#camo sleeves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

as-is-above-so-below · 2 years ago

Text

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood Next >>

John Price stood at a round table, leading the mission brief for the team’s upcoming operation. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz sat around the table in various positions. Soap with his boots kicked up onto the table, chair tilted back; Gaz leaned forward onto the table, his forearms on the surface; Ghost leaned back against his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Soap and Gaz wore their regulation tan t-shirts and camo pants, while Ghost was clad in a black long-sleeve and his standard skull balaclava.

“So if we’re stormin’ the building, we’re all accounted for,” Soap pointed out, clicking the pen between his fingers. “We need a sniper.”

“Called in a favor with a good friend, who should have been here–”

“Ten minutes ago,” a strong but mellow voice cut in as a figure turned through the doorway. “I know, sorry John. Got a bit caught up with my room assignment. Tried to put me on the other side of base.”

A woman came into view, offering her hand out to John. They firmly grasped each other’s forearms in a quick shake. Soap and Gaz both had only slightly surprised expressions. Not at the fact that their sniper was female; they’d worked with plenty of fierce women during their time in Task Force 141.

The fact that she did not look the part.

She wore a massively oversized black sweatshirt that brushed her thighs and dark blue skinny jeans, her hair loose down her back. Must’ve just got off a plane, Soap thought to himself, looking her up and down. Her stance showed her confidence, feet shoulder-width apart as she faced the team with a bright smile (one not often found in their field of work) and glowing skin. She wasn’t necessarily small, more average height, but her attire dwarfed her frame.

“Thank you for joining us, Captain,” Price nodded at her. “This is Freyja. American Special Forces, sniper, undercover ops. She’s been briefed and will be joining us temporarily for the op. She comes highly recommended and outranks all of you, so I’d suggest you be on your best behavior.”

The woman jabbed Price with her elbow, rolling her eyes, much to Soap’s surprise. He barely suppressed the laugh that bubbled in his chest, unable to help the small choking laugh that escaped. Ghost glared at him and he quickly piped down.

“Thanks, John, but I think I’ll be fine. Glad to be of use.”

“Happy to have you. Let me know if you need anything while you’re here. I’ll leave you to it, get acquainted. We leave at 0400 hours. We’ll be infiltrating in daylight; prepare accordingly.”

“Aye, Captain,” Soap nodded once and saluted him, setting his chair back down as he rose. He watched John pat her shoulder on his way out, sharing what seemed like a knowing look, before finally departing to his quarters. Interesting.

Soap was the first to cross the room, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Sergeant John Mactavish,” he introduced, shaking her hand. He noted her equally firm grip and the cool metal of a wedding band pressing into his palm. Her skin was calloused yet soft, not as rough as his own.

“Soap, right? Heard a lot about you.”

“Aye. Good things I hope?"

“Mostly.”

A boisterous laugh left him, so loud you’d think the room shook. Soap heard Gaz gag on his water before breaking into a choked wheeze. The other man approached, shaking her hand as well. “Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz.”

Her hands found their way into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“So, Freyja… like the–?”

A gentle, airy giggle floated into his ears. What a lovely sound. “Yes, like the goddess. I know, my husband’s idea.”

Soap groaned, his head lolling back in faux agony as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, lass. Was hopin’ ya didn’t have one’a those. He in the service?”

“He is, but you wouldn’t know him. Keeps a pretty low profile,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the two men in front of her.

”D’ya think I could take him?”

”Probably not.”

Neither Soap nor Gaz noticed the way Ghost’s mask twitched slightly, evidence of the smirk that pulled at his lips. But she knew his microexpressions like the back of her hand, even out of the corner of her eye. The Scot remembered Ghost’s presence suddenly and waved his hand in his direction. He hadn’t made any move to greet the newcomer and hadn’t spoken during the entire brief.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Ghost, you heard the man. Be nice to the lady!”

Ghost grunted, keeping his arms folded on his chest. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

The two stared at each other, her brow quirked. As the seconds passed, the interaction became increasingly awkward for everyone else in the room. Even the thickest person on the planet could have sensed the tension. Unable to take the silence any longer, Gaz stepped in to attempt to relieve some tension. “You two worked together before?”

“You could say that,” Ghost stated as he rose from his chair. “A word, Freyja?”

Her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek and she squinted at him. It was almost comical, the height difference between the two. Typically, Soap would have made a snarky quip, if not for the vicious look in her eyes. He wouldn’t say it out loud to him, but the scowl rivaled his lieutenant‘s. Finally, she spoke, “Excuse us, gentlemen. I’ll see you in the morning. You know where to find me in the meantime.”

“G’night, Cap,” Soap nodded and moved to the side, allowing her to pass to the door. Ghost didn’t spare them another glance as he followed behind her. The two men stood silently until they heard a door slam shut up the hall. Soap snapped his gaze to Gaz and found him already looking with wide eyes.

“What was that about?”

Soap shrugged noncommittally. “Not a clue. Bad history? Ghost’s no’ exactly skilled in manners.” He went to head to his room when he noticed a military-issue duffel where Freyja had been standing, an American flag patch on the side. He bent down and slung it over his shoulder. “Left her stuff. I’m gonna drop it by ‘for hittin’ the hay. See ya in the mornin’.”

They went their separate ways, Gaz disappearing to the armory to stock up for the mission. Soap approached the only spare room in their wing and rapped his knuckles against the door. He waited for a few beats to no response and repeated the motion.

Nothing.

Soap’s brows furrowed when he heard what sounded like a muffled argument from the next door up, labeled “Lt. Riley”. Soap should have just left her duffel in front of her door and continued on his way to his bedroom, and gone to bed.

But no, he just had to snoop.

He crept toward the door, still holding the bag as he pressed his ear to the hollow wood. They clearly knew each other, but Ghost hadn’t seemed happy to see her. He felt a bit guilty spying on his lieutenant, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He heard Ghost’s deep voice first.

“We had a deal. You’re supposed to be on leave, and Price knows that. I have half a mind to wring his fucking neck–”

“John didn’t ask me to be here, I volunteered–”

“Cut the shit, Y/N. I’m not daft. He has no place calling you in without asking me first.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Simon!”

Simon? Just how familiar were they with each other?

“Oh, I’m well aware. I just figured that when your husband asks you to stay home, you'd listen! How silly of me!”

So he knows her husband. Interesting.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“You want to talk about fair? You went around my back to my Captain. I’d say anything’s fair play at this point.” Heavy boots crossed the floor. “This isn’t just about you anymore. You’re not my superior, you’re–”

Soap shuffled his feet, he realized too late how loud the noise was in the empty hallway, and the voices suddenly stopped. He knocked in an attempt to recover, quickly stepping back from the door before it opened. The woman appeared, now in a too-big band tee, her dog tags resting on her chest. “Hi, Johnny,” she greeted, her tone significantly warmer than it had been a moment ago.

He didn’t remember mentioning his preference for the name, but he couldn’t find a reason to comment on it then. “You, uh, left ya bag. Wanted to drop it off, figured you’d be here.”

“Oh, my bad. Thanks, I appreciate it.” He transferred her possessions to her. The bag that appeared standard when he carried it looked huge compared to her frame. The added weight did not phase her. “We have an early morning. I’m heading to bed.”

Ghost moved from his spot near the bed on the other side of the room. “Frey–”

She held a hand up, sending another chilling glare in his direction. Soap was impressed when Ghost didn’t even blink at the look. “Enough, Lieutenant. That’s an order.” He didn’t miss the eyes behind the skeleton glowering or how the fabric near his mouth shifted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled through clenched teeth.

She brushed by Soap, readjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stormed to her room, somehow gracefully maintaining her posture. Before he could turn back to question Ghost, the door swung shut in his face.

Real polite.

~*~

“Alpha-One, in position.”

“Copy that, one. Alpha-Two, in position.”

“Bravo?” Soap’s partner looked over his shoulder at the white light flashing at them in the distance. There was a muffled choking sound and a swallow, followed by a sniffle. “Freyja?”

“Sorry. Multiple armed guards. Two snipers at the east and west sides of the targets.” Her voice, while calm, sounded tired and a bit drained. As if she could sense the unspoken question, she came through their headsets again. “Little sick this morning. I’m fine.”

Ghost's jaw set and he rolled his shoulders, blinking a few times to focus. Soap noticed the motion and covered the mic on his headset. “You a’right, Lt.?” he asked, his voice concerned with his brows furrowed.

Ghost ignored him. “Can you get a visual inside?”

“Negative. Windows are blocked in both buildings. You’re going blind.”

“What’s the call, ma’am?” Gaz’s voice.

“This is Price’s op. I’m just here for support.”

“Ghost?” Price this time.

Ghost audibly sighed, his irritation at the situation clear. Soap wondered how bad their last encounter could have been for the usually collected man in front of him to be so disheveled. Soap looked over at the lieutenant, who had turned his attention back to the opening in the wall between them. “Bravo, hold your position. Understood?”

“Affirmative.”

“Alpha-One, move in on your target on my command.” Ghost clicked off his mic and slid the chamber back on his pistol, doing one final check.

Soap took the opportunity to follow up on his unanswered concern. “Ghost, you good? Seem tense. Something going on with the lass?”

“Shut up, Sergeant.” He reached up to click his headset back on. “Freyja cleared hot to engage.”

“Standby.” A beat passed, then another, until the suppressed shot of a sniper rifle rang through their headsets, followed by the bolt being pulled back and pushed forward. Another shot. “Clean hit. Snipers down.”

“Copy. Alpha-One, move in. Keep it quiet,” Ghost commanded, signaling Soap forward with a tilt of his head.

She watched Ghost and Soap move swiftly around structures and cars forward to their target. Her gaze periodically adjusted between them and Alpha-One, Gaz and Price. Soap’s accent was low in her ear. “Approaching target. Engaging two hostiles.”

The pair dispatched the guards with ease, the same as the other team up the road.

“Be advised, I have no eyes inside,” she reminded the group, surveying the surrounding area as both teams entered the building.

“Roger. Breaching.”

On their frequency, angry shouts and gunfire had her writing uncomfortably in her spot. She didn’t like not having a solid visual of her team; it made her feel helpless. The audio of the scene inside wasn’t helping her nerves (or nausea) much, either. The sniper was almost lost in her thoughts when she caught movement at the edge of her scope up the street.

Reinforcements.

“Ghost, engaging incoming hostiles. You might want to bug out,” she suggested, taking several shots at the armed men back-to-back. “Alpha-One, sound off.”

“Heard. Intel acquired,” Price acknowledged. “Clearing out.”

“Alpha-Two, how copy?”

The radio crackled once before Soap came through. “Copy, I’ve lost visual on Ghost. Got separated in the firefight,” he grunted, still firing shots inside the building. “‘M gonna have to squirt.”

Something wasn’t right. “Ghost, how copy?”

Silence.

“Lieutenant, what’s your status?”

Her skin crawled at the repeated silence. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath and pulled her knees underneath her body, her stomach suddenly stilling, nausea disappearing. “Abandoning post.” Her voice pierced through their radios with urgency. She abandoned her rifle and made her way down from her perch.

“Absolutely not. We’re converging at the meeting point now.” Price cursed under his breath as she brandished her sidearm and sprinted towards Ghost’s last location. “Stand down, Bravo, that’s an order!” The captain commanded, rough and authoritative.

“All due respect, Price, get bent.”

Price and Gaz watched helplessly as she disappeared into the structure, Soap approaching them from their flank. “The absolute balls on that one, aye?” he snickered, eyeballing Price. He didn’t even flinch, expression hard as steel as he rubbed his face. He hadn’t seen his captain that stressed in quite a while. Maybe not the time for jokes…

The blood-curdling screams Soap heard would scare any man straight. It sounded like a horror movie slaughterhouse over their comms, whether it was caused by Ghost or Freyja he didn’t know. He did know it was her voice that said Ghost’s name and assumed the distant, heated mumbling was Ghost. He must have lost his headset if they couldn’t hear him clearly, and what they were hearing was whatever her comms picked up. “Shut the fuck up and move. If you were fine, I wouldn’t be here, Lieutenant. You can thank me later,” she snapped, sounding eerily similar to a stereotypical angry wife. There’s no way she cleared out that entire convoy on her own…

Right?

Moments later, without any other gunfire, the pair emerged. Ghost was indeed missing his headset, while Freyja trudged in front of him, taking long steps to cross the street. Her helmet was gone, and her hair had come loose. Gun in one hand, a familiar black combat knife in the other, dripping blood. Strands of hair clung to her face, coated in dark red, along with her hands, bare arms, and vest. Soap’s eyes blew wide. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus, did she–?”

Price hummed and nodded beside him. In the same breath, she stumbled over to a car and gripped the door handle, dumping her stomach on the dusty road. Soap and Gaz moved to help, but Price stopped them with a single grunt. Ghost was immediately on her, expertly sweeping her hair into one hand as he pulled her earpiece out, cutting off their audio. One of her hands grabbed his vest for support while his other hand rested on her back.

“Well, that’s unusual,” Soap chimed, his head cocked to the side as he watched the display.

“Quit starin’ and load up. I doubt that’s the last of those reinforcements.” Price waved at them, catching Ghost’s attention and pointing to an approaching Heli, waving his hand in a “roll out” motion.

~*~

The ride back to base in the heli was one of the most awkward experiences of Soap’s life; not a word was spoken during the short trip. Ghost pulled a rag out of his vest and silently handed it to Freyja to wipe some blood from her face; she passed him the blade she had carried, and he finally placed its familiarity when Ghost tucked it into the empty holster at his hip. She looked utterly drained now that they were in close quarters. In another shocking moment, she rested her head on Ghost’s shoulder, and he didn’t move to shove her off.

What the fuck?

At the base, Ghost dropped her off at the medical bay before storming into the meeting room where the team had gathered to debrief. “You’re a dead man, Price,” he barked, finger jabbed at him as his skull plate skittered across the table when he threw it. “You fuckin’ knew–”

“Simon, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t “Simon” me. Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Captain! If she’s hurt–”

“I didn’t think she would compromise herself that easily.”

Ghost barked a dry, humorless laugh as he pointed in the general direction of the infirmary. “Of course, she’s bloody compromised! She’s my fuckin’ wife, you git!” he snarled, teeth viciously bared as he ripped off his mask.

“Hell’s fuckin’ bells…”

“Bloody hell…”

He was too angry (and, frankly, scared for his wife’s health) to acknowledge their audience. “This is exactly why I told you not to call her. I can’t focus if I’m worried about her safety right now. She’s supposed to be safe at home, resting, not running into a bloody warzone, for God’s sake!”

“She was told not to leave her post–”

“When has she ever obeyed a direct order?”

Silence fell over the group, Price effectively losing the argument. Neither Sergeant wanted to find themselves on the other end of Ghost’s rage. They had no envy for Price and dared not get between them. No envy at all. On the other hand, Soap had so many questions. Since where was Ghost married? When did he have the time for a wife? And an American at that? How long had he been keeping her a secret?

“Simon.”

Four heads whipped to the soft voice across the room, finding the woman of the hour standing in the doorway. A superficial cut on her forehead had been taped up, her face clear of blood. Soap and Gaz stared at her in disbelief, jaws dropped as they looked from her to Ghost and back again. She chuckled at their expressions but didn’t move to approach them. “Captain Riley. Lovely to meet you both, officially,” she reintroduced herself, a slight smirk on her lips. She finally met her husband’s gaze, her expression softened at his bare face, save for the black paint.

He curled two fingers at her, one arm crossed over his chest. “C��mere. Now,” he ordered her, though his tone had little bite to it.

Even only knowing the sniper for such little time, Soap was outright shocked at the display. Flabbergasted by her obedience when she immediately strode to the spot next to him, barely leaving any space between their chests. It didn’t seem like her. He was obviously wrong, considering what he’d just witnessed.

Ghost took a deep breath as he peered down at her, examining her visible skin for injuries. “I’m right pissed at you, love,” he muttered, allowing her to loop a finger in his belt loop.

She smiled up at him, her admiration clear now that the sergeants had been let in on the secret. “I know.”

“Don’t give me that look.” The man sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hold his ground with that smile of hers. He dropped a gloved hand to rest on her lower belly, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You alright?”

She placed her hand on top of his and bobbed her head. Her familiar glow from the night before had returned.

“I’d like an apology.”

“And I’d like a parade in my honor. Oh, and a good ol’ fashioned fu–”

“Oi, better watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“You love my mouth.”

“Tha’ I do. Just not right now, sweetheart.”

Soap couldn’t take it anymore. “Steamin’ blood Jesus L.t., are you…flirting?”

“Shamelessly,” she giggled, never once tearing her eyes away from the man towering over her.

Ghost rolled his eyes again, his other hand slipping into its home on the side of her neck. “You’re done. I mean it. And if you call her again, I walk,” he threatened, turning his head to address Price directly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Ghost, she held her own just fine,” Soap interjected from his chair. “Hen took out an entire squad practically single-handedly, plus the convoy before she went in after ya. I don’t see the problem.”

Realization dawned on Gaz suddenly, forcing him to his feet again. “You’re pregnant,” he exclaimed, both in shock and awe. “That’s why you were feeling sick. And the big clothes. You’re on maternity leave."

The lack of response from John and Freyja and how Ghost studied Gaz said everything they needed to know.

“No wonder you’ve been downright crabbit with her! Can’t say I blame ye, ‘s too dangerous out there to be mucking about with a little one in there.” Soap rose to his feet too, smiling like a cheeseball, ready to ruthlessly tease him. “How’d you manage that, Ghost? A bangin’ wife and a baby?”

“I know it’s been a while for you, Sarge–”

“Aw, away n’ bile yer heid!” the Scot barked, dismissing his lieutenant with a wave.

“English, MacTavish.”

“Sorry, sir, let me translate…Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

He moved on from Ghost, addressing Freyja now. “I’ve so many questions! How long ‘ave you been together?” Soap leaned against the round table in front of them, his hands dragging across the shaved portion of his head.

“How old am I?” Ghost asked in a low, teasing timber.

Her upper lip tugged upwards as her hand wavered, indicating an estimate. “Five years, give or take.”

“Five years?! Son of the god-damn-devil, Lt! You’ve had a secret wife for five years–” He cut himself off with a gasp, his volume dropping to a brash whisper. “Does he take the mask off when you—”

“Tha’ll do, Johnny.”

Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and she swatted his tactical vest with her palm. “Si, don’t be an ass,” she warned, raising a brow at him. “Oh, John! I have pictures for you!” The woman let go of her husband and dug out folded ultrasound photos from her zipped pocket. She, Price, and Gaz moved to another corner of the room, gushing over the snapshots of her latest appointment before flying out, leaving Soap and Ghost alone by the meeting table.

A mischievous grin overtook Soap’s face. “An American, eh, Lt.? And she outranks you?”

“Not another word, Sergeant.”

A long pause stretched between them, although not long enough for Ghost’s liking.

“So… Goddess of love, beauty, and war,” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at the Brit, who threw him a questioning side-eye. Soap hummed. “Fitting.”

Soap almost gawked at the smirk (borderline smile) that Ghost bore as he watched his wife animatedly pour over her photos. “I’m well aware.” Another moment passed between them before Ghost fully turned to the other man. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, Ghost?"

“Flirt with my wife again, I’ll knock your teeth in."

"Noted, sir."

10K notes · View notes

sturnlsstuff · 28 days ago

Text

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter four

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter three | chapter five

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, oral (m!receiving), pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

to say that you had your head in the clouds for the next two days would be a misunderstanding. you tried to focus on studying, but your thoughts always ended up around chris and what happened in your room. you couldn't believe you lost control like that. and that you didn't regret it.

keeping what happened a secret was harder than you thought. you couldn't deal with your own thoughts, needing advice, but not being able to tell anyone about what had happened. emma would freak out and you'd never hear the end of this, nick and matt... well, they're chris's brothers after all. so you were on your own in this matter.

besides, everyone thought you and chris hated each other. because that's how it was after all... right? hate with a little... physical attraction that had grown over the years.

that's it, nothing more.

you were putting books in your locker after finishing all your classes for today, the college hallways almost empty. so lost in thought, you didn't even notice someone sneaking up behind you and leaning against the locker next to you, until you closed yours, seeing chris with this stupid smirk of his.

you jumped in place, clutching at your chest, "oh my god, chris! do you want me to have a heart attack?!"

"wouldn't mind," he replies, quickly checking you out, so you did the same.

he wasn't wearing anything special, his favorite camo pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, a few curls sticking out from under his backwards cap. still, he looked disgustingly handsome.

both of you return to eye contact at the same time, chris clears his throat, "so... you have somethin' that belongs to me."

"really?"

"yes, really," he crosses his arms over his chest. then adds in a lower tone, "my mask."

"oh... right," you remember. "but, uh, it's at my place..."

"good. let's go get it," he pushes himself off the lockers, ready to go get his thing with you. to your apartment. alone. you couldn't get alone with him, and let, who knows what, happen again. you had to regain control.

you stop him by wrapping your fingers around his wrist, both of you feeling the same electricity course through your body at the sudden touch. "i can bring it to you before class tomorrow," you offer, he stares at your hand around his wrist, which makes you let go off him.

chris scoffs, moving his eyes back up to yours, "you wanna bring it here?"

"i'll be careful..."

"nah," he interrupts, shaking his head. "not riskin' it like that. let's go do it now."

"no."

"why not?"

"just no."

"but why, huh?" he repeats, taking a step closer. his eyes glistening, "you scared to be alone with me now?"

"what? that's... that's ridiculous."

"is it?" he runs his tongue across his teeth. "'cos i think s'true. you don' wanna get alone in a room with me again."

his words were like a punch in the gut, because it was true. the thought of being alone with chris in a room again was terrifying. not knowing, if you would be able to control yourself or if something would happen between you two again, was freaking you out.

"i'm not scared of anything," you say, adjusting the bag on your shoulder and crossing your arms. "it's just not the best idea."

"you weren't sayin' that while moanin' my name."

your eyes widen, "you promised not to bring this up—"

"i didn't promise you shit," he smirks, tilting his head to the side. "in fact, i think i won't ever shut up 'bout this... is kinda hard to forget, y'know—"

"chris," you mutter warningly, feeling your cheeks starting to heat up, but it didn't stop him.

"--the sounds you were makin', or how you'd taste... like, so sweet and..."

"chris!" you slap his arm, causing a chuckle to escape his lips. "this isn't funny."

"kinda is," he keeps grinning, clearly proud of himself. "relax a lil' bit, hm?"

"stop talking about that," you point your finger at him, but he just shakes his head with a smirk.

"nah, i think i'll keep talkin'..."

you raise your eyebrow, "yeah? wanna keep talking? let's talk about how you came in your pants."

the smirk fades slightly from his face, his eyes narrowing as he stares dangerously at you. "s'not fair, that was not my fault... stop lookin' all proud of y'self, kid."

"then who's fault was that? definitely not mine, i didn't even touch you."

"a'ight, but you were sittin' on my fuckin' face, yeah? it was enough," he rolls his eyes, looking around uncomfortably, but there was no one in the hallway except the two of you. "whatever. i don' have to go to your place... but m'not lettin' you bring it here either, so?"

you think for a moment, also trying to ignore his intense gaze. "i'm seeing matt and emma later, so i could give it to him behind her back somehow."

he scans your face, the wheels clearly turning in his head, until he finally nods, "fine. let's do it your way."

with that, without another word, chris walks away, adjusting the hat on his head. you let out a breath, not even knowing you were holding any.

—

later that day, chris was rolling a joint at his desk when he heard a knock on the door, soon seeing nick and matt walking inside.

he spent almost an hour with them, talking about bullshit, when nick finally went to the bathroom, giving matt a chance to take the ghostface mask out of his backpack and give it to chris, who immediately stuffed it under his clothes in the closet.

matt, who chris had told a few days ago, that you know about his little secret, looked at his brother intensely, "and why was this at her place?"

chris's body tensed but played it off with a smirk, "just wanted to check if she's gonna keep her mouth shut."

"and what did you do?" matt questioned, causing chris to roll his eyes.

"you always assume the worst from me..." his grin widens. "didn't have to do anythin' 'cos she won't say shit. i made sure of that."

"how?"

"not your business," chris leans back in his chair.

"chris..." matt gives him a stare, "she's my friend, that should be enough f'you to trust her."

"i don' trust her," he admits bluntly. "but i do know she's gonna keep quiet. that's the most important f'me."

"i know she will, 'cause no matter what you think of her, she's not a two-faced bitch. and she cares 'bout us."

"she cares 'bout you and nick," chris corrects. "but s'fine with me as long as she keeps her mouth shut."

matt sighs in annoyance, knowing he won't be able to change his brother's mind anyway. chris runs his tongue across his teeth, leaning his head back, "did she, uh... she said anythin'?" his tone too casual. "when she gave you my mask back."

"oh, yeah," matt nods, a little smile playing on his lips. "she said that next time you leave somethin' at her place, she's throwing it to the trash."

"actually?" chris raises his eyebrows amused, then scoffs, trying to hide it. "she's, like, insane."

"who's insane?" nick asks, walking back to the room and flopping on the bed next to matt, who quickly communicated nonverbally with chris.

"y/n," matt admits, chris giving his brother a warning glare.

"oh, what did she do now?" nick asks with a small smile, looking at chris. "i heard you annoyed her bad, recently."

he raises his eyebrow, "me?"

"yeah, you, moron, who else?" nick rolls his eyes, getting more comfortable on the mattress. "you pissed her off so much, she accidentally called me by your name when she was mad."

chris nearly chokes on air, "what?!" nick nods, finding the situation funny, while chris felt like he was dreaming. you never, ever, confused the triplets, even at the beginning after just meeting them, you had always been able to tell them apart and never confused their names before. "how?!"

"i gave her my drink and she said 'thanks, chris'," nick shrugs his shoulders, unaware that this was a big deal. though matt was looking at his brothers, listening carefully, and slowly connecting the dots.

you finding out about chris being a ghostface killer, him 'taking care' of it, then leaving his mask at your place and now you calling nick 'chris'? something was definitely up. matt just didn't really know what it was yet.

"so?" nick waits impatiently, "what'd you do?"

chris asks instead, "when was that?"

"i don't know, like, two days ago?"

two days ago, when chris would climb through your window, to ask if you said anything to nick, because he's been acting weird. and you said no. chris now knew it was a lie, you literally got their names mixed up.

chris had a million different thoughts at that moment. how did it happen that you confused his brother' name, who was your bestfriend, with his name? was it because you were thinking about chris so much, or were you actually annoyed and it slipped out of emotion? to be fair, he's been pissing you off a lot, so he wouldn't be surprised if you accidentally called someone his name, when you were angry. though it never happened before, and it happened a week after the first kiss, so maybe you felt as strongly about it as he did? and did you also think a lot about what happened in your room two days ago or not really?

it's not like he cared, but his mind wouldn't shut up.

chris eventually comes back to reality, realizing his brother's are staring at him, waiting for some kind of explanation. clearing his throat, he simply says, "yeah, i pissed her off a little. nothing new, y'know. can't even blame her for mistakin' our names."

it was enough for them to change the topic, though chris's mind swirled only around you for the rest of the evening.

—

days passing and chris was losing his shit, at night not being able to stop thinking about how it felt to have you sitting on his face, or the fact that it made him cum in his pants, something no girl had ever managed to do to him before. he was glad that you're unaware of that fact, your ego was definitely high already.

it was finally friday, meaning a themed birthday party at the frat. everyone was excited, the house was decorated and ready, but chris was pissed off, walking into his room and slamming the door behind him. he went downstairs for two minutes, just to find out that some of his stupid frat brothers decided to dress up as ghostfaces to show the killer that they aren't afraid of him, honoring jake's memory in that way. chris was annoyed that they were so stupid. but he couldn't do much, so he kept quiet.

it was like that for the rest of the evening, chris tried to ignore his friends' stupidity, focusing on getting drunk and laid quickly. he was just standing in front of the house with a few guys and some blonde girl glued to his side, smoking joints, totally engrossed in the conversation until he saw you and nick arriving. his breath catches in his throat when he sees your costume. a mini jeans skirt, black crop top revealing a lot of your stomach and cleavage, a short, white puffed jacket and sexy red tights. as you walked closer, making eye contact with him, he could notice your lipstick slightly smeared, some fake blood added to your makeup, neck and cleavage. you were dressed up as fucking jennifer check, and you looked hot as fuck.

you both felt yourselves tensing up in the brief moment you looked at each other, electricity running through your bodies. chris felt like he was in a trance until you walked inside the house, breaking eye contact. that's when he returned to earth. he'd still be aware where he was, surrounded by a group of his friends, the girl next to him clearly trying to get his attention, but his mind was on you and how bad he wanted to rip your clothes off you. which was insane when he realized his own thoughts.

meanwhile, you half heard what nick was saying, being on another planet due to that non-verbal interaction with chris. however, it feels like losing all of your senses, when you see a ghostface in the hallway right in front of you, with a red cup in his hand. and then another one next to the other. and a few more entering the main room of the house.

"what the fuck?" nick's voice blurry as you both look around in confusion, his concerned eyes finally meeting yours. he didn't want you to get triggered or anything. your ex boyfriend got killed by a ghostface after all.

though that wasn't the reason why you froze. all these 'ghostface' guys looked strangely familiar. they immediately reminded you of chris and what happened between the two of you, since you found out about his secret. and how were you supposed to have fun at this party now?

"bunch of idiots," you snap out of your thoughts, looking at matt dressed as batman, who appeared out of nowhere, giving you the familiar glance. he also didn't like that a few random guys dressed up as something that chris was keeping a secret. "let's go get a drink, emma is waitin' for you both in the kitchen."

so you quickly find yourself there, taking shots with your friends, who were being all careful with you, but nick and emma for different reasons than matt. he was just as irritated by these people's stupidity as you were. you wondered what chris thought about it and why he didn't do anything.

after a while, chris walks into the kitchen, wordlessly joining all four of you and taking a shot. nick and emma were busy talking about something, matt immediately whispered something in chris's ear and got a nod in response. both you and chris, couldn't break the eye contact once again, which started to irritate you.

you finally spoke, loud enough to be heard through the blasting music, "no costume is a little boring."

chris smirked, looking down at his all black outfit and back at you, "i prefer minimalist."

"could've go as a ghostface," you say bluntly, leaning against the kitchen island right next to him and crossing your arms. matt was observing both of you nervously.

something in chris's eyes flicker dangerously as he takes a sip of his beer that you didn't even notice he had in his hand. "bet you'd love to see me in that," he leans in, making sure only you hear the next word. "again."

him referring to how turned on you were after seeing him in a mask makes your blood boil. you hated that he knew it had some effect on you. chris didn't know exactly how bad it was yet, but he was ready to find out. soon.

"no, i'm good, thanks," your tone drips with sarcasm as you push him away. a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief, "if you say so, princess."

"where's your chick at?" you ask casually. a frown appears between his eyebrows, "who?"

"this blonde girl i saw outside with you and other guys?"

the realization makes him smirk, "oh, her? i dunno...not like she's important anyway..." he tilts his head to the side, lowering his voice enough for only you to hear. "what, you jealous?"

the eye roll you give him, only makes his grin widen. "please, be serious for once in your life."

"y/n, another one?!" nick's loud voice reaches your ears, interrupting your interaction with chris, so you turn around, just as nick passes a shot to you from the other side of the kitchen island. you smile, taking the glass, "thanks, nick!"

in one second you feel chris behind you, his breath tickling your ear, "no mixin' up our names this time?" his words make your hand freeze halfway to your mouth, your heart speeding up, but before you could even somehow explain or defend yourself, chris leaves the kitchen. you could swear he had the biggest smirk on his face.

you blink slowly, fingers tightening around the glass, feeling embarrassed that chris found out about this. you were sure it was nick who told him, obviously. you wanted to hit your head against the wall, but know you couldn't make a big deal out of it, since it was... nothing. just an accident. mixing up their names has happened to many people, maybe never to you, but there always had to be this first time.

it didn't mean anything. right?

the conflicted feelings, the embarrassment and the inability to forget how good chris made you feel a few days ago, or the fact that you thought about it every day, every night, all the fucking time, craving more, it all was making you pour alcohol into your system like water. you knew this 'more' between you and chris could never happen. like ever. at least it wasn't supposed to.

it all came down to the fact that you were sitting on some guy's lap, who was dressed as a ghostface. the two of you just talking, flirting heavily, your hand running up and down his arm, his on your waist. you didn't really know what you were doing, you just had to convince yourself that it was only the mask that turned you on and not chris in particular.

however, it was not working. you knew the boy who was under the mask, he was from your math class, quite nice, helped with your assignment once a while ago. but he wasn't turning you on at all. his ghostface mask made you feel no emotion other than annoyance. even letting him touch you a little didn't cause any tension in you, and no shiver passed through your body like it did when chris was the one touching you.

you tell the guy that you're going to the bathroom and will be back soon, he just nods, so you quickly get off his lap. though instead of the bathroom, you go to the kitchen, immediately taking two shots. you needed to get absolutely drunk if you were going to stay with this guy for the rest of the night, and you had to do it until you finally feel what you felt with chris. there was no way he was the only one who made you feel so many things at once, and you had to prove it to yourself.

chris, who couldn't focus on anything or find anyone who would be a good one to take to his room, was watching you all night. every move you made, he saw, even if you didn't necessarily know about it. when he noticed you with this guy, he was so pissed off, not understanding what you were doing. did you want him? not like chris gave a shit, but how dared you resist him, but want this stupid guy? that's what it looked like and it felt like his ego got punched. so he did something stupid and put on his ghostface mask, blending in with the other few guys with the same costume.

you feel large hands on your hips from behind as you take another shot, looking over your shoulder, you're able to only see the mask, assuming it's the guy you were with just moments ago. he grabs your hand and starts to lead you out of the kitchen, then upstairs. you raise your eyebrows, pushing through people, not thinking that this guy would follow you to the kitchen or that he'd immediately take you to his room. you didn't even know what to do, but that's what you wanted after all, to see if someone else could replace chris's name, which had been stuck in your head for over a week, with their own.

he locks the door behind once you two are in his bedroom. a bit of mess on the desk, empty cans and some joint butts. he stands behind you again, the heat of his body makes you shiver. it was so... strangely familiar.

"and why am i here?" you ask casually, looking around the unfamiliar room, as he comes from behind to stand in front of you and that's when you notice this big photo on the wall next to you. a photo of two people you recognize immediately.

chris and nate.

you knew nate, seeing him with the triplets a few times, he was their good friend. so it was chris's room which meant he was standing in front of you...? but he didn't have a mask before, which confused you, but you're quick to hide it, looking for more details. such as a bracelet on the wrist.

yeah, it was chris.

he obviously didn't answer, clearly not wanting you to recognize him, even if he wasn't trying hard enough. "so...?" you start, deciding to play this game and see if he's gonna finally tell you it's him. taking a step closer, you tilt your head to the side, running your long manicured nails down his chest, causing his heart race to quicken. "anything i can help you with?" your hand stops at his belt.

you were teasing on purpose, already knowing that chris was standing in front of you. playing along with this little game of his, you felt your blood boil at the thought that he was doing all this, probably thinking you're stupid or a slut, like everyone else were thinking, and that you'd fuck some random guy without seeing his face. and unless chris is a dick, he won't let you do what he thought you wanted to do, when you were sure he was someone else.

so you drop to your knees, grabbing his belt and looking at him through your long lashes with a smirk, while chris's head is spinning at the sight of you like that. even better than he'd imagine before.

not like he did... maybe a few times.

your hands were in the middle of undoing his belt when he grabs your wrist. his voice annoyed and aroused, "get the fuck up."

chris takes the mask off, throwing it aside and meeting with your stare. you're pissed off too, but you also don't feel like getting up so with a simple shake of your head, his pants are pulled down.

"what the fuck are you doin'?" his body tenses when he feels your delicate fingertips through his boxers. he was already half hard.

"how does it look like?"

"you high or what?" he questioned, shocked that you're not kicking his ass yet, when he clearly pretended to be someone else for a few minutes.

"no, just annoyed," you answer, stroking him through his underwear. a hiss escapes him, "you? annoyed?" his chest was rising and falling deeply, clearly trying to stay in control, but the sight of you on your knees in front of him in that costume of yours, had him mesmerized.

you nod, "mhm."

"you realize it's me here, right?"

"i'm not blind, idiot," you roll your eyes, his boxers joining his pants at his ankles. his hard cock splits out smacking his stomach, tip red and sensitive, already leaking with precum. he was big. noticing your wide eyes and how you just stare, chris can't help but smirk through his annoyance, "gonna do somethin' 'bout it or keep only lookin'?"

wrapping your fingers around his length, you start slowly stroking him, looking back up at his face. chris swallows, his breathing heavy as he brushes your hair out of your face and gather them into a messy ponytail in the back of your head.

"you're fuckin' annoyin'," his voice hoarse with arousal. "being all over some random guy' lap, when he's clearly tryin' to be me. like, all them idiots tonight..." chris's breath hitches in his throat, when you give him a small, kitty lick. he tries to keep his composure, "why'd ya want some fake ghostface, when you could've a real one? not lettin' me fuck you, but if he wanted to, you'd say yes, huh?"

you shake your head again, sucking on his tip, your hand working the rest of him. his grip on your hair tightens, as he tries not to start face fucking you, which was getting already hard.

"no?" he clicks his tongue against his teeth, "but droppin' to your knees, not even being sure who was under the mask, says somethin' different."

you pull away for a moment to speak, "i knew it's you, moron... the picture..." you look at the wall, making him realize. so you knew and decided to do it anyway? this makes his dick twitch in your grip, just as you take him to your mouth again, tongue swirling around his tip, before you go deeper.

"shitttt, keep goin'..." chris groans, not being able to hold it back, which causes you to take more of him, fighting your gag reflex. "pissin' me off all night, kid, in that skirt of yours..."

you pull away, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin. he forces your head to tilt back, eyes meeting his again, "look at you, chokin' on my dick, lookin' all pretty..."

"and why didn't you just say it's you, not him?" maintaining eye contact, you take all of him into your mouth again, breathing through your nose.

another groan escapes him at the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat, "wanted to see— fuckkk, if you, uh... would jus' go with him to the room..."

his hips jerks forward, causing you to gag again, but not pulling away, "take it, c'mon, princess... yeaaah, that's it... take all of me..."

few tears runs down your cheeks as he starts thrusting into your mouth, the grip on your hair almost painful, stealing a moan from you, which sends vibrations through chris. the sounds of you choking on him and his groans echoing through the room, his head throwed back as he uses your mouth how he pleases. and you let him.

"fuck, takin' me like a champ..." he praises, looking down at you again, not being able to resist the sight of you like this. mascara smeared due to tears coming down your face, saliva dripping from the corner of your lips. it was perfect for him. "such a good girl..." his hips stutter a bit as he gets closer to the edge, "and you gonna let me come on your fuckin' tongue, yeah?"

you moan in approval, as he gives a few more thrusts and pull his dick out of your mouth, wrapping his hand around it and starting jerking off fast, while you wait with your tongue sticking out. "shittttt..." that look on you, makes his cock twitch and with a loud moan of your name, he releases on your tongue. warm drops of cum spills onto it, dripping down your chin as well. "f-fuck, you look... so hot like that—"

his hand eventually comes to a stop, the grip on your hair completely loosens as chris watches you swallow everything, then also licking your lips. it made his mind go blank.

picking yourself up from the floor, he notices his seed on your chin and swipes it away with his thumb, tracing it over your lower lip and popping it into your mouth as you lick it clean. then he removes his finger, his cheeks flushed and breathing heavy.

"so, answering your questions," you speak up. "no, i would not let this guy fuck me and no, i would not suck anyone off unless i knew who they were."

chris smirks, "so you did know and decided to do it anyway, huh?"

"yeah, 'cause you pissed me off with this whole game," you roll your eyes. then add, "by the way, you taste fucking delicious."

"oh, could've tell by the way you sucked my dick like a lollipop," he retorts, tilting his head to the side.

and making you blush. again.

"you look incredibly sexy tonight," his voice gets lower, more suggestive as he eyes you up and down. "annoyin' the hell outta me, but wouldn't mind to rip your clothes off, like, right now."

"yeah?" you raise your eyebrow, trying to keep holding your ground even with awfully red cheeks, and desperately wet pussy.

the next sentence you say, almost makes chris fully hard again.

"what if i let you this time?"

a/n: not me laughing bc i know y'all gonna be HELLAAAA mad at me for ending the chapter here LMFAO i'm evil 😪

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @certified-sturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore

#sturnlsstuff ❦ [ghostface!chris]#❦ ghostface!chris x enemy!reader ❦#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader

204 notes · View notes