#callofduty oc

[soullesscinders]

tags: oc x oc porn w very little plot. rank kink, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), impact play, breath play, breeding kink if you squint, uhhhhhh lmk if I missed anything <3

NOT PROOFREAD

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

When they met, they *instantly* felt it. There was a subtle, underlying heat that neither were willing to address.

Especially because Mav is Caldera's superior officer. That alone breaks more than a few hundred regs.

For the first mission, Mav is both angry ~~and turned on~~ at the fact Cal takes charge and throws his orders out the window. His grip tightens on his gun, his accent thicker than usual from annoyance.

"*Schieße*, Caldera. Do you *want* to get everyone killed?" He hisses into her ear, a firm hand gripping the back of her collar. She can feel his warmth against her back, his breath on her neck, and smirks.

"No. Tryin' to avoid gettin' everybody killed. That's why they listen to me, Lieutenant Colonel. You'd do well to understand why." She snarks back and shrugs him off, heading into the hot zone. Leaving Mav scowling at her back, wanting nothing more than to slap that stupid fucking smirk off her face, pin her down and-

Ghost and Soap watch, Soap with a single eyebrow raised as he slowly turns his head to look at his husband.

"Steamin' Jesus, Simon. Didja see tha'?" He mutters. Ghost grunts, and nods.

"Tha' I did. Li'l bird's gonna get 'erself in trouble if she ain't careful around Maverik."

Soap chuckles.

~~~

Back in the debrief, Mav's eyes are locked on the back of Caldera's head.

Lucky for her, he doesn't have lazers in those eyes of his.

She's got that cocky smirk again, glancing at Maverik out of the corner of her eye. His fists tighten at his sides, but he bites his tongue.

The literal moment the debrief is over, he crosses the room and grips her upper arm tightly, beginning to drag her toward his room. She fights a little, but he's got a few solid inches on her in height and nearly a hundred pounds on her in weight, so it doesn't work as well as she hopes.

"What the- Fuck- Maverik! What a' you-" He cuts her off, spinning her around and pulling her in front of him by her collar, the fabric fisted in his gloved hands.

"You think dis is funny, *ja?* Funny to piss me off. Funny to tease." He snarls, face barely an inch from hers. She goes to answer but he shuts her up, forcing her back into the wall beside them. The air leaves her lungs in a *whoosh*, and he delights in the way her breathing hitches, eyes glinted with fear and... something else.

She says nothing, only letting out a tiny whimper in response.

That noise goes straight to his cock, and he growls, pressing her harder into the wall. His hips press into hers, allowing her zero room to doubt his desire, his *need* for this stubborn, fiery explosives specialist.

"Here's what's going to happen, Caldera. You and I will go to my quarters, lock ze door, and you will learn that your place is under me, stuffed full of my cock. You following me so far?" He murmurs heatedly, one of his hands shifting to grip her throat. Her breathing skips, heartbeat thudding wildly against his fingers as she nods.

"Y-Yes, sir." She stammers, going lax. He grins in near sadistic delight at the way she *finally,* finally fucking submits.

"Good girl." He purrs, tightening his grip on her neck. He steps closer, his other hand drifting to her thigh to hitch it around his hip. His stiffening cock presses into her clit through their pants and she shudders, her hips bucking toward him involuntarily.

"I wonder if I should fuck you right here, instead. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Let everyone see you get railed by the Lieutenant Colonel..." Maverik whispers, leaning close to her ear. He shifts his mask up to the bridge of his nose and nips the shell of her ear softly, relishing in the way she shivers. So pretty, so reactive.

"Get that tight little ass to my room," He whispers in her ear.

"Get naked. Face down, ass up, hands behind your back. Okay?" He practically purrs, grinding his stiff cock into her. She whines in response and nods shakily. He abruptly lets her go, allowing the fiery, *hot*, little soldier to scurry to his room.

He adjusts his pants, eyes locked on her ass.

"This girl..." He mutters to himself, hard as a rock. He follows at a leisurely pace, watching her disappear.

By the time he makes it to his room, she's listened. And so beautifully, too.

Face pressed to the pillow, her back in such a pretty arch. The curve of her ass, pale in the low lighting of his room. He bites his lip, slowly stepping closer as he pulls the mask off, quickly followed by his hat.

"So pretty... Such an eager little girl, hm? Been *dying* for me to put you in your place?" He purrs, trailing a teasing finger up the back of her thigh, smirking as she whimpers slightly.

She's got the sense enough not to speak, thankfully. He lightly taps the inside of her thigh.

"Let's see how wet you are for me, hm?" He murmurs, his voice low and smooth. She opens her legs at the command, trembling with anticipation. He runs a gloved finger through her soaking folds, grinning at the way her pussy tries to suck him in.

"Desperate, aren't you?" He purrs teasingly. "Such a pretty little slut. Always defying my orders, always... fighting me... Not the case anymore, now is it?"

Maverik unbuttons his pants, tugging them down his thighs as he positions himself behind her, his face level with her sopping pussy.

His mouth attaches to her clit, and he *groans* at how she tastes, devouring her pussy from behind while she moans into the pillow, squirming.

His words are sin, whispers against her twitching clit.

"So pretty for me, puppy. So sweet," He nearly growls, tongue lashing at her spasming sex as she nearly sobs into the pillow, gripping the sheets.

"C'mon, princess. Cum for me, lemme taste it." He slaps her ass, and that's all it takes for the coil in her belly to snap. She cums hard, squealing into the pillow and he *groans*, lapping at her drooling cunt as she tries in vain to squirm away.

"M-Mav, p-please, 's too much-" She starts, nearly sobbing from the overstimulation, but he doesn't let up, gripping her hips and keeping her exactly where he wants her. He slaps her ass again.

"What'd you just call me, slut?" He barks. She lets out the prettiest whine.

"M-Mav-" Caldera gasps out, but he cuts her off with another sharp slap to her ass, making her moan into the pillow.

"Try again, little one." He growls, tongue lashing at her clit again. She tries to squirm away, and his hand grips her thigh so tight she briefly worries it'll bruise.

"S-Sir!" She whimpers, and he finally backs off her pussy, scarcely giving her a chance to breathe as his hand slides up her back to the nape of her neck, gripping her hair tightly and forcing her back into a pretty arch.

He slides his tip through her weeping folds, notching the head at her entrance, making her whimper and wriggle her hips back, though he doesn't push in.

No matter how much he wants- no, *needs* to feel her tight velvet heat around his cock, he wants her to beg.

Pale, almost unnaturally white irises peer down at her pussy, his cock poised perfectly to sink in, he speaks, his voice rough but with a warmth, an underlying tenderness belying his feelings.

"Beg for it, Caldera. Beg for me to fuck you raw." He nearly snarls. She whines and tries pushing back, wanting nothing more than for him to impale her on his thick dick.

"P-Please, sir, please fuck me~" She pants. He tuts, gripping her hips tighter.

"Now, now, Maus. Is that any way to speak to a superior officer?" He coos mockingly, slapping her ass again.

"Beg harder, little whore. Be a good puppy for me, liebe." He taps her hip and she pants, whining.

"Please, Lieutenant Colonel, I'll be so good for you, please, I need to feel you inside me, please, please-" He cuts off her absolutely pitiful rambling and slams inside her with one firm thrust, her voice breaking off into a pretty cry of pleasure. He starts a near brutal pace, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in.

Caldera's whimpers, sighs, and moans of pleasure are music to his ears, and he groans, her heat pulsing around him.

"Fuck, Maus, sound so fuckin' pretty. So tight. Wanna live in this cunt." He keeps up his pace, the words falling unbidden from his lips. He leans into it, forcing her to take it, take it all like a good girl for him.

"Take it, puppy. Take it all. Make you think twice the next time you wanna run that pretty mouth at me, *ja?*" He hisses, picking up the pace of his thrusts, long and deep.

She almost sobs into the pillow, gripping the sheets. Maverick swears, wishing he could burn this imagine of the fiery, stubborn, rude Sergeant into his brain.

"Little slut just needed this, huh? To be fucked like the whore she is. Next time you get mouthy, just tell me baby girl, we can fix it for you. Make that attitude drip out of this pretty pussy, *ja?*" His words, sinful and growly, do nothing to help the coil already tightening in her belly again.

Her cheeks burn in both shame and arousal, dripping around the throbbing cock pounding into her from behind, pussy fluttering and trying to suck him in. It makes Maverik grin in sadistic glee, fucking into her with hard, steady strokes. He's getting closer, he knows it. But he wants to feel his pretty girl cum on his cock before he lets go.

"C'mon baby, I can feel this pretty cunt clenching. You're close, aren't you? Say it, puppy, sing for me." He commands, picking up the pace just slightly.

She whines into the pillow, moaning and trembling, eyes rolling back in her head as she creeps closer and closer. Maverik's hand comes down, rubbing tight circles on her sticky little clit, moaning at the way she tightens around him.

"C'mon baby, c'mon. Squeeze my cock with your sweet pussy, be a good girl and cum for your Lieutenant Colonel." He groans, and that's all it takes.

Caldera cums hard, squealing and shaking, drenching his thighs and the bed beneath them. Maverik's grip on herbhips tightens, and he leans his full body weight into fucking her through it to his own end.

One, two, three thrusts later, he cums deep, his moan pure filth as his body shudders, the force of his orgasm stealing his breath as he spills white hot ropes into her womb.

He lazily strips himself naked and pulls out with a shiver, pressing a quick kiss to her head while he starts the bath. He fills the tub with warm water and soap, before returning and picking her up bridal style. She nuzzles his chest sleepily as he murmurs praises.

"Did so good, liebling. So good for me. Rest, *ja?*" He whispers and kisses her forehead. he gets in the bath and sits, situating his pretty puppy so her back is against his chest and washes her body gently with a washcloth.

His puppy. His toy.

His love.

*His.*

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FIVE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

You’d been banished to your dorm since returning from the mission.

A week of being practically locked in there since being released from the hospital wing, the stitches from the bullet graze in your thigh long disintegrated. All that remained now was a sore, red, angry scar.

Your first one.

You caught yourself laughing as you looked at it; Ghost would be so proud of your first battle scar.

Thankfully, the rescued women were as healthy and safe as they could possibly be and were already being placed in safe houses or returned to their loved ones.

But you…you’d already been on the receiving end of a mouthful from Price, Ghost, and Fender for not following orders and almost getting yourself killed.

It was frustrating that they couldn’t see why you did what you did.

Even more so that after saving his life, König still wasn’t giving you the time of day. Little did you know, it wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was mad at himself.

He always hated how people wouldn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and that’s exactly what he did to you that night at the range. You tried, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pushed you away, and you still jumped in front of a bullet for him. You still threw yourself between a deadly weapon and an innocent young girl.

You were the selfless among the selfish.

And when he saw the way you fell, blood pouring from your thigh, he almost threw up.

He thought you were dead…he thought he’d lost you. And it was all his fault. Too occupied in trying to get the job done.

He had to see you.

Once again, you found yourself on the end of a video call, but this time, the entirety of the 141 and Laswell was present, making sure you were okay.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, pet, you know that?”

“What, like you’ve never thrown yourself at a crazy man with a gun? You can’t fool me, MacTavish.”

“Uh- no, that is- that’s irrelevant!”

“She’s got ya there, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Johnny, listen to your man.” You teased.

“Watch it, little one.” Ghost threatened, and you held up your hands in surrender. “Seriously though, ya did good. Just come ‘ome safe, yeah?”

“I will. Night guys, I love you.”

They copied your words, Gaz blowing you few kisses as their laptop closed, and the call ended.

Huffing, you began getting ready for bed, slipping into your fluffy pyjama shorts and the matching top.

Then, you let out a scream as your door flung open, and a mammoth of a man adorned in a black shirt and black sweatpants barged in, slamming the door behind him.

“Kӧnig what the fuck?! You scared the absolute shit out of me! You didn’t even knock! I could’ve been-”

“Bitte, I’m sorry.” He cut you off, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

Your hand rested over your chest, trying to calm your heart, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t speak right away, his lacking social skills surfacing as he faltered under your gaze. Your brow was raised, awaiting his answer. His eyes raked over your body, and he found himself blushing as he took in the way your little shorts hugged your thighs so lusciously, your little top showing off your midriff.

Du sahst so wunderschön aus. (You looked so gorgeous.)

“Kӧnig,” you spoke again, “What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room a little more, “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, and his gaze landed onto the scar on your thigh. His chest tightened at the sight of the evidence – the reminder that you almost weren’t here.

Because of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke, nodding towards your leg.

“What? Save your life?”

“Ja.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Nein. You shouldn’t try and sacrifice yourself for someone like me.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, “You know, this is a really fucked up way of thanking me, König.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Tears clouded your vision, “What?”

“I’d rather it have been me than you.” His voice started to raise.

“That’s not- you don’t leave your teammate to die! I acted in the moment; I did what was right!”

“You acted like a dummkopf! (idiot)” he shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me?! You could have died! That was so stupid and so fucking-”

“Because I’m falling in love with you!” you yelled back, hand running through your hair as you panted.

Something snapped within him.

Something changed.

Your words ignited a fire within him, blazing furiously, burning the blood in his veins until it bubbled, his skin tingling.

You noticed too, as those gorgeous blue eyes darkened under the sniper hood, backing up until the back of your knees hit your bed as he stalked towards you.

The moment he reached you, he yanked the hood from his head, revealing his face.

That’s what he had hiding under there?

Beautiful auburn hair, wild and messy from his hood. Pale, freckled skin, adorned with multiple silvered scars. One in particular ran from his chin, through his plump lips, up to his cheek bone. You wanted to reach out and touch it, feel him under your fingertips.

Your entire body was shaking.

His tongue ran over his lips, making them shine in the dim light coming from your tiny lamp. He watched you as your eyes flicked over his face, mouth opening slightly as you marvelled at the sight.

Despite his blushing, he smirked, and it made your eyes widen.

“What was that you just said, liebling? (darling)”

He towered over you, hands moving to rest against your hips, dragging your body flush against his.

You looked everywhere but at him.

“Kӧnig-” you stuttered out.

He lowered you down onto the mattress, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head while the other gripped your chin softly, forcing you to look at him.

“What’s a matter, mein schatz? (my love) Don’t be shy.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Considering his size, he was being so soft, so gentle, and it was turning your brain to mush.

His thumb rubbed over your lips, pulling them apart slightly as his other hand kept your arms firmly above your head.

Your breathing was heavy, and the heat growing in the pit of your stomach was getting more and more prominent.

“Ich will dich…so sehr. (I want you…so much)” He whispered, his hands shaking slightly.

His forehead pressed to yours as he released your arms, and you wasted no time in placing your hands on his body. Your fingers grazed his cheek, running over the scar as you took his face into your hands.

“Ich will dich auch. (I want you too)” You whispered back, eyes burning into his.

He let out a noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan, before the grip on your chin tightened, and he smashed his lips to yours.

You kissed him back with the same need, the same desperation, his own whimpers matching yours as they escaped through his nose.

The feeling of his lips on yours was divine…ethereal.

This shy, socially anxious, mammoth of a man had taken full control of the situation, shifting you up the bed and wrapping your legs around his waist. You gasped at the movement, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth.

A deep, animal-like growl bubbled from his chest, spilling over into your mouth as he dove deeper, desperate to chase the taste of you. Your hips bucked; your body not willing to wait any longer for the heat in your groin to be satisfied.

“Eager, mein liebe?” he chuckled, before ducking his face into your neck, nipping, sucking, biting.

He was marking you.

Making sure every man knew who you truly belonged to.

“Kӧnig, please-” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging softly.

He groaned at the sensation, head dropping into your nape as his eyes rolled. His fingers dug into your skin as they roamed your body, no doubt leaving small bruises. He was holding back, and you knew it.

“Please,” you moaned, “Please, Kӧnig…berühre mich. (touch me)”

“God, baby-” he grunted, “You have no idea what you do to me, speak my language so pretty, so well.”

He smashed his lips to yours, only parting to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. But you didn’t care, you were burning hot, just for him. You followed his actions, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Timidly, he pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. Your eyes widened as you took in his physique. Christ, it was like this man had been sculpted by the Gods personally. Your fingers delicately traced along his abs, bumping over raised scars, making him shiver.

They dipped lower, grazing over the unmissable bulge fighting to be freed from the confines of his sweatpants.

Everything about him was big.

He sucked in a breath, letting out a shaky moan as you stroked him until he snapped, pinning your wrists back above your head.

“You know how much I wanted this? How many times I wanted to have you right there? Those lessons were the highlight of my weeks, sweetheart.” He purred, hands roaming your bare flesh.

“Y-you should h-have, would’ve l-let you.” You stuttered out, breath choppy as he took your breast, his fingertips squeezing the nipple harshly.

He smiled shyly, eyes meeting yours, “You’re a good girl, ja?”

You nodded, words failing you as praise rolled off his tongue, letting out noises that sounded almost angelic to him.

Kӧnig then shifted, tugging your little shorts from your body, his giant hand running slowly up your leg. He dipped down, placing a delicate kiss to your scar. His hands then continued their journey until they reached your cunt, a long finger slipping slowly between your slick-covered folds.

“I would die for you.” He whispered, “Would you let me die for you, hübsches mädchen? (pretty girl) Protect your body with my own? Let me worship you?”

You were babbling incoherent nonsense at this point, the sensation of him touching you completely overwhelming, “God, yes…Kӧnig please, please touch- oh, f-fuck-”

“You’re so good, (Y/N), so good.” He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of you, curling to reach that spot with every thrust.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, the metal taste of blood flooding your mouth, allowing the sounds to slip.

“You sound so beautiful, angel.” He cooed, continuing to finger you at a blistering pace.

He was relentless, desperate to make you cum before he got his cock anywhere near you, desperate to make you feel good – make up for what a mess he’d made of everything.

Your moans and whimpers spurred him on, showing him that he was doing the right thing.

The way your nails dug into his back as you clung to him almost made him finish right there in his pants.

You were magnificent.

Especially when your back arched, your breasts bouncing right in front of his face as his name slipped out of your mouth like some foul chant, ramming you into ecstasy.

Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig…

The way his name rolled off your tongue unlocked something deep within him.

He pulled his fingers from you, lapping up every drop of your release, before slamming his lips to yours, making you taste yourself. Hoisting you up, he locked your legs over his hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Bitte, can I?” he whimpered as his tip rubbed between your folds, “Please, Schatz, let me-”

Tears sprung in his eyes, his desperation to feel you becoming too much.

“Fuck me, Kӧnig. Don’t hold back.”

He let out a sob of relief, before he slid his cock into you, inch by glorious inch. He was huge, the biggest you’d ever been with, and he filled you up as if your pussy was made just for him. The minute he bottomed out, he let out a cry, one hand fisting handfuls of your hair as the other gripped the bedsheet in a hopeless effort to control himself.

Then, with a rhythm that sent white hot pleasure coursing through you, he rocked his hips, snapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands clawed and grabbed at his flesh as you mewled out a mess of words, barely able to string a sentence together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he repeated, his pace quickening.

You whined, tears from the pain of him stretching you falling from your eyes, “Feels so good-”

“Oh, don’t cry, liebling.” He spoke, thumb padding your wet cheeks, “It’s okay, you’re doing so well, taking me so well…such a good girl…”

Grunts fell from his lips as he couldn’t control himself any longer, his pace speeding up as he chased his release. The pressure built for you again, and he could feel the walls of your cunt squeeze, making him whimper.

“That’s it, schnuckie, cum for me- please, scheiße (fuck) cum for me.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, and with a scream of his name, your body arched, your climax completely obscuring your vision to the point you saw stars.

With a few more agonisingly rough snaps with his hips, profanities falling from his mouth, Kӧnig erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing over and over as his seed spilled out, white and dripping.

His arms gave out, heavy breaths from both of you as his body lay on yours.

Your fingers ran through his dampened hair as you clung to him, his arms locking you in place beneath him.

He lifted his head, rubbing his nose on your temple as he placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose.

“Meine schöne, kleine prinzessin...(my beautiful, tiny princess)” he mumbled before he finally pressed his lips to yours.

It took a good twenty minutes for the two of you to calm down, the thin layer of sweat sticking your skin together, not allowing you to part. Finally, your breathing had returned to a somewhat normal level, as good as can be as Kӧnig peppered tiny kisses along your shoulder.

You blushed furiously, trying to hide away from his gaze.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered as he held you to his chest, arms tight around your waist, “Not around me. Du bist zu schön, um schüchtern zu sein. (you’re too beautiful to be shy)”

You sighed softly, turning in his arms to face him, your hands dancing along his scar, “Also bist du. (so are you)”

Kӧnig groaned as his eyes fell shut, trying to conceal it, but your constant reassurances and praise of him made his heart wild - it made that primal, instinctive urge within him burst out like a feral beast.

It made him want you, need you in every way possible.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

König marvelled as the truck pulled up on base.

It was so different to KorTac, so much smaller and less grand, hidden, and private, but it was home to you.

Finally, you were home.

You hadn’t even gotten out of the truck before you heard Soap’s yelling as he came bounding across the tarmac toward you.

Jumping out, you yelled something to him, making him freeze in place as the others caught up. They watched on, confused, but desperate to hold you in their arms again now that you were home.

You moved around to the other side of the truck, opening the door to see König looking at you, his leg bouncing nervously as his thumbs twiddled in his lap.

“You ready, big guy?” you smiled to him, taking his hand.

“As long as I have you next to me, I’m ready for anything, schnucki.”

You blushed furiously at the nickname, and he leaned forward, lifting his sniper hood just enough to reveal his lips, placing them on yours for a soft kiss.

Giggling as you pulled away, you dragged him from the vehicle, pulling him around to where the boys of the 141 saw him for the first time.

Just imagine their faces as you came from the side of the vehicle, an absolute behemoth of a man attached to your side.

Imagine the way Soap faltered as you reached them, König’s giant shoulders casting one huge shadow over them all.

Imagine Price’s initial horror as he clocked onto your fingers being woven tightly with those of the crazy, mammoth killer.

Imagine the way Ghost puffed out his chest to make himself look bigger as he squared up to König, having also noticed the way the big man kept you close;

“Now, you may be bigger-”

“A lot bigger!”Soap had yelled from somewhere.

“Yes- thank you, Johnny. A lot bigger, but make no mistake, soldier. You hurt my (Y/N); I’ll make sure no one even remembers you existed. Capeesh?”

“Y-yes, sir.” König had stuttered out, shaking in his boots.

Then there was you, fingers pressed to your nose as you looked to the floor, “Jesus fuck, Simon, leave him alone!”

Imagine König coming to your room after his first day with the 141, exhausted from the training he’d endured.

“I like them…like it here.” He’d speak, fingers running through your hair as you laid on his chest.

“They spent all day trying to kick the shit out of you.”

They had tried, each and every one of them completely underestimating the sheer strength that Kӧnig possessed. He was a super soldier, a battering ram. A fucking force.

He’d laugh, dropping his head to kiss your lips, “Ja. But only because they love you, schatz. They protect you…and so will I.”

“Yeah?”

“Bis zum ende der zeile. (until the end of the line)”

[snookkit2]

cod oc content !!

[kruelityliebe]

Happy birthday to me 🐍💜🎉🎉

[dmsweetking20]

A Christmas in a traditional family

Mother, enemy of the state and terrorist, son and daughter drawing idea:

[annaphoenix1994]

Something in the Orange

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

I woke up to the sight of my ceiling fan – heavy eyes blurring my vision as well as clogged sinuses. Last night's events were vague in my memory, but I couldn't help but notice the lingering smell of Simon's cologne that I remembered from last night – it was insanely attractive, and I had to fight every cell in my body to keep my lingering eyes less obvious because he was certainly different outside of his uniform.

Although I can't deny that I would let this man do whatever he pleased with me in my bed, I sincerely hoped that it didn't happen last night. I at least would want to remember it if that was the case, or maybe not – because it would definitely make it awkward between us when we'd return back to Alejandro's base.

Standing to my aching feet, I couldn't help but be drawn to the lingering smell of fresh coffee. This was mine and Simon's usual routine at this point, either having a cup of coffee (or whiskey) at a table together, having mindless chatter about random things just to keep the silence at a minimum, but since he agreed to come back with me, our conversations between each other were slowly turning into little sneak peeks into the other's mind. Though our conversations weren't as deep, I felt like I had peeled enough of him back to know that he was emotionally unavailable because he couldn't find resolve within himself, and that was okay, because I was the same way except the only difference was that I was more vocal about it than he seemed to be.

Throwing my hair into a loose bun, I rubbed my eyes again as my bare feet traced along the wood floor that led into the kitchen, and a smile couldn't help spreading across my face.

Simon left coffee for me, the pot still on the warmer plate with thin sheets of steam surrounding it, a clean mug set alongside it, and I chuckled when I realized that he had found my favorite mug, though I knew it was likely a coincidence. When I noticed a small note written on a piece of scrap paper, I couldn't help but smile.

Gotta love this man's sense of humor... 

I took a test sip before deeming it perfect after I added ice and creamer, looking to my left to see the curtain that covered the back patio's sliding glass door was pulled open, and I knew that it was likely to find Simon there. He didn't say it, but I could tell that he liked to sit in isolation in the morning, seeming to just stare into space when I had a feeling that he was continuing to fight a battle within himself.

I stood and watched him for a few moments, wondering what he could be thinking about. Was he uncomfortable here? Did he regret agreeing to come with me for leave? Did he get too drunk last night, too?

It was when I saw a cloud of smoke shoot out from his nostrils before I realized that I had gotten more drunk than I had thought, because I never let my vape pen out of my sight.

He had to have taken it from me at some point, and I knew it wasn't because he was craving nicotine, then I remembered that he told me recently that he smokes when he's anxious. 

He didn't smoke once when we were deployed, and suddenly he smoked when he wasn't getting shot at?

"I see how it is," I scoffed playfully, watching that handsome face of his turning towards my voice, his strong jaw relaxing. "Guess you were anxious last night if you resorted to wanting a hit of fruity nicotine." I poked.

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, those straight white teeth complementing his naturally tan complexion. How was this man so gorgeous for no fucking reason? Maybe that's why he covers his face when on duty...

"No, I cut you off because you were sucking on it like a pacifier. Can't blame you, though. Tastes good."

"Cactus Gummy Worm is my favorite flavor," I shrugged, the familiar taste making my tongue twitch at the thought. I knew it was bad for me, but apparently, so was everything else. My father preached that soda was bad for me, yet he drinks one in the morning, afternoon, and dinner with nine glasses of sweet tea in between, yet he's as lean as an athlete. He also said that drinking was bad for me, yet he drinks it before he goes to bed. He says that sugar is bad for me, but he has a whole pile of candy at his bedside because "if I don't have it, I go in knots," yet when I'd ask him if he's diabetic, his stubborn ass just says, "don't think so, and I don't give a shit." He says that the military was no place for a woman, yet he knew I could do it when I told him I enlisted.

The only thing I guess he was right about was when he said drinking coffee before hitting puberty would stun my growth, and I believe it, because I'm only five-foot-three and in my early thirty's.

"What?" He cocked his brow at me.

"That's the flavor of the juice that I put in it, Simon. And don't you look at me funny because I wasn't the one who named it."

He breathed a laugh at me, and I wondered if he knew just how attractive he was... for doing nothing at all! He had me squeezing my thighs together just by a look, yet I was too scared to make my attraction to him obvious because the last thing I wanted was to be rejected. It hurts and being rejected by a man like him would crush me, yet I couldn't understand why because we haven't known each other long at all.

My breath hitched when I watched him exhale through his mouth and inhale at the same time back through his nose. He did it so effortlessly, and I knew he had smoked a lot in the past or does occasionally, because it's very hard to do what's called a French Waterfall.

"Probably a good thing that you didn't have the responsibility for naming it. Could be much worse," He teased, his smirk quickly falling when I was completely oblivious to his pestering because I was too busy trying not to make it obvious. "I'm just messing with you, love. Here." He said, offering it back to me.

"You can have it," I waved him off. "I have a disposable one somewhere—"

"No, it's yours. I tucked it in my pocket when I took it away from you last night. Must've fallen asleep with it there."

I sighed before taking it from his hand, my finger gliding across the rough skin of his index finger, its warmth making me crave his body against mine, and I could smell the fabric of his jeans against my SMOK, the detergent mixed with his natural musk and cologne driving my senses wild.

My period must be coming up or something. 

I need to be spayed because this is ridiculous. This man handed me back my SMOK and I'm horny because my finger grazed his and I can smell him on it. Jesus!

"Simon, did we—" The words flowed out of my lips like vomit – I couldn't stop the invasive question as it was the first thing I thought of when I could smell his lingering scent on my pillow... in my bed, knowing that he had a room of his own. I needed to know.

"No," He shook his head, seeming like he knew what I was thinking before I even spoke. "I wouldn't do something like that."

"What? Never have sex?" I giggled, desperate to hide my embarrassment for asking something stupid, though the thought was nice. Obviously, because I do remember the way he guarded my purse and drink last night, tending to me in such a natural way that wanted me to have his children – to bring more men like him into the world, because every lady deserves to have a man be so naturally protective around her, even if they were friends or not. Regardless if women like me were strong and independent, I still craved to embrace my feminine energy instead of being used to operating in a masculine mindset all of the time – always worrying about my own safety as well as other women, always putting up a strong front to prevent asshole men from taking advantage of me, or being talked to like I was a dog from some men I encounter. Being around Simon was refreshing because not once did I have to feel like I needed to put up a strong front around him. He seemed to see me for who I really was, his gestures were gentle and supportive. Hell, even when he had to restrain me from instigating Soap, he was gentle with his grasp, yet firm.

"No," He corrected. "I respect you too much to let something like that happen. You were drunk. Threw up everywhere in the bathroom and you asked me to sleep next to you, so I did."

"Oh... I-I'm sorry, Simon. I know that was probably way out of your comfort zone."

"Love, if I have to be honest, I've been out of my comfort zone since I got on that plane,"

Oh, God. I knew he was regretting his decision.

I felt his eyes on me, like he was studying my reaction to his words before he continued, "But that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed it."

"Really?"

"If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it, love," He arched his brow at me, his tone serious, yet soft. "I don't mind coming out of my comfort zone once in a while."

"I'm the same way, I guess."

"You get comfortable around new people too quickly, love. That's the difference between you and me."

His words made me take an anxious inhale from my SMOK, mentally preparing myself for any rejection I felt like I was about to get. "Can you elaborate?..."

"You were comfortable with inviting me, a literal stranger, to your home for holiday. You let me stay in your house and got drunk enough last night that anything could've happened if I had ill intentions. If the roles were reversed, I would've never invited you in the first place, because I've learned a long time ago that choices have consequences, and I don't like letting my guard down to let someone in because every time I do, someone gets hurt, and not from me." He frowned. Yep, I knew it. I went too far already by getting drunk and making him feel obligated into taking care of me. Fuck, I'm so stupid.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I feel stupid now that you elaborated." I sighed, taking a seat in the open chair a few feet away from him. The air felt thin around us, although it was probably just me feeling like this.

"You shouldn't. I'm just saying that you and I are completely different when it comes to what you call a comfort zone."

"And you call it a boundary?"

He shrugged, "I guess you could call it that."

I didn't respond. Instead, I took another sip from my mug and crossed my leg over the opposite, my SMOK tucked between my mug and index finger, eager to take another drag in desperate hope of easing my anxiety. My stare on the landscape in front of me was intense, yet I could feel him looking at me, could feel the wood beneath me vibrating from the weight of his heel tapping the patio below him. It seemed like he was anxious, too, except he was probably feeling awkward instead of the same way I was feeling.

I felt his eyes on me for a few moments, finally saying something when it felt unbearable, "Take a picture. It might last longer."

I waited for him to be offended by my sudden remark, but he gave it right back. "I will when I get the chance. Might even wait until I catch you eating or sleeping with your mouth wide open like it was this morning. Surprised you didn't catch a fly."

"What goes around, comes around." I scoffed, glaring at him in a hateful way, but I quickly changed my attitude when I realized that he was purposely poking at me judging by that handsome smirk on his face. Those brown eyes of his were locked onto me, and I couldn't help but feel like I was embarrassed of myself. What could he be looking at with so much interest?! What is he seeing that makes his gestures soften around me?

"I'm the wrong one to engage in a prank war, love," He warned playfully, yet I didn't believe him. "Don't start a battle when you know you can't win the war."

"Yeah, you Brits said that when they tried to take over the Colonies, too. You see what happened there, huh?" I scoffed, teasing him.

"Wasn't there when that happened," He shrugged. "And before you make a joke about it, I wasn't there when the tea was dumped in the Boston Harbor, either."

"I know better than to joke about tea with a British man."

"I'm so glad you have common sense." He smirked.

"Surprised you know what that is, because it's mainly us women that have common sense."

He shrugged, "You'd be surprised. Met a lot of women that didn't have a thought behind those eyes of theirs. A good portion were military women, too."

"Must've been recruits, then."

"None of them were."

"Mhm."

"What's with the cold shoulder all of a sudden?" He chuckled at me.

"Just because my shoulders are cold, doesn't mean I'm giving you a cold shoulder, Simon."

"Can't handle a little playful banter, love? Thought you were tougher than that."

"I don't think you can handle a little playful banter."

"Sure, I can."

"Really? Because you could've killed me with that glare as soon as I said a joke about tea."

"I don't recall that. You're the one who got hostile, love." He teased.

"Just like you Brits, rewriting history." I rolled my eyes at him, watching him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"Don't make me get my musket."

I laughed, "I've seen you shoot – I'm not scared of that."

"I've seen you shoot, too. Alejandro was right when he said you're one he worries about a lot because you get shot at more often."

"I can't fucking stand you!" I laughed with him.

"You can't. That's why you're sitting down, love. Keep running that bass mouth of yours, yeah?"

"I'll go and jump in the lake with my bass mouth, then."

"I wouldn't advise that, love. It's too cold for that. Wait until summer before you do that."

"I just might."

"Don't jump in, though. Might hurt your leg again."

I scoffed and shook my head, the pair of us sharing a laugh.

That was a start... 

[mech4n15m]

You can do, og makarov x oc?

partners in creating dubious organizations🤝

[callsign-valkyrie]

𖠰 ⋆.˚ Searching for Black Ops discord servers! ⋆.˚ ོ

Hey guys! I've been a Black Ops fan for a good while now, but I'm sorta new to actually having an active presence inside the community. Are there any social spaces we congregate in, such as Discord servers? I want to mingle with other folks in the fandom! :D Feel free to DM me, or reply below! <3 UPDATE: I made a server! Here is the link!

[faepanic]

She's not coming back...

🎁 Send me a gift on Throne!

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[blu3-ja3]

O'Connor hates the summer, with a passion. Like she understands the appeal for everyone else but for it's hell. During the day it's hot as hell, which means she can't reasonably wear her turtle necks and long sleeves. That doesn't stop her but it doesn't mean she enjoys dying in the heat.

And all the fire, constantly everyone is having barbecues and bond fires. Every night it's the same thing and while she'll never admit it out loud, O'Connor is scared of fire. It's obvious when you see her near an open flame, it's carved into her very being. The way she's tensed when someone walks too close to the flame, how she jumps when a log snaps in the fire.

She's never around when the fire is first being lit. And she refuses to help keep the fire stoked and going, more often than not letting it burn out.

Just thinking about how my character would react to her trauma and how it'd affect her! ANYWAYS

COD Master List

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Six*

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, Tali meets Simon, oral sex (M+F receiving)

The guys let off some steam

I stare up at Ghost's face, intense hazel eyes narrowing at me through the holes of his balaclava. For once, I'm almost scared of him. Almost.

"Ghost..." Johnny says, his voice hushed. My gaze darts across to the Scotsman to find him crossing the living room. He slows to a halt next to Ghost, placing a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder, "maybe we shouldn't do this tonight, eh? You've just got home. You need to let off some steam."

Ghost's eyes darken, not once leaving mine. "I'll let off some steam alright."

My heart is pounding in my throat now; my palms sweating and my legs quivering with anticipation. I press my thighs together, seeking some kind of relief. But it's not enough.

No. I want to know what he has in store for me. Even if I regret it later.

"Ghost..."

Johnny moves to Ghost's side and they share a look, Ghost's heavy gaze finally releasing me from its hold. A whole conversation is exchanged between the two of them in silence - a series of head tilts, and meaningful looks.

"Ask her nicely," is all Johnny says.

Ghost grunts and nods, turning his full attention back to me. "Alright, Tali - nicely - will you let us take you to bed?"

There's nothing nice about his tone. It's rough and gritty and entirely Ghost. Full of quiet, masculine rage, and bold, lustful promise. And it's oh so appealing.

It's been so long since I last had sex with anything other than my own hand or a fancy plastic toy. And it doesn't seem like Ghost is in the mood to be particularly gentle. For a split second, I start to doubt if this is really what I want.

But then I look at Johnny; his bright blue eyes full of hope and adoration. I know that he won't hurt me. Neither of them will. And I've never been surer of anything in my entire life.

I nod and - with a shaking voice - I say, "Yes, you can."

"Perfect." Ghost's voice is gruff and smug as he presses in closer to me, crowding in until we're standing chest-to-chest and I'm craning my neck up to look at his face. "Johnny?"

"Hmm?" there's a vacant hum from him as he steps up behind Ghost, bracketing him between our bodies. He drops his head to press a kiss to Ghost's black-clad shoulder.

Ghost turns his head, capturing Johnny's lips in a chaste kiss through the mask. "Go sit down. I think I need to make Tali understand a few things before we get started."

Johnny's eyes widen for a second, a look of surprise flashing there for a second before his eyelids lower. Lust glitters in his blue irises as he looks down at me, leaning across Ghost to drop a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be in our room when you two are ready. Don't make me wait too long though, aye?"

The apartment is completely silent as Johnny pads out of the room. I can hear the muted thud of their bedroom door closing, and then it's just us. Just me and Ghost standing out in the living room, the dark promise of making me understand hovering in the air between us.

If I wasn't wet before, I definitely am now.

"So," Ghost starts, drawing my full attention back to his towering frame, "apparently we haven't been clear enough, princess. Apparently, you think we're just playing with you, or we haven't been open enough about what our relationship is... but that ends now. Got any questions?"

I bite my bottom lip and his eyes trace the movement with a predatory keenness. "Are you and Johnny bisexual?"

"Bingo. Anything else?"

"You... you want to fuck me?"

Ghost barks out a gruff laugh, pressing himself against me. Oh. I can feel the steel-hard length of him against my stomach. It eliminates any lingering traces of doubt I might have held, filling me with a calm, confident certainty.

My eyes are half-lidded, my lips parting as my breathing starts to get heavier. He presses himself against me for a couple more seconds before easing back, eyes pitch black and his own breathing fast and rugged. He's made his point, and he knows it.

"Does that answer that one?"

I nod, pressing my thighs together even harder.

"Ghost..."

His eyes flutter to a close, and he shakes his head, tipping it back. "That's not my name, Tali. Don't call me that anymore." His eyes open once again, and he fixes me with a look. The fondness and warmth there almost floors me. "Call me Simon. Please."

My breath catches in my throat.

"And take off my mask. Please."

My hands rise up to his jawline, slowly but surely in case he changes his mind. My fingers find the edges and I pause, waiting for his go-ahead. With a gentle nod, I dip my fingertips under the thick cotton and slowly pull it away from his face.

I don't look immediately, feeling the weight of the mask in my hand. It hangs limp in my fist, still warm from his skin.

And when I do look... God.

He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. My eyes find his; the only familiar feature in this new landscape. But then I start to branch out. His eyes are surrounded by a hasty smear of black paint, fading out around his thick, straight eyebrows, and crossing the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. It looks like it's been broken a couple times, but it's charming and adds to the rugged appeal of his face. His jawline is sharp and prominent, covered in a light dusting of dirty blond stubble that matches his hair; the slightly curly locks dipping down onto his forehead.

And then there's his mouth. Plush, full lips that would look almost feminine if not for the thick, harsh scars curving up from both corners, each about an inch long. They stand out; pearlescent against the rest of his skin. There's another scar trailing from his left cheekbone to just above his eyebrow too, and my eyes snag on it before dropping down to a smaller one bisecting his bottom lip.

He is perfect. To me, he is flawless.

I raise a hand to his face, placing a single finger on the tip of his nose and dragging it down to the centre of his bottom lip. I don't dare touch the scars; fearful that I might trigger a horrible memory for him. Instead, I cup his cheek in my hand, running a thumb along the curve of his cheekbone.

"Simon," I say his name, testing it in my mouth. It's going to take some getting used to. I exhale a long, slow breath, trying to tamp down my horniness and appreciate how significant this moment is. For me. For him. For us. "It's nice to finally meet you, Simon."

"It's an honour to meet you too, Tali. It's been too long."

He covers the hand resting on his face with his, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to my palm.

The warmth and urgency comes rushing back to me with that one, simple gesture. Sucking in a short breath, I lock my eyes onto his and drop the mask onto the floor. His eyes flicker with interest.

"Now," I say softly, "should we go and find Johnny? I think we've let him wait long enough."

I can't get down the hallway quick enough, Simon hot on my heels as I giggle, amused as he gives chase.

I throw the bedroom door open with a thud, barely crossing the threshold before Simon gathers me up into his arms. My feet leave the ground as he growls playfully against the shell of my ear.

"Nice to see that you two talked," Johnny offers from the bed, his tone drenched in amusement.

I look up to see that he's reclined on the bed, stripped down to a pair of grey joggers. The thick gauze bandage that covers his injured ribs stands out against his tanned skin, and there's a cocky smile playing on his lips as he watches the two of us. He makes no effort to move from his position.

"We did," I confirm, still trapped in the cage of Simon's muscle-corded arms. "You have a very pretty boyfriend."

"Pretty," Simon grumbles next to my ear. I turn my head to see that his eyebrows are raised, and I soak every inch of his expression in. Seeing him without the mask is going to take some getting used to, but I love it. "Fucking pretty, love?"

I nod shamelessly.

A beat passes before I lower my tone, batting my eyelashes at Johnny as I say, "So are you guys going to fuck me or what?"

"Yeah?" Simon growls.

Johnny licks his lips. His palms run down the lengths of his thick thighs, drawing attention to the impressive tent in his pants. My eyes are locked on his as I exhale a breathy, "Yeah."

With that, I'm on my back on the bed. Johnny sidles up behind me as Simon approaches the mattress with slow, methodical strides. He pauses at the edge, stripping himself of his black tactical gear and trousers. He stands there in black boxers and a t-shirt, the thick length I felt pressed against me in the living room standing proud, straining against the material.

The room is dim, illuminated only by the warm glow from my bedside lamp, adding to the relaxed atmosphere as Johnny trails a hand along the side of my body, trailing over my breast. He stops when he finds a nipple, peaked and stiff, in the absence of a bra. I hear the sharp intake of breath he makes, followed by, "You'll never guess, Si. She's not even wearing a bra. Teasing us like a naughty lass."

Simon's hands find his waistband, yanking his boxers down. His erection is on full display, standing to attention. It's thick and long, curved slightly upwards; the tip flushed and pink. It makes my throat dry, all the moisture heading south.

"Can I come over to the bed?" he asks, voice soft and respectful. It makes me even hotter.

I nod my consent, but he still doesn't move. "Yes."

That does the trick. Slowly, he makes his way to the edge of the mattress and kneels on the bed. "Come here," he commands, pupils dilated. "Take off your shorts and come here."

I shimmy out of my shorts and flimsy lace underwear but stay at the head of the bed, relishing in the feeling of Johnny's hands roaming all over me. "You come here," I command, feeling more than a little bold.

Simon growls. "Demanding little princess. Putting me through my paces, yeah? Showing me who's boss?"

I nod as Simon crawls up the bed, leaning over me to kiss Johnny. I tip my head back to watch, soaking at the sight waiting for me. Their mouths are locked, tongues flickering into each other's mouths as Simon grabs Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him even closer. After several seconds, they release one another and Johnny goes back to running his hands over me. This time, there's the addition of his mouth sucking marks against the skin of my throat - nipping with his teeth then running his tongue over them.

Simon eases back down my body, turning his attention to my legs; my knees drawn up towards my chest.

"I wonder," he grumbles, tone dripping with desire, "if you'll sound even louder with us than when you're alone."

And, with that, he parts my thighs with firm hands and bows his head.

I want him. Gods, I want him.

He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to each thigh, taking his time in a thinly-veiled effort to drive me insane. His breath is unbearably warm against me, my own exhales leaving my mouth in small, shallow pants.

"Fuck," I groan. In a moment of desperation, I reach a hand down and tangle it in the golden strands of Simon's hair, pulling him into me. His dark, answering laugh vibrates against my already-sensitive pussy and I let out a tortured whine. "Please."

And he obliges. Pinning my hips to the bed with one strong forearm, he's a frenzy of teeth and lips and tongue. He's like a man starved, giving me exactly what I want.

My skin heats and I claw at the neck of my shirt while Simon works away, not slowing down for even a second as I barrel towards an orgasm at break-neck speed. Chuckling indulgently, Johnny helps me out of the fabric's confines, leaving me completely bare and still all too warm as I writhe against them.

I come in a blinding haze of ecstasy, shouting my pleasure with a loud moan.

When I come back to my senses, Johnny is stroking my hair, brushing it away from my face. Simon is kneeling over me, his mouth and chin glossy with moisture and eyes wild.

"That was so fucking hot, Tali."

"Think you can go again?" Johnny's voice rings out from behind me and I realise that I'm slumped back against him, his other hand still resting lightly on my breast.

My throat tightens and the tingle between my legs makes itself known once again. I can so go again, but first... there's something else I want.

"Can... could I watch you guys?"

Simon's jaw slackens. His eyes meet Johnny's - who offers him a shrug - before they both turn to me, looking amused.

"What do ye want to see, lassie?"

"I want to see you suck Simon's dick."

Johnny smirks, pressing a bold kiss to my lips before rising up from his spot. I lean back against the headboard, watching on as Simon settles into a seated position at the edge of the bed. Johnny kneels down between his legs, and a look of adoration passes between them as I angle myself to get a better view.

Johnny places a loving hand on Simon's bare thigh, squeezing once lightly. "Are ye ready, darlin'?"

Simon barely has time to nod before Johnny's head is dipping down, taking the base of Simon's erection in one hand to steady himself. His mouth follows; his lips wrapping around Simon's length and taking inch by inch into his throat with ease.

Simon's head tips back, a deep groan spilling from his throat as Johnny works him reverently. His tanned fist moves in time with his mouth; occupying what Johnny can't fit. I lean back into the pillows, my hand falling between my own legs as I play with myself in lazy, unfocused motions, enthralled in them.

"Fuck, Johnny. Just like that." Simon's groan echoes around the room. His hand drops to Johnny's hair, not to push his head, but to tangle in the longer locks of his hair. It's loving and tender; beautiful and intimate.

I can't tear my eyes away from them - not even for a second - until Simon throws his head back and lets out an Earth-shaking moan. Johnny's head stops bobbing and he resurfaces, swallowing and running the back of his hand across his mouth. When he's done, there's a cat-like grin on his lips and a hazy look in his eyes.

Simon crawls back into the middle of the bed, laying down next to me. His chest heaves, spent from his fun. "Want to stop?" he asks gently, his skin dotted with sweat and carrying the beautiful, heady scent of salt and wood-smoke.

A smile finds my lips and I find myself shaking my head, locking eyes with Johnny as he rises back to his feet. "I never said I was done."

"Jesus, you're fucking insatiable," Simon groans, his tone only half-teasing. His head meets the pillow with a heavy thud.

Johnny, on the other hand, only smiles; a hungry glint in his eye. "I'm not complaining."

a/n: hey guys! happy monday :) hope you enjoy part 6 and the shameless smut. I figured the slow burn has ran for long enough, and we deserve some of the good stuff! what would you be interested in seeing in the next part? - much love, lapetitelapin

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART ONE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

2 / 3 / 4 / 5

You'd been the new kid on the block, over and over again.

Late to training, late into the 141, and now, late into Task Force KorTac with a very special, and very specific mission.

A mission that was built for you.

A mission that required the utmost professionalism.

A mission that required somehow pulling a 6’10” brick shithouse out of his own head and into a team - but you didn’t know that, yet.

Oh, and fuck, did you protest it. Over and over and over again. It had taken you months to settle with the 141 boys, and now you were being shipped off, away from your family.

“You’re really good at that, uh, the empathy shit.” Price had said, placing a warming hand on your shoulder.

“I’m a soldier, Price. And you know how much I struggle around new people.” You spoke, the latter half of the sentence said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, but you’re good at, ya know, feeling." He replied, fingers lifted to place air quotes around the word, "You got Ghost to come out of his shell!”

At that moment, your lieutenant entered the room, making his way over at the mention of his callsign.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so send him! Lord knows he needs the practise.”

“Watch ya mouth, little one.” Ghost said, stepping next to you.

“Just because you’re a foot taller than me does not mean you get to bully me for it, Simon.”

Despite what people thought about the giant, skull-mask-wearing man, he was soft and caring; the relationship you had built together was that of siblings, and he had your back more than any ordinary brother would.

Ghost’s eyes were dark under his mask, but you knew he was smirking, “Not my fault you’re a short arse.”

“Yet I’m still a better sniper than you.”

“No, you bloody well aren’t-”

“Children! Please…” Price interrupted the sibling-like bickering; fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose. “If we could focus on the task at hand?”

Ghost poked your side, mumbling, “Yeah, (Y/L/N), focus on your task.”

“Go have Soap suck your dick some more, sounds like you need to relax.” You mumbled back.

Your retort had Ghost choking, the sharp intake of air he made as his head whipped to look at you causing him to cough relentlessly. Price shook his head, waving him off to sort himself out.

It wasn’t exactly a secret within the team that there was something a little less savoury going on with your lieutenant and Sergeant MacTavish, especially when the latter would constantly confide in you about his crush.

Especially, after what had happened with Hassan and the missiles.

But, thanks to your meddling, you had been able to get Ghost to open up, and it seemed like the two were much happier.

Not that you’d dare make a comment about it in front of anyone but Price and Ghost himself.

You valued your life, thank you very much.

And as much as Ghost loved you like a sister; he would absolutely kill you.

As Ghost walked away, you shot him the sweetest smile you could muster, resulting in him throwing you the finger.

“Look, you’re the only one I think can get through to him, kid. The task force needs you.” Price continued.

“I applied to be here, sir. I worked damn hard to make it onto the 141.”

He sat you down, taking your hands in his, “This isn’t permanent. I promise, we’ll be here waiting when ya get back, because I want to work with this guy. He’s bloody good, so I need you to make sure he can play well with others."

You sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility and leaving your family crushing your shoulders, "And you are my best sniper., Karma.”

Price had whispered that last part, for your ears only, a smirk across his bearded lips. You smiled widely, a giggle falling from your mouth.

It felt good to get that recognition from your superior.

He wasn’t wrong; the reason you made it onto the 141 in the first place was your incredible skill as a marksman…well, markswoman. You’d earned the call sign Karma from Soap, who watched you in a training drill he ran.

You’d been perched up high, completely hidden, and any enemy that your team missed in combat, you cleaned up, never missing a shot. Like the saying goes, if you can’t get ‘em, karma will.

It was also suitable for those who underestimated you. Every person you’d gone up against in hand-to-hand training doubted your abilities due to your smaller frame, but fuck, did you prove them wrong every time.

Broken noses here.

Fractured limbs there.

You were Karma, and no one messed with you.

“So, think you can do this for me?” Price said.

“Affirmative, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, you walked, albeit with a little sadness, back to your quarters, packing a duffle of your things. Price had said you’d only be away for a couple of months tops, depending on how the mission went.

At the car, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and the rest of the 141 were there to say goodbye, all of them giving you a squeeze as they wrapped you in their arms.

“You be good, alright?” Ghost had whispered in your ear, “See you when ya come home.”

“It almost sounds like you’re gonna miss me, Lt.” You quipped, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you’d like to believe that.”

“He’ll miss ye, bonnie.” Soap cut in, lifting you off the ground, “As will I. Don’t forget me in the excitement of the big bad KorTac boys, will ya?”

“I could never, Soap. You’re my number one!”

With one final wave and various counts of love you’s, you were stuffed into the car with Price and Laswell, the two of them escorting you personally.

Your heart hung low as your team got smaller and smaller behind you, but you were honoured to have been sought out by another team.

KorTac.

Didn’t quite have the same ring to it as 141, but it’d do.

The journey was short from the training camp in London, as you were dropped off at Heathrow, where a private chopper awaited you. From there, you were shipped off to a covert facility in the mountains of Hungary.

The scenery was beautiful, but your nerves bubbled up inside you.

With a silent nudge from the pilot, you were shoved out of the chopper, greeted by several members of your new team.

“Sergeant (Y/L/N), yes?” the man said, a heavy Hungarian accent lacing his words.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Sergeant (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You stuck your hand out, “But you can call me Karma, whatever suits.”

“Fender.” the man said, shaking your hand, “I run things here at KorTac. This is my second in command, Roze.”

A woman stepped forward from behind him, also taking your hand in hers, “We’re honoured to have you here, Karma. Heard a lot about you.”

“Well, I’m honoured that you guys wanted me.”

The pleasantries continued until you were being guided to their facilities, being allowed to drop off your bags before rushing to the tactical room, where the rest of the team was waiting for your arrival.

You were introduced swiftly, barely remembering anyone’s names before you were guided once again to another place, ending up in Fender’s office. He offered you a seat, sitting opposite at his desk.

“So, what exactly did Captain Price tell you of your purpose here?”

“Not a lot, really. He mentioned that I was needed because you have a soldier here that needs…help? And that there was a mission coming that required my particular skill.”

“Ahh, yes. That would be Kӧnig…” he sighed, pulling out a file and dropping it in front of you.

You opened the file, to find a picture of a man, a sniper hood that you recognised adorning his face. Scanning the information, you found that he was Austrian, joining the task force here through the KSK, basically being used as a front man for the teams on-ground.

“Kӧnig has…issues. He came here wanting to be a sniper, but, as you’ll see when you meet him, his physical attributes do not allow it. He didn’t take that well, but he excels as part of the contact team.”

“So, what exactly is the problem?”

Fender sighed, leaning forward in his chair, “He seems to have some problems with anxiety. I was informed that you used to suffer with such issues but were able to overcome them.”

You scoffed a little, “So, I’m here to be a glorified babysitter?”

You felt bad for this Kӧnig.

You couldn’t imagine wanting nothing more than to be a sniper and then have it taken away from you because of your physicality.

That would fucking suck.

“We just need someone to calm him, teach him control. A lot of the other team members are so scared of him they can barely stand being in the same room.”

“Arseholes…” you whispered under your breath, “That’s hardly fair, sir. By the looks of things, he is an essential member of this team.”

“That maybe so, but I can’t have my soldiers acting that way off the field. Unfortunately, if you cannot help him, he will no longer be welcome on any task force.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

How fucking unfair.

Before you could say anything, the office door opened. You stood to greet Roze but gasped slightly at the giant shadow behind her.

Stood in front of you, was a complete mountain of a man.

He had to duck down considerably to make it through the doorframe. Every single inch of him was huge. Ghost used to make you feel intimidated and tiny, but this…this was fucking ridiculous. Kӧnig had to have been at least 6’10”, and the size of his muscles would put both Ghost and Soap to shame.

Truly, this was a big, big man.

Oh, you thought, the sniper hood stayed on?

“Ah, Kӧnig, there you are. Thank you, Roze, you may go.”

“Sir.” She nodded, smiling to you before leaving the room and shutting it behind her.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Kӧnig spoke, barely sparing you a glance as he addressed his superior. A thick accent tainted his English, but he was well-spoken.

Fender stood, moving around the desk to the two of you, “Yes. This is Karma, she’s the new addition to the team, and will be your new…partner, as such.”

“Uh, p-partner, sir?”

Fender nodded.

“Hi.” You spoke, a soft smile on your features as you stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you can call me (Y/N/N), or Karma, whatever you like really.”

Your hands shook from nervousness as you rambled on.

New people always made you anxious, but this…this was intense.

Was it the accent?

The sheer size of him?

You couldn’t tell if you were intimidated, anxious, or frankly, maybe even a little turned on.

“Kӧnig.” He grunted but refused to meet your hand.

It hung in the air for an embarrassing amount of time, causing you to clear your throat as you lowered it, heat rising to your cheeks.

Yeah, this guy’s people skills were shite.

“Uh, right. Pleasure to meet you.” You finally said in an effort to shake off the awkwardness.

With that, Fender led the two of you back out, and towards the training centre. As you passed various soldiers, many of them looked to you, whispering.

By now, stares and such were just water off a duck’s back for you. Being part of the infamous 141 always brought a lot of unwanted attention. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make you uncomfortable, nonetheless.

Kӧnig, on the other hand, walked slightly behind you and Fender, his eyes not leaving the back of your body. He was used to the stares and whispers, the team never failing to make him feel like a freak of nature on the daily.

But he didn’t care at this moment.

He was fascinated by you.

The bright pink slivers of colour that peaked out from beneath the rest of your hair intrigued him; he was sure that went against regulation. You were also so sweet and tiny, the sniper rifle strapped to your back was almost as big as you were.

So, you were a sniper.

Why the fuck would Fender pair him with a sniper? Like he didn’t get mocked enough!

And now here you were, walking around with your head held high, like you fucking owned the place.

His own personal fucking babysitter.

The more he looked at you, the more his heart filled with rage, gloved fists balling at his sides.

[feralycan]

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION.

name: "Lycan"

nicknames: ذئب (by Farah Karim); Perra (by Valeria Garza).

species: lycanthrope.

rank: sergeant.

age: thirty.

occupation: SOF (Special Operations Force) K-9 OPERATOR / MPC (Multi-Purpose Canine) and CAD (Combat Assault Dog) OPERATOR.

build: tall (180cm) and toned.

eyes: amber (orange/yellow) eyes.

hair: long brown hair.

faceclaim: Lara Croft.

! To get to know her better.

[zghost333]

:)

[dmsweetking20]

silly´s

HC Mak see Casocerrado to learn Spanish words to defend himself from Derek "devil"

[annaphoenix1994]

You're My Heaven

Masterlist

After knowing Simon for eight years, you two almost fell into a romantic relationship. But given the risks involved as well as Simon's deep fear of losing you, you two mutually agreed to stay close friends. His feelings never foundered for you and neither did yours. Unfortunately, it took your fatality to make Simon realize that he wished to take the risk of having you as his lover instead of having to tell you he loved you before you died.

Author's note: This is nothing close to romantic, unfortunately. I've been very depressed for the past few weeks and I felt like writing about something sad may help me overcome this. Believe me, I cried when I finished this and while I was composing this, so I'm sorry in advance. 

This prompt is also heavily inspired by the show 1883 and if anyone has watched it, you can picture exactly how emotional this will be. If you haven't, I highly suggest you check it out! You can watch it on Paramount+ or if you don't want to pay for a membership (like me), you can watch it for free on myflixer.vc.

I'm sorry for breaking y'all's hearts! I've cried every single time I've opened this page to edit it!

*

Eight years. 

Eight longs years you've been incorporated with what was now Task Force 141. Having many operations under your belt, another accomplishment to you was being able to know Ghost - Simon - on a personal level, more personal than even his closest comrades have. 

Of course, your relationship was simply platonic. At one point, you both had expressed your emotions between each other, but given Simon's deep fear of losing someone he loves for having experienced it before, you both agreed to stay close in a platonic way versus a romantic way on mutual terms. 

He couldn't lie, he always was immensely attracted to you - how you always seemed to be his own personal beacon for emotional and physical support whenever he needed it. 

Just like he was for you. 

Outside of the military, you unfortunately had nobody waiting for you at home. No family, no close friends, no partner, nothing. 

A part of Simon wondered if that's why you stayed in the military for so long as your comrades, especially him, became a sort of comfort for you that you both knew you didn't have when you were on leave. This knowledge killed him the second year he knew you, leading him to eventually finding himself taking you out to places to help fill the void on your loneliness while you both were on leave. 

He wanted to have you as his life partner so bad, but due to his dark history at no fault of his own, he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to one of his enemies, even though the likeliness of it happening again was slim to none. 

But he figured that if he could keep you as a close friend, you'd be safe to be in his personal life without having that superior personal connection like lovers would. 

Even though you two occasionally did things as lovers, but nobody else needed to know that. These acts included gift-giving on birthdays (yes, Simon eventually unveiled a piece of his private life by telling you his birthday), holidays, and randomly. Simon was the type to get you a gift while on leave by simply seeing something he thought you'd like, even going as far as getting you flowers when you were lonely. You'd go to a movie together every now and then, went to cafes together, and just simply would be in each other's presence. 

There was no denying that it was lovely. 

Everything seemed euphoric...

Until you had gotten stabbed by an enemy with a filth-inducing and rusted blade, tearing into your liver like a scorched knife to a brick of butter. 

It was completely unexpected to you as the fight was not as close as you'd expect. Adrenaline kept the pain away as the blade was fully sheathed inside of you, keeping your fight with your enemy until Soap had come to your rescue as Ghost was on his way from overwatch. 

A mission gone wrong and not accordingly to plan. 

"Fuck," You groaned, looking down to see the knife still sheathed into your side, cupping your hands around the handle as the adrenaline wore off. 

"Don't-" Soap blurted, stopping you from pulling out the knife. "Don't pull it out. Price, we need evac immediately. Have a medic on site." 

"Copy that, Sergeant. Are you injured?" 

"No, Y/N is." He breathed a reply, knowing that Ghost was going to be livid once he found out you were injured again, not that it hasn't happened before, just that he wouldn't know the extent of your injuries until he was able to see you. 

 "Sitrep?" 

"Ghost, stay on overwatch for enemy activity until this dies over," Price answered. "The Sergeant and I will get her to the exfil site. Sergeant Garrick will accompany you on overwatch." 

"Yes, sir." 

After nightfall, Ghost and Gaz returned to their temporary safe haven for the next few weeks - a base nowhere near civilization, something that could be viewed as both a sanctuary and hell on earth. 

In your case, this was hell on earth for you. 

"Ghost, Gaz," Price called from the nearby tent. "A word on recon?" 

"It's all clear, sir," Gaz replied, nodding. "No enemy movement detected after you left." 

"Good. Ghost, come with me." 

Simon heaved a breath, knowing that the look in his Captain's eyes was nothing but pleasant. "How is she?" He questioned. 

"Medic removed the blade..." Price answered, dread coating his voice. 

"That's not what I asked, Price." 

"She's stable, for now. The nurse reported a slight fever and has her on an IV drip now, but he can't get the medication he needs from a doctor for another week." 

"So, what does this mean?" 

"I-I don't know, Simon-"

"Can I see it? The blade?" 

Price nodded as he escorted Ghost towards the medical tent, entering to frown at the sight of you on the bed, eyes lazily open while your aching body lay on the bed. "How're you feeling?" He spoke softly at you, standing next to the bed and curling his gloved index finger against the top of your hand. 

"It doesn't hurt," You replied, reassuring him of a soft smile - a smile he grew to adore with how your dimples caved in on your cheeks and your innocent eyes peering up at him - a look on your face that made his heart swell at the sight alone. "Not at all." 

"Still on the adrenaline high, love," He breathed a chuckle as his eyes moved down to where your wound was, exhaling a deep breath through his nose at the realization and needed to urgently seek for reassurance - reassurance from anyone but you right now. "Excuse me." 

Exiting the tent, Simon laid eyes on Soap who had been eating the last of his MRE, "Sergeant." 

"L.T?" 

"I need to ask you something." 

"Sure." 

"How bad was it?"

Soap frowned, "Bad enough. The nurse got the blade out and cauterized it, but without the proper medicine we need with the doctor, I don't know how long her liver can take it-"

"Her liver?" Ghost scoffed, refusing to accept the fatal fact. 

"With as close as that blade was, we're sure it hit one way or the other," Soap frowned, shaking his head. "I just hope that surgeon can get here fast." 

"What's his status?" 

"We don't know yet. The nurse is still waiting on him to signal back-"

"Why can't he call?" 

"We're remote. You know this. Off the grid unfortunately. We have to use what we got." 

Ghost shook his head, still refusing to believe what he had just heard as he turned on his heel to lay his own eyes on the blade itself, only to meet Price halfway as he held the weapon of discussion in his hand. "Let me see it." 

He frowned, opening his hand to reveal the knife that will fatally take your life. 

And in this case, you don't have the luxury of flying to a hospital. The base is off the grid, which had its benefits, but nothing prepared anyone for this. A helicopter had to be signaled in by flares - and that's if the helicopter was within range to see the signal. Comms barely could be understood, and emails/phone signal was unheard of since the team arrived.

With limited flares on the base, your death was slowly on the horizon and your clock was ticking out, but you just didn't know it yet. 

But God, Simon did. Along with the rest of the team. 

They just didn't have the heart to tell you. 

Your eyes held a life in them that they wished they could see, your smile held a vibrance that they kept close and dear to their hearts, your laugh brought them so much joy, even if your laugh distracted yourself from your own depression.

"It's filthy, Simon." Price frowned, handing the Lieutenant the knife in question. 

"But she's young. Soap said they got it out quick. She's so strong." He replied in denial. 

He didn't want to believe it.

Simon bowed his head, shaking it subtly, "She's going to die, isn't she?" 

"Don't think that way, Simon-"

"I'm a simple man, Price. I'm through being delusional." 

The Captain sighed through his nostrils, "I don't know how long she has. We have to wait until we can hear for an air lift and get her to a hospital. She doesn't have a fever now, but if she develops a fever and we can't get any help, I would guess maybe... a week."

"A bloody week," Simon grumbled. "Alright." 

Price knew that there was more than just a friendship going on. Perhaps what he would call a "mutual understanding of emotions." 

Either way, Price knew that Simon had very strong feelings towards you just like you did for him. 

Price hesitated before he put his palm on the Lieutenant's shoulder, doing his best to comfort him in what was to come, "I have faith in her recovery, Simon. She's young and so strong-"

"And she's the light of my life, Price. She fills a void in my soul that I didn't know I had," Ghost replied, his voice low as his heart broken. If it wouldn't have been Price he was talking to, he would have never admitted that you meant so much to him without any hesitation. "She... She's going to die." 

"Don't you dare, Simon-"

"She's going to die and it's going to tear me apart," He replied, his heart broken but his voice firm. Price could see it in his eyes that if he was alone, they would be full of tears, but instead, his brown irises were surrounded by a light shade of pink. "And if I don't accept it now, she's going to die in some hospital with some doctor doping her up until she can't see straight because it'll be too late. And I would have robbed her. She needs to see every sunset and sunrise with those big dreamer eyes."

"And what should we do when she starts asking how everything is looking?" Price scoffed. 

"We will lie to her and tell her she is fine. I need to let her look at this world the way she does, no matter how cruel it is." 

Price bowed his head and cleared his throat, fighting back tears of his own. He saw you as a daughter of his and was there from the very beginning - admiring how you were the only one who was able to break Ghost of his attitude, how he was never as stern with you as he was the others, how he always seemed to be somewhere alongside you until you got your bearings to take actions on your own, how he taught you how to fight better, and how he even taught you how to make a tea that suited your taste just so he could have an excuse to have you join him for a cup in the morning. Although Simon would always deny it when Price asked, the Captain knew that his best Lieutenant was very much in love.

And he even gave him permission to seek you in romantic interest, as long as he kept it under wraps to avoid altering your careers. 

"Then what're you going to do?"

"Where we bury her is where I stay, but not here. She needs to be where I know I can visit and just be some mound of dirt in the middle of this place."

"I'll find a place-"

"No, I need to find a place. By the grace of God, I will find a place." 

The Captain nodded, "I'll leave you to take things how you want, Simon. Just remember one thing,"

"What's that?" 

"Don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Ghost nodded, watching Price walk away before he made his way into the tent to sit by your bedside. 

"Leave it to me to get myself stabbed in a gunfight." You giggled, watching his gaze strike into you before sitting down on the nearby chair. 

"Yeah," He sighed. "You have an act for getting yourself in trouble." 

"You always tell me that." You scoffed. 

"Do I need to remind you how you had to call me to bail you out of jail for getting into a fight at the market?" You could tell he was arching his brow under his balaclava. 

"You remind me enough," You rolled your eyes. "You weren't there, so you don't know the whole story!" 

"I know plenty, love. What do you want to eat?" 

"Oh, do I get to choose a four course meal? I need to get injured more often."

"Sure, you have three excellent choices of MRE's. You can choose from chicken alfredo, spaghetti and meatballs, and chicken soup. I'll even be nice and offer you my beef stew." He scoffed, his heart swelling once he had heard you laugh at his sarcasm. 

I'll miss your laugh.

"And I'll be nice and let you keep your beef stew and just have chicken soup. It always makes me feel better." 

"Aren't you a sweetheart. Would you rather try to eat now or before you go to sleep?" 

"I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'd rather try to eat now so that I fall asleep on a full stomach." 

"You got it, love. I'll be back. Care to have someone to eat with?" 

"You... You've never eaten with me before while on duty?" You furrowed your brows, suddenly confused. Even when you have gotten hurt in the past, Ghost never sat alongside you while you were in the medic's tent. 

Ever. 

You watched him huff, "I could've lost you. I wasn't there to keep it from happening. I just... realize that it could've happened at any moment and I don't want to take it for granted." 

He was waiting for you to respond, growing uncomfortable at how you stared deeply into his eyes, knowing you were searching for a lie. But thanks to his balaclava, he was able to conceal his true expression behind the nylon and harden his gaze to make it look like he was being honest with you, which is what you'd known him for, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint and it nearly drove you to ask him what he was hiding from you. 

"Okay," You smiled weakly. "Well, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." 

Once Simon returned, he held two MRE's and two bottles of water in his hands, setting them on the side table before helping you sit up. "Still feeling ill?" 

"I feel like I might be getting a fever," You breathed. "My head hurts and I'm burning up." 

"That comes with the territory, love," He assured you, his heart breaking at the worrisome condition that began to progress. "You'll feel overheated after a stab wound." 

"I'm sure you have a lot of experience in that."

"You should know I do," He breathed a chuckle while his right hand splayed between your shoulder blades while the other let you grab it to stabilize yourself while he helped you sit up in the bed. "Been in your position many times." 

"And you still never took off that damn mask." 

"Know me so well." 

I know you too well, Simon, you thought. When I looked into your eyes, I saw your worry. I saw how you desperately tried to keep a straight face behind that mask, but I've grown to know your eyes - the window to your soul - and I could see that your soul was somehow more broken than I remembered. Like you were already mourning me, looking at me like you knew it was coming. Maybe I'm overthinking like you always say, but the velocity of my injury is nowhere near as simple. You knew stab wounds and their effects better than any medic after being stabbed as many times as you have. You knew something I didn't, but a part of me was too scared to ask.

"You sore?" 

"Very," You sighed. "Will it hurt this bad tomorrow?" 

"The next day is always the worst." 

"What about the day after?" 

"That part's a mystery." 

*

Four days. 

Those four days were heated for you as you had developed a fever through the forty-degree weather of the rugged terrain of Alberta. 

"Can you take me to the creek?" You asked, your voice hoarse with beads of sweat along your forehead and brow, your skin hot to the touch when Simon removed his glove to press the back of his hand to your forehead. 

"If you're thirsty, I can go get you some water-"

"No, Simon," You shook your head. "I'm burning up and I want to lay in the water." 

"Love, it's forty degrees outside and it's only noon. You'll get sicker-"

"No, it'll stop the bleeding," You breathed, realizing that your health was deteriorating by the horrible gift of time. "My people would do this to their tribe when others got sick. It helps with the fever." 

"Your people?" 

"I'm a descendant of the Crow Tribe close to Paradise Valley, Simon. I've told you this," You breathed a weak laugh. "I thought you didn't forget anything!" 

"I don't, love," He assured you, gently wrapping his arm around your waist to help you walk while your arm curved around his shoulder to stabilize yourself. "I remember that story of how you used to mark horses for the relay." 

"If only those markings would work on me," You breathed a laugh. "They wouldn't have let me get worse. I just want this fever to go away so I can get better." 

"We all do," He frowned behind his balaclava. "But you will. Did you eat what I brought you this morning?" 

"Barely." 

You whimpered as he helped you to the nearby creek. He saw the blue bags under your eyes but your eyes still held that familiar light he grew to love over time. "Are you sure you want to step foot in this?" 

"Yes, Simon." 

He nodded before he set the blanket he had brought with him aside on the dry ground before watching you discard your shoes, grasping his hand as he helped you into the shallow water, admiring how you weren't bothered with the temperature of the water as he winced at the sensation of it seeping through his boots. "Help me lay down?" 

"You're crazy, love," He shook his head, thinking that you only wanted to soak your feet into the water. "Are you sure?" 

"My people have done this for hundreds of years," You scoffed. "I'll soak in here until I can stop the bleeding, then I'll go into the tent and start to make steam." 

"Alright, just tell me what I need to do." 

"Help me lay down and just keep me from floating away, okay?" 

He smirked behind his balaclava, "You won't float away anywhere on my watch." 

"Copy that." 

Your lip quivered as you lay in the freezing water, doing your best to relax and focus on steady breathing to lower your body temperature as well as stopping the bleeding that began to progress over the last couple of days. You looked up to see Simon's concerned gaze down on you before you lifted up your shirt to show the wound that would soon be responsible for taking your life. He continued to stay crouched next to you while you searched his eyes for how he looked at your wound, looking for some type of reassurance from your own doubts. 

I feel different now, Simon. I look to you for answers when I don't know them myself. Aside from myself, you've become to be the only person who knows me just as good. And when I looked at your eyes when you looked at my wound, I saw nothing. I saw no sign of relief nor worry. It was blank. You watched the blood drain from my liver and had no words of reassurance that I was looking for, but yet still told me that I was going to get better. My soul then felt stripped away from my body, like it had been loose and disconnected since it happened. I then looked up at the sky and somehow felt that I was back in my tribe from a hundred years ago. I studied into your eyes, Simon - looked deep into them. The more I looked, the more I saw what I wouldn't expect. I saw fear in your eyes.

That's when I knew...

I was going to die. 

After fifteen minutes, you decided that you wanted to get out and begin making your steam in the confines of your tent. After silently whispering a native prayer, you were unaware that Simon's heart broke every time he heard a weak whimper leave your lips. 

"You know what I'm afraid of the most about dying? It's being forgotten in some grave or on the side of a hillside somewhere." 

"Nobody is going to forget you, Y/N," He corrected. "And you're not dying." 

"You look at me like I'm dying." 

"I look at you for what you are, love. You're the most important thing to me on this planet and it comes with a lot of worry just in case you haven't noticed." 

Once he had helped you lay down, he let you be alone like you had requested once the steam began to grow, gently laying a blanket over your shoulders before he assured you that he would be outside by the fire, taking some time for himself. 

He listened closely for any signs of distress, occasionally hearing a native prayer every few minutes. 

"How is she?" Price asked as he and Soap met him to offer any comfort for their comrade. 

Ghost shook his head at them, "There's swelling in her liver. It either heals or it fails. Any word on that bird?" 

"We've sent signals all week," Price sighed. "We only have four left. We're going to shoot one tonight and another in the morning." 

"Roger," Ghost nodded, looking at the ground between his knees. "All I can do is hope and pray... If that even means anything." 

"It means something, L.T.," Soap encouraged. "She'll be alright." 

"One way or the other." 

"Are you sure there's swelling in her liver?" 

"I cupped my hand over it, Price," He sighed. "Fresh blood came out of that wound, not old." 

Suddenly, their heads turned to look at you stumbling out of your tent, a blanket covering your shoulders, your face drenched with sweat and tears, a thin stream of clear snot leaving your nose as Simon helped you ease down on the log next to him. "Feeling any better?" 

You paused, closing your eyes as your face scrunched to produce more tears, "You lied." 

He looked straight ahead, nodding and facing the accusation as Price and Soap both decided to dismiss themselves. "I'm sorry." He managed to respond, his heart shattered into a million pieces before he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you uncontrollably sobbed. 

"I'm dying!" 

"I know, love," He closed his eyes, using every ounce of his being to hold back the tears threatening to brink his eyes. "I'm sorry."

You buried your face into his chest that was rid of his tactical vest, smelling his natural scent of musk and sweat while your other arm reached out to grasp his bicep while his left arm clasped the outside of your knee, keeping you close to him as you sobbed. "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Anything?" He replied, his voice broken. 

"I want to choose a spot." 

His eyes closed again at the sound of those words leaving your lips, his heart breaking even more knowing that he had to acknowledge that promise. He owed you that much. "You choose a spot and I'll make sure you get there." 

He felt you nod against his chest as you wept, "Why did you lie?" You asked, feeling a certain calmness to his heartbeat. 

"I didn't want to rob you of your outlook on life by being hooked up to monitors and being so drugged up until you couldn't see straight. You've outlived me - you've outlived all of us. I'm thirty-two years old and you've out smiled me, out loved me, and certainly outlived me. It would've been selfish of me to have you suffer when you're the least deserving of any sort of suffering. I lied to you to keep that worry off of your shoulders because as much as it breaks my heart to see you like this, it would've hurt more to have to tell you that you were bound for an awful fate when we couldn't get a bird out here to take you to a hospital. I know you, love, and it would've worried you to death." 

You sniffled, "I never thought I'd be happy that you were unfair to me." 

He barely smirked as his hand snuck up to cradle your head, keeping your face close to his chest as you two sat there for what seemed like hours. 

Once you had accepted your demise, you looked through your dry eyes to look up at Price, "Helo saw our flare. They're inbound."

Simon nodded, "It's time to go, love." 

You slowly loosened your grip on him as he stood to his feet, offering you his hand while Price gladly stood on the other side of you, letting you use them as a crutch as they escorted you to the medic's tent, gently setting you in a provided wheelchair to help ease your pain. You didn't see it, but a tear slipped from Simon's eye as he grabbed your small duffel bag that contained every personal item you were allowed to carry with you on your deployment.

He looked down at you to ensure your blanket was still snug around your shoulders as he began to push you towards the small tarmac big enough for a single helicopter. Your eyes filled with fresh tears when you saw Soap and Gaz waiting for you. 

To tell you goodbye. 

"Y/N, it was a bloody good time being by your side." Gaz forced a smile, his heart breaking too once he saw your condition had gotten worse. 

"I can't remember a sunset I've seen that's been as pretty as you," Soap teased, knowing it always got under Simon's skin once he learned that he wasn't the only one to find you attractive when you first met. "You'll always be the one that got away." 

"Johnny, you gotta be pretty damn good looking to think the one you never had got away from you." You giggled, making he and Gaz laugh. 

"Always got the jokes, I see." 

"Go back to Scotland, you pretty son of a bitch." 

"Aye." 

They both pat your shoulder as you passed by, their touch lingering just a bit more as they realized it was the last time they'd see you. 

"Nikolai, take them where they need to go!" Price shouted from the intense sound of the chopper's blades. 

"Yes, sir!" 

Both Price and Ghost helped your weak body into the helicopter, Ghost putting on a set of protective hearing muffs. 

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart." Price smiled at you, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved thumb. 

"Thank you, Price. I'll see you later?" 

He knew what this meant, and it broke him entirely to realize her statement. "I'll see you later." 

Blinking away his tears, Price took a final glance at you before closing the chopper door. "Love, you need to tell me where we're going so I can tell him." 

"Paradise." You smiled weakly, knowing exactly that Simon would know where you were meaning. 

Paradise Valley - a home you had purchased years ago to stay frequently every other year or so. A place to soon call a permanent home once your time in the service was over. 

A new start. 

Turns out, a new start wouldn't be in your near future. 

Paradise Valley, Montana

"This is a nice place, love. Shame you never invited me." Simon chuckled as he effortlessly carried you onto the front porch of the house bridal style. 

"Well, consider this your invite," You sighed. "Not here, though." 

"Where to, then?" 

"Out the back. There's a spot there." 

He nodded, carrying you through the small house until he reached the backdoor, his eyes widening at the gorgeous scenery before him. "Down there." 

He followed where her finger pointed, seeing a small creek that ran through the thick forest. With ease, he carried you there, waiting for you to point to where you wanted to be set down, effortlessly easing you down onto the thickest grass he had seen for late fall in his entire life, laying down beside you and tossing his balaclava to the side. 

This was amongst the handful of times you had seen his bare face. 

"How's this?" He whispered. 

"Perfect," You hummed. "Isn't it beautiful?" 

"That it is." 

"What's your favorite memory?" 

"Don't have many, love," He sighed. "I'd have to think far about a favorite." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"How come you never sang to me?" 

"What?" You giggled. 

"Don't think I don't remember how you used to sing to Soap when he got a cold last year. I have to admit it now, I wish it was me that was sick just so I could hear it better." 

"Well, I also told you that I'd sing at your funeral, but we both see how that turned out." 

He squeezed you a bit tighter after that statement, "Please?" 

"You'll have to remember what you heard that night, Simon," You giggled. "What about another memory?" 

"Probably when you and I saw the elk in Poland. How you told me how your tribe viewed elk and then you told me some story on how they used to refer as horses as elk dogs. I always remembered that for some reason." 

"Do you want to know what I used to call a horse?" 

"Iichiile," You answered with a weak smile. "I always wondered what Heaven would be like, you know? I always thought it would be something like this: quiet with nothing but the sound of water and trees, maybe a few horses or bison running around and hearing the wolf at night. But sometimes, Heaven can be seen in a person, too. A person who takes away your personal Hell." 

He nodded, "I agree." 

"Are you comfortable?" 

"That's not a concern of mine right now, love." 

You sighed, relaxing into his arm that was under your head like a pillow as he lay behind you, his other arm draped over the side of your hip away from your fatal wound, keeping you as close as he could without causing you any pain. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep." 

"Fall asleep, love." He whispered, exhaling shakily through his nose as his thumb rubbed circles against your clothed hip. 

A couple of hours later, you two had ended up falling asleep briefly before the evening chill had woken you up. Fluttering your eyes open, they seemed to sparkle once they laid upon a palomino horse grazing on the other side of the creek, its white mane and tail blowing in the soft wind. Once its head rose from the grass, you could have sworn you had seen a red circle on its chest.

War paint meaning "strong heart." 

"I know what it is now." You whispered. 

"Hm?" Simon replied, his voice low and hoarse. 

"I know what it is. Look," You whispered, nodding your head towards the palomino. Simon saw it, grinning as he could agree it was a beautiful sight, but he saw just a normal horse. No war paint, just its magnificent golden coat. "She's not wild, but has a strong heart for grazing alone." 

"Do they not usually?" 

"No. They're herd animals." 

"I didn't know that." 

You slowly turned to lay on your back, taking a last look up towards the sky as it was an orange and purple hue that sat comfortably behind the mountains. Briefly, you thought of one of your favorite songs: the fiddle version of Zach Bryan's "Something in the Orange". It fit perfectly.

"You're my Heaven, Simon." You whispered, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as you looked at his bare face. 

"You're mine too," He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the last bit of your natural warmth, knowing he was going to miss it. "I'll hate myself forever for not making you mine sooner. I could've kept you from this." 

"It was meant to happen like this," You assured him. "I've always known I was yours, even though you were always so stubborn-"

"Remember, Simon, don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Price's advice rang constantly throughout his mind. Now's the time, Simon. 

"I love you." 

He watched as a tear fell from your eye, using his hand to wipe it away, "Don't do that, love." 

"I love you too," You breathed. "All I ask is that I hope I can leave this life knowing what it was like to kiss you." 

"You should know I wasn't going to let that happen," He assured her, moving closer to your face before his lips locked with yours. It was soothing, like it was meant to happen indefinitely. "Where you rest is where I stay." 

You nodded slowly, moving your head to receive another kiss from him, wishing that you didn't have to limit how much you wanted to take from him before you went. "What about Manchester?" 

"There's nothing left for me there. I'll be here until I can be right next to you. Here is the closest I'll be to Heaven with you in it." 

"That's not true, Simon. I'll see you in the valley." 

He kissed your temple, "I'll meet you there." 

You couldn't help but cry as you moved your head closer to his chest as you continued to lay on your back, his right arm resting softly on your sternum as he cupped your head for a few more minutes. He kept his focus on your heartbeat that he could feel softly against his forearm, dreading the moment he wouldn't feel it anymore. He didn't want this moment to end, even though he felt it would be selfish of him to keep you here, but a part of him knew that you were ready. 

And he didn't want you to suffer. 

He felt you take a deep breath, his eyes opening immediately as his eyes searched for yours, "I'm not scared, Simon." 

"I've never known you to be scared, love-"

His assuring expression fell to a frown when he literally watched the gleam - that gleam that your eyes always held - fade from your eyes. He waited for you to blink, to twitch - something! 

He couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore, recalling the last time he felt your heart thud for the last time. He took a deep breath himself, looking up at the sky before a uncontrollable stream of tears left his eyes - tears he never thought he'd spill again after walking in to see his mom, brother, and nephew dead on the living room floor. He buried his face into your neck, feeling what was leftover of your natural warmth for as long as he could until your body turned cold. He smelled your hair - how natural it always was. "I'll meet you there one day. I promise," He sobbed into your skin. "Where you lay is where I stay." 

He laid with you until your body became cold, keeping his gaze on the horse that continued to graze across the creek. He then put the pieces together by what he could remember when you'd tell him tribal stories - how a horse would be seen before the death of a native to carry them to Heaven. Or in some tribes, a horse was to be buried with the native to carry them in the afterlife. 

He kept rubbing your skin with his thumb until you were completely cold, his brain immediately altering hope when he'd feel your limbs twitch in post-mortem, slowly being brought back to the reality that you weren't coming back. Placing the last kiss - which ended up to be the third - on your forehead, he slowly got up from where he was laying, wrapping your blanket around you while he left to go find a shovel. He knew he had to do this right, but he wanted to honor you the best he could, so he ended up having to make a call. 

One Year Later

With a consecutively broken heart, Simon returned to your home with the final suitcase of his belongings along with him to add to the pile of duffel bags and suitcases he had accumulated throughout the last year, having no time to truly put his things away due to his duties. But this year was different - he had completed his last tour and had time to focus on how he would truly honor you. Although he was glad to be done with his tour, he didn't know how he could keep his mind busy in the meantime. 

With a sigh, he brought his biggest suitcase into the bedroom that would've been known as ours instead of yours, setting it on the made bed that he had slept in when he missed you, the only blanket being the one you were last clutching to for warmth as your scent was still on it. Putting his best shirts on the hangers, he then opened your closet for the first time, seeing one of your favorite shirts that you had worn to the movies with him that one night in Poland to see the elk with him. He then wondered why you brought it here, but he never had the answer. His eyes filled with fresh tears as he slid your shirts to the far right of the closet, "I'm not removing them, love. Just... Just moving them over." 

After the next few hours and many tears later, he had finally finished unpacking his belongings. The cabin was small, yet comfortable. Just perfect, as Simon would say to himself. He had blamed himself every day for your death being his fault. 

Maybe if I would've told her I loved her sooner, she would've never been in that fight anyway!

Maybe if I would've been with her that day, I could've shot that bastard before he even got near her! 

It should've been me that was stabbed! 

I should've died first so that I could finally hear her sing to me! 

Like those many quiet evenings he spent at your house, he found himself looking at the creek that flowed alongside your final resting place: under the tree, ten feet away from the river. 

Every day, he fought the urge to cry over you again, knowing that it wouldn't get better, but easier every day. But even this, his heart still hurt. 

Suddenly, a faint nicker broke him from his thoughts. From the east, the same palomino horse he had seen every time he returned to Montana was in his line of sight. He wanted to keep the horse for himself as he knew the mare was the last animal you ever saw, but he knew that a true Crow Tribe horse would never be broken. Instead, he let the horse roam just like it did before, except he grew to gain the animal's trust over time. Never riding it, he always found himself buying a bag of apples and carrots every time he went to the store when he'd return from a deployment, the horse's treats being the first thing he got before he got food for himself. Just like he'd keep a pack of popcorn and a bottle of your favorite soda in the fridge for when you'd decide to sneak in the middle of the night like you used to in hopes nobody would notice you would cheat on your strict military diet. 

Although that same bottle was still in the fridge, he knew you'd never be able to physically be able to enjoy it, but it also brought him a sense of comfort seeing something you'd enjoy, just like he found himself always lingering his gaze on the photos you took during your travels together. The mountains in Switzerland, the grass in Scotland, the elk in Poland... 

How I wish I would've let me take a photo of you so I'd have something to remember. 

"Staying out of trouble, yeah?" He spoke calmly to the horse, returning outside with that bag of apples he always promised the mare. 

The mare nickered again when he removed an apple from the bag. "You'll have plenty of these from now on. I'm done with my tour," He said, watching the horse bite the apple resting in his palm before he looked at her mane, following the crest of her neck until his eyes stopped at her withers, seeing the knot he had purposely tied in her mane. A "fairy knot" as folklore called it, but he purposely tied a knot in the mare's thick mane on both sides of her neck, making it as a sort of handle for you to hold onto for when the mare carried you to Heaven. To some, it was silly, but to him, it meant everything. 

"Awáxe," He said, nodding to himself in approval after studying the word for God knows how long until he got it right. "That's your name now. You deserve a name after the good you've done for me." 

The name in Crow (Apsáalooke), your ancestral tribe, meant "Heaven."