the intensity of the moment washed over you, but Jake's strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close and steady. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding you in the present moment even as you felt yourself swept away by the sheer emotion of it all. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him as if he could never bear to let you go again. They were warm and reassuring, tracing the curves of your spine with a tenderness that left you breathless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and completely cherished, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. Because you were and he was determined to show you that.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in your own private cocoon of love and desire. It was a moment you would treasure forever, a testament to the depth of the connection you shared with Jake.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the sweetness of his, you found yourself lost in his eyes once again. As you gazed into Jake's, feeling the weight of his gaze and the depth of his love, a sense of peace washed over you. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and you knew, deep in your heart, that this was where you were meant to be.

With a gentle smile, Jake pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered softly, "I am never letting you go again." His words filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging, reassuring you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. While you gazed into the depths of his soul, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story together.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

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oaksgrove · 1 month ago

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The Captain and the Captain; OPERATION: MATCHMAKER

pairing: John Price x female!reader

synopsis: When the legendary Captain Price and Captain [Y/N] of Task Force Echo are brought together for a joint mission, sparks fly—but they’re both too stubborn and professional to act on it. Enter the 141 team, who take it upon themselves to play matchmaker. With tactical breakfasts, strategic coffee mishaps, and one very persistent cat, the team pulls out all the stops to push their captains toward the romance everyone but them can see.

word count: 2230

warnings: meddling teammates, and some secondhand embarrassment.

part 1 here!

OPERATION: MATCHMAKER Objective: Unite Capt. [Y/N] (TF “Echo”) and Capt. Price (TF 141). Mission Status: Ongoing

PHASE 1: Observation

Task Force Echo’s arrival on base brought a distinct energy to the joint mission. They moved with precision and confidence, their camaraderie evident in every exchange. For the 141, watching Echo work was a blend of admiration and intrigue—especially for Captain Price.

“Captain Price,” you said, extending a hand as the two teams assembled for the initial briefing. Your voice carried the perfect balance of professionalism and warmth.

He clasped your hand firmly, his blue eyes meeting yours for a beat too long. “Captain [Y/N]. Pleasure working with you.”

Over the weeks, subtle shifts in his behavior didn’t go unnoticed—especially by Soap and Gaz.

“He’s got it bad,” Soap muttered to Gaz during a training exercise.

Gaz smirked, watching Price linger in conversation with you over coffee. “So does she. Did you see the way she smiled at him?”

From Echo’s side, Lieutenant Hayes caught on just as quickly. “I think the Captain’s got a soft spot for Price,” she said to Sergeant Holt.

Holt glanced over, watching you and Price debate over a map with mutual intensity. “And here I thought Price was unshakable,” she said with a sly grin. “Looks like [Y/N] might’ve cracked the code.”

With Echo and 141 in agreement, an unspoken alliance was formed: Operation Matchmaker was officially underway.

PHASE 2: Team Breakfast - "The Isolation Maneuver"

Soap orchestrated the first move, rallying both teams for a “joint breakfast.” However, when you arrived at the mess hall, the only person waiting was Price, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

“Morning, Captain,” you said, setting your tray across from him.

Price raised a brow. “Thought the rest of the team would be here.”

“So did I,” you replied, trying not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you a moment too long.

Meanwhile, behind a pillar, Soap and Gaz observed their “targets.”

“Target seated,” Soap whispered. “We need a catalyst.”

Ghost, silently holding a tray of coffee, raised a brow before striding past your table. With a calculated nudge, he “accidentally” spilled coffee near you.

“Oh, for—” Price started, his voice sharp as he glared at Ghost. “Watch it, Simon.”

“Apologies,” Ghost said flatly, though the glint in his eye betrayed him.

You chuckled, dabbing your sleeve with a napkin. “Didn’t know you had such a protective streak, Captain.”

Price cleared his throat, his ears tinged red. “Just don’t like carelessness.”

From their hiding spot, Soap and Gaz fist-bumped, while Hayes and Holt exchanged knowing smirks from a nearby table.

PHASE 3: Coffee Confusion

The following morning, Hayes joined the matchmaking effort, coordinating with Soap to engineer a “coffee mix-up.”

You found Price at his usual corner table, his hat tilted low as he read over mission reports. “Morning, Captain,” you said, setting a cup of coffee in front of him.

Price glanced up, his brow furrowing. “Didn’t order this.”

“Gaz said it was yours,” you replied with a shrug. “Guess I’m stuck with your black coffee.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you. “Guess I owe you one.”

From across the room, Hayes elbowed Holt, grinning. “Did you hear that? He’s smiling. That’s progress.”

PHASE 4: Feline Assistance

Holt and Miller, Echo’s animal lovers, decided to introduce a new tactic: a stray cat they’d been feeding near the barracks.

The cat padded into the common area as you and Price reviewed mission plans. It rubbed against your leg, earning an immediate coo.

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” you said, scratching behind its ears.

Price glanced up, his expression softening. “Didn’t know you were a cat person.”

“I’m an anything-with-paws person,” you replied.

As if sensing its role in Operation Matchmaker, the cat leapt onto Price’s lap. His initial hesitation melted as he scratched its head, his large hand gentle.

“Look at that,” you teased. “The cat approves of you.”

“Reckon that’s a first,” he murmured, his lips curving into a rare smile.

Behind the door, Hayes whispered into her comms, “We’re geniuses.”

PHASE 5: Operation Movie Night

That evening, Hayes stood in front of the common room’s TV, holding up a DVD of The Notebook like it was an Oscar-worthy masterpiece.

“It’s scientifically proven to work,” she declared.

Soap rolled his eyes but nodded approvingly. “Price’ll be blubberin’ like a baby in nae time.”

The rec room hummed with chatter as the team settled into their seats. The movie started, and you found yourself shoulder-to-shoulder with Price on the slightly cramped couch.

Miller leaned toward Gaz, whispering, “Perfect placement. Look at them.”

Gaz smirked. “Now, we just sit back and let the romance work its magic.”

As the film unfolded, you couldn’t help but get drawn into the emotional story. It wasn’t until the climactic scene—where the couple confesses their love in the pouring rain—that you felt the sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

You sniffled quietly, trying not to draw attention, but Price noticed.

Without a word, he reached for the tissue box on the table in front of him and handed one to you. His hand brushed yours, the gesture simple but surprisingly intimate.

“Thanks,” you murmured, dabbing at your eyes.

Hayes, seated beside Soap, nudged him with a knowing smirk. “Told you.”

From the other end of the room, Soap stage-whispered, “That’s it, lads. She’s a goner.”

Price shot him a glare. “Shut it, MacTavish.”

Soap grinned unabashedly. “Just sayin’, Cap.”

Beside you, Price shook his head, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. “They’re relentless.”

“Relentless, but not wrong,” you teased lightly, your voice soft enough that only he could hear.

Price’s eyes flicked to yours, his expression caught somewhere between amused and something deeper. The moment lingered, unspoken feelings hanging in the air, but he didn’t pull away.

Miller and Hayes whispered behind their popcorn:

“Do you see that? He’s leaning closer!” Hayes nudged Miller’s side, making her twitch “I swear, if they don’t kiss by the credits, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Meanwhile, Holt exchanged a meaningful glance with Ghost from her quiet corner, her faint smile betraying her satisfaction.

PHASE 6: The Note Incident

Soap took a bolder approach, leaving a forged note in your locker:

Meet me at the motor pool at 1800. –JP

When you arrived at the motor pool, Price was leaning against a jeep, his expression equal parts confusion and amusement.

“Evening, Captain,” you said, holding up the note. “I got your message?”

Price frowned, taking the note. “Didn’t write this.”

From their hiding spot, Soap whispered, “Abort mission.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let me guess—Soap and Gaz?”

Price chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well,” you said with a smirk, “since we’re here, might as well make the most of it.”

The two of you ended up talking for over an hour, laughter echoing through the motor pool while the matchmakers congratulated themselves on their “accidental success.”

PHASE 7: The Confession

It was a quiet evening when the walls finally came down. You found Price sitting alone outside the barracks, a cigar in hand.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, holding up two cups of tea.

He gestured to the seat beside him. “Be my guest.”

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, the crisp night air wrapping around you. Then, he spoke.

“You’re remarkable, you know that?” he said, his voice soft.

The words caught you off guard. You turned to him, meeting his steady gaze. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a high compliment.”

He hesitated, his hand brushing yours. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

You leaned closer, your voice barely a whisper. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, John.”

For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the quiet hum of shared understanding between you.

MISSION STATUS: SUCCESS

The next morning, when the team saw you and Price laughing together, standing a little too close in the briefing room, Soap grinned.

“Took ‘em long enough,” he said to Gaz.

Ghost, observing from the corner, simply muttered, “Finally.”

Price caught their looks and shook his head with a sigh, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

Later, he approached Ghost in the mess hall. “Reckon I owe you for not letting this turn into complete chaos.”

Ghost shrugged. “Someone had to keep those two idiots in line.”

As Price walked away, Ghost allowed himself a rare smirk.

Echo wasn’t far behind in their observations. Hayes leaned toward Holt, whispering, “Guess Price isn’t as unreadable as he thought.”

Holt smirked. “Now we just wait for the wedding invite.”

Across the room, you caught Price’s eye, his expression softening as your gazes met. Whatever lay ahead, you both knew one thing: neither of you was facing it alone.

Report: Post-Mission Analysis

Subject A’s Reaction to Team Involvement:

Initially irritated.

Later expressed quiet gratitude to team member

Subject B’s Perspective:

Surprise but ultimate relief.

Mission Status: Success.

Next Steps: Monitor continued dynamics between Captains. Prepare for further teasing and team-wide morale boost.

Location: Capt. Price’s Office, 141 HQ Time: Late afternoon, after the mission debrief

Soap and Gaz exchanged a knowing glance as they stood outside Price’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, they could see Price leaning over a stack of paperwork, the usual furrow in his brow as he tried to get through the mountain of reports.

“Right, here we go,” Soap whispered, straightening his shirt. “Operation: Captain, it’s time.”

Gaz, still smirking, nodded. “Ready when you are.”

With a deep breath, Soap knocked twice on the door, his voice smooth and casual. “Oi, Cap. Got something for you.”

Price looked up, his face momentarily lighting up with the briefest of smiles before he masked it with his usual stoic expression. “What’s this then?” he grumbled, gesturing to the stack of papers in front of him. “I’m a little busy.”

Gaz couldn’t hold back a chuckle as he slid into the room with Soap. “Well, Cap, we’ve compiled something for your reading pleasure,” he said, his tone playful. “A report. From the lads. Full of... observations.”

Price arched an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Observations?” he asked, his voice skeptical but curious. “From you two? This I’ve got to see.”

Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, both trying—and failing—to hide their grins. “Just something we thought might help,” Soap said, casually laying the neatly folded report on Price’s desk. “Can’t hurt to take a look, eh?”

Price took the paper with a raised eyebrow, flipping it open to the first page. He immediately noticed the title: Operation: Matchmaker.

“Is this… what I think it is?” Price asked, his voice a mix of surprise and suspicion.

“Definitely,” Gaz replied with a grin. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you and Captain [Y/N]. It’s all right there. The clues. The tension. It’s practically a love story in the making.”

Price glanced at the two of them, a hint of amusement behind his usually serious demeanor. “You two… I swear,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just trying to do my job. And now you’re making me the subject of your bloody matchmaking, eh?”

Soap slapped Price’s back lightly, chuckling. “Come on, Cap. It’s obvious. We thought you two might need a little nudge.”

Gaz, leaning casually against the desk, nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ve got your back. You’ll be great at this.”

Price let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t need your help, but I’ll read it, alright?” He flipped through the pages, his eyes flicking over the bullet points, the observations about his every glance at you, the way his interactions with you were dissected with painful precision. His face flushed with embarrassment at some of the details.

Soap leaned over and whispered, “It’s all true though, isn’t it, Cap?”

Price didn’t look up from the report. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

Gaz snickered. “Sure, you don’t.” He was having too much fun with this. “You’re welcome, by the way. The report was a team effort.”

Price slammed the paper down on the desk, his face a deep shade of red now. “You two are insufferable. I swear, I’m not dealing with this.”

Soap grinned. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to. And we expect some results.”

Gaz added, “At least invite us to the wedding. I want the first dance.”

Price groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You two… I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”

Soap’s smile softened a little. “Don’t worry, Cap. You deserve it. And maybe you’re exactly what she needs. But, uh, no pressure.”

Price looked up at them, his shoulders slumping as if he were giving in. He grabbed the report and stood, walking over to the window. “I’ll handle it. But you two,” he said with a pointed look over his shoulder, “are bloody impossible.”

Soap and Gaz shared another look, exchanging a quiet fist bump before they slipped out of the office, leaving Price to contemplate their “helpful” report.

taglist:

@honestlymassivetrash

#call of duty fanfic #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #task force 141 #cod 141 #captain price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #modern warfare 2 #captain john price #cod price #tf 141 #price

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thebeesatemyknees · 1 year ago

Note

141 with a gf who has been cheated on in the past and it kind of destroyed her confidence?? Like just how they would prove themselves as true and how they would go about a relationship with her. Love your writing, friend!!!! <3

141 with a (fem)partner who's been cheated on in the past

Some headcanons about things that Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish do to reassure you after learning that your previous partner/s cheated on you.

Word count: 1k || No warnings. || Reader: FEM reader. Pronouns "you", but feminine terms used ("missus, girl, lady") [I could make a gender neutral version too if anyone would want it!]

Simon Riley, who, half joking half serious, reminds you that he’s a difficult bastard to get close to. So you don’t have to worry. I mean, look how much time it took you to make him open up and let you become part of his life. He has a hard time openly admitting how he feels about you and how he only has place for you in his heart and mind. So instead, he jokes that you’re the only person on this planet, crazy enough to approach him. Though sometimes, when you have late night conversations, he admits in a hushed voice, that as much as he enjoyed the solitary life, leaving it behind for a lifetime with you was the best decision he's ever made.

Although he prefers to avoid crowded places, he starts taking you to pubs more often to prove that he’s right about being unapproachable. It also gives you a reason to dress up all pretty, so he can shamelessly compliment you and tease you about wanting to show you off.

If someone is silly enough to walk up to you two and try chatting him up, he immediately cuts it short, not even trying to be polite – “No, we’re alright. We’re busy.” And if they’re persistent, he uses his “Lieutenant Ghost” voice on them – “You’re interrupting my date. With my girl.” He keeps his hand on you for the rest of the night.

He asks you if he should get your name tattooed on his arm and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But he is dead serious. Have you seen his tattoos? Not to be judgemental, but… He wouldn’t mind tattooing your name on himself once he thinks you’re the one.

John Price, who relies on communication. He asks you to talk to him whenever something feels wrong – whether it’s caused by your thoughts or something he’s done. But he doesn’t just wait for you to bring the issue up either. He’s a true leader and he’s very observant. Sometimes he notices the heavy thoughts starting to cloud your mind before you can even cotton on. He’s also really good at reading between the lines. If you ever do that self-sabotaging thing, where you ask his opinion about other women on the street or on the internet, he immediately gives you a stern look and, without even looking at the lass you’re pointing at, gives you a lengthy pep talk. Why would he even need to form an opinion about another woman’s appearance, when he only cares about you?

He’s got the patience of a saint when it comes to you. He’s told you what he feels towards you and how you are the only one for him many times already. And he would repeat himself, over and over again. Until he loses his voice.

If he got approached by someone and offered a drink, while you’re hanging out in a pub, he would point towards you and say “I’m alright, but you can buy my lady a drink if you insist,” with a cocky smile on his face.

Kyle Garrick, who attacks you with “I love you”-s and compliments whenever you start doubting yourself. Literally. Won’t let you finish your self-derogatory comments, even if they’re well hidden in what you’re saying. Starts yelling ILYs from afar. Then once he gets closer, he grabs you and holds you close, repeating it against your ear until you laugh from the sensation. But he doesn’t ignore your worries. He often sits you down so that the two of you can have a conversation about your feelings, your boundaries, behaviours and things he can do to assure you of his loyalty.

He has pictures of you everywhere and he’s proud to show you off. There are polaroids of you alone and both of you together in his wallet, in his car’s sun visor, in the pocket of his uniform. You’re his phone’s wallpaper. He posts pictures of you on social media. Obviously, he does all that while making sure it won’t affect your safety. And as for him bragging about you, you probably learnt about that from Price. What you don’t know though, is that he went out of his way to introduce you to his captain in hopes of Price telling you how often he talks about you. And only you.

If someone tried to chat him up while he’s with you, he would give them the nastiest, most offended glare possible. He looks at them, at you, at them, at you… He throws a simple “Uhh, no thank you,” while he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest, using it to ground himself. Before the person can even turn away, he’s looking at you with a “can you believe this shit” stare. He gets upset for the both of you.

Johnny MacTavish, who’s physically glued to you.While off duty, he doesn't give you much space for doubts or anxieties cuz he follows you everywhere. You’re going to run some errands? He’s coming with you. He’s going to run some errands? Can you please come with him…? One time, when you went to the toilet in the middle of the night, you found him sitting half-awake on the floor next to the bathroom door. Later, he can’t even explain why he did it. He wasn’t even fully conscious. It was pure instinct – you go, he follows.

He takes you to buy matching rings. You can take your relationship at your own pace, but others don’t have to know it. He’s more than happy to pretend to be already married to you. Especially when he’s deployed away from home. And when he comes back, he proudly shows you a tan line on his ring finger, proving he’s been wearing it the whole time.

If someone approaches him and offers him a drink, he scoffs and tells them that HIS MISSUS can buy him his drinks just fine, thank you very much. If you’re there with him, he turns to you and, before the person can walk away, he starts playfully flirting with you, saying you can take him home if you buy him a drink. If you’re for some reason not there, he immediately calls you (or at least texts you if he’s with the lads) and proudly tells you about how clever his response was.

I hope that some loose headcanons like these are alright.

Also, if this happened to you – I'm really sorry and I wish you all the best! And if anyone needs to hear it: remember, the fault is never in the person who got cheated on but the one who cheats. Screw them. You deserve to be treated kindly.

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ghouldtime · 4 months ago

Text

Aquarium Trip with TF141

Because I fish I could go with them lmao, assuming that it's a big group trip

Captain John Price

Ever the leader of the group, he's making sure that everyone is keeping their phone on vibrate or low volume so no one can end up being a straggler who they have to go on a man hunt for

He wants everyone to at least be able to enjoy themselves but he's not going to be chasing them down, desperately trying to find them in the crowd. Just occasionally check your phones and you'll be all set. He's still as observant as always, keeping an eye out and his head in the game, even if he's supposed to be "Relaxing". He's a firm believer in never being too certain or wary

The group trip was more or less mandated as a 'go do things as a group so you can stay sharp, actually use down time, and bond'. Also because Price was needing a break, as much as he said he didn't, and the only way to get him to take it is to force him out of the office

Admittedly he can't be too peeved when the others seem excited (minus Ghost but what can you expect), AND there are a bunch of cute fish and creatures alike to look at

He takes his time with the exhibits - he's stopping to read the cards and identify the fish and other critters. Pair up with him if you want to actually take a breath and enjoy the experience at a reasonable pace

He'll content to just follow in the footsteps of the others and enjoy the day as much as he can, for once, taking it as it is. It's nice to not have to constantly lead or direct when they're fine doing their own thing and he can do his

It's not often he gets any form of time off or relaxation so you bet your ass he's trying his best to do such and make the most of the day he was forced to take. It's a conscious effort, too. He's so used to being in work mode that shutting that off is near impossible

It's why he doesn't go alone and someone is ending up as his buddy. Having someone there to talk can help get him out of his own head and focus on the present moment. You may have to snap him out of it every so often as he keeps thinking too much, it's a habit

Not to mention he likes having somebody there to tell his stories to. Idle chatter helps distract and helps him get closer to those around him. He's well aware he's often work focused so it is quite needed to shift his attention to the human aspect of it. His humanity is often hanging on by a thin thread so doing what he can to reconnect is vital to keep his head screwed on straight and to remind him what he's fighting for

You'll likely end up with him, sitting and watching the ocean tank - full of fish and sharks alike. It's an ever changing environment yet repetitive all the same, it puts him at ease to simply watch. He's quite fond of the stingrays. They remind him of himself :) (as in they can be hidden in plain sight and can kill you in an instant)

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Despite the fact he would rather not be out in public when possible, he didn't exactly protest the idea of the aquarium. Sure, it could be busy but that means he can walk off undetected and hide in whatever dark corner he so pleased until they were done. He was already planning that from the get go

Seeing as his father used animals to psychologically abuse him during his childhood, he's usually quite reluctant to be around them and usually isn't much of a fan. It's not that he hates them, he knows it isn't their fault, he's just... Weary.

He knows that they won't and can't do anything to him, especially behind glass, but there's always that nagging fear and persistent memories that haunt him that urge him to stick to the shadows and wait it out

He has a reason to avoid pretty much every tank. Eels? Like water snakes, too slimy. Jellyfish? Remind him of being stung on a beach off the Gulf of Mexico. Otters? He's sharing with you the unfun otter facts of what messed up animal stuff they do

Yes, he is an utter stick in the mud. He is well aware of that. But the fact that he's even there to begin with is significant progress. It's like voluntary exposure therapy - he's at least trying to work through it, bit by bit. Having the team there helps and they're aware of what is going on, so they simply give him the space he needs to work out his own emotions. No one is there to judge, they're just there to have fun

They all check in on him to see how he's holding up. You're absolutely welcomed to too, or you can spend some time hanging out with him, exchanging terrible fish jokes to help lighten the mood. Just don't expect to go around with him or have him follow through the exhibits

Simon knows he wanted to push past a barrier of some kind aside from simply being there, so he decided to pick a singular exhibit to actually visit on his own - it would be a way for him to reclaim some more autonomy and prove his thoughts and past couldn't get the best of him. Naturally, he picked the shark one

While he's well aware of the danger sharks pose, he's not actually had a bad experience with sharks... Yet. Their reputation is usually a lot worse than they are. Plus, you know exactly what you're getting into when it comes to them. You know what to expect. It's not like they're hiding their teeth or the fact that they're apex predators

He'll sit on a bench pressed to the wall, watching them idly swim about from a safe distance. He never said he was getting close, but watching them and not instantly being flung back to his worser memories is a HUGE step forwards. Instead, he's a bit more surprised at how he can actually enjoy seeing them move. Seeing such powerful creatures there in the flesh is so much greater than how they appear on TV or in books

Not that he'll admit it, but he relates to them. He too is an extraordinary killer, feared by most, yet understood by few. Many judge based on his appearance alone and misassume, when he's simply trying to live his life no matter the hand that's been dealt to him

He wouldn't protest if you sat with him and watched the sharks for a while in silence. For a man who isn't fond of animals, there's no denying the softness in his eyes as they swim past

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You'll probably actually enjoy hanging around him the most, he's the best buddy to have for trips. He's pretty much following Price if he's not rushing ahead with Soap. He's a bit more mindful in the sense that he will pause and look back, even back tracking to rejoin if they were getting too carried away

He's not the most well versed in all animal facts but he will happily tell you some of what he knows as you pass the exhibits. Did you know most piranhas are actually herbivores? Not the ones you're looking at, those ones are carnivores, but most species are. They're usually quite harmless. Usually. Not during dry season but that's different-

He's quite happy to see a variety of wildlife, from the smallest coral to the hulking fish. He can't say he's exactly used to it or that he's one who keeps an eye out for those things, but it's nice to see. It at least allows him to get a look at things he may otherwise never see or experience

Learning about them is important too because what if he needs it one day in the field??? Being able to identify what's around him, including the animals, can be super helpful. He isn't going snorkeling or to a coral reef any time soon but still, just in case. Gaz is smart, he will ALWAYS take a learning opportunity when he can

He's the one who already has the itinerary for the day with all the shows and educational events, and you BET he is on top of them and is going to go see them all

Please attend with him - he's usually the one picked out of the crowd because he's got the perfect energy. Winning smile? Winning heart? Winning attitude? It's hard NOT to notice him. He already has bad jokes in store and can win over the audience too

You just have to be cool with sitting front row and potentially in the splash zone. He's not sitting in the back, who knows when he gets to do this next? Also, why would you not want to be up close?? You're at an aquarium, there's water, you're going to get wet - that should be PART of the experience

You're both probably going to get a picture with an otter before the day is done

As cool as the other animals are, he's absolutely a fish person. He thinks they're extremely underrated for what they are. There's SO many different kinds of fish and colors too! How can you NOT enjoy that?

He's spending extra time in the coral reef and the fresh water areas because he loves how immersive they are - and just how many fish they have swimming around without many other animals. It is a glimpse into a world we never get to see

He also loves the octopi and squid. Creatures that can camouflage and ambush??? Absolutely wonderful, as far as he's concerned. He loves how intelligent they are too and how underestimated they can be

Stick near him, you won't regret it. He's great company and can happily talk about the different fish all day - and maaaaybe will just revisit a few of the tanks he especially liked (he's already calculating how to get a beta fish by the time you get back)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

To no one's surprise, he's leading the charge in. He is absolutely EXCITED about this. Cool animals??? A day with people who he cares about????? Sign him up

The group really just loosely follows him to start. He's got a solid game plan and is watching the crowd to see which is the least crowded area so that you can get the best view

Like I said, he's a man with a plan. Gaz might have the itinerary but he's the one scoping out the floor and already trying to figure out the game plan so you can stick together and see what you actually want to see

He naturally has a presence that can make others move out of the way. One look at extremely buff Scottish man who can have the meanest resting bitch face, and they'll move. That's not even including that you're being followed by three other not so short men. At least it makes for great crowd clearance and he knows it - and yes, he's using it to his advantage

Like Gaz, he too is reading the cards and is quite happy to learn about the creatures there. Not as thoroughly as Price, but he's still at least actively reading and trying to note things down in his mind

He's the one who makes the slightly inappropriate comments out of instinct, forgetting that there may be kids nearby. In his defense, he's not used to that - usually it's just adults. But he can't himself from going "Look of the size of that bloody bastard" while pointing at a grouper

His comments make for great banter, usually it's with Gaz - seeing as Ghost disappeared almost the second after they stepped in. "These little shits can function without a brain" - "Oh, so that makes the two of you :)" . It's like that the entire time, just a lot of back and forth - and yes, it's hilarious

He's not rushing through the exhibits but he certainly is sidetracked when there's so many things to look at and see. It's really a matter of what is catching his eye and why - there's so much to do and so many things he didn't know. It's VERY exciting for him in the best way

Whenever there's a creature he particularly admires, he'll actually stop and sketch it out, jotting down some notes about it in the margins of his sketchbook too. He brought a few colored pencils but it's really mostly just plain pencil

He's actually quite a good artist! As long as he has a wee bit of time to get the rough lines down, he can finish it off later really nicely. But he'd prefer to take his time. The aquarium is a great place for him to practice things like plant life and moving creatures

You're welcome to sit beside him and watch as he draws - or better yet, draw with him if you brought a sketchbook of your own. It fills in for some of the quieter time if you're blessed with a calmer exhibit. If you're lucky, he might even draw something so you can color it in as you wait for the group to catch up

Admittedly, he likes the piranhas. They're known and have a fierce reputation for a reason, but he in particular likes the shimmer of their scales and finds them to be under appreciated in that regard. He finds them beautiful and they're a lot more than their teeth alone

Naturally he also likes any otters or mammals too. He'll usually end up entertaining them, especially if they're seals - they're such funny creatures - they remind him of the seals he saw on the coast whenever he visited as a kid

BONUS

König

Seeing he isn't apart of the group, you'd actually run into him in NORMAL civilian style clothes (still wearing a surgical mask, albeit) if you wandered off on your own or got a bit too ahead - leaving the boys behind

Assuming that you don't happen to know him here, but it was at the seahorse tank. With the little seahorses clinging to the bits of plants that they had, here was this big guy with an utterly adoring expression on his face as he stared at them

He nearly jumped out of his skin when you made your appearance and commented about how neat they were

He couldn't help but to agree, they're such fascinating creatures and they're so tiny. It's a wonder how something that's the size of the tip of his finger can live like that

The whole reason he was at the aquarium was because he liked animals - and because his therapist recommended he get a bit more out of his comfort zone to further work on his social anxiety. Getting exposed to new environments at his pace would do him good in the long run. While he's been fine and can absolutely manage, he does want to push himself to come more out of his shell and to be more comfortable in his every day life. Plus, he has only one life, he needs to live it some

He also wasn't used to seeing so many aquatic animals - it would be something different, something that maybe could give him some ideas later down the line for some of his crafts. And it's a good reminder of how vibrant and diverse the world we live in is. It's easy to forget when you're surrounded by blood and gore all the time

Usually, people are quite intimidated by him, so he was surprised that anyone came up and even tried to say anything to him. But talking about seahorses and the other animals here was a LOT easier than talking about himself or anything else he usually had to default to

When you asked if he'd seen the moon jellies or the crabs yet, and he said no, how could you resist showing him right where they are and pointing them out? He'll love them! They're silly little guys like the sea horses

He's admittedly a bit flustered from the attention and having someone actually want to talk to him, but he finds it easier to open up and naturally when you're just... yourself. And clearly quite excited about being there - or more expressive of it than him

You sort of happen to end up walking along with him, chatting about all the different types of animals there are and what you like about them, or making comments about what they're doing and laughing about it

As awkward as he is - he's still got his sense of humor and charm about him underneath that you uncover as you get him to open up, even just a little bit

It's only when he sees your group at a distance and the recognition of who they are dawns on him . He backs away when you wave to them, making the connection. What a terrible coincidence - but the last thing he wants to do is create issues, especially when he's here to enjoy his day - and he's not wanting a fight, not right now. And especially not in civilian gear or in a place where they all can be banned from

(They do not get along in the slightest, trust me, it would not be pretty if they happened to put two and two together. There's not that many Austrians that tall who happen to have scars like he does)

He's back to making excuses as he back pedals trying to get out of sight before any of them see, but not before slipping you his number. After all, it would be such a shame to let such a good connection go to waste :)

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riverbutghost · 2 years ago

Text

Why?

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon made it clear that he disliked you. But after you were captured by the enemy, he decided that was far from the truth.

Warnings: Military stuff (wounds, blood etc.), Slight sexual themes, violence, detailed descriptions of torture but not too much. (I don’t know if I’ve missed anything else. The italics are flashbacks btw.

Masterlist

“Ты говоришь на русском языке?” do you speak Russian?

You tried to catch your breath while the two men were talking in Russian. A cold water was thrown at you.

“посмотри на нее, она такая американка. я чувствую его запах.” He scrunched up his face and looked at you with disgust. look at her, she’s so American I can smell it.

“Aren’t you going to beg, my dear?” He patted your head a little while smiling like a maniac. The Russian accent was so strong that you asked yourself if you knew Russian.

“Aww, she’s such a cutie with a crying face. I love making little girls cry.”

Your face scrunched up and you looked down, not letting them see your tears anymore. It was embarrassing for you, a soldier who was known for her strong facade on the field. But only on the field, they used to say. You smile a lot, lass, Soap used to say. Now you wondered if you were going to see him again.

“Well, either way we will keep you until you die, sweetheart. Take care, Милая.” darling.

The other man smirked and they both got out of the room.

You couldn’t remember what had happened, but you were taken by the Russians.

Your head was pounding and the punch you received from the guy who had called you disgusting pet names was dreadful.

You wiggled your arms, wiggled your neck but no. They weren’t even ropes. They were metal bars. They had pinned your arms, legs and neck to a metal bar.

You were sure you were going to die here.

Suddenly, you remembered your lieutenant’s words from earlier.

He had said, “don’t leave my side. I didn’t want you in the first place but they gave you to me so do as I say. Also, I don’t want to hear you chitchat.”

It hurt you a little, pinched your already broken heart. But you knew better than getting sad. He was Ghost, always mean, always bored. He only joked around with Soap, which was a rare sight. You promised to yourself that whatever he would say, you were going to befriend him. But that didn’t end up like that.

It was rare for you. Usually you would get along with anyone, but Ghost was different. From the beginning, he would always make you feel small, making little comments about how you had a big mouth and he knew how to shut it and blah blah blah which made your face flush.

You were starting to get him though. Or so you thought.

“You know I don’t care what you say, right?”

Your shoulders slumped a little. But your smile came back.

“Well, I don’t care either. That makes us a good team.”

You smiled at him sweetly. Like a child who got what they wanted. He gripped the folders harder.

“Stop smiling and get these papers to Price.”

You kept smiling and took the papers from him.

“We will be friends eventually, sir.”

“I hope not.” He mumbled, making you chuckle a little.

You were always hurt after talking to him, but sucked it up eventually.

He had his issues. He knew better to trust a new soldier. But you were insistent. He was insistent either.

“Are you okay?”

He tensed at you sudden voice, eyes dropping at your soft tone.

“Yes, is there a problem?”

You bit your cheek.

“Why are you so persistent about this?”

He was taken aback by your question. He turned towards you, his skull mask was on.

“What?”

You gripped your blade harder. It was one of those ‘nightmare’ nights. You couldn’t sleep and thought it would be easier to clean your blades. You should’ve known better.

“You try so hard to ignore me or shut me up.”

His eyes were staring right at yours and you felt the need to remove your eyes from his.

“I don’t like bubbly people. And you talk too much, my ears can’t take it anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’ll like me eventually-“

His sharp breath shut you up instantly.

“Why do you act like everyone likes you? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

You were taken aback by his sudden harsh words. You opened your mouth to speak, again thinking you were going to make him like you. So you said the thing that came to your mind to stop him from breaking your heart more.

“Chill dude-“

You were flushing. What the fuck was ‘chill dude’ ?

“Don’t” He stopped for a second. “don’t ‘chill dude’ me. I’m your superior and you will respect me. Understood?”

You felt your body freeze. He was making it so hard, so hard to befriend him.

“Ghost-“

“Sir, you’ll call me sir from now on.”

You looked down at you hands, trying to find something to look at.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled eventually and got up, scoffing at the tears which were threatening to fall down.

You still remembered the stinging feeling his words had caused you.

You stopped trying to be one of his mates. You stopped talking near him. This made everyone question why, but never asked because Ghost was never in the mood to talk.

Simon thought about the last time he had cared about anything. He couldn’t remember.

But you, you…

You were like a rainbow after a terrible storm. Your smile could lit up the whole world. And after just one look at your face, he knew he should distance himself and not get close to you.

But you had other plans.

After your first mission, he was sure he would get lost looking at you smile.

“How is your leg, sir?”

You asked him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Fine.” He grumbled, voice vibrating through his chest. Your cheeks started getting pinker and he cursed himself.

“Can you get out and call the nurse?”

Your smile wavered a little and you finally turned around. You mumbled under your breath, he figured you were hurt by his words.

“No need to be rude, Lieutenant.”

He couldn’t help it though. You were a ball of happiness and he was overwhelmed. He couldn’t help himself.

He regretted it, but still said nothing.

You didn’t shut up. Ever.

Even if he said the most hurtful comment, you would still forget about it and smile at him. He sometimes questioned your ability to be happy all the time. It was a gift, he was sure.

You were a gift. He wasn’t religious at all, but after seeing you for the first time, he was sure you were a gift from above.

He fucked it up.

He should be relieved, but no. He was angry at himself for attacking you in a sort of fucked up way.

He was using his fucked up mentality to push you away, but he knew better.

Deep down, he knew why he was treating you that way. But he wouldn’t let anyone know this. Not even himself.

“We have to do something, y’know?”

Simon pushed his thoughts away and looked at his superior.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Price pressed his lips harder than usual.

“I interrogated them, they say different things.”

Simon pulled his mask down and got up. He turned towards Price.

“Then maybe you should let me interrogate them.”

Price gave a long and sharp breath.

“What will we have if you kill them?”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows. You don’t understand, he wanted to say.

“What do we have, then?” He gave up for the sake of finding you.

“4 locations, Soap searched them. They are all Russians’ and we have to be quick.”

They were more then ready to find their little sunshine. But Simon was stressed, he was freaking out.

They got ready, hopped on their truck and the mission was started.

You weren’t okay.

You were far from being okay.

“Oh, look at her. So sad no one is coming for you?”

You clenched your jaw, immediately regretting it because of the massive headache.

“Speak when I ask you a question, got it ?”

A noise came from your neck at the sudden blow to your cheek.

“Let’s get rid of these bars,”

Your neck suddenly fell down after the metal bar opened. You couldn’t find the strength to look at them.

He gripped your hair and jerked your head to him.

Another guy kicked your abdomen, making you whimper in pain.

“Bastards!”

The guy gripped your hair harder and smacked the back of the gun to your head.

You unintentionally whimpered again.

“What was that? You little pig.”

You were sure there was an internal bleeding in your abdomen.

“That’s enough brother, let’s eat.”

The guy kicked you again in the abdomen and the metal bars opened.

You fell down from your chair.

Your vision was blurry, you were sure you wouldn’t survive in two days. It has been so long, so long.

They were coming, you knew it. Deep down, you were wondering if Ghost was finally relieved. No one was talking his head off or cracking dirty jokes now. Was he keeping them away so you would die alone here?

You closed your eyes, shaking the ridiculous thoughts.

You were tired, so you let yourself go.

“Hey, be fuckin’ quiet!”

Soap gulped and apologized at his Lieutenant. He was extra angry today.

“Sir, what if she’s already dead? This would be a suicide mission then.”

Simon turned towards the recruit.

“Shut your mouth and do what you’re told, kid.”

The soldier fell silent after that. They knew better to piss Ghost off.

“Okay, get ready. In three, two… one!”

Shots were suddenly fired. The Russians were not expecting this, at this hour especially. They were on edge, but their superiors were busy having dinner.

“I’ll look inside!”

Ghost shouted, immediately followed by Soap.

The two got in, killed the guards.

It had been a fucking week, and Ghost felt pathetic to hear your voice. It effected him more than he thought it would.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going downstairs .”

Soap nodded and returned his killing.

Ghost kept his steps low, head raised high in confidence. He pushed through everything in front of him, trying to save his pain in the ass.

He pushed every door, even broke the locked ones down.

There you were, laying on the ground. Looking dead, but your back was slightly moving up and down.

He immediately scanned the room, with nothing he rushed to get you out of there.

He kneeled on his knees and turned you around carefully.

“Sir?”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re strong, sergeant.”

You smiled a little. He checked your injuries’ severity and got you on his back.

“I didn’t think I would- uh- be alive to be honest.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Bite your tongue, Sergeant. You’re one of the strongest soldiers i’ve ever met.”

You smiled a little again. Proudly you closed your eyes.

“Stay, yeah? Don’t want you to die on me, gonna get in trouble because of you.”

Your smile faltered. Here you were, naive little girl.

“Right.”

He knew he fucked up again. But his first mission was get you out of there safely.

You whimpered at the sudden pain in your abdomen.

“What’s wrong?”

Your arms tightened around his neck, not enough to hurt him.

“Hurts-“

A sudden explosion made you two flew into a wall. Ghost groaned and quickly grabbed his gun. He looked around for you.

Everything was happening too quick for his liking. He reloaded his gun and jumped up to his feet.

“No…”

He fired his gun nonstop at the men, who were trying to shoot both of you. He was actually scared for the first time.

He reached to his comm.

“Soap, fuck- come downstairs!”

He swung his gun to the man beside him and rushed to your side. He lifted you bridal style and turned his back on the men.

“Fuck,”

A bullet pierced his shoulder. He eventually put you down behind a desk, flipping the desk over to cover you.

Soap, Gaz and Price came into his view and he relaxed all of a sudden.

“Ghost?!”

Ghost put his arm up behind the desk to show them where you were.

“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” Gaz looked at him in concern.

“Oh, so I’m not hurt then.”

Ghost scoffed at Gaz and picked you up. Gaz rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get you two to the heli.” Price tried to pick you up, but Ghost mumbled something and pulled you to him.

“Ghost-“

Ghost brushed him off.

“Let’s go.”

It had been a week.

After multiple surgeries, you were in intensive care for give days.

The internal bleeding had caused you to lose consciousness and when you woke up in the heli, you vomited blood. On Ghost.

Ghost felt his heart beat faster at that because for a second, he thought you were dying.

You didn’t.

You were awake but still in bed. Soap came to your visit, Gaz did, Price did, even Alejandro did but Ghost didn’t.

You received a lot of gifts from recruits which made you smile. But something else was occupying your mind.

You wondered if Ghost was okay. Soap told you he was shot, said it was nothing for him.

You got up to a sitting position. Immediately holding your abdomen, you cursed. It still hurt like a bitch.

You stood up from the bed and checked the nurse. She wasn’t there so you took the chance to escape from your prison.

You were in a white oversized sweatshirt and nothing else. You weren’t wearing a bra and you thanked the nurse.

You pushed the doors open. You had forgotten the sweaty smell of the hallways. You missed it.

“What are you doing? Go back to bed.”

You flinched at your nurse’ tone and turned around to her.

“I feel good, Amanda. Please,”

Amanda sighed then nodded, allowing you to leave.

“I didn’t see you, then.”

You chuckled a bit and left.

Your mission was now to find your Lieutenant. Ghost. Simon. You never tried to call him by his actual name, knowing his temper and dislike towards you.

You felt nauseous all of a sudden. You didn’t want to find him, you didn’t want to feel unwanted and alone again. Even though your other teammates were always there for you, you wanted him. Why? You didn’t know. Or didn’t want to admit.

You took a deep breath, forgetting about your abdomen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You held your abdomen and mumbled curses.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You froze and licked your lips. That wasn’t the scenario you thought it would be. You turned to your side.

“Hi, sir.”

You smiled at him through your pain.

He was wearing his balaclava, his eyes red. You wondered why, then remembered he was shot.

“Are you okay Ghost? I heard that you were shot.”

You took a step forward. He took a step back. You pressed your lips together.

“I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“No.”

Ghost looked straight at your eyes, his bloodshot eyes looked concerning.

“Do as I say, sergeant.”

You shook your head. Not today.

“I’m okay. I wanted to see if you were okay too.”

Ghost’s eyes left yours for a second. He looked down at your abdomen.

“You’re going to open your stitches.”

Your head fell to your side slightly. He looked at you again.

“Are you, okay?” You punctuated for him to understand what you were trying to say.

He sighed.

You took four more steps towards him until you were chest to chest.

He looked defeated.

“I am.” He answered your question, eyes flickering between your mouth and your eyes.

“Can I look at your shoulder? It’s bleeding.”

Ghost furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his shoulder. He knew he shouldn’t be working out in this condition.

“Please let me help, Simon.”

His breath hitched a little, but you heard.

With a newfound courage, you took his hand and lifted it slightly with a cloud-like touch.

“I’m sweaty .” He looked at your eyes.

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him. His eyes traveled all over you and suddenly, he took your hand and started dragging you.

You gasped in shock, but didn’t say a thing. He was acting strange, you didn’t mind it.

Ghost opened the door to his room and after pulling you in, he closed the door.

“What now?” He asked out of breath. You flushed a little.

“Uhm, well. I’ll get your med kit.”

He nodded and showed you the place. He sat down onto his bed.

You came with the medkid, a little shyly.

“Take off your shirt.”

He gulped. You didn’t mean to sound so authoritatively. You helped him by lifting his arm slightly then took off the shirt.

Holy shit, you thought. He was ripped. You cleared your throat and opened the medkit.

“Just try not to move your arm.” He nodded.

You were working on his arm, but his eyes were on you. You shuddered a little feeling goosebumps all over your body. He smirked under his mask.

“I’ve never seen your face.”

“I know?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah no shit. Are you going to show me?”

He shook his head. You pursed your lips in a mock sadness.

But you felt your body freeze as he pulled your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, forgetting about his wound. He groaned, sound vibrating through his chest. You were melting.

“Oh God, sorry.”

He pulled you on his lap, pulling your legs apart with his hand. You gasped again, feeling a sensation in your lower parts.

“Ghost-“

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath and averted your eyes from him to focus on his wound.

Quickly cleaning it up then bandaging it, you looked at him.

“I’m going to wash my hands.”

He got up with you on his lap. His hands were on you thighs and your legs were hugging his waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Never letting you go.”

You licked your lips, they suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for the way I treated you. But fuck, you are something else. Fucking pain in the ass.”

You chuckled a little and he dropped you near the sink.

“Stay with me?”

You dried your hands then turned around. He was hovering over you, and you liked it.

“Let’s sleep.”

He gulped then grabbed you up in a rush.

“Ow, be careful you ass.”

He put you on to the mattress.

“Let me make it feel good, yeah?”

All of the playfulness left your face after he had said that.

“Oh fuck.”

#call of duty #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of dooty #cod mwf2 #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff

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sgtgarricks · 1 year ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i want your hands on me for all my life

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst, happy ending, mentions of simon's abusive past, talks about death, mentions of soap's death, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie!!, simon lets himself be happy yay

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

PREVIOUS PART: your gentle hands are enough

notes: this is the 2nd part for the people that want a happy ending :) this turned out sooo long LMFAO if you want to be sad just pretend this doesn't exist and read the other one! your feedback & comments help <3

Simon had always excelled at compartmentalizing his emotions ever since he was a child.

Growing up with an abusive father and an older brother who has hell-bent on scaring him had forced him to develop self-preservation tactics in order to survive their torment. Dissociating was a daily occurrence in his childhood years — it helped Simon escape the pain and torment that was being inflicted on his body.

Being in the military has not been that different.

He was still dissociating, but he was no longer on the receiving end of thrown punches and insults. He was now the perpetrator inflicting agony on his enemies for the good of the world. To rid the world of filth.

Simon Riley had become the ultimate soldier — lethal, swift, quiet, and was immune to the horrors of war, which was no surprise considering he had spent most of his childhood learning to lock away all the negative emotions. The ability had become innate, bleeding into his daily life and in turn, his relationships.

When Simon walked out the door, he had left all the hurt and sadness in the apartment with you. He trusted you'd keep a part of him safe until he came back and even if he didn't.

Simon had whole-heartedly accepted the risk that comes with the job, fully prepared to lay his life down if it meant a better world than yesterday. In fact, Simon knew death more intimately more than anyone. He'd knocked on death's door multiple times but always seemed to come out alive.

It was easy for him to not think of you. The anxious voice inside his head becomes static as he engrossed himself in the mission. The hard part comes when the dust has settled — when all that remain are cold corpses and bullet casings.

Sitting in the helicopter all bloodied accompanied by the sound of whirring blades wasn't usually bad. It would give him time to sit down and process his emotions. It let him feel the slight guilt that never goes away when taking a life — no matter how rotten.

But with each mission he went on after his abrupt departure, he finds himself constantly ruminating his entire reason for not wanting to get into a relationship with you.

Simon had wanted you to move on from him when he died, eventually. Forget the bruised and battered soldier and find someone whole, someone who could be there for you and love you without causing you anxiety every time their phone rang.

He thought himself selfless for trying to spare you, but his entire reason collapses with every mission he comes back alive.

What was his excuse now? What was he protecting you from?

The voices slink back into his mind the moment he gains a moment of peace. Whispers planting seeds of doubt in his mind, feeding on his insecurity and his fears. They're ruthless and persistent.

You don't deserve them. They're too good for you. You're going to leave them one day anyway, why bother?

He feels a tightness in his chest, as if a phantom hand was squeezing his heart that sends pulses of pain through him. His hand shakes slightly, fingers moving absent-mindedly trying to remember the feel of your skin.

"You alright, Lieutenant?" His captain's voice breaks him out of his trance. Simon is slightly startled but doesn't let it show. He merely grunts.

"'M alright."

Silence engulfs them once more. It goes one for one, two, maybe three minutes. It's suffocating. Simon can read people well enough by now that he knows there are questions lingering in the back of John Price's mind.

A part of Simon wishes he'd just spit it out, but the thought of having to explain seemed worse. Instead, Simon settles with a silent huff as the helicopter continues on its designated course.

The second the helicopter landed, Price simply nods at him, trusting him to get his shit together and walks off to his office. Simon does his usual routine, though instead of rushing through the motions, he's intentionally prolonging each action.

Whereas normally he couldn't get out of this place faster, now he almost dreaded the moment he would have to leave. Staying at the base meant monotonous, dull, predictable tasks. Leaving means he has to choose where to go — he has to actively force himself to not drive straight to your apartment despite the fact that every fiber in his being longs to be close to you.

He feels sick, a kind of illness spreading inside of him that only ever felt better when you were around him. A dull ache inside his body that only lights up when you touch him.

He runs a hand to his now damp hair, content with sitting on a sofa in the rec room. Normally, the place would be bustling with recruits goofing around with each other. But one glance at the broodier-than-normal look on the lieutenant's face had created a force field that pushed away everyone as to not get caught in its storm.

Simon doesn't know how long he sits there, half of him trying to convince himself to not come to you. That you don't deserve the broken man with a penchant for violence.

Chuckling lowly to himself, he shakes his head. What kind of demented higher power decided someone as kind as you be plucked and dropped into his sights?

Fifteen minutes went by as he pities himself in the rec room before a shadow in his peripheral vision causes him to look up.

"L.T.," Kyle nods towards him, leaning on the doorframe.

"Garrick." Simon grunts dismissively, not saying anything more. He hops the sergeant will take the hint on his own and leave the miserable bastard to his own devices.

Kyle worries for Simon. The brooding giant seems more miserable than usual — not more than after the incident, but still. Typically, he wouldn't even be able to catch a glimpse of his lieutenant after coming back from deployment. He'd usually opt to disappear from the base in record time.

The fact that he's here now, instead of wherever he usually hangs around, is slightly concerning.

"You alright, L.T.?"

Simon turns to him, slightly annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I'm alright." He huffs. Kyle merely shrugs, unbothered by the icy gaze directed at him.

"Well, seeing as you haven't fucked off from the base yet and it's been," Kyle checks his phone for the time, "Around an hour? I'd wager something is wrong."

Sometimes Simon hated how observant Gaz was. Kyle's always been attentive, even more so now without Johnny's presence. It wasn't a secret that Johnny had been the lieutenant's shadow — always lingering near him, cracking jokes and pulling his leg.

His absence had naturally left a gaping void in Simon, oozing all the pain and hurt that comes with losing a comrade. Simon isn't naive, he knows death comes as a package with being in the battlefield. He's seen his fellow soldiers die, held them as they bled out. It was why he tended to keep to himself. After all, the less people you know, the less funerals you have to go to.

This worked most of the time, anyone who got close to Simon would get his arctic stare and cower off — most of the time anyway. Johnny was a different case. Johnny was a little bit of a nutcase to be honest. A talented, bright, pyromaniac, the youngest ever to pass SAS selection, with an arsenal of jokes in his pockets. The blue-eyed Scotsman got along quickly with Kyle, bantering with each other easily as if they had been long-lost friends.

While Johnny still had reservations about dicking around with the captain, he didn't seem to have the same problem with Simon. Seemingly happy to chatter off in his ear about anything, whether it was about shitty food, a lady he picked up from a bar, or jabs directed at Simon.

Johnny's bright disposition put Simon on edge. He wasn't used to seeing someone not be terrified of him. No matter how many glares he sent him, the bugger wouldn't leave him alone. Johnny would continue to go out of his way to talk to Simon, to sit next to him during lunch, and sometimes, Johnny would even manage to get Simon to open up just a little.

"What's on yer mind, L.T.?" Johnny nudged Simon with his elbow. The two men were both sat at the bar, the TV playing an old recording of a football match. It had taken Johnny ten minutes to convince Simon to go out for drinks and he planned on taking full advantage of it.

Johnny had been talking non-stop for around five minutes about his sister who had just gotten married, waiting for a reaction from Simon who seemed distracted. His eyes had strayed to the other side of the bar a few times, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Johnny was anything but.

"Nothin'." Simon had grunted, tearing his gaze away. A giant smirk plastered itself onto Johnny's face.

"Ah, been starin' at the sad one across the bar, aye?" Seeing Simon's eye widen a little had made Johnny even more gleeful. "Go on then. Ye have my full permission to ditch me tonight." He teased, winking at his lieutenant.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Johnny." Simon had denied instantly, taking a sip of his drink. A normal person would have left it at that, but Johnny wasn't your average person. He loved starting fires and Simon was a flame he wanted to see lit.

"Ach, come on L.T. what's the harm, eh? A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone." Simon didn't know this but Johnny wasn't going to let this go. It was the first time Johnny had ever seen Simon show interest in someone and he'd do anything to get Simon to at the very least, talk to them.

"They're a civvy, Johnny. Not gonna take any chances." Simon shook his head adamantly.

"That's bollocks! All we do is take risks anyway, at least on this one the worst that could happen is getting a drink thrown in yer face." Johnny chuckles, peering at the person across the bar who was clearly nursing a broken heart. Simon still made no move to get up from his chair.

Praying to whatever God was listening, Johnny hoped Simon wouldn't kill him after what he was going to do. Calling over the bartender, Johnny slid the man a fifty.

"Mate, give 'em a refill yeah? Tell 'em it's from the big bloke over here." Johnny signaled the bartender. Simon, who had finally processed what Johnny was doing, couldn't even get a word in. The bartender hastily took the money and went back to his station, ignoring Simon's call.

Simon could only watch in despair as the bartender presented the drink and pointed towards Simon. He received a shy smile, a mouthed 'thank you', and an expectant look.

"Now you've got to go there, mate. Otherwise you'll look like an arsehole!" Johnny threw his arms up, grinning triumphantly. The sergeant crossed his arms and wiggled his eyebrows.

Simon could've easily ignored Johnny and went back to his drink. But a part of him couldn't deny that he wanted to go over there and maybe talk to someone else that wasn't Scottish for a change. Against his usual logic, Simon decided to stand up from his chair.

"You're an arsehole." A glare was sent Johnny's way, although it had no weight behind them. As Simon began to walk away, he could hear Johnny laughing loudly.

"Yer welcome!"

Simon had never told Johnny you were the person who had been texting him during deployment, but he knew deep down that Johnny already knew. He'd asked multiple times, even tried sneaking a look.

He simply didn't want to admit that Johnny forcing him to talk to you that day had shifted Simon's world. He wished he told Johnny.

"We all miss him, L.T." Kyle's soft voice spoke again. He's closer now, dragging a chair from a table and sitting in front of Simon. Kyle knew he could never fill the giant void that Johnny left, but he felt a sense of responsibility to at least try. Price had become more closed off after his death whereas Simon had slowly been unraveling, little stitches coming loose a day at a time.

"All we can do is make sure it's not in vain." Simon sighs, hearing Kyle's words, knows he's right. That he can't go back to expecting the worst all the time, constantly on edge.

Johnny had breathed life into his ghostly presence, bringing Simon back into the realm of the living. The more Johnny got out of the lieutenant, the more people were able to see that Simon wasn't merely a visage, a ghost roaming the hallway. That he was a real person.

He was throwing away his chance at a second life. Perhaps it was also a twisted way of Simon punishing himself. If he couldn't save Johnny, couldn't save the man who managed to get him to talk to you, then he didn't deserve you. It was a round-about way of him trying to mend off the guilt eating away at him that had inadvertently claimed another victim.

"Thank you, sergeant." Simon stood up. Clapping his hand on Kyle's shoulder.

I see you.

"Don't mention it, sir."

The drive to your house takes around twenty minutes, which means that's all the time Simon has to try and figure out a way to atone for his sins.

They're too gracious to even hold a grudge against you. A small part of Simon tells him. While he hopes that's true, he still wants to apologize and acknowledge how unfair he's been to you. If not to make you feel better, at the very least it will ease his conscience.

He drums his finger on the steering wheel, the radio turned on but on low volume. For once, Simon wishes he had Johnny's ability to get out of problems with his alluring words and his kicked-puppy look.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't even realized he's been sitting in his parked car for a few minutes. He clasps his hands when he realizes they're shaking. God, he was so terrified. Not of you, no. He was scared of having to see what he's done to you. Is terrified of really seeing the carnage Simon Riley had tore in you.

He lets out a bated breath and opens the car door. He knows you're home by now, probably cooking away while listening to some indie band. Resting his head on your door, he braces himself once more, and knocks.

He waits, the seconds feeling like hours. The door swings open and he sees your surprised face.

"Simon." You compose yourself immediately, not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him. Something twitches on the corners of his mouth hidden by the balaclava. As if realizing he's still wearing it, he takes it off.

"Can I come in?" He asks timidly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He had no idea how you'd react after him being gone for so long. Even during his three month deployments, he'd sometimes text you once every fortnight. But after the way he left things, he couldn't bring himself to message you at all. Couldn't even stomach the thought of you still pining over him after what he had done. It was easier for him to simply block your number. Photos of sunsets and coffee cups gathering dust in his photo album, unsent.

You didn't even think about it, your body unconsciously moving sideways to let him in. A part of you screams at yourself.

Idiot, show some dignity.

It had been so easy for you to let the man who had left you for six months without a word back into your apartment, into your life.

You felt like an addict. Constantly begging for your next fix and taking whatever scraps are thrown your way. It's pitiful, but you're too far gone, anyway. His dirty boots make contact with your hardwood floor, leaving small specks of mud on them. Simon notices the frown marring your face and begins to unlace his boots.

"Sorry." He apologizes, neatly tucking away his muddy boots at the side of your door. You close the door behind him, making your way towards your kitchen. The plate clatters loudly in the sink as you haphazardly put them away, clearly rattled.

Simon coughs slightly, words stuck in his throat. He'd prepared a small speech earlier yet all the words seem to escape him. All the courage he had mustered for his little speech all had but disappeared into thin air. He feels out of his depths, not used to being vulnerable.

"What are you doing here, Simon?" Your voice sounds so tired. He supposes he was to blame for that.

"Can we talk?" He sends you a pleading look, hoping you still felt a sliver of the love you used to harbor for him — the only thing stopping you from kicking him out.

"Oh, so after blocking me and radio silence for six months you've decided you want to talk?" The bitterness seeps into your words like venom. He can't even make himself physically recoil from the sharp edge of your tone. Simon can feel the thin rope right beneath his feet, one wrong step and he'd be falling off the edge.

He takes a deep breath. "I deserve that."

"Oh, you deserve more than that Simon Riley. I should kick you out right now." You were huffing now, going slightly red in the face. Had he not been so anxious he might've thought you look cute. But right now? He was downright terrified.

"Just-" Simon pinches his nose bridge, calming himself down. "Let me speak for a moment, yeah? After that if you want me to leave, I'll leave." He holds both his hands up.

You were livid, rightfully so. The man you love had essentially decided he didn't want to communicate with you anymore, breaking your heart. The first week you thought maybe something had happened to his phone, broken it maybe?

As the weeks turned into months, the realization dawned on you that he had purposefully blocked you, cut off all contact. At first there was only sadness. You spent your days crying into your blanket, some days barely functioning. The hurt and betrayal had emotionally drained you. Did all those years mean nothing to him?

You knew he had a hard time expressing his emotions, but never in your wildest dreams did you think he would throw you away just like that. Like you were nothing more to him than a good fuck. Despite your head telling you otherwise, the emotional baggage he had left you with didn't leave much option.

It was easier to hate him than to accept maybe he didn't love you at all.

You spent the first few months cursing into the wind hoping it'd somehow hurt him a fraction of how much he hurt you. Afterwards, the pain became a lingering , dull ache, but not debilitating anymore. It became a constant that you carry everyday.

Kicking him out the door was tempting, but you knew it wouldn't do you any good. If anything, the words left unsaid would become a leech — slowly draining away your curiosity until you eventually leave another voicemail.

You give him a pointed stare before sitting down on the couch. Simon slowly approached you, wanting nothing more than to sit next to you but choosing to sink into the other side of the couch. He sees you cross your arms, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"I jus' wanna say that I'm sorry." He stares into your eyes, slouched with elbows on his thighs. Seeing your mouth thin into a line, Simon knows he's going to have to do a lot better.

"When Johnny died..." Your eyes widen, arms slacking slightly. He'd talk about Johnny sometimes but sometime ago had entirely stopped mentioning his name altogether. You had suspected something terrible had happened but you didn't want to believe it.

"I was so angry. It's not fair. He was so young, had his whole future ahead of him. Told me he was gonna see his sister's newborn on his next leave." He breathes out, clenching his fists.

"All of that, gone. We haven't even caught the bastard yet." Simon runs an exasperated hand through his face. Your arms were no longer crossed, choosing to fiddle with the edge of your shirt. You wanted to comfort him so badly, wanted to take him into your arms and tell him everything's going to be okay. But he was still pouring his heart out and you wanted to greedily snatch every piece he was willing to give.

"I had constant nightmares for months. Sometimes, I still do. You're just a heavy sleeper, I suppose." He chuckles and catches the way the edge of your mouth turn up.

"It's never easy, losing someone. It changes you. I used to hear his nonsense almost everyday and now it's just not there. I'm terrified one day it'll be like he was never there at all." Simon looks away, blinking tears away.

"But he was there. I know that. I felt him. He was like the fucking sun, but instead of being 150 million kilometers away, he's next to my ear with his Scottish nonsense." Simon chuckles bitterly, reminiscing the times when Johnny had to translate his gibberish.

You stay quiet, letting him speak freely. You had a feeling where this was going and how Johnny's death had indirectly impacted your relationship.

"If I died tomorrow, would you be okay?" His question catches you off guard. It was a question you've pondered a thousand times before, and every time you only ever came up with one answer.

"No." You answer honestly, because you'd break either way. Whether it was tomorrow or a year from now. You can feel a part of Simon in your bloodstream that if he died, some part of you would die with him.

"I only ever wanted you to be okay." He straightens, testing the waters by moving closer to you. You let him.

"Would you prefer if I never loved you at all?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest you worried he could hear it.

"No." His answer was immediate, as if he'd never been as sure before. "Not selfless enough for that."

"Then are you selfless enough to accept that I would want it to hurt?" You put your hand on top of his, gently grasping them within yours. Simon feels the broken pieces of him mending together.

He's quiet, not sure how to respond. He didn't use to understand why people would put themselves on the line, but he's starting to.

"If you died, I'd want it to hurt. I'd want it to take my breath away. I'd want it to keep me awake at night. I'd want every single bone in my body to ache when you're gone, because that would mean I have loved you with all of me."

You don't realize you'd started crying. There was no distance anymore between you and Simon. His thigh pressed against yours as you clutch his hand to your chest.

"I want it to hurt so badly, because I want to love you deeply." Tears were streaming freely down your face you couldn't even stop them even if you wanted to.

"Simon, will you let me hurt for you?"

And he lets you.

"Okay." His hand go to engulf your frame, but you had thrown yourself at him before he managed to. Simon can feel his shirt getting wet, he'd never thought he'd be slightly happy over the fact that you were crying.

Everything's going to be okay.

Your head was now on his collarbone, his palm gently holding you there. You feel a kiss on the top of your head as he strokes it.

Neither of you know how long you simply cried on him, much less when you ended up on his lap. When he heard you stop — tired from the energy you exerted, he slowly rearranges his body so that you are able to lie fully on top of him. His sore back is the last thing on his mind as he sees your peacefully sleeping away.

A pounding headache eventually woke you. You weren't sure if last night really happened or if your mind had conjured a scenario where Simon came back for you. However, the sweltering heat you feel on your midsection proves otherwise.

He really was here.

His eyes were closed, seeming to be asleep. You test the waters, placing your palm on the left side of his face. A hand immediately darts towards your hand and keeps it there.

"Put some pills on your nightstand for the headache." He murmurs, eyes still closed. His face turns slightly, placing a kiss on your palm. Even after half a year away, he still knows you like the back of his hand.

Leaning in, you give him a peck on the cheek. As much as you want to drink in the sight of him, there were more pressing matters at hand. You need the reassurance. You need him to tell you he wasn't going to abandon you again.

"Simon, did you mean it?" You can't get the entire words out, can only hope it was enough to convey your tumultuous emotions. His heart aches that you don't believe him, but he understands.

"I love you, sweetheart." Soft lips descend upon your own, barely brushing.

"'M here to stay as long as you want me here." He sneaks a hand under you, pulling you closer to him. There isn't any part of you that's not connected to him in some way.

He was so warm, scorching you inside out. You wanted his flame to burn every inch of your skin. When he left, everything felt cold to the bone, your life turning into muted blues and grays.

Simon brought warmth into your life, with his little acts of service. With the little trinkets he brings back after deployment because it reminded him of you. With his gentle hands, gentle kisses — his gentle self.

"I love you, Si." You whisper, grabbing him by the neck and lowering your lips onto his. Brushing softly, you were going to pull away when Simon lets out a moan. Heat builds inside of you as you slip your tongue inside his open mouth. He grunts in surprise, holding you still for a second. But you're impatient.

"Need you." You whine, "Want you so much, Si."

"Yeah?" He mumbles against your lips, running his hands through your hair gently.

"Thought I'd be in the dog house much longer than that, love." He teases you. Simon yelps slightly when you retaliate by biting on his lower lip. He grips both your cheeks with his fingers, pushing you away from him.

"That wasn't very nice of you, hmm?" He gently shakes your head, grinning handsomely. "Think you need a little lesson in being nice, sweetheart. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher." He leans in and kisses your puckered lips, working his way downwards.

His hands wander everywhere, working themselves underneath your shirt. You feel goosebumps rise where his fingertips lay, shivering under his hold.

"Missed you so much, Si. Please." Your moans echo throughout the room. He's holding your thighs together as he trails down your body as you writhe.

"Missed you too, love. Fuck, missed you so fucking much." He manages to say. He cups your ass as he mouths at your panty-covered mound. Your juices seep through the fabric, making Simon groan.

"Mmm.. Someone missed me too." He runs his tongue up and down your slit as you cross both your legs behind his neck. He felt you clench your thighs and he feels blood rushing downwards. Turning his head slightly to the right, he nips lightly at your inner thigh.

He'd barely touched you but here you are already begging for it. Simon Riley has you wrapped around his finger and it scares you a little how much of a hold he has on you. You had bared your neck so openly for him and he had bit down the first chance he got.

"Will you let me take care of you, love? Make you feel good." He hums, fingers trailing along your inner thigh waiting for permission. You nod fervently before realizing he can't see you.

"Yes, yes, yes. Need you to take care of me, Si." Your heart was beating fast out of anticipation.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good, baby." He coos at you as his fingers slowly pull down your panties. Strings of your juices were sticking to the insides. He threw them aimlessly, eyes zeroed in on your wet pussy.

His finger runs through your folds, making squelching noises. "All this for me, hmm?" He tilts his head up, pinching when you don't reply immediately. The sudden sensation makes you whimper.

"All for you, Si. Just for you." You were panting heavily as Simon sucks your clit into his mouth and licks in a circular motion. You thread your fingers in his hair, not tugging harshly.

Simon laps at your pussy like a starved man, burying his entire face in your warmth. He moans between every few licks, the taste of you dazing him. Your eyes glaze over as you see the man you love pleasuring you with earnest. He continues for a while, alternating his focus between your bud and your folds.

When you tug at his shirt impatiently, Simon grunts. He gets up and throws his shirt over his head. Not one second after it's off, you begin to paw at him, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Simon thinks he's never seen such a beautiful sight. Your hair was messy from your movements, eyes hazy as he can feel goosebumps on his body where you stare. He grabs your face and kisses you desperately, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His clothed bulge was grinding messily against your wet pussy as his boxers begin to darken from the wetness.

Simon's whimper fill the room when he feels you grinding upwards to rub yourself on his cock. He pulls from your lips with a string of saliva. Not waiting for him, you scramble to take off your shirt, baring your tits to him.

His eyes drink in the state of you greedily, one hand groping your tits as the other travels down to your pussy. You were beyond wet enough for his cock, but he's determined to make you cum on his fingers first.

Two fingers slip into you gently. The stretch catches you off guard, it's been a while since you've had his thick fingers probing inside you. His fingers were thrusting shallowly as you grind on his palm.

"Fuck, Simon. Feels so good." You babble, barely able to keep your eyes open, the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel even better." With that, his fingers thrust deeper into you, massaging your spot. Your back arches as Simon plants his face on your chest, sucking on your nipples.

He crooks his fingers slightly as he continues thrusting, his palm touching your clit with each time. You couldn't stay still anymore, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

The room was filled with wet, squelching noises and your combined moans. Your hands were gripping his bicep, feeling the large muscle flex under your fingertips.

His thick fingers continue his ministration as you begin to climb higher and higher. Your walls begin to pulse and constrict his fingers. Sweat drips down his forehead as he continues to drive into your pussy with his deft fingers.

"You gonna cum on my fingers, love?" He teases, placing kisses all over your damp face.

"Yes, oh fuck. Please, please let me cum."

Simon grins against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over. His fingers begin to speed up even faster, hitting your sweet spot with every effort. You feel the familiar tingling sensation begin to build in your core.

Your legs begin to tremble as you struggle to get air inside of your lungs. Panting harshly, you close your eyes as your orgasm starts to reach its peak.

His hand leaves your tits as they begin to rub circles on your clit. The combined assault on your clit and your pussy brings you over the edge.

"Look at me when you cum." Your eyes open immediately as you find him staring directly into yours. Your legs tremble deliciously, hands gripping Simon even tighter as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Mouth agape, your back continues to arch as Simon doesn't stop, overstimulating you with a few shallow thrusts.

Simon's hand was covered in your juices as he slowly withdraws them. Your pussy clenches, feeling empty. He brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. Obediently, you open your lips and let him slide his fingers inside your mouth.

Circling your tongue all finger, your eyes begin to close again. When you blink them open, you see Simon's bare body hovering above yours. His cock was standing proudly, shiny with precum. You feel the urge to take his cock into your mouth. When your hand tries to reach for him, it's stopped by his firm grip.

"Next time, yeah? Need to fuck your pretty pussy, baby." He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping them on his hip. He repositions his cock at your pussy, sliding the head up and down your folds.

Tilting your head down, you see Simon's hand grip his cock firmly as it slowly rubs his precum all over your pussy. He groans seeing your juices mix together. Moving your hips upwards, you try to push his head in and he hisses.

He grabs your hips and gently lowers them on the bed. "You just lay there and take it, yeah? Let me do all the work." You preen, more than happy to lay there and see him move above you.

"Put it in, Si. Missed your cock so much." You whimper, pressing delicate kisses on his neck. He nudges your nose with his, capturing your lips into a kiss. Your moan gets interrupted by your own grunt of surprise as the head of his cock slips in.

His cock was thicker than his two fingers, with veins running all over the shaft rubbing your walls deliciously. You link your legs behind his waist, helping him push deeper.

When he's inside you, it's like two pieces of puzzle fitting together. His cock fit so perfectly inside you, as if you were made for him and him for you. You knew Simon was it for you a long time ago, falling head over heels so easily for the grumpy soldier. You weren't happy at how long it took him to come to his senses, but you're glad either way.

He thrusts slowly, going deeper with each shift of his hips. His tongue tangles with yours as wet noises fill the room. You know when he's pushed in to the hilt when you feel him bump against your cervix slightly. Your pussy clenches at the tiny pain, causing Simon to moan out.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so well, sweetheart." He stays there for a moment, grinding his cock inside. You only stop kissing when you pull away to beg him to start moving. Both his hands are placed firmly on your hips when he begins thrusting.

He moves back and forth slowly, the walls of your pussy feeling every drag of his big cock. You hiss against his mouth, the sensation lights up every nerve in your body. You beg him to go faster but he ignores you, continuing to sink slowly.

When you're about to wail at the pace again, he thrusts sharply — his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You gasp, clawing his back when he continues to move slowly but going deep with each thrust. You can hear the sound of his balls smacking against your ass.

Your combined juices were dripping out of your pussy, causing wet noises whenever he moves inside you. You don't know how long he continues his brutal motion, your eyes dazed and breath unsteady.

You've never felt this way before. It feels as if he's everywhere inside you, there isn't a part of you that doesn't feel touched by him. He thrusts as if he's trying to imprint himself in you, trying to permanently leave a mark.

"Such a pretty pussy. Doing so well f' me, sweetheart. You gonna let me cum in you? Gonna let me fill you up nicely?" He grunts, his composure starting to unravel. His cock begins to piston in you messily as he loses himself in your pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, love you so much, Si. Need your cum in me." You cry out desperately, tightening your legs and pulling him deeper inside you.

"So good to me, love. Letting me cum in your pretty pussy." His form begins to shake slightly from exertion. You know his hands were going to bruise your hips from how hard he was gripping them but you couldn't care less.

Your body moves up and down from the force of his thrust. His cock touching your cervix with each delicious thrust. Your pussy begins to pulse wildly on his cock as you feel another orgasm build inside you. When his cock begins to pulse, your eyes roll to the back of your head as it sends you over the edge. You moan out his name loudly, pulling him by the neck to your chest as his arms hug you to him.

You feel his desperation and love when he holds you. He hugs you so tight to him your ribs ache. You never want this feeling to go away.

"I love you so much, fuck." Your orgasm triggers his own, his cock pulsing as his creamy load fills up your pussy. He's so snug inside your pussy the excess cum begins to drip out. When he stops unloading inside you, he moves slowly, thrusting a few times shallowly. A part of him wants to look at the way his seed drips from your pussy but he didn't want to move away from you.

You both pant with eyes closed as your breathing begins to even out. Simon slowly pulls out and you hiss at the feel of his cock leaving you empty. You look down and see his cock covered in his cum and yours.

Your head falls back down to the pillow, eyes closing shut. Simon stares at the ceiling and huff, righting himself. You feel him plant a kiss to your forehead as the bed dips.

"'M gonna go clean us up, yeah? You stay there." You hear him step into the bathroom, going to wash himself and grab a clean towel to clean up your mess. By the time he came back, you had already passed out, judging by the sound of your low snores.

He begins to wipe your thighs and try to dry the surrounding areas as best he can. He'll change the sheets later when you're well-rested. Simon climbs into bed, hugging you to him. He runs his fingers through your hair, slowly unknotting them one by one.

He stares at your sleeping from and grins. Lowering his lips to yours, he keeps them there for a few seconds.

"I love you."

You can only mumble in response, too tired to properly articulate the words.

"I love you too, Simon."

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