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miniwheat77 · 21 days ago

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Secret Weapon. (Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, violence, war, blood, NO MINORS! This was a request that’s been sitting in my inbox a while :)

This is not edited.

“Captain.. what the fuck do we do?” Gaz pants out. His back is pressed firmly against the wall.

John thinks for a moment. What does he do?

Nikolai is unavailable. But he’s got an idea.

He lifts up his radio, turning it to a channel he hasn’t been on in years.

“Viper 1-1 page back.” He calls into the radio.

“Viper 1-1, copy.”

“We’re trapped on a rooftop.” Captain Price recites your coordinates. He had heard in passing that the pilot was nearby on another mission.

“Thirty-five out, we’re on the way.”

He sighs.

“Thank god.” He mumbles. The four are stuck on the rooftop. No where to go and hardly any ammo.

“We’re?” Gaz asks. They remember who the pilot is.

They fight all they can, all hope is about to be lost when the loud rumble of the helicopter comes.

The buzzing sound makes them perk up, seeing the flashback from the gun inside. They can’t see the person holding it.

Captain Price watches with a smile. The helicopter stays airborne until there is no one moving on the ground. They watch it land a couple hundred feet away, seeing two people get out of it. Clearing buildings as they make their way to the four.

The door finally opens, the four standing up. They’d been using the brick walls as cover.

You’re the first to step into their view, but you’ve got a ski mask on.

You grasp the hem of it, pulling it over your head.

You smile.

“Long time no see, Captain.” You nod.

“Shit. I could tell by how good the shots were that it was you.” He laughs. Pulling you in for a hug, hugging the pilot next.

The others watch, stunned.

“Oh uh… boys. This is Y/N.” He nods.

“My secret weapon.”

They take the time to shake your hand, introducing themselves to you.

But Ghost is completely taken off guard by you.

The way your hair falls after you take the mask, the fact that he didn’t expect to see a girl, let alone one was pretty as you.

What the hell?

You’d just saved his life. He was all out of ammo holed up in one building, if you hadn’t come? He wouldn’t even be alive to tell the tale.

It was the start of something Ghost never saw coming. Not in a million years.

———

It took a lot of convincing for you to join the task force.

Since you had made friends with the men, they bothered you to no limit to join. They liked you. You were skilled. They wanted you around all of the time.

When you eventually joined, Ghost spiraled completely out of control.

He avoided you like the plague because he knew what was coming and he was scared. He started drinking more, hiding in his room more. Socializing less and everyone noticed.

But only Johnny had caught on as to why.

He was falling in love with you, and he knew it.

He was falling and he was falling hard and he knew the only end to that free fall is the hard concrete when he lands. Ghost didn’t love. He didn’t because there was only heartbreak and hurt.

The first time it happened, he didn’t mean to.

You were doing your laundry, passing by his room with a basket when they fell out. He waited a while for you to come back for them but you never did so he swiped them.

A pair of panties.

Ghost was in too deep and he knew it.

Fisting his cock to the thought of you, face buried in your panties. He hated himself for what he’d become and he hated you for what you’d done to him. You’d made him a fool and he’d only spoken to you in passing.

He didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

Kill.

On missions he was ruthless.

He didn’t know anything other than violence and pain. So he pushed himself to no limit. Working hard, staying up late. Taking extra watch and beating himself up mentally day and night about how weak he’d become all because of a woman.

He spent hours and hours training and working out. He’d lost count the days he’d spent in the shooting range and his death toll jumped by hundreds and grew more and more with each mission he went out on. Ghost was smart and skilled. He understood everything but the only thing he couldn’t figure out was you.

Finally, Johnny cornered him.

Ghost was walking to his room, Johnny was hot on his tail, asking how he was doing.

“Fine Johnny. Leave it be.” He mumbles, he goes to close his door but Soap doesn’t let him have it. Catching it with his boot and walking in, closing the door behind himself. “There’s something wrong with you, you’ve got the entire bloody task force worried sick about ya so you better start talkin.” He growls.

Ghost raises his eyebrows. Johnny had never spoken to him like that before.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard what I said, Ghost.”

He crosses his arms and Soap doesn’t let feel intimidated by him, of course he does. But Ghost is his friend. He cares about him.

“Full offense Johnny, piss off. We’re not teenage girls and I don’t intend on sharing my feelings with you so I think you should leave.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll set up camp until you’re ready to talk about it.” He stands his ground. Ghost sighs. “I don’t know how to talk about it Johnny. I don’t even know what’s wrong myself.”

“That’s a start, LT. The hell has gotten into you? You’re like a machine. Wake up, eat, kill, sleep.”

Ghost sighs.

“That girl.”

Realization hits Soap like a ton of bricks.

“I just..” he sighs. Sitting down on his bed. “I don’t know.”

“You have feelings for her?” Soap asks.

“I’d say I have more than just feelings for her, Johnny.” Ghost wipes his face through his mask. “Shit LT.”

“No kidding.”

“Well you won’t get the girl by being so reclusive sir.”

“My plan isn’t to get the girl Johnny, life is painful enough as is!” He groans.

“Yeah, well life is too short to worry about what hurts and let what you’ll enjoy pass you. So get out there and try. Christ in heaven you’re a brick wall.” He groans.

Ghost sighs. Johnny is right.

“Whatever Johnny, I have a lot to think about so.. kindly. Go to bed.”

“Fine. But we’re not done about this and you know it.” Soap rolls his eyes, leaving through the door. He can’t believe it. Ghost was in love with you.

———

“Ghost page back.” Captain mumbles into the radio.

“Copy.”

“Soap is feeling ill. You mind taking over his 0100 patrol?”

“Not at all sir.”

Ghost finishes up what he’s doing and prepares for the patrol.

Since they’re out of the states and in enemy territory they have patrol often.

“Great, you’ll be with Y/N.”

Ghost freezes in his spot.

“Johnny page back.”

“Copy.”

“I see you in person, you’re a dead man MacTavish.”

“Already in for the night sir, door’s locked. See you tomorrow.”

Ghost can’t see it but the scot snickers to himself inside his room. Feeling very well actually.

Ghost meets up with you just before your patrol together and wants to crawl into a hole and die. You were so beautiful and there was nothing he could do about it.

It’s quiet for a while. The two of you walking alongside each other. It’s pitch dark out. The only lights come from the base. “So. How long you know Price for?” He’s trying to make small talk. Something that takes you off guard. He never seemed to be this open.

“Since I started in the military actually. He was at the convention I enlisted at.” You smile. “Really? I forget how old the man is.” He laughs. “I totally did not think you were this outgoing, Ghost.” You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You just do not seem the type for small talk.” You smile.

He chuckles. “Nah, the mask makes me unapproachable but that not intentional.”

“Than why do you wear it?”

“To hide my identity. I’ve killed a lot of people and don’t want retaliation.”

“Don’t they just know to go after the guy in the skull mask though?” You side eye him. “Yeah, but when I wear it I want to be found.”

“Good point.” You smile.

“Stop.” He throws a hand up in front of you suddenly. “Woah-“ you mumble. He looks around, every alarm in his body is going off.

“What is it?” You ask. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He mumbles. He draws out his flashlight, shining at the ground. He doesn’t see anything, not for the first few feet at least. After that is when he notices indents in the sand. Footprints.

He follows them straight up to the barbed wire fence around the base.

“Price page back.”

He waits a minute.

“Captain Price page back.”

“Copy, what is it?”

“Footprints leading up to the Southwest fence. We’ll follow them and make sure it’s not a threat but we haven’t covered the north yet.” He says it into his radio and waits.

“Garrick and I will cover it, just be safe. Page back every ten until you know it’s clear.”

“Yes sir.”

Ghost tilts his head, letting you know to follow him.

You do just that.

It takes a couple miles of walking before you spot a building in the distance, thank god for night vision.

Ghost posts up and watches for a while, not seeing any movement. The two of you approach, you go slow. You never do see any movement, the building is severely run down, the roof is in bad shape and it’s dirty. “Do you think they’re human footprints?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Hard to say with the sand. Could be an animal of some kind. Could explain the staggering of them.” He explains.

You nod your head. “Looks like everything is clear Captain, we’re going to look around a bit and than head back.”

“Got it, we’re heading for bed. Page if you need anything else Simon.”

You step inside the run down building, it was once someone’s house. Out in the middle of nowhere.

Odd.

The rooms inside seem intact, aside from being dusty, frozen in time. Plants have taken over and some of the dishes that remain are broken but the bedrooms are still completely normal. The beds are made.

You walk inside and sit down on a bed, groaning. “I don’t wanna walk back yet.” You whine. “Take a break.” He laughs. “Okay.”

He chuckles. That didn’t take much convincing.

“Can I show you something?” He asks. “Sure, what is it?”

He moves to sit next to you, grasping his mask. Your eyes widen when he pulls it straight off. “You’re showing me this why? Explain yourself?” You laugh,

“No that’s not what I wanted to show you, this is.”

He grasps your chin and goes for it.

All the money in the pot. A gamble of a lifetime.

He plants his lips straight on yours and his blood rushes through him, his heart pounding so loud it’s all he hears. He expects you to pull back. To be disgusted with him.

But you don’t. You meet him in the middle and kiss him back even harder.

He pushes you back on the dusty bed raising himself up over you, one leg resting between yours. His thigh is flush with your clothed opening. He doesn’t stop kissing you, he takes even further.

When you feel his tongue on yours, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“Ghost-“ you pant.

“Simon. Call me Simon.” He breathes. “W-why are you doing this?” You hiss as he pushes his thigh further into you. “Because I’ve waited long enough to get my fucking hands on you. I can’t take it anymore.” He groans. You hadn’t expected him to be so forward, you also didn’t expect how handsome he’d be without a mask on. How overly willing he was to expose himself to you shows you that he trust you, and obviously had more feelings for you than he let on. Ghost didn’t just act out of lust, Johnny told you that.

Now you realize why you’d had that conversation earlier in the day. Fucking scot.

He gets your vest unzipped and grasps hold of your shirt, ripping it straight down the middle. He hears you gasp. “Simon!”

“Quiet, I’ll replace it with twenty more.” He breathes.

The click of his pocket knife makes you freeze. But he’s skilled with it, moving quickly, slicing the small slit of fabric holding your bra together. He shoves the fabric off of you and cups your breasts with his hands, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he toys with the other. Pinching it between his fingers and tugging on it. You whine out, raising your hips and rutting yourself into his thigh. Ghost is the person you talked to the very least, yet here you are. On display for him.

“God you’re a fucking minx.” He hisses. He sits up and watches you roll your hips into his thigh. Desperate for him to touch you. You realize something.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing my panties, aren’t you?” You smirk.

He visibly blushes.

“You’re a cheeky thing! I can’t believe it’s been you!” You gasp. “Shut up.” He hisses. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed, you’re lucky it’s you or he would’ve told you to get fucked by now. “Fuck, how many have you gotten away with?”

He shrugs. “Lot more than you’d expect.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You laugh.

“Yeah, you’d think even worse of me if you knew what I did with them.” He growls. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, attacking your skin with his teeth and lips. Pushing his hand down the front of your waistband. He glides his fingers over your pussy, hearing you whine.

“Now I want to know. What you did with them.”

He chuckles, it’s dark.

“The smell of you is intoxicating, darling.”

You moan out. “Fuck I shouldn’t think that’s hot but I do.” You mewl. Lips parted as he sucks at your throat. Your jugular vein is pulsing and he can’t feel it with his tongue. He rests his hand over your head. “Been waiting weeks for a taste of you, doll. Now we’re here.” He groans, kissing roughly down your center. He’s rough as he tugs your pants down your legs, barely taking the time to unbutton them. You thought maybe he’d cut those off too, not that you’d mind anyways.

He kisses further down, hearing your breathing pick up even more as he presses lower. He doesn’t start slow like you thought he would. Starting by sucking directly on your clit, making you flinch.

You hiss, jumping away from him. You hear him chuckle as he starts his assault on it.

“Poor thing, so sensitive.” He smirks.

“Shut up before I ride your face, Riley.” You hiss, pushing a hand in his hair.

“Oh no?” He smirks. You roll your eyes.

He lowers his head back down, gliding his tongue up your slit.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

Just before he devours you whole.

He doesn’t relent, no matter how much you cry or squirm. He holds you down by your thighs. He presses his tongue into your opening, rubbing your clit with his nose like a dog. He’s filthy.

You didn’t think Ghost was the type to be so dirty. When he’s got you right on the edge, crying out in pure bliss. You’re about to beg him not to stop but he draws back anyways. His lips are wet in your arousal. His cheeks are flushed pink, pupils blown wide with lust.

He sits up, grasping his shirt and forcing it over his head, going for his cargo pants next.

You’re watching him in a daze. Drunk off his lips and how he’s made you feel.

“I was normal until you came along, hm. Didn’t think I could feel what I feel until you saved our asses on that rooftop. I thought I’d be okay until you pulled that damned ski mask off and showed your fuckin’ face and now I don’t think I’ll be okay again. You’ll pay for it darling.”

He moves himself over the top of you, thrusting himself straight inside you to the hilt, you’re crying out.

“You’ll pay for it by letting me have this pussy whenever I want it.” He growls.

He’s relentless. Doesn’t matter how much you fall apart or how much you cry. He doesn’t let up. He’s rough, his pace is bruising. You can’t get out a single word as he works his hips into yours, using his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clit.

You’re impossibly wet around him, clutching at the old sheets so hard your knuckles go white. He laughs. He snaps his hips into yours, feeling how wet you are around him. Moaning and whining, writhing from the pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve never felt something so intense before. Not in your life.

He forces you to roll over, gasping out at the loss of him but he doesn’t give you long. Once you’re on your stomach, he’s raising you up by your hips and thrusting back into you. Pushing your face roughly into the mattress and holding your hands behind your back.

“Fuckin hell Simon!” You cry.

You feel good of course, but you need him to relent. Just for a minute at least.

“So much-“ you cry. “You’re mine. Say it.” He growls. “Maybe I’ll let up.”

“I’m yours!” You sob.

“Say it again!” He growls. He grips your hands hard.

“I’m yours Simon- fuck! I’m yours!” He buries himself inside of you to the hilt, slowing his speed but not his force. He pulls you up by your arms, still holding them behind you. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s a mirror above the bed. It’s broken and dusty but that doesn’t mean you can’t see yourselves in it.

He wraps his hands around your waist, still fucking into you but he’s being gentler now. Slow.

“Say it again.” His voice is a low growl. You almost miss it.

“I’m yours.” You whine. Raising your hand to touch his cheek.

“Again.” He growls even louder. Pushing into your belly. “I- I’m yours Simon. All fucking yours.” You’re nearly chanting it.

You sob, tears spilling over your eyelids.

“Now fucking scream it.” He grits his teeth, thrusting straight up into that spongy spot deep inside of you, sending you straight into your orgasm and you nearly do just that. You’re loud when you cum, barely getting out the words “I’m yours!” As you cry and sob, lurching forward and shaking through your orgasm. He fucks you through it, clutching onto you for dear life as he moans out, reaching his own high. He thrusts as deep as he’ll go before he cums. It’s a decision he may regret but right now, he doesn’t care.

You’re whimpering as he slides out of you. Taking in oxygen like it’s limited.

He helps you until you’re lying on your back again. Soothing you. He massages your skin, bringing you back down to earth.

Simon knew better than to be so rough but he lost himself.

“Shhh.. s’okay baby. I’ve got you.” He breathes. You close your eyes, steadying your breaths.

Simon was a lot of man, he knew he was.

He draws his fingertips over your chest and arms, your eyes follow them as he lets you relax.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You mumble. “I wasn’t too much was I?” He smiles.

“No- not at all. Though you came on VERY strong.” You smirk.

He laughs. “That’s the only way, baby.”

He sits up. “Now come on, we’ve got to head back before they realize we’re missing.”

“Yes sir.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost smut #ghost fanfiction #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley

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selineram3421 · 10 months ago

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*has an idea* ....shit.

Tune On In

Prolouge

Alastor X Human Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ Can't think of any. Italics= thoughts ⚠

You had this strange ability since you were little.

Whispers, voices and other strange noises. It was something you could hear in the back of your mind.

The first time it happened was when you were six. You were playing in the living room of your home when the radio turned on, screams and other strange noises you'd hear on scary movies. You ran to your parents and told them, but when you brought then to the radio, all they could here was music playing.

"No more scary movies for you!", your mother said and left the room.

Your father sighed and pat your head.

"It was probably some metal music, don't worry too much and change the station.", he said before also leaving the room.

You were left with a now quiet radio.

There were no more screams or splattering sounds, instead there was humming.

"Hmhmmhm~"

As time passed, you eventually stopped telling your parents. They only gave each other concerned glances and once one of the whispers told you that they were thinking of putting you in an asylum.

For your safety, you had to just bear the strange noises.

It was when you were in your early twenties that you heard something on the radio, it having stopped for seven years.

The small radio on your work desk turned on and a man's voice went through.

"Salutations!"

"Turn off that music! I'm on a call!", screeched one of your coworkers.

You rushed to lower the volume but continued to listen in.

"Yes, I know it's been a while since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast."

Hell? You thought.

"Sinners, rejoice!"

You heard him start to dis someone named Vox and honestly, you didn't need to hear the other half of the conversation to know that the radio man was winning.

"Oh, this will be fun~", the radio man finished.

It stopped after he laughed, then you could hear the normal music playing again.

Turning around, you apologized about the radio being too loud. "Sorry! I forgot that I had the volume on high."

After work, you decided to tap into your curiosity. Now you knew that the whispers and strange radio broadcasts were not normal at all, but you never tried to speak back to it.

Sure, the whispers would warn you about people and other things, but you never acknowledged the voices.

Maybe.. Maybe I can see why I'm hearing things. You thought.

Once in your apartment, you tinkered with the radio a bit and turned to the station you normally heard the radio man spoke from. Putting up the volume, all you could hear was static but that soon changed when you tapped your small microphone.

"Hello?"

The static stopped and all went quiet.

"Hello?"

*sighs* Fucking shit. This might take a while to update because this is brand spanking new. I have no notes on this. It just slammed into my brain.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrry @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @+?

ML II Alastor🎙 | ---

#guys #guys my brain wont leave me alone #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #x reader #gn reader #alastor x reader #reader #reader has abilities #sighhhhhhhhhhh #i know i know #but I needed to get my Alastor thoughts out somehow

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stillmonsterz · 1 year ago

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10th Street

pairing: jake sim x reader, jay park x reader kind of (one-sided genre: raw sex with jake :/ summary: you go on a date with jay and it's looking bleak, but the bartender comes around to save the day. warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, drug mentions, crypto mentions, jay is annoying and rich, oral sex.... word count: 5.4k and unproofread.

“What really gets me about these rug pulls,” Jay says, steepling his fingers and placing them under his clean-shaven chin, “is that they’re so damn predictable. Any asshole with an ounce of intelligence could immediately spot that an anonymous crypto project is obviously going to rug. I mean, it’s fucking ridiculous, right?”

“Right,” you say. Your eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. You wonder if the sex will be worth this, but the cursory glances you’ve taken at his trousers have told you that it probably won’t.

Your date is Jay Park, this entrepreneur who has made a name for himself in your area’s tech scene. When he had initially met you in a bookstore, skulking out of the philosophy section to not so much as introduce himself as to remind you of his name and status, you had assumed that he would have taken you someplace nicer. Instead, he drove you in his McLaren just outside of 10th Street. He had paid for 4 hours parking and had jostled you down the cluttered sidewalk, his Ferragamos clattering. Jay had gripped your elbow as he navigated you past drunkards, children wandering the streets without parents, and women with glassy eyes.

Your voice was joking but belied some of your concern. “Where are you taking me, a traphouse?”

“That’s date number two,” Jay had replied jovially, looking back at you in the light of the setting sun, “if I decide that you’re worth the effort.”

You had bitten back a groan and continued following him down the street. Finally, he had stopped you outside of a seedy dive bar, with a hole in the glass boarded up with cheap planks. The planks themselves had been tagged with obscene phrases written in spray paint and Sharpie. Jay had pointed to one word and smiled at you with childish glee. “I wrote that one,” he had said proudly. “

“You have awful writing,” you had said flatly, crossing your arms. “And this place looks like a crack den.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Jay replied in a wheedling tone, his grip on your elbow sliding down to your hand. He had interlaced your fingers together. “Come on, don’t you wish to shed the trappings of the social strata? Doesn’t this excite you?”

A protest had begun to rise in your throat, but Jay had already pushed the door open, pulling you along. The bar was dimly lit, the lightbulbs flickering in the grimy lamps. Stains cover the cheap plywood flooring, and as Jay led you to a table the planks made harsh squeaking noises. Industrial metal was playing from a tinny radio, and the one LCD TV mounted in the corner was displaying grainy footage of a football game. The patrons crowding around the bar and littering the pool table are what you would expect. Loud, raucous, with hunched backs, jerky movements, and thinning hair. The glances that some of the men situated by the pool table gave you were reason enough to flee, but Jay’s grip is as tight as a viper.

“Don’t mind them,” Jay had whispered, his face nothing short of elated. His head had surveyed the room, and a slow smirk settled onto his lips. His well-coiffed hair, youthful face, and understated yet expensive clothes had set him apart, something that greatly pleased him. He had turned back to you. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman they’ve seen in months.”

“That’s not hard,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. Your seat was sticky and the table separating you and Jay was riddled with dents and chips.

“Oh, come on,” Jay had whined, spreading his arms widely. “Don’t be such a little princess. Isn’t this nice? This stripping of artifice, this beautiful and vulgar display of Americana? It’s exciting, isn’t it? Gets you kind of…turned on, right?”

You had raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sporting a half-chub, yeah.”

You had groaned. “You’re disgusting, Jay.”

“Stop,” he had muttered, holding up his hand. “I might go full mast….” Jay had stood up hurriedly. “I’m going to get us drinks before I inelegantly bust all over the table. What do you want, like a Cosmopolitan or some shit?”

“No…I kind of wanted a vodka cranberry?”

Jay had scoffed, opening his wallet in a way that showed you his black card. “What, are you someone’s fucking grandmother? Christ.” He had stalked towards the bar, and you had sat there, trying not to make eye contact with any of the barflies. Finally, your gaze had fallen upon Jay talking to the bartender, at whom he was wildly gesticulating. The bartender was nodding patiently, taking a slow swig of a clear liquid in a tumbler. His apron was stained, his plain black V-neck exposed his thin arms and chest, and his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness one wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this.

As you had watched the two of them, the bartender’s eyes had briefly slid towards you. His eyes had widened, then narrowed playfully before he went to prepare the drinks. Your chest had felt warm, but you stifled your smile as Jay had stalked back towards your table.

“I feel bad for that poor bastard,” he had said, sidling into his chair and slinging his arm on the back of it. “Imagine being shackled to this shithole.”

“I thought you liked this shithole.”

“Yeah, as a brief recourse from the ardors of being really fucking rich,” Jay had retorted. “Not for the rest of my life. I mean, goddamn. Look at that prick.”

Jay didn’t have to tell you twice. You took in his messy brown hair, his wide smile, his deft fingers. Then he had walked away from the counter, holding your vodka cranberry and an old-fashioned for Jay. His stride was sure, and he was only looking at you.

“Here you are,” the bartender had said lowly. “Here’s your old-fashioned-“ he had set the drink in front of Jay with little fanfare- “and here’s your vodka cranberry.” He had slid the drink towards you, making brief eye contact with you. He had been so close to you, you could finally make out his name tag – Jake, written in careful capital letters- and you could smell the moonshine on his breath.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jay had muttered.

“Thank you,” you had added softly.

Jake leaned away slowly, his eyes still lingering on you, before politely nodding. “Let me know if you need anything,” he had drawled before walking away.

Jay had taken a long swig of his old-fashioned and takes a look at the retreating figure of Jake before groaning. “He should have made it even more obvious that he wanted you. He should have just shoved his cock into your old-lady drink and swirled it around so we really got the picture. Fuck me, I guess.”

You had sipped your vodka cranberry and laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m not,” Jay had insisted, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. “He was checking you out in this lascivious manner. It was disgusting. He was looking at you like you were some piece of ass.” He had taken another long drink of his old-fashioned, barely wincing at the burn.

“As opposed to you,” you had said sarcastically, “who only has pure intentions for me, right?”

Jay had laughed. “Hey, it’s different when I objectify you. It’s kind of like when a homeless guy calls you sexy on the sidewalk compared to when an apex predator like me calls you sexy. The point is, that bartender wants you, and it’s revolting.”

You had dared another glance at the bartender, who was blatantly staring at you while sipping his moonshine. “Relax. I’m probably just the first woman with a full set of teeth he’s seen in a while.”

Jay had snickered again. “That’s probably true.” Only a few moments of silence had passed before his voice took on a mischievous, almost playful lilt. “You know, you could probably get something from him…”

You had wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumbs. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jay had said with a shrug, “you could get some free drinks out of him if you flirted a little, take advantage of him. You could probably get him to bequeath his life savings, which could maybe buy you a used microwave or a footlong.”

Your mouth had gaped open. “Are you openly encouraging me to flirt with him?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a cuck or something?”

Jay had laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, you slay me.” He had reached over and pinched your cheek, an action that made you want to bite his fingers off. “Come on, just shove your cute little ass in his face and flirt. It’ll be funny to make him think that he has a chance with you.”

“I’ll pass,” you had replied. “I mean, it’s not really my thing to just play around with other peoples’ emotions.”

He had sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? You’re so goddamn innocent. You’re saying that you’ll feel some modicum of guilt if you fuck around with him?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jay had downed the rest of his old-fashioned. “Recalcitrance is for bitches and pussies.”

You had rolled her eyes. “Fine, so I’m a pussy.”

Once again, that finger had found its way into your line of sight. “You know who’s really a pussy? This asshole who had invested in this obvious pump and dump…”

As Jay rambles about crypto, you can’t help but look at the bartender. He’s behind the counter, cleaning a cloudy glass with a rag. When he notices that you’re looking at him, he smiles at you warmly before he looks at Jay and returns his attention to the glass.

Jay corrals you into having another drink, and you listen to his sophomoric opinions on modern society, the current film industry, his tech predictions, and his opinions on right-wing pundits. The only thing stymying your boredom from overtaking you are your furtive glances at the bartender- Jake, you remind yourself. Jake.

Finally, the two of you leave the shady bar, and Jay makes out with you as he presses you against his car. You close your eyes and think about Jake as his tongue probes inside of your mouth with little grace.

“Listen,” you murmur, pulling away from his lips, “I have a presentation early in the morning to give, so I’m going to have to cut this date short…”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jay says, groping your ass on the sidewalk, “you just don’t want to fuck me, is that it? Can you say that for me? Say that you don’t want to fuck me.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

His hands comes off of your ass and he pulls away from you, shaking his head. “That’s all you had to say. I don’t get women. They’re always like, ‘Men never listen to us!’ Then they don’t explicitly tell us anything, we have to parse through their shit...” As Jay talks, he opens the passenger door. “Get in. Please.”

You slide inside of his car and he closes the door, even buckling your seatbelt for you. Then he walks over to the driver’s seat and drives to your place. He calls you a cock-tease and a winsome harlot and some other choice terms you can barely hear.

When he finally arrives at your place, he begs you for one last kiss. You oblige, he bemoans that he’ll never get to pound that tight strange, and he drives off, presumably to coerce someone into his bed for the night.

Against your better judgement, you take an Uber and walk into that bar on 10th Street alone. This time, the lustful eyes of the barflies are less disgusting than they are frightening. Thankfully, the bar area has been just about cleared out, and you take a seat on a stool with a peeled cover.

Jake is busy cleaning up a spill on the far end of the counter, but when he looks up and sees you his face brightens. He drops the cloth on the table and walks towards you with a goofy smile.

“Hey, babydoll,” he says lowly, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t bother masking the fact that he’s openly checking you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts before meeting your own stare again. “Was your date that boring?”

“He was…nice,” you reply, resting your head on your hand.

Jake laughs. “Yeah, nice, sure.” He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe his good fortune. “You want something to drink, babe?”

“Yeah, could you make me something nice and sweet? Nothing too alcoholic.”

Jake points at you, cocking his head. “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He busies himself behind the bar, pouring this and that into a shaker. As he does, he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Every time he does, he smiles and bites his lip before looking away. Finally, he pours a light-yellow drink into a cocktail glass, carefully affixing a lemon wedge to the side before gently sliding it to you. “It’s a lemon drop,” he explains in his slow drawl.

“Thank you.” You pull your wallet out of your purse. “How much is this?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, for a pretty girl like you, it’s on the house.”

A smile spreads across your face, and that warmth in your chest spreads. “Are you sure?”

“Surer than anything, babe.” He gestures for you to try it, pushing his mop of hair back.

You take a sip, and your eyes widen. “This is great.” You hold the glass by the stem as you drink it.

“Thank you,” Jake says almost shyly. “Glad that I picked up something useful from bartending this shithole.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Been working here for…ten years? Owned it for three.” Jake takes a long sip of his moonshine, resting his elbows on the counter. “Not my first choice of job, but when you’re an addict and you need money, you’ll take anything.”

Your mouth opens, but Jake quickly answers your question. “I’m clean now. Been clean for five years. My only vice is this.” He holds up his tumbler and shakes it before taking another sip.

“Do you make that yourself?”

Jake nods. “I make it myself, in the back,” he says, a tinge of pride in his voice. “This must be about…80% pure alcohol, I figure.”

“Can I try some?” you ask tentatively.

Jake laughs, his face contorting in disbelief. “Are you sure, babydoll? This could knock a grown man on his feet.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say. You hate to back down from a challenge.

With another laugh, he walks over to you, coming around the counter. He holds his glass out to you, and as you wrap your hand around the tumbler he tilts the liquid into your mouth. Jake’s eyes are fixed on your lips, awaiting your reaction.

At first, it does little to you, and you’re about to say something snarky. Then the burning starts, flames licking at your throat, and you double over coughing. Your eyes are screwed up, filled with tears, and your hands clutch the edge of the counter.

You can feel a hand rubbing your back, the other hand gently stroking your arm. “Aw, damn. You took that like a champ.”

Through hacking coughs, you eke out, “I don’t feel like a champ.”

Jake continues rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’ve seen men collapse to their feet from a shot of moonshine. You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Thanks,” you mutter, turning to look at him through watery eyes.

“No problem. You want some water, babydoll?”

You nod, and Jake reluctantly lets go of you to retrieve some water for you. He returns to your side with a glass, holding it up to your lips. The water is like a soothing balm for your throat, and after a long drink you sigh. “Damn.”

Jake sets the glass down and picks up his own tumbler of moonshine, taking a long swig. “That’s moonshine for you.”

Your eyes widen. “How are you drinking that so…so…”

“Like it’s water?” Jake smiles at you cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you so that his elbows are on the edge and he’s facing you. “First of all, I’ve put shit up my nose that burned more than this. Second of all, I’m used to it. When you’re dealing with this day in and day out-“ he gestures widely at the bar- “you need something good and strong to get through it.”

“Your liver must be strong as hell.”

Jake laughs, setting his tumbler down. “It must be pickled at this point.”

You can’t help but laugh, and he playfully pokes your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my liver. It’s the only reason why I’m still standing.” Then he stills, appraising you with a careful gaze. “I never got your name, babydoll.”

You tell him your name, holding your hand out.

He takes it and shakes it firmly. “Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. My name’s Jake. Jake Sim.”

He’s still holding your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmurs. Jake holds your hand to his lips and kisses it, traces of moonshine wetting your hand. He flattens your hand and idly starts tracing your palm, his other hand circling your wrist. “You’ve got nice hands. Real nice.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Yours are very rough.”

Jake laughs somewhat self-consciously. He stops drawing on your palm with his index finger. “Yeah, well, you don’t work at a place like this for damn near a decade without getting a few calluses and cuts.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper. “I like it.” You reach out and gently squeeze the tip of his finger, feeling the callus for yourself, before dropping it.

Jake smiles, but his eyes take on a dangerous glint. His finger trails from the palm of your hand to your wrist, his fingertips gliding over your veins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, both of you continued smiling at each other. Then Jake licks his lips, and he lets go of your wrist. His other hand now strokes your forearm. “Why’d you come back here, baby? Coming to this shithole once is one thing, but twice in the same night…”

You don’t see a point in playing games. “I wanted to see you.”

The smile drops off of Jake’s face, and he leans in towards you. “Yeah? No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

His other hand moves to rest on your knee, and his thumb strokes it through your jeans. “Your date didn’t do it for you?”

You shrug, picking up your lemon drop again and sipping it. “He was okay, I guess. He was weird.”

Jake’s voice is becoming low, his eyes serious. His eyes flicker over your body, settling on your thighs. This time, he doesn’t bother looking back up at you. “You don’t like weird?”

“Not that kind of weird,” you reply, your voice catching.

“You don’t like rich prick typa weird?” His voice is amused, and his hand creeps up your knee. “You prefer broke bartender at a shit bar typa weird?”

You lean in, your eyes locked onto his full, plush lips. The smell of moonshine has become less of a deterrent and more intoxicating. “Is that a problem?”

“The opposite,” Jake replies in a husky voice. His lips brush your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous lady like you has interest in me.” His right hand is now caressing your thigh slowly, intentionally. The other touches your face with his thumb.

“I’m surprised you’re flattered,” you reply, leaning into his touch slightly. “Women here must love you.”

“They love me to get free drinks out of me,” he says dismissively. “Besides…most women who come here aren’t a fraction as pretty as you are. You’re like a gem in a pigsty, you know that?” When you don’t say anything, Jake continues, running his finger along your jaw. “Your date must’ve been as stupid as hell to let you go.” He pulls away from your ear so he can look you in your eyes.

“He couldn’t do anything about it. I just didn’t want him the way-“

Jake’s eyes narrow, and he comes impossibly closer. “The way what?”

“The way I want you.”

There’s a pause, and Jake’s face is unreadable. When he does talk, his voice is strained, “Tell me you aren’t fucking with me. Tell me you’re serious. Say the word, and I’ll shut this place down and kick all these junkies out.”

You swallow, need and desire building up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m serious.”

Jake pulls away from you and walks over to the barflies, telling them to get their drunk asses out. They complain and groan, but they leave without much of a fight. Once they’re all gone, Jake locks the door. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you with his finger.

You walk towards him as if in a trance, and when you’re close he spins you around by the waist and kisses you. You readily kiss him back, your hands resting on his chest. His mouth tastes like moonshine, and you can even taste a hint of his sharp aftershave. Jake presses you up against the door, placing his knee in between your legs to trap you. The kiss starts off playful, but it grows hungry, and Jake seems as though he would swallow you if he could.

When he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva in between your mouths, his eyes dart all over your face. Then he nods slightly, as if he’s come to some grand conclusion.

“What?” you ask, your hands snaking up to his cheek. “What is it?”

Jake pecks your lips gently and smiles. “I just realized…I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” Before you can say anything, he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you behind the counter to a wooden door that looks liable to give one splinters.

When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol is almost staggering, and Jake’s grip tightens on your waist as if he had anticipated that reaction. Bottles of alcohol are stacked in crates on wooden shelves on the far wall. To the right rests three DIY pot stills, all using dented kegs. To the left, there’s a small faux-leather couch with chunks of it peeling off. You think back to Jay’s words about the artifice or whatever the fuck, and suddenly you wish there was at least a bit of pretense. But when you turn to Jake, he’s smiling at you like you had hung the moon in the sky yourself. “I know it’s no Hilton,” he begins sheepishly, but you shut him up by kissing him squarely on the mouth.

“It works for me,” you say, biting your lips.

Jake’s grin widens. “Shit, okay.”

You tumble together on the couch with Jake, your mouths connecting sloppily and wetly. You suck his tongue into your mouth hungrily, causing you to choke slightly. This only spurs Jake on further, and he grinds his crotch into you. Your hips rise to meet his, and you hump each other desperately and almost painfully. His hand crawls up your stomach, and he gropes at your breasts. Finally, he pushes himself off of you, settling into a kneeling position. Through the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you can see that Jake’s lips are swollen, his hair messy, and his eyes wild.

“Take it off,” he grunts. “Everything. Now.”

Your hands fumble with the zipper of your jeans, excitement clogging throat. As you tug your jeans down, Jake unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side. You kick your shoes off, shimmy your jeans off, and toss your shirt away, leaving you in only your bra and panties. When you’re suitably undressed, you look up at Jake.

Jake’s shirt is off, revealing a dark mass of skin you recognize as tattoos. One of his hands has slipped into his boxers, and he’s staring at you. A moan escapes his lips as his eyes wander your body. “So fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as he plays with his cock. “So goddamn beautiful. Play with yourself for me, baby.”

You tentatively tug your underwear down, collecting your arousal to coat your clit before stroking it with two fingers. You’re so sensitive that just the first touches cause you to whine in pleasure.

“Spread your legs,” Jake hisses. “Nice and wide…”

You oblige, widening your legs so that Jake gets a full view of your pearly pussy. He moans again, his mouth watering at the sight of it, at the hot, sweet smell. “Let me taste it. Let me taste it,” he begs, dipping his head down.

As his wide tongue touches your clit, you cry out in pleasure. Jake laps at your clit with fervor, his hands pushing your legs apart as he licks wide stripes. His mouth makes obscene smacking noises, and when he briefly pulls away to catch his breath, his entire lower face is slick with your arousal. “So good,” he mutters before diving back in. You squirm, knowing that you’ll cum quickly if he doesn’t stop, but Jake’s nails dig into your fleshy thighs, holding you in place.

“Oh, Jake, Jake,” you pant out, head leaning back. “Jake, I’m so close, Jake…”

Seemingly encouraged by your words, Jake continues attacking your clit, and two of his bony fingers slip into your vaginal walls, spreading you open. They pump themselves in and out, in and out, like the undulations of the ocean. Like that, he rips an orgasm from you, continuing to lick the arousal spilling from you as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

You lean your head back on the armrest of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jake gently caresses your thigh as you come down from your high, peppering your neck with kisses. “Tasted amazing,” he says, voice ragged. “Tasted like paradise.”

Your brain is so fuzzy you can hardly piece together a coherent sentence. “That was so good, Jake.”

Jake smiles at you and gives you a kiss on the mouth, slow and gentle. You greedily lick your own juices off of his lips, even sucking it off of his tongue. As you kiss, you can feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance. “Sorry,” Jake says blithely, “but I need to fuck you right now.”

You nod. “Please.”

To his credit, he takes his time. He fucks into you slowly and carefully, wanting you to adjust. He’s not long, but he’s girthy and fills you well. He feeds you his cock inch by inch, moving in and out as so not to hurt you. Once you seem at ease, he pushes your thighs up so that your knees touch your breasts and fucks you at a faster pace. After a minute or so of that position, he seemingly gets tired of it, opting to place your legs over his shoulder. This allows him to hit a sweet angle, one that has you moaning.

He’s fucking you so quickly that your breasts begin to hurt, so you cover them with your hands. Jake swats your fingers with his free hand, the other wrapped around your legs. “Stop that,” he huffs out. “Let your tits bounce.” You let go of your breasts, and he licks his finger to swirl it around your nipples, marveling at their stiffness. He kneads your breasts as he pounds into you with grunts of effort.

Jake pulls out of you, and the loss causes you to cry out. He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you around so that your head is lolling over the edge of the armrest. He hovers over you, one hand prying your mouth open. “Need to fuck this mouth of yours. Will you let me, babydoll?”

You pant out your assent, and he slides his wet cock into your mouth. First you kitten-lick the head, tasting your own hot arousal, then he presses his cock further down, treating your mouth like a pussy. As you gag around his dick, you play with his balls, fondling them with one hand. With the other, you play with your engorged, reddened clit. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “You’re amazing,” Jake pants out. “Playing with yourself while you get facefucked.”

You tap his stomach, and he pulls his cock out, stroking your cheek gently. “All good?” he asks tentatively.

You nod and spit somewhere on his floor before taking him back into your mouth. “So good to me,” Jake praises. “So, so good.” Once he’s done fucking your mouth, he pulls out and his cock on your cheek, almost playfully. Then he pulls you over so that you’re flat on your stomach, your head still hanging over the edge of the couch. He spanks your ass once, twice, then slips his wet, stiff cock into your folds, moaning as he does.

This time, his pace isn’t furious, but moderate. He pulls you up so that your back rests on his chest. He’s on his knees, fucking his cock into you upright. Your hips meet Jake’s, so that you’re bouncing on his dick. He kneads your breast with one hand, the other hand holding your waist. Your lips meet in a sloppy, rushed kiss before he pushes you down and grips your hips. He pounds into you with strangled moans, sounding more animalistic than anything else.

“You like this?” he asks, the question sounding less like dirty talk and more like a desperate need for assurance.

“I like it!” Your voice is tremulous, shaking as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

“That rich prick you were with couldn’t fuck you like this, right?” He punctuates his sentence by pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside with a groan.

You moan loudly, trying to clutch the armrest for support. “No, he couldn’t. He’s nothing like you.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, closing his eyes. “He couldn’t. He couldn’t make you purr like I do.” His thrusts become sloppier and faster, and you slip your hand down so you can rub your clit to chase your own orgasm.

Peals of moans spill from your lips. “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Jake.”

“I thought so.” Jake flips you over so he can enter you from the front, pushing one of your legs to the side. He slides in and out of you with ease, your juices having pooled on the couch. “You need to be fucked like this, don’t you?”

“I need it,” you choke out, your stomach desperately burning. “I need it, Jake.”

As he comes close to orgasm, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, a girl like you just begs to be treated like this.”

“That’s right,” you babble.

Jake doesn’t talk anymore, instead letting out low grunts as he comes close. Your second orgasm hits you first, and you scream out his name. The tightening of your vaginal walls is enough to bring him to climax, and with a final grunt and a low, “Fuck!” he spills into you. He pulls out of you and weakly rubs his cock to spill his last few spurts of hot cum on your stomach. Then he wearily collapses, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

Both of you recover from the heated session, and you gasp for air. After a while, you feel Jake’s hand on yours, and he pulls you onto him. He strokes your hair and kisses both of your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his chest.

“I can’t just let you go,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m going to need you again soon.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Again? Soon?”

Jake laughs, his playfulness returning. “We’re going to rest up for a little, and then I’m going to take you again. We need two more rounds, at minimum. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” you reply, any snark momentarily eviscerated by the residual pleasure spreading in your body.

“You like it.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Jake kisses the top of your head. “You’re cute.”

You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you revel in his embrace, taking in Jake’s scent and comfort.

#jake sim smut #enhypen smut #jake x reader #enha smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #jay park smut #jake sim x reader

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luvvictoria · 16 days ago

Text

The Nightmare that became real

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, angst, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension

+ summary. he thought you died.

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part.

He heard it over the radio.

The transmission came in broken, punctuated by gunfire and static, but he caught just enough to make his blood turn to ice.

"Viper’s down! I repeat, Viper is—"

Then silence.

It was the kind of silence that only existed in nightmares — the kind that stretched out, suffocating and final. The kind that told Ghost he was already too fucking late.

His breath caught in his throat, but his body moved before his mind could fully process it. His boots pounded against the bloodstained earth as he took off at a dead sprint, pushing past debris, leaping over the crumpled bodies of enemies and allies alike. The air reeked of burning metal, gunpowder, and something far worse — the acrid stench of charred flesh. His comms crackled with fragmented orders, but he wasn’t listening.

None of it mattered.

Not the bullets that whizzed past his head. Not the distant shouts of his team. Not the fact that he was running straight into hell.

The only thing that mattered was finding you.

His heartbeat roared in his ears, a deafening, primal drumbeat drowning out the chaos around him. His vision blurred at the edges, tunneling in on the carnage ahead. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning fuel, the ground slick with blood and littered with the mangled remains of what had once been solid structures.

The explosion had torn through everything. What had once been a fortified barricade was now an unrecognizable graveyard of shattered concrete and twisted steel. The remains of a vehicle lay on its side, its metal frame warped and gutted by fire, wheels still spinning uselessly. Flames crackled hungrily, licking at the blackened husk of debris, casting violent, flickering shadows that danced against the destruction. Jagged rebar jutted out from the wreckage like fractured ribs, glinting under the hellish red glow of emergency lights, the air filled with the sickening stench of charred flesh and gunpowder.

And in the middle of it all—

Your body.

Half-buried beneath the wreckage, you looked like nothing more than a broken doll discarded in the middle of a warzone. Your body was twisted, contorted in ways that should never happen to a person, like the very earth had turned against you. Blood matted your hair, the deep crimson streaking down over your face and mixing with the dirt and ash. It dripped steadily from your hairline, pooling under your head and spreading across the ground like a grotesque, dark river.

Ghost’s stomach churned violently as he forced himself to look at you. Every part of him wanted to look away, to deny what he was seeing, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the body of the one person he couldn’t lose. His chest ached, a gnawing, suffocating emptiness settling over him like a vise, gripping at his ribs. His heart was in his throat, each beat thunderous, each second stretching into eternity.

He dropped to his knees beside you, the impact of his body hitting the dirt nothing compared to the turmoil inside him. His gloved hands were shaking violently as they dug into the rubble, his fingers scraping against jagged metal and broken concrete. He didn’t care about the cuts, the blood that began to soak his own palms; he just had to get you out of there. He had to get you back.

With every ounce of his strength, he shoved at the concrete, tearing it from your body, feeling his muscles scream in protest as he unearthed you. Your body came free with a sickening, wet sound—like pulling a limb from a corpse. Your plate carrier was shredded, bent inward where the blast had torn through it, leaving the remnants of your armor useless, crumpled against your chest. When his hands found your torso, they sank into the sticky warmth of your blood, the gruesome squelch of it pulling at his insides.

For a moment, it was as if time itself had stopped. His breath caught in his throat, his hands trembling violently as he pressed against your chest, feeling the resistance of the blood that had flooded beneath your skin. His mind screamed at him to move, to do something, but all he could do was stare at the face he had come to cherish more than anything. It was unrecognizable — pale, bruised, slack with unconsciousness or worse. Blood dripped from the corner of your mouth, staining the ground beneath you.

And then — your copilot.

The screeching of the wreckage still reverberated in the air. Ghost’s head snapped toward the twisted remains of the downed aircraft, and that’s when he saw it — the copilot’s body. It was almost unrecognizable, torn apart by the force of the crash. The cockpit had split open like a can of sardines, and the pilot was ejected from his seat upon impact, his body twisted in a grotesque display of unnatural angles. His limbs were bent backward, broken beyond repair, and his torso was nothing but a mangled heap of flesh. His face — what was left of it — was pressed against the shards of metal, his eyes wide open, glassy and lifeless, staring into nothing.

Ghost’s stomach turned, bile rising in his throat as he fought back the urge to look away, to pretend he hadn’t seen the absolute brutality of war. But the blood was everywhere — too much blood, too many bodies, too many lives lost in the blink of an eye.

His fingers found the pulse at your throat, his heart stopping when it came back faint, too faint. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. He wanted to scream, to shout at the world, to demand that you come back to him, but his voice caught in his chest.

"You fucking idiot," he muttered, the words breaking through a shaky breath. His gloved hand cradled your face, the touch almost gentle despite the rage and fear that tore at his insides. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

The reality of the situation hit him like a physical blow. The overwhelming grief, the panic, the absolute terror of possibly losing you — it all came crashing down in an unrelenting wave, drowning him in a sea of helplessness.

Your eyelids fluttered open, the dazed gaze settling on him, barely focusing. His breath hitched as you whispered something, barely audible through the blood and pain, “Didn’t... know you cared so much, Riley…”

Ghost’s forehead fell to yours, his entire body trembling as he closed his eyes, his hands still trembling as they pressed gently against your broken body. He couldn’t find the words—didn’t know if he ever could. There were no words to express this kind of pain, no words that could make sense of this.

“You have no fucking idea,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, barely audible. And in that moment, with your life still hanging in the balance, Ghost realized the one thing that terrified him more than anything: he might lose you, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His fingers curled into your tattered vest as he felt the weak, uneven rise and fall of your chest beneath his palms. It wasn’t enough. You were alive, but you weren’t safe.

Not yet.

With a sharp inhale, Ghost tore his forehead away from yours, his entire body shifting back into motion. His hands moved fast, pressing down on your wounds with precision, trying to stem the bleeding. The pressure made you whimper, a soft, broken sound that made his stomach twist.

"Stay with me, love," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding himself in the one thing that mattered. You.

The battle still raged around them, but Ghost didn’t give a single fuck. All he knew was that he had to get you out of here. He hoisted you into his arms, your weight nothing to him compared to the crushing weight of what could have been.

As he carried you through the smoke-filled hellscape, bullets still raining down, bodies still dropping — one thought burned through the chaos.

He had nearly lost you.

And if that ever happened again, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to save.

tag list : @jajouska @hao-ming-8 @pinkpookiebear @illuminwtesz

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the-guppy-fish · 4 months ago

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Cold snake.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Tags: colleagues to friends to lovers, hesitation, confessions, callsign: Viper, its a little long, but! smut will follow, 3 parts...maybe more to come.

Content warnings: none. (other than my possible spelling mistakes)

Summary: Ghost being a little soft...for now. (2,8k words)

Edited slightly: 27.11.24 (military inaccuracies)

About Vipers: named after the family Viperidae, they are venomous and have long hinged fangs that permit deep penetration and injection of their venom. These snakes can decide how much venom to inject depending on the circumstances. Rattlesnakes for example, have evolved the strike-and-release bite mechanism, which provides a huge benefit to snakes, by minimizing contact with potentially dangerous prey animals.

Vipers come in many different sizes and colours, they are highly adapted to their environment and the type of prey they hunt.

You and Ghost fled the warehouse. The mission had been successful. While Ghost kept the coast clear, you retrieved the confidential documents, Price wanted you to secure from a target warehouse. Once the documents were safely tucked inside the pocket of your tactical vest, you gave Ghost the sign to get out of there.

Just as you left the warehouse, you heard Price in your earpiece,

"Ghost, Viper, get the hell out of there. Enemy activity confirmed by drones. Safehouse Foxtrot-Whiskey-Bravo is clear. Pick-up tomorrow at 1700 at the safehouse. Radio-silence until then. Do not answer. Price out."

You and Ghost simply nodded at each other, silently running off in direction of the safehouse, while keeping eyes and ears open for any activity in and around the warehouse. Once you had laid back a decent amount of space between you and the rusty warehouse, running through tall grass sprinkled with frost, you walked the remaining distance to the safe house in silence, still being alert to your surroundings.

A few hours pass, and the sun begins to set. You're still marching towards the safehouse, now crossing a large meadow surrounded by trees. The cold creeps into your nostrils and fingertips, as the warming rays of sunlight slowly hide beneath the horizon. Your breath is visible, pulsing through the fabric of your balaclava in small clouds. Ghosts breath-clouds are much larger than yours, his huge lungs needing a lot more air than yours, to feed oxygen to all his muscles.

You can see the small safe house not too far away, hiding in between large pine trees. While walking the last few hundred meters, your eyes fall onto Ghosts back, clad in tactical gear and tucked-in weapons. The leg of his camouflage trousers slightly fluttering in the cold breeze, the grey fabric hugging his hips just right. Do you feel bad about looking? Not at all. It is not the first time your eyes linger on him, how could you not? When he is so largely built and looks like he has been sculpted by a group of goddesses, who knew exactly what they were doing?

Your relationship to Ghost used to be very professional. You only spoke together when needed. Always kept the conversation light and work-related. When you were surrounded by the rest of the 141, you barely even glanced at each other.

It was safe to say, you were surprised beyond your imagination, the day Ghost began small-talking with you.

A few weeks back, when you were home on base, the huge brute of man asked you, if you had had a good day. Just like that. Over dinner in the mess hall. While it was just the two of you. Normally you would have just ate in silence and then given the other a polite nod once you finished, and left. But no. You carefully chatted with him, being slightly SUPER suspicious of his friendliness. After finishing your meals, the conversation naturally died, and you went to each your dorms.

The following evening it happened again, and then he evening after that, and all the following ones. But always when it was just the two of you. Ghost would go completely silent if any one else joined you.

You slowly began to talk more and more, sharing more and more details of your lives. Even though Ghost rarely shared anything from his life. If he did, oddly enough, he mostly shared about his favourite meals or new movies in the telly.

You began to talk throughout the day, not just at dinner. When he caught you in the briefing room or in either of your offices, he initiated a conversation, eyes fixed to your face, looking at every little polite smile and expression you made.

But always, when you two were alone.

One time, Soap walked in on one of your conversations in the common room. You had stood with your back to Ghost, rummaging in the small tea-kitchen, trying to make a cuppa for the both of you. Ghost watched your every move, how your clothes hugged you frame, while listening intently.

You did not notice Soap entering, before turning around and only seeing Soap.

Ghost nowhere to be found.

"Who are ye talking to bonnie?", Soap looked at you with confused eyes.

"Uhm, I was just talking to Ghost." you answered, perplexed at Ghosts sudden disappearance.

"Seems like he flew away, bon. Don't feel bad about it, you know how he can be." You tried to hide your disappointment, while Soap eyed the second cup of tea in your hands with large puppy eyes.

When you met Ghost later that evening at dinner, he initiated conversation as he did every dinner, but the conversation failed to reach around his disappearance. You let it go, thinking he had to leave for some important reason unbeknownst to you.

The conversation moved along, you finished eating and you chatted back and forth, like some table tennis ball experiencing the match of its life.

While talking you accidentally unconsciously touched his arm, which was resting on the table you ate at, while telling a (to you) very exhilarating story about your latest attempt at making a new soup at home.

You were so enthralled with your story telling, that you completely disregarded the shift in Ghosts form.

He went from sitting sluggishly, resting his elbows on the table, arms crossed, and looking at your lips, while you rambled on and on about that soup.

Ghost cared little about soup, but when you spoke about it, it seemed to be the most interesting topic of conversation ever. When your fingers found his forearm and snaked around his bare skin, he froze. His mind short circuiting and vision blurring. Still looking at you, feigning his newfound interest of soup, every fibre in him focussed on your soft skin on his rough and scarred one. He fell deeper and deeper into the blur your touch had created in his mind. All his thoughts vapourised and no sound was picked up by his ears.

All to sudden, Ghost was ripped from his hyper focussed state by your voice.

"Ghost? Hey, what do you think?" He blinked the fog away from his eyes, cleared his throat, and croaked out a quick "sorry?", focussing his eyes on yours, mind still running laps in his skull over your fingers resting on his arm.

"I asked, whether you think the soup would be better with or without garlic?", you looked at him with a small smile, expecting his answer curiously.

Ghosts ears peaked at your question, and he could not avoid the small smile forming on his lips under the fabric covering his face.

"With." was all he managed to say, which earned him a satisfied smile from you.

"I'll try that next time then."

With that, you gave his arm a quick squeeze and lifted your fingers from his skin to pick up your tray. Your touch and bold display of comfort around him made his mind grow foggy again.

"You done as well?" You stood up with your hands on your tray and nodded to the one beside him. He gave you a silent nod, and you pulled his tray across the table to balance yours on top of it.

While you went up to return the trays, Ghost sat completely stunned, waiting for you to return, so he could walk you to your dorm (another thing he had absentmindedly begun doing).

Back in the meadow, you and Ghost had reached the treeline and made it to the poor example of a safe house: a simple shed, neatly tucked away by the large pines, small enough for you to question whether there was space enough for two rooms in it.

And you were right. The sheds interior consisted of a small fireplace, a bunkbed, a large chest and a table with two chairs. Everything looked well used and ancient in your eyes, the smell of old cigarettes and firewood confirmed your suspicion about this place being many decades older than you.

Ghosts deep voice tore you from your disappointed thoughts about the safehouse.

"You're on top." While he began stripping out of his gear, placing it neatly beside the lower bunk, he had claimed for himself.

You followed along, closing the wooden door and bolting it shut with the large piece of wood acting as a lock. You laid your gear at the foot-end of your bed, as to keep it close while you slept, should anyone want to pay your shed a visit during the night. Your gut told you that this place was safe enough, for you to relax in. The remote location, the bolted door, and Ghosts presence, assured you that this was good enough for tonight.

Neither you nor Ghost lit up the fireplace, knowing the smoke outside and light from inside the shed could lead anyone to your super cozy hiding spot. The shed was safe enough to not have one of you keep watch for the night. So far away from anyone and anything, bolted and locked, no light or other visible factors making it stand out. No one knew anyone was here, besides Price.

After having settled into the thin mattress, under a thick wool blanket Ghost had pulled from the chest, you tried to get some rest.

But sleep never came to you, as the cool air crept inside and under your blanket. For what felt like hours, you laid crumpled up like a small ball to keep, whatever heat was left, close to your body. But nothing worked, the cold bore into your skin and settled uncomfortably in your bones.

You scolded yourself: as a special forces soldier, you were supposed to fend for your self in every possible way; and you usually did so, perfectly.

But this never ending, merciless cold was going to beat you.

Your stubbornness kept you from climbing down to look for another blanket. But also the thought of waking up Ghost; anyone who woke him up from his precious few hours of sleep, would feel his wrath in the morning.

So you stayed. Freezing and shivering under your heavy blanket. Just existing in the coldness, hoping that some heat would come your way, at some point.

Heat never came, but a deep voice did instead.

"Viper?" Ghost called out quietly.

Your teeth clattered at you let out a weak "yeah?".

Ghosts gravelly voice made its way to your ears again, "If you don't stop shaking my bunk with your shivers, you can sleep on the floor." His oh so humorous comment made you shiver even harder, and you mumbled a quiet "sorry", wrapping the blanket impossibly tighter around you.

Once again you tried falling asleep, willing the shivers to stop, only for them to return with even greater force than before.

You heard Ghost sigh from his mattress beneath you. The bed croaked and you sensed a shadow move in line with your eyes, over the edge of the bunk bed.

Ghost had gotten out of his blanket-cocoon and stood centimetres from your icy face.

"Did you not hear me before?", his hot breath fanned over your frozen features, warming you just enough to answer him in a full sentence.

"I did..sorry.. I just can't get warm." Your voice came out much weaker, than you had hoped for, and seemingly did nothing to stir empathy within Ghost. As if not accepting your weak apology, he pulled the blanket from your shivering form and quietly said "get down."

Puzzled, you unfolded your cold body in a sloth-like motion, slowly climbing down the bed. You stood in front of Ghost, not believing that he actually wanted you to sleep on the floor.

After all, you were the same rank, so he could not order you to do it. So you stood before him, shivering furiously, waiting for him to actually tell you to sleep on the hard, wooden floor, just so you could weakly scold him for trying to punish you.

He said nothing, sat down on his mattress and rolled in under his blanket, his back facing the wall. You stayed on your feet, absolutely confused beyond your mind.

You knew Ghost could act weird from time to time, but this was beyond the usual weirdness of him.

The moonlight from outside only cast enough light inside, for you to make out the outline of his body. Once he had settled, he opened the blanked towards you, which only sent a waft of cool air towards you. As you stayed on your sock-clad feet, still so, so confused, Ghost quietly told you "come 'ere. Can't 'ave you freezing like that."

And like a much faster sloth you slid into the oh so warm comfort of his strong arms and the thick blanket covering him. He wrapped his arms around you, making sure that the blanked covered every millimetre of you.

"Christ Viper, you're like an icicle." His hot breath fanned over your head as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

Your shivers slowly ebbed out, leaving you smushed up, face first, against Ghosts t-shirt covered chest, arms awkwardly tucked close to your own chest. You became embarrassingly aware of just how close you were to one another.

You tried to shimmy away from him, just a little bit; get a some space between the two of you. Keep it professional, you know. But a strong hand around your middle kept you close.

"Stay", Ghost whispered, hugging you closer again, wordlessly telling you that he didn't mind you being this close to him.

With the warmth seeping into your body, the words returned to your mouth in a quiet whisper, "I thought you wanted me to sleep on the floor."

A quick, exhale blew onto the top of your hair and his low voice sounded above your head, "I did" , followed by an even quieter whisper, "but then i remembered, that i like you."

Heat rose to your face, warming your cheeks. You knew Ghost tolerated you, maybe even enjoyed your company from time to time, he definitely liked looking at you, based on how often you felt his eyes on you.

But that he liked you. Oh boy.

"I didn't know you liked me", you whispered into his chest, raising your face to look up at his moonlit, masked one.

His eyes found yours in the dim light, "I do. 'ave for a long time."

Ghosts rough fingers slowly slid up along your spine, fingers gliding over the soft fabric of your shirt. His fingers reaching and curling around the, now warm, skin of you neck. You felt his thumb soothingly swipe back and forth on that very soft patch of skin on the side of your neck.

You hummed at his admission, melting into the touch of his fingers on your skin.

Not knowing how to respond verbally, you turned your palms from your own soft chest, to his much more muscular one, gently squeezing his muscles, to let him know his whispers were heard.

The warmth had truly settled inside you by now, and your eyelids grew heavy, threatening to block the view of Ghosts dark, moonlit eyes looking at your tired ones.

During a dangerously slow blink of your eyelids, Ghosts hand squeezed your neck; just enough to get your attention, but not hard enough for you to open your heavy lids in attention.

"Get some rest Viper. Sleep well." His whispers made a tired smile tug at your lips, and you responded with another whisper.

"Goodnight Ghost."

In front of your closed eyes, a satisfied smile grew behind Ghosts mask. His eyes glanced over your face, taking in the sight of your calm face: eyes closed, brows at ease, just a hint of a smile on your lips and deep, steady breaths blew quietly through your nostrils.

He almost couldn't believe that you were actually sleeping in his arms. He could almost not believe that he had had the courage to pull you close and be soft with you.

His troubling and traumatic past made him fear close relationships, afraid that the people close to him would get hurt. With you though, it was different. Ghost knew you could handle any challenge thrown at you, just like himself. He knew how strong and capable you were, and it pulled him closer to you. Made his heart skip a beat or two, when ever your mere presence filled the room with authority and control.

He had wanted to let you this close to him for a while the last many many weeks, but could never muster the bravery, and did not want to scare you away. To not make you think he was some creep, like other soldiers on base, he took it slow; showed you more and more of himself in adequate amounts.

Ever since your soft fingers had snaked around his arm that evening in the mess hall, he had wanted to reciprocate the comfort and affection, but an occasion had never come along.

Until now. And he was filled with glee, deep into the marrow of his bones.

Ghost held you a little tighter, feeling your body against his. He sucked in the warmth of your skin against his and sweet smell of your hair. His smile only growing larger and more giddy (not an emotion, Ghost was truly familiar with yet)

Gently, he brought his masked lips down on your forehead, giving you a feather light kiss.

"Sweet dreams little snake"

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley x oc

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kommbee · 2 months ago

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SNAKES WHEN THEY HEAR THE RADIO:

AHHH IM SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS TURNED OUT ORIGINALLY I WAS CONCERNED I WOULDNT FINISG IT BUT I DIDDDDD YAY

OC X CANON SHIP WITH MY OC STRIKER aka Viper

THE SHIP NAME IS SCALENOTES BC HES SNAKE BASED AND THEY ALL ROCK WITH MUSIC SO MUSIC NOTES!!! YAY

Valve first is crazy

#transformers #transformers art #transformers fanart #transformers oc #oc x canon #oc art #original character #fanart #tf jazz #blaster #soundwave #transformers g1

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cupids-chamber · 1 year ago

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VIL SCHOENHEIT driving you home, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS cooking for you, and JAMIL VIPER doing your henna...

Content tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Iffy writing (Haven't wrote in awhile), Un-edited witting, Slightly self indulgent (In some parts), fluff.

Masterlist | Commission info | Join Taglist

The sun shined brightly in your eyes, the pain stung but was numbed by the feeling of his cold hands around your own. His hands were calloused, a bit rough, a contrast to your own softer hands. The pattern of his breathing was quite comforting, the way his chest rose and fell back as his eyes were focused onto you, his voice soothed the aching thumbing in your head and chest, you felt hot all over as your thoughts kept spiraling around, all over the place.

The cold ink was a comforting contrast to the warmth of the sun and the ache in your ears, this position hurt but the complaints were all muffled in the comforting solace of his voice, the small words of praise as he went on with his work. Intricate patterns covered your hands, both sides were stained bright orange and dark red inks, the strong scent of henna almost made you feel dizzy, slightly dazed. Flower patterns and weird yet unique patterns were all over your arms.

You could see the way his hands shook, the way he focused so intently on you, the way he'd wrap his free hand around yours and fill up the awkward silence with some random story of his or some sort of babble about his work just to keep you entertained while he worked away. He's always been dedicated to his work, but even more so when it involves you.

You looked at him, from over the counter. Watching as he struggled with the utensils, looking over the instructions that were written in the new cook book that you had recently gotten him. Frankly, you doubted he'd be interested that much, but the way he'd react, his expression of excitement as he shared his creation with you, just the way he’d be so giddy after he successfully made a new recipe was something that you were reminded of while book shopping. So, you couldn’t really stop yourself from buying the book, especially when you realized that it was a dessert book.

He was focused intently on cooking, mixing away, you could see him shift through the kitchen in search of ingredients, the way he'd pace back from the pantry and back to the kitchen. You could see the ways his facial features would contort, as he whispered some muffled curses to himself while cooking. It was adorable really.

At the end of the day, he wouldn't admit it, but he loved the way your eyes would light up when he made the recipe just to your liking. He is slightly embarrassed by it, but he would never address the fact that he made sure to slightly adjust the recipe and sweetness to your liking, every now and then. He’ll never tell you that he's willing to make subtle changes to see you smile or the way your smile makes all of it worth it.

The sky was cloudy, everything was a blur really tonight. Your mind was still a bit dazed, and in the back of your head you could hear a small voice telling you you'd regret the drinks that you had back in the bar. The traffic lights flashed, as he steered the wheel; the lights were much more vibrant at night, it hurt your eyes, so much so that you debated pulling down the sun visor.

The windows were rolled down, the same pop song repeating in the radio as you stared at him, dazed, eyes glazed over as you felt yourself grow tired. The wind blew through his hair, flowing in the wind. Your bangs would blow in your face due to the harsh wind, and you regretted rolling down your entire window but was too distracted to really do anything about it.

You could see him, looking at you, checking in on you every now and then, sometimes reminding you every now and then "fix your posture, or else the cops might pull us over", you'd hum in response, continuing staring at him. You probably didn't notice the way he'd turn around, ears slightly flushed red, and that lovesick grin on his face every time he noticed you staring at him.

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the-silver-peahen-residence · 2 years ago

Note

So has everyone welcomed the two new faces here? How are they??

"Uhhh, their fine and already in their rooms. Though, we are trying to calm a little fight going on right now." Kiyoshi said but hearing some low blows and some shouting.

"¡¿Qué diablos eres tú?! Your not human and your not a spider no less!" Miguel said blocking some attack while Hanoka kicks him back hard while she glares cracking her neck still holding her daggers.

"And your no better! I'll show you what a weak little girl can do you fucking asshole!" Hanoka said kicking him as the two were fighting.

"Miguel! Hanoka! stop please! We can talk this out!" he waves his arms trying to stop the two fighting while baring fangs at one another.

"Though..he did sorta insult her as she did back. They will not get along well for a while..Peahen mom won't like this one bit..." Alastor sweatdrops hearing something else breaking as the fight was taken outside.

#IC #silver roses #ask answered #muses answered #curious peahen and peacock #hanoka saima #silver blood rose/violent assassin #kiyoshi saima #the water viper/the water goddess #peter parker #web slinging king/protector of the city #miguel o' hara #powerful yet dangerous spidey/fangs coated in blood #alastor #the deer demon/the radio host #anon

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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hiiiiiii can you please do a reader who is captain of a all woman force like top 3 military ranks and shes young to and she dates gaz ex

When 141 raid las v they get over powered by shadows and laswell knew this would happen so she calls in reader and her team to help 141 are there thinking fight until you drop until they see soldiers in all black military outfits with masks take down shadows no sweat. And then soap comes up like “thanks man who are you” and she’s like “we’re the widows” and uncovers her mask to reveal she’s a woman…….

I always imagined in the cod world an black widow inspired branch

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND YOU ARE LOVED,GORGEOUS,SMART,WORTHY 💕💕💕

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words! highkey wish they would introduce a group of badass fighter women into the modern warfare universe

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Working behind the scenes is a group of highly trained and focused women. They're only whispers until the 141 is put into a perilous position and require rescuing.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, depictions of violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"How's that lover boy of yours doing, Angel?" your second-in-command joked. You rolled your eyes as you closed your final page of post-op paperwork. "Probably trying to beat his mates in a push-up contest," you replied, laughing at the thought of Kyle doing anything else. Despite what you thought, Gaz was pinned down in an empty cargo container in the middle of Mexico. While Ghost and Soap provided cover, he was trying to contact Laswell through a majority-busted radio. "Watcher-1, it's Bravo team," he shouted before he heard the broken-up replies from Laswell. Price pulled the radio out of his hands before he took the tiny window of opportunity to respond. "Watcher-1, we need emergency evac," he rapidly said with a hoarse tone, "we need help, Watcher-1."

Your restful slumber was awoken by a hurried set of knocks on your quarter's door. You hastily jumped out of bed and opened it to reveal a private, standing sheepishly in front of you. "Sorry to wake you ma'am but Chief Station Laswell is online in the conference room and she wants to speak to you," they said hastily and you quickly followed after them, disregarding the current state you were in. An hour later, you, your lieutenant, and sergeants were on a helo to Las Alamas, Mexico. "They say what kind of shit they're in?" Iris, your most junior sergeant, asked over the howling night air and the sound of rotating helicopter blades. "Only that it's Captain Price's men and their last comm came from a storage container," you replied. Your team could tell you were worried and your lieutenant threw an arm around your shoulders. "We'll get them and make sure Sergeant Kyle is safe, Major," she reassured but this did nothing to help the growing pit in your stomach and the pooling sweat in your palms. Why the fuck did you let this happen, Price?

"Evac in 2 hours," the pilot called over the comms and your team dispersed into the rubble of what resembled a base. You used the back of your hand to shield your masked face from the kicked-up sand and dirt. The midnight black balaclavas felt hot against your face but you disregarded the minor discomfort. Countless bodies of the private militia group, the Shadows, littered the ground and you kicked over each body in a fruitless attempt to identify them. "Cargo holds should be 2 clicks to our north," Viper, your lieutenant, directed and you signaled them to follow your lead. You approached cautiously, hiding behind other containers and building rubble as you swept for enemy reinforcements. You looked down to see a cluster of heat signatures heading your way. "Hold on," you directed with a fist in the air, "we got company." The group stopped on your command and you quickly devised a plan, "Iris and Artemis, you take overwatch," you commanded as they began to move in careful sprints, "Cosmo, you and I will move towards the cargo," with that, you dispersed and moved quickly under the guise of dust.

As soon as you neared the rusted metal structure, you could hear a cacophony of shouts followed by the piercing sound of bullets. "Get down, Angel," you could hear your sergeant yell and you thudded to the ground. Amongst the dust, you could see the soldiers fall one by one with your team's sniper rounds filing through them like they were paper. Despite feeling absolute pride in their skill set, you were interrupted by a tight grip on your ankles. You turned to see a Shadow Company member crawling towards you, knife ready to attack. The adrenaline kicked in as you slammed your boot into their face and prepared to go on the offensive. As they were momentarily stunned, you took the opportunity to savagely jump on their back and crudely drag their knife along their neck. "Good night," you whispered before letting them fall to the ground with a thud. You continued to move to your target, gingerly wiping the reddened blood on your pants. Cosmo didn't question your appearance as you entered her vision and resumed the mission. When you reached the outer doors of the container, your other two remaining members had joined.

You knocked in succession, a code Laswell had told you before you departed. After a few moments of anticipation, the door slowly opened to reveal the tired and grimy faces of Price's team. You looked around and lost count of the amount of injuries you noticed and how some of their limbs were turned in unnatural ways. You could feel your chest tighten as you looked to find Kyle amongst the empty shell cartridges. You were comforted when you saw his face peer over the group. You walked over to him and hugged him tightly, savoring the feeling of knowing he was safe in your arms. "Thank you for the rescue," you could hear him whisper before he pulled you back into an embrace. "You know these lads, Garrick?" you could hear someone say. You turned to see the bruised and cut face of Soap as he tried to feign a smile. Before Kyle could respond, you were sure to make yourself and your team known. "We're not men, Sergeant," you said confidently, peeling off your dusty and blood-soaked mask, "we're the widows."

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing #mw2 fanart

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Icarus Part 2

Hello! This story is coming along quite nicely. This part originally was part of the first chapter, but it got so long I split it up for Tumblr.

Dustin hyperfixates sooo hard in this. Eddie gets annoyed.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Dustin leapt to his feet and handed the magazine to Eddie. “I do have their first album. It’s really good. My favorite is “Brother”. It’s just so touching.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and nodded, forcing himself not to look at Robin just then.

He came back with his Walkman and a pair of speakers. He got it all set up and pressed play. Then while they were listening to the CD, he dashed back to his room.

“I haven’t gotten their second album yet,” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran back. Moments later he came out with a couple of rolled posters.

“I have more of their posters in my dormroom but I bought these a few months ago and haven’t put them up yet.”

He unrolled one of them and it was the album cover blown up large. It had four men in long hooded coats and masks. There was definitely a color theme for each of the members of the band. The drummer was all in black, the guitarist in red, the bassist in blue, and the lead singer in white.

“What’s with the masks?” Robin asked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder.

Dustin bounced up and down. “That’s part of their personas. They’re fallen angels. Well, and titan. The bassist is named after the titan of the night sky, Astraeus. But all the others are named after angels.”

Eddie winced at the poster. “They’re a little much, don’t you think?”

“Like there aren’t other metal bands wear makeup or masks before them,” Dustin said rolling his eyes.

Eddie wrinkled his nose. He did know. It was actually something that was really prevalent in the genre for awhile. He just thought it was gimmicky and took away from the actual music.

Music that was coming out of Dustin’s Walkman in beautiful waves. That brought Eddie up short. They were good. Like amazingly good. “Whoa.”

Dustin beamed. “I know, right?”

Steve made a twisted kind of frown. “I mean it’s great if you like that sort of thing.”

Dustin whirled on Steve like a viper sensing its dinner. “Just because you don’t like metal, Steve,” he huffed in derision, “doesn’t mean that you can just dismiss it.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and rolled his eyes.

Eddie snorted. “Nobody is dismissing anything, Dusty. In fact I would say that what Steve said was anything but dismissive.”

“I just don’t know why you don’t like metal,” Dustin replied with a heavy sigh. “I know that if you just listened to it, you would like it.”

This time the look Steve shared was with Robin. “I’ve listened to a lot of metal, remember? You’re the one that hacked my radio so that I couldn’t change it off the metal station.”

Dustin snorted. “Well at least Simon and Shane have taste.”

Simon Olsen and Shane Kendrick were two friends of Steve’s that had bonded over Corroded Coffin playing over the speakers of the coffee shop. Another thing that Dustin had insisted on. But Steve wasn’t about to tell Eddie that. Together with Spencer Peters, the four of them were almost as tight as the Corroded Coffin boys.

Eddie himself was conflicted about their relationship, if he was honest. Yeah, it was great that Steve had friends outside of the Party, but at same time, he suspected that at least one of them was gay or bisexual and he worried that they would swoop in and take Steve off the market before Eddie got up the courage.

That was a problem for future Eddie, present Eddie had to redirect Dustin before he began screaming at Steve all the reasons he should join the masses of fans for Corroded Coffin and now apparently The Fallen. Steve had a migraine and Dustin’s ranting would only make it worse.

Eddie smacked his shoulder. “Am I still taking you out with me in June to see your mom when I go visit Uncle Wayne?”

Dustin was happy to change tracks, and Steve mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Eddie.

“Yes! You have to take me,” Dustin insisted. “Ma got me tickets to see The Fallen in Indy while I’m there and I don’t want to miss it.”

“The band is going back on tour again so soon?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought they just got off a tour.”

“They did,” Dustin agreed. “But according to the press release, they said that they were trying to get as much hype for their current album as possible because music sales were down all over the place.”

Eddie nodded. He could see that. With a band as new as The Fallen, if they didn’t keep up the momentum they could lose a lot of fans between their first and second album. There was a reason a band’s second album is often called a ‘sophomore slump’ and if these guys wanted to avoid that, that meant touring nonstop for their second album.

He wished them well...provided they didn’t steal Dustin away from him and the guys. He turned to Steve. “So what are you and Robin going to be this summer? Anything fun?”

Robin scoffed. “No. They’ve got us back on tour, too. New management, they want us to shadow this band and basically make sure that everything they want is provided.”

Eddie and Dustin grimaced.

“That sucks!” Dustin huffed. “You guys just got home, why are they making you go so soon? Don’t they believe in breaks? Sheesh!”

Steve hugged him close. “I’m sorry, bud. I talked to your mom, though and she thinks that when you go back for the summer, she’s willing to let you apply for MIT for your masters.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up. “Wait, seriously?” Claudia had always been fearful that he would get into trouble, but she had seen how much work he had put into his school work and how much Steve didn’t need to be looking after the almost twenty year old.

Steve nodded. “Yup. That’s why she got you the tickets as a way to soothe her nerves a bit.”

Eddie looked over Dustin’s shoulder at Steve and they shared a sad smile. They would miss Dustin when he went out to Boston, but they knew he would shine out there. And that was worth more than all the stars in the sky.

Eddie left soon after, stating his own fatigue and even though Steve was sad to see him go, he wanted to sleep for the next three months. Dustin was staying over at his girlfriend’s that night which left him alone with Robin.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost ten and he looked up at Robin with his big puppy dog eyes and pouted.

She let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can go to bed. Provided you actually get a shower and brush your teeth. By that time it should be late enough for you to just crash.”

Steve sighed, but nodded his agreement. He got unsteadily to his feet and ambled over to his bedroom. Robin followed close behind.

She leaned against the door frame, watching Steve gather his things for his shower.

“So Dustin is a Fallen fan, huh,” she muttered.

Steve shrugged. “I guess so. This is the first of me hearing about it, so it must be new.”

She licked her lips. “And you aren’t worried?”

He stopped what he was doing and straightened up. “Why? Do you think there is a reason to be?”

Robin crossed her arms. “I mean his nickname growing up was ‘genius child’. It’s possible he could be a problem.”

Steve scoffed. “He’s also the one that harped on us being a couple for a few years there.”

She winced. She had even told him that she was gay and he still wouldn’t let it go. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

He walked over to the en suite bathroom and turned on the hot water. “I love that kid, but he has a few major blind spots when it comes to actual people.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “I’ll tighten up the defenses, but I think you’re right.”

“I am right some of the time,” Steve scoffed. “You do know that, don’t you?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I guess even a broken clock can be right twice a day.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at her and then began to strip. Robin just waved at him and wandered over to her side of the apartment. Well to call it that was an understatement on its sheer size. It would be better described as a penthouse.

It only had three bedrooms, but it had three bathrooms, a full sized kitchen, an actual dinning area, a living room. Steve’s studio was off to the side and always kept locked. It even had a god damned bio lock that only Robin and he could open.

He hated the secrecy and all the cloak and dagger bullshit but it was absolutely imperative.

But the room was massive and no one had clocked that as unusual. Steve sighed deeply. It was what it was and what it was, sucked.

****

To say that Eddie was annoyed was an understatement. The whole flight to Indy and the long drive to Hawkins was filled with nothing but talk about The Fallen and their latest album. It was shooting up the charts faster than Eddie could guess the Metallica song from a few hummed bars. Which was pretty damned fast.

Steve and Robin had already gone, so Eddie didn’t even have his favorite distraction when Dustin got on his latest hyperfixation.

Then the other shoe dropped when he pulled up to the Henderson’s driveway.

“You’re coming with me, right?” the little bastard asked, all pouty lip and puppy dog eyes.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to go with you?” Eddie huffed, more than little pissed the punk dared to ask.

Dustin rolled his eyes and started counting off on his fingers. “El and Mike won’t get in in time, Max and Lucas already have plans that night, her mom is getting married for the third time that day, and Will doesn’t like metal. He’s still a staunch alt rock fan.”

Eddie winced. And with Steve and Robin off to parts unknown, he really was Dustin’s last greatest hope. But he wasn’t going to give in that easy. He was going to make the butthead work for it. He crossed his arms and pouted.

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose, “I’m starting to wonder if Corroded Coffin is even on your radar anymore.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not true! Corroded Coffin is my number one. How could even suggest that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or chronologically?”

Dustin’s mouth closed with a snap. He ducked his head. “I haven’t stopped talking about The Fallen since you picked me up from Steve’s, huh?”

“Nope!”

He let out a slow breath. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m just so excited for this concert. According to Ma the tickets were really hard to get and now I don’t have anyone to go with me and I–” He sniffled.

“It’s just you know how you get with new things,” Eddie pointed out.

Dustin nodded. “I know. But I promise I still love Corroded Coffin. When are you guys going back into the studio?”

Eddie smiled for the first time that trip. “After I get back from visiting Wayne, I’ve got a couple songs already lined up for it.”

“And how many of those songs are about Steve?” Dustin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie cheeks colored a deep red. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go to that concert of yours and you don’t mention to anyone that I write songs about Steve, deal?”

Dustin tilted his head to side and looked up, tapping his lips thoughtfully. He stuck out his hand and Eddie shook it.

“Deal.”

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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