#can ghosts infiltrate phones?

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[cannniballcutie]

thinking about ur fav big nasty perv man who loves infiltrating his cute little gfs hyperfeminine aesthetic. but i’m also horny.

you love it when your boyfriend comes over. you love it when he leaves his shoes by your pastel pink door. you love it when he lays on your couch, the dust from his blue collar job leaving its home on his pants to settle onto your cushions. you love when he kisses you, ruining your carefully glossed lips, and making your breath smell like the nasty alcohol he was drinking before he paid you a visit, even though you brushed your teeth with bubblegum toothpaste so you could taste sweet for him. you love it when he uses his calloused hands to take one of your sweet throw pillows and put it under your knees, pausing to knead your soft thighs, digging his dirty fingernails into them and leaving small crescent moons. you love when he pushes you onto his hardening cock as he palms himself, and you feel him fondle the bow on the back of your head sweetly, noticing you wore one in his favorite color just for him. you love how he laughs when you try to unbuckle his heavy belt without damaging your carefully manicured nails. your soft pleas music to his ears. (of course he aids you by swiftly unbuckling himself and putting his belt around your perfumed neck, tangling your dainty jewelry as he secured it in two quick movements.) you love it when he lets you take him into your mouth as far as you can go before he helps you and pulls you further onto his cock with his belt. your carefully applied mascara running down your cheeks. which are flushed just the way he likes. you love it when he pulls you off of his dick before he finishes, leaning in to pull your delicate tank top down, accidentally breaking your favorite necklace, the one with his initial dangling from it (he apologized so sweetly) before he finishes on your chest. you love it when he picks you up and lays you on the couch, pulling his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of you while you lie there prettily, hoping that he’ll show his friends what a pretty mess you are for him. you love it when your boyfriend comes over, and you hope he comes back again soon, but not too soon, so you have time to make yourself pretty enough to be ruined.

thinking bout toji, sukuna, aone, könig, and ghost (=^･ω･^=)

also pls lemme know if u wanna hear smth else from me.. i’m all ears for my angels 🌬️

[7s3ven]

MAFIA AU! TASK FORCE 141 x MOB BOSS GF! READER

( head cannons / might turn into a series )

Feel free to to request more scenarios with this au LOL

Notes: poly, reader is described as on the shorter side, age gap, daddy issues (reader has a bad father), inappropriate jokes/themes mentioned

YSL, red bottom shoes, sugary cocktails, leopard print, faux fur, y2k, mcbling, lana del rey, cigarettes, mob boss wife…

- When people join the mafia, they expect tough muscled men, maybe a few scarred women carelessly waving around guns. What they don’t expect is you

- You’re an interesting sight, perched on Price’s lap like a little trophy, freshly manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you play a game

- You don’t care about whatever meeting you’re in, you aren’t even listening to Price’s rather gory plans. You’re too busy deciding what to have for lunch

- Nobody can look away from your pretty pout as you discover your favourite drink is temporarily out of stock

- Price was the one who found you first. Your father was indebted to the mafia and what better way to force him to pay than taking his precious daughter? Price found it strange how you were so willing to leave your father but it made sense when you told him the truth

- Your father wasn’t a good man. He had blood on his hands and he never cared much about you or your mother. You were thankful to find a way out, even if it meant going with a strange (but equally handsome) man

- You belonged to Price first but his property was Simon, Kyle, and Jonny’s as well

- “Jonny, is this skirt too short?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

Jonny glanced up from his phone, shrugging. “Nah. It’s all good, bonnie. I can fight. ‘Sides, shorter skirts makes it easier to bend ya over.”

- Simon loves sharing his cigarettes with you, especially when you kiss him and transfer the smoke into his mouth. The best part is seeing your lipstick stain the end of his cigarette

- Price buys you lots of clothes and accessories. You’re never not draped in the most expensive jewellery he can find. Gaz is the one buying you heels. For some reason, he has a knack for choosing the best shoes

- Seeing you waltz around in your short skirts, lace tops, and clicking high heels is enough of a reward for the four men

- The rookies love the sight of you but you’re forbidden fruit. You belonged to their bosses who did not like to share

- When there’s talk of a rat among the mafia, your four lovers do not take it kindly. They need someone to infiltrate whatever plot is brewing up. Luckily, they have you. Nobody in their right mind would pass a chance on being able to get a taste of your strawberry-flavored lipgloss

- “Oh my gosh, it’s giving office siren.” You say, excitedly tugging on the tight, short-sleeved blouse that Ghost is shaking his head at.

“It’s too short.” He mutters, “Ain’t there a ‘nother size?”

“It was the only one. Sorry, baby.” You sheepishly smiled at your lover’s displeasure. “Anyway, how do I look?”

Clad in that damn white blouse, a short pencil skirt, and thinly rimmed glasses, you were a vision.

“You look like you’re ’bout to get some action when ya get back.” Kyle says, nodding over at Soap who’s staring at you shamelessly.

“How ‘bout this, lovie?” Price steps forward, “If you do a good job, we’ll give you a little reward. Sound good, yeah?”

( please note that for the cod tag list, you will be tagged in all the cod fics i post, not just this one lol )

COD TAG LIST (COMMENT TO BE ADDED/REMOVED): @galactict3a

[syoddeye]

the lift

gaz x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: alcohol a/n: received a powerlifter x kyle prompt from an anon. i don't normally take requests, but i've been itching to write something sweet for him. influenced by a recent thing i wrote up about gaz flubbing a flirt. i'm a normie/casual weightlifter. apologies to actual powerlifters. 🏋️

“Fuck me running.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“Get a load of her.”

“Pick your jaw off the floor, and stop staring, lech.”

“You’d be no better if you just looked.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap’s stupefied expression, watching him miss his mouth with his pint glass. Foam spills over onto his shirt, causing the Scot to jerk in his seat and stare at his own appendage in offense.

View must be good for Soap to make himself more of a fool than usual. Kyle adjusts his cap, turns his head to the side in a feigned stretch, and immediately clocks the distraction in question.

A woman in a backless top sits alone at the bar with something fruity in hand. No bra band in sight, no tan lines either. That’s not what glues his eyes to her, though. It’s the rippling muscle the cut of fabric shows off, defined and apparent as she lifts her glass to drink. It continues south, too, her thick thighs spilling over the narrow stool. She looks like she’d give Ghost a run for his money. Like she’d rip him in half like a phone book.

He needs to talk to her.

Kyle turns back to Soap, dabbing at himself with a fistful of napkins. He downs the rest of his beer and then stands.

“I’ll get us fresh drinks.”

Before the lout can breathe a word, he beelines to the bar. Only. When he gets there, it occurs to him he doesn’t know what to say. Any other pretty face, he’d toss out one of his corny but winning lines. Send over a drink. With her, her muscles more impressive up close and wholly focused on a women’s football match, he’s tongue-tied. And that doesn’t happen often. Must be the moon’s position or something.

He bides his time, staring through the screen like he’s watching, thinking of what to say. Avoids the bartender’s curious gaze.

Then, an elbow knocks his arm very gently.

“Fishlock’s a beast, right?”

Kyle’s head swivels, eyebrows to his hairline. The target of his ill-planned op glances between him and the television.

“Yeah,” he sputters out a second too late. “She’s…feisty.” He could break his glass over his head. Feisty? What was he, eighty years old?

To his delight, she laughs, and a rush of heat flares in his stomach at the sound.

“Understatement of the century.”

He chuckles in disbelief at his luck. She gives him another smile. Fuck, he is done for. 

“You want to join me? Had a friend cancel, and I hate watching alone.”

“I’d love to,” he says, dropping into the empty stool probably too quickly. Their knees touch, but she doesn’t pull away. He fixes his eyes on the screen after placing an order. He watches the Welsh battle the Ukrainians, absorbing as many names and numbers as possible. His phone burns a hole in his pocket, and he can’t help but wonder how soon he can excuse himself to the toilet to read ten articles on women’s football for a refresher.

When she chimes in with a comment or a jeer, he does his best to reciprocate. Using talents he’s cultivated for infiltration and interrogation to string along a conversation in which he has no business participating.

It goes swimmingly until—

“There y’are, thought I’d have to find a bloodhound.”

Soap.

Kyle shifts in his seat, leveling a stare he hopes both contain whatever bullshit Soap’s preparing to spew—heaps, judging by his awful smirk—and communicates an unsubtle do not fuck this up for me. 

“Who’s this?”

Kyle opens his mouth, apparently in preparation to insert his own foot. He hasn’t gotten around to the name bit yet. Too busy learning about women’s football in real time. He looks sidelong at his would-be companion, another soft smile coming to his rescue.

She introduces herself, and he tries not to tack on a silent Garrick at the end of it, just to feel how it sounds. Christ, beyond done for.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She says.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. Name’s John, and this is–”

“Kyle. Like he said. Pleasure’s mine.” He offers a hand without hesitation, grinning when she takes it. Nearly groans at the calluses on her palms and fingers. Didn’t know he was into that. He smirks inwardly. Hm. Learning several new things today, Gaz.

“Are you…also here to watch the match?” She asks, gaze flitting between them.

He stares hard at Soap again and witnesses the devil himself whispering into the Scot’s ear. It’s truly an act of divine intervention when the other man shakes his head.

“‘Fraid not. I’ve got to run along, but Garrick’s all yours tonight.” He winks unctuously, waggling a brow to really sell it. “If you don’t mind watchin’ him.”

She smirks and pats his knee. “I’m sure I can handle him.”

Soap looks downright rakish. “Oh, I bet you can. See you in the morn, Kyle.”

He’s torn in two: she’s touched his leg and Soap’s cheek about tomorrow. The idiot lives a door down. They’re both on for PT at 0500. Dickhead.

“He’s friendly.” She muses as they return to the match.

“Too friendly. Like a failed police dog.” He mutters.

“Hmm. Does that make him a bad soldier?”

It takes effort not to choke. Their career, generally speaking, isn’t a secret, only their activities. Still. “Smart guess.”

“Despite his creative haircut, you’re both decently cut and we’re, what, twenty minutes from a base? Plus,” she shrugs. “His tattoo. Giveaway. I would’ve said ‘reenactor wannabe’, but your reaction confirms it.”

Kyle’s tongue swipes behind his teeth. She gets better by the minute. “Yeah? And, uh, what do you do for work?” Something physical, he bets silently. Something that necessitates her kind of build or creates it. 

“I’m a tailor.”

Or…not at all.

He can’t stop himself from blurting out. “So the muscles are—“ He abruptly stops, fingers gripping his drink tightly. Sweet Freddie Mercury. Forget smashing a glass over his scalp, he’ll vault through the front door headfirst.

“Powerlifting,” she proudly shares, setting her cocktail down to flex. Her muscles jump beneath her skin, straining into a mesmerizing landscape of strength and power. “My main hobby. If I could make money off it, believe me, I would,” she swings her frame forward and twists, showing off her traps. “But I learned how to sew and alter clothes when I, uh, outgrew conventional sizes.” Disdain paints the word. “Everything I’m wearing I customized to fit me, and me specifically.”

“Genius.” he says simply, mind half-blank when she turns forward again, flexing her biceps and forearms toward her lap. So she’s good with her hands.

A fist uncurls, and a finger crooks up. His face lifts to a smug smile.

“Impressed?”

“Thoroughly.” He swallows.

Her eyes drag over him, slowly and methodically. Picking him apart like a piece of meat. He suppresses a shudder. Yet another thing he didn’t know he liked. 

“How much do you weigh?”

A simple enough question. One he’s asked every so often, especially in medical, in between formal physicals. Coming from her, however, it’s an invitation.

And it is.

Straight into her arms.

Half the pub’s watching when she hoists him parallel to the ground, overhead, and squats. For a brief moment, arms crossed over his chest and back rigid, he swears he hears The Time of My Life. When she returns him to solid ground, to the cheers and toasts from the small crowd, he might as well still be in the air. Heavenbound. Preparing to meet Peter.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms, and he finds himself thigh-to-thigh with his strongwoman. They watch the remainder of the match, chatting—mostly about sports and work, but a bit about the little things—he’s not too thick when she offhandedly mentions knowing the neighborhood well. That her place is a few streets over.

He needs to be back on base before sunrise. He tells her as much outside the bar after the Welsh suffer defeat in penalties. He can relate to the feeling, knowing Soap’s gonna give him hell and Price will ream him out if he’s hungover. 

“Kyle, you’re cute, but we’re not at the sleepover stage yet,” she teases, picking invisible dust off his shirt. “I can give you a lift when you’re ready to leave.”

Strong. Witty. Confident. Can absolutely rip him in half. There is nothing he doesn’t like about her. So, so fucked. 

He grins stupidly when she beckons with a finger, beginning to walk toward her place.

“Premium?” He jokes, following. “I don’t settle for anything less than top-tier car service.”

“Not that kind of lift,” She answers, looking over a sculpted shoulder. “Fireman or princess?”

Kyle almost stumbles.

“Yes.”

[haunt3dh3art]

Heyoo! If requests are open then can i ask for jealous yandere ghost with an s/o. Man would shred the person like chedder cheese😭😭

im so sorry for getting to this so late! it got buried lol but omg i don’t even want to think about what ghost would do🤭🤭 anyways here you are!! female pronouns used throughout

˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

| Carved | Jealous!Yandere Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader

Synopsis: Ghost hears multiple rumours of you and an unknown recruit being seen on base together. He decides to act.

t/w's: death threats, graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical behaviour, Ghost isn't really in the right headspace throughout the fic, obsessive and possessive behaviour throughout, FEMALE pronouns used, male lover, very brief reference to menstrual cycle, stalking, lil mention of sex, Ghost flat out refuses to call your lover by his name, calls him "it" most of the time lol

˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

Soap made a thoughtless joke at mess a few weeks ago about you and your new "boy toy" that made Ghost freeze at the table.

"She's a good lass, but working out her "play" muscles, wouldn't ya say, Gaz?" The Scotsman laughed, playfully nudging his friend's shoulder.

Gaz snickered while Soap had to clutch his belly. Price gave a disapproving look to the lads.

"Give it up, boys, leave her alone."

Soap looked at the Captain with an innocent look on his face. "Oh, c'mon! I was messing wi'ya!"

Price shook his head.

Meanwhile, next to him, Ghost went rigid. He had been keeping an eye on you for a while. How could he miss something as important as this?

Ghost's blood relentlessly pumped to his head, making him feel like it was going to implode. The world had started to turn upside down.

The soldier cursed himself for being so ignorant. He had your schedule committed to memory, your address back home, phone number, your family members and even was starting to learn the timings of your menstrual cycle, but he hadn't noticed a potential lover. It's the most significant things he had a fucking blind spot for.

Holding his plate, Ghost rose from the dinner bench.

"Where ya goin', Ghost? Ya barely touched your scran!" Soap called out after him.

Ghost waved him off, scraped his food into the bin and put his plate on a cleaning rack. He left the mess hall with a dark cloud swarming around him.

---

Ghost wasn't seen for hours.

He had infiltrated your room and stolen your laptop without you realising. He already knew your password and logged in.

Pictures upon pictures of you and this intruder were plastered all over the device and a photo of you two together was the wallpaper. Ghost felt sick to his stomach and could feel his throat start to burn. He stormed through every photo in your gallery, read all of your messages and even saw some.. photos that made his cock stir.

You made a different kind of heat rise to his belly every time he saw you, but actually seeing some of your bare body instead of imagining it made his hands shake a little. To feel his body against yours, his hands around your perfect tits, just the slightest graze of his teeth against your neck..

Soon. Not soon enough, though.

---

The next time he saw you, you were in the on-site gym, running on a treadmill with your new.. thing.

Ghost hadn't learnt it's name, knowing it wasn't going to be around for much longer.

He decided to lift weights for his session and stayed in the gym until you both left. When you walked past the silently raging solider, you smiled and waved.

Ghost felt himself become Simon for a brief moment, letting his heart feel like an inferno in his chest as you acknowledged him. He knew such a small amount of attention from you was pathetic to react so intensely too, but he couldn't stop himself.

When you finally both left, Ghost flipped like a switch and turned back to the cold-hearted bastard he was used to being.

He let you get ahead for a bit and then left the gym with a towel over his shoulder. He'd brewed up a plan while lifting that was guaranteed to get the creature out of the picture and move you closer to his arms.

As soon as nightfall came, Ghost shed every innate trace of his human nature and embraced the waging inferno inside him.

---

Ghost went to dinner the next day as usual.

The boys exchanged banter and swapped stories as they always did. Ghost ate everything off his plate to avoid suspicion and cleaned up after himself. Then, he walked over to where your partner was sat.

You weren't there by some grace of the gods and Ghost said a silent prayer.

The soldier was well aware how threatening he looked sometimes, but he lived up to his name. Ghost blended into the crowd effortlessly, and cleared his throat when he got to the table.

Your partner turned around and flinched, making Ghost supress a snide chuckle. The man had to raise his eyes to meet Ghost's and scoffed.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk. Outside," Ghost gestured with his head, keeping his voice low.

The man laughed, rising from his seat. His friends started to laugh and made sounds like they were teenagers. "Fine, let's go."

Ghost led the unsuspecting soldier out of the canteen and down the hallway to a hidden cargo bay. He knew no one would be here and once the soldier had walked into the room, Ghost locked the door.

He slowly turned around, cracking his knuckles.

"Look," The guy said as he raised his hands. "I'm sure we can work this out, whatever it is."

Ghost took a step forward and it took a step back.

"Say a fucking prayer while I'm giving you the chance."

Ghost didn't give him a chance to say anything more; he didn't want to hear another sound but screaming and the flat packing sound of flesh hitting flesh.

The first punch Ghost threw made a sickening crack against the other soldier's jaw. One tooth was already on the floor, and Ghost planned for many more to fall out.

Ghost had the soldier on the floor within seconds, relentlessly smashing his fist into your lover's face, not stopping as he began to choke on blood.

Even through all of the animalistic violence, Ghost could saw flashes of your gentle, soft face in front of his eyes. You smiled sweetly in the haze.

The images only made him punch harder.

For you. You..

"For Y/N.. Y/N.."

He muttered your name under his breath constantly like a madman, like you were his lifeline, his call to arms. At his beck and call. You only needed to say the word and he would gladly do this over and over and over again for you, to anyone, for any reason.

The soldier gripped his arms onto Ghost's with a vice grip, leaving raw, bruising fingerprint marks behind. It would be the last trace of your lover and it would never be seen.

Ghost didn't stop punching even when his opponent was dead. He lay limp on the floor, but darker shades of red kept on creeping around the edges of Ghost's vision, spurring him on.

---

Ghost returned to the canteen hall with a fresh set of clothes on, but a distant look in his eye. As he sat down at his table, he saw you looking for your lover.

Eventually, you gave up and sat down.

He went on to visit you later that night.

---

Ghost knocked your door lightly, a foreign touch when compared to earlier.

You opened the door in a long t-shirt, obviously about to go to bed. "Ghost.." You started, but yawned. "Sorry, what's up?"

Ghost shed his skin, slowly becoming Simon once again.

"I know you're worried about your.. partner, but I promise you that it will work out. If you need me.."

Nodding, you leant against your doorframe. "I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere. Thank you for looking out for me, though."

You smiled and Simon felt his heart beat faster. "If you don't want to sleep on your own tonight, I'll sleep on the floor."

A stupid, stupid fucking offer. Who says that?

"I'd like that, actually. But I've got a chair you can sleep on, would be better than the floor for your back, I think."

Simon felt like he was floating as he walked into your room. It's not like it was his first time, but it was his first time with permission.

He shut the door silently behind him and watched as you fished a second pillow and blanket out of your wardrobe. "I brought these from home," You said proudly. "The chair I stole from the library, that's why it's got cushions. Soap helped me with the heist in the middle of the night."

Simon chuckled, taking the pillow from you. You started laughing too and he watched creases appear in the edges of your eyes. It was nice to see you forget about..

He shook his head and moved closer to you, touching your arm with his free hand.

"Y/N.."

You looked into his eyes, hypnotised. "Mm?"

Simon held on to your arm a little tighter and pulled you towards him. He threw the pillow onto your bed and leaned down by your ear.

"You have no idea about the things I would do for you, have done for you, even."

His voice went impossibly low and sent a shiver down your spine. The hairs on your arms stood up on end.

"You don't have a fucking clue of the things I have done to get this close to you."

Simon raised his mask with one hand and kissed the shell of your ear.

He spoke with deliberate precision and slowly, to burn his words onto your pretty head. He hoped you would never forget them.

"I am.. captured by you. The way you walk," He softly bit your ear and kissed over the mark it would leave. "The way you talk, the way you look, at me, especially."

He chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through your soul.

"I am yours, and you are mine."

˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

[violetswritingg]

Main Masterlist

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Imagines

Coming soon!

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Series

Twisters

Thunderstruck

Tyler Owens x OFC!

Description: When cowgirl meets cowboy after a year of no-contact and chaos ensues during storm season!

Rating: M (Mentions of blood and death in Tornadoes and storms alike, angst and loss of loved ones, car accidents, Tornado aftermath, and injury to characters, slight age gap (5 years))

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 17 (Coming soon)

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Young Justice

Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Act-One

0: Creation

1: He Left

2: Birthday's and Nightmares

3: Drop-Zone A

4: Drop-Zone B

5: Disappointment

6: School'd

7: Trash Go Boom

8: Home

9: Infiltrator

10: Outfiltrated

11: Truces and Text messages

12: Denial

13: Downtime

Act two

14: Bereft

15: Mortal Wounds

16: Home Invasion

17: Alpha Male pt.1

18: Alpha Male pt.2

19: Plant Subterfuge

20: Revelation

21: To be determined

22: To be determined

23: To be determined

24: To be determined

25: To be determined

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Titans

Only in Darkness

Jason Todd x OFC!

Description:

"Only in Darkness can you see the stars."

Or

Marlowe Knight stumbling upon a girl prophesied to end the world and going on the adventure of a life time.

Rating: M (Blood, cannon typical violence, sibling rivalry, scars, torture, trauma, angsttttt)

0.5

1: A New Chapter

2: Crime Scenes and Cafés

3: Dodged Calls

4: Cop Killer

5: To The Rescue

6: Blueberry Pancakes and Rooftop Memories

7: Phone Calls

8: Panic and Motel Conversations

9: Old Friends

10: Second Chances

11: Leaving

12: Nuclear Family Drama

13: On Edge

14: Different Places

15: On The Move

16: Training Season

17: Seriously? These Guys Again?

18: Chicago, She-cago

19: The Three Musketeers

20: TBD

21: TBD

22: TBD

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Peacemaker

Stargazer

Adrian Chase x OFC!

Description:

Back in 1939 the Court of Owls set out to create the first Talon, they called this initiative the Ghost protocol. Their product? everything they ever wanted in a solider for their nefarious schemes to keep their power over Gotham City.

Roberta Harris, Bobbie if you don't want to get shot somewhere important, never wanted this life. A 'criminal' to the world and a legend in the world of spy shit and black ops project's. The bomb in her head keeps her compliant with Waller's demands until Project Starfish wins her her freedom. What will she do now?

Or

A world in which an elderly lady moves to a small town in Washington state to get away from the superhero bullshit only to get pulled back in against her will. Growing along the way as a result.

Rating: M (For obvious reasons, it's Peacemaker)

1: Freedom

2: TBD

3: TBD

4: TBD

5: TBD

6: TBD

7: TBD

8: TBD

9: TBD

10: TBD

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Invincible

Valkyrie

Mark Grayson x OFC!

Description: In which two superpowered teens meet and fall in love amongst blood, death, and betrayal

Rating: M (Canon typical violence, betrayal, mental health issues, abandonment issues, child neglect, angsttttt)

Too Good To Be True

Carnage

Aftermath

Attacked From All Sides

Outer space

Nightmare

Burial Plot

Compromise

Shit Show

Shit Show pt.2

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

TBD

---------------------------------------------------------------

More coming soon!

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

The Phantom Soldier

@codename-alias Thanks to this beautiful person I've started a new story. It's going to be covering harsh topics such as torture, PTSD, and whatever else I come up with in the future. So, if this isn't for you then just rest assured I'll soon get back to posting about Danny and the Batfam.

Chapter 1- You with those sad eyes

Tensions are still high between Tony and the Rogues after the incident in Siberia. Once Steve had gotten far enough away, he’d given Pepper a call to send someone for Tony, feeling guilty about leaving him stranded in the cold as injured as he was. It’s a couple of months before Tony is healed both physically and mentally from the pain that Steve had wrought upon him, but he does eventually use the phone that Steve had left behind. 

Steve had apologized for what had happened in Siberia but doubles down when anyone says anything bad about Bucky. Tony had realized that both of them had acted in the heat of the moment but ultimately still feels betrayed at the secrets that should have been aired long before that moment, and can’t quite trust Steve to have his back.

Bucky holds such phenomenal guilt at the anguish he had caused that he hides in Steve’s room back at the tower most of the time. Anytime Tony and he are in the same room together, Bucky immediately disappears in the hopes that Tony won’t hate him any more than he does. It helps to soothe some things in Tony, but until they talk it out everyone walks around on eggshells.

While the two teams try to figure out a way to balance this fragile truth, Steve brings to light the Hydra cells that still seem to be in play even after the mass info dump. They’re so well hidden that Steve and Natasha can’t figure out where to go even with her amazing hacking skills. So, they think that maybe Tony might have better luck, and luck he has in spades. 

Tony creates a program that searches for key files by infiltrating the entire net, no matter how deep it has to dig. Anything that had to do with Hydra, the Winter Soldier Program, or the Super Soldier Serum is viciously dug into and scrutinized. They manage to find several active Hydra cells in this way, although, by the time the teams get there, the entire place is always emptied of everything but the office furniture.

It isn’t until they come across a small piece of information about something called The Phantom Soldier that Tony decides that they need to use a different tactic since they are obviously not getting anywhere. When Tony asks Bucky if he’d heard of or seen this “Phantom Soldier Project”, Bucky pales.

“Well, that’s not a good sign. Come on, out with it. What’s got you looking so scared?” Tony asks as he leans up against the kitchen counter.

“The Phantom Soldier was something I was supposed to train,” Bucky says. “My handlers liked to talk about Phantom, and from what I could piece together when I broke free, it was a kid. Or…something that looked like a kid. Hydra made a deal with some government agency called GIW. They believed that ghosts are real and have the ability to mimic human form while only having a more animalistic mind. The GIW captured one who looked like a kid but had more power than the gods.” Bucky looks apprehensive as he continues, his expression darkening. “I don’t know what Hydra gave them in return for this kid but one of the few things I do remember is them hooking up a teenager to the chair. The one that wipes minds. That wiped my mind.” He sits down in one of the chairs at the island, avoiding Tony’s gaze..

“That sounds both insane and horrible. How come you didn’t bring this up before?” Tony asks, crossing his arms.

With his head in his hands, Bucky groans, “Because I thought it was just more nightmares. I can only remember bits and pieces of Phantom and I really thought it was just one of the many things that I’d made up. I mean, who actually believes ghosts exist?”

“I would say no one does but I would be lying. The things we’ve seen make me believe in a lot nowadays.” Tony starts messing with his phone. “Friday, add all this information to the search parameters and see if we can’t find something. Make this a high priority.”

“Sir, it would appear that someone has tried to do a media blackout for anything related to Phantom,” Friday replies. “I’ve started the process of deciphering all information and tracing back to whoever might be placing these orders,” she informs Tony as large files of information are dumped into his phone. It’s going to take him hours to go through everything.

“I don’t care where it leads back to,” Tony says. “Find out what’s going on and who’s doing it. Quietly, if possible. If not, well, they can try and do something about it. See where it gets them.”

~~~                                                           

It takes almost a year before Friday can track down a Hydra cell that still seems to be active. More pieces of information are found about The Phantom Soldier the deeper Friday digs. Like how they acquired the subject when it appeared to be 16. The different ways they tortured the creature. How it seemed to have a weakness to electricity. A few pictures are even found to go along with some of these reports.

The more information Tony goes through, the more sickened he feels.

Tony has to find this kid. 

Thankfully, Friday is able to narrow down the location of the cell and finds it outside a small town in Missouri. The population of the town is only in the hundreds and seems to be isolated enough that the nearest city is two hours away. A perfect place for Hydra to hide.

Tony has both teams meet him in one of the meeting rooms for a debrief.

Natasha, Steve, Bucky, and Sam all sit next to each other while Vision, Wanda, and Pietro sit at the end. Tony stands at the front of the table where a large TV sits on the wall. Rhodey, Bruce, Clint, and Peter sit on the other side. Tony had tried to get Peter to stay behind but the teen had heard about the torture that the Phantom Soldier had gone through and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, rather than argue with him, Tony let him in on the meeting. Besides, the kid might be able to help in the long run.

“Friday found the base for an active Hydra cell near a small town in Missouri. From the heat signatures, the base is extremely large.” Tony activates a hologram that sits in the middle of the table. It spreads across the table showing off the building and the surrounding areas, including the entire town. 

“From the thermal images Friday has been able to get, there are a large number of Hydra inside. There’s a particularly large cold spot that I think might be where they’re holding Phantom,” Tony says, glancing around the table at everyone. “The security in this place is some of the most high-quality shit. Obviously, it’s still not as good as mine, but some of it is better than what the army has. Friday will be able to hack into it, but someone needs to get her into the system first.”

Natasha clears her throat. “I’ll sneak in to activate her. What kind of security are we looking at?”

Tony flicks his wrist and the hologram changes to show a bunch of different devices. “Their security cameras have both thermal and night vision with very few blind spots. I should be able to give you a jammer that will loop the feed for a few minutes,” he says. “There’s something in the walls that I haven’t figured out what they’re for, but they do have an off switch. They aren’t supposed to inflict harm,  that much I do know. I think it’s some kind of shield, but with an amount of power usage that I’ve never seen.”

He zooms in on a couple of the devices, rotating them so the holograms can be seen from all angles. “Some traps are embedded into the ceiling in case of any subjects escaping, although they only come down if an alarm is sounded. I’ll cook up something that will help you out just in case. You’ve got the typical guards patrolling the place.” Tony zooms back out and surveys his former teammates. “That was all I could find so far. The notes mention something about ‘ectoplasm’, but I haven’t been able to find anything out about it, so I’d just watch out for anything suspicious.”

Natasha nods. “Maybe Bruce can find something out about it from his peers? If it has anything to do with ghosts, then there has to be some kind of information floating about in the scientific field?”

Bruce quickly adjusts his glasses as he speaks up. “I asked around if anyone had heard of anything like ectoplasm and when I mentioned ghosts they laughed at me,” he says. “If it is connected, then the information is so well hidden that the rest of the community has never heard of it.” 

Peter raises his hand as he looks around at the group nervously.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes. “Kid, this isn’t school. You don’t have to raise your hand.”

“Oh, uh, ok.” Peter looks at Tony before pressing on. “When I was starting middle school, there was this thing going around on Facebook. Some kid from a town called Amity Park was talking about how haunted their town was. The posts continued for a few weeks before it just stopped. When I tried looking into it, all I could find was a deleted account.”

“So, besides talking about how haunted it was, was there other information?” Steve asks. 

Peter nods. “Yeah. This kid would talk about whatever ghost seemed to be attacking the town. After a while, they started talking about this ghost called Phantom that would fight the other ghosts. The kids seemed to like him alright but none of the adults could stand him. The kid even posted a video of one of the attacks but the quality was really bad and it was hard to see what was going on. Something about some ghost called Skuller or Scaller or something. It was like something was interfering with the video.” He shrugs and relaxes back in his seat. 

“Huh. I'm surprised the media didn't pick up on that. Sounds like something that would definitely grab the news attention,” Sam says, leaning forward slightly. 

Wanda stops looking at the hologram to stare down Tony. “It doesn't surprise me that someone shut down any way for this kind of thing to get out. In the world we live in now, it wouldn't surprise us to find out ghosts are out there, but back then? It would cause panic and fear. Not to mention the army trying to figure out how to turn them into weapons if they can.”

“Except Hydra found out about it first and it looks like they turned this ghost kid into a weapon. How much you wanna bet they're the ones behind the blackout?” Sam says. 

Nat scoffs and shakes her head. “That's not a bet I'm willing to take. I'm surprised this wasn't part of the info dump that went out. Otherwise, this news would have been everywhere.”

“Maybe a completely cut-off section of Hydra? One that wasn't part of the rest of the system, but how that’s possible I don't know.” Steve says with a shrug, while the rest of them wonder how something so monumental could have been kept hidden for so long. 

“When are we heading out?” Rhodey asks. “And who's going? A facility this large means you're going to need a lot of backup.”

Pietro scoffs at the assessment and everyone turns to look at him. He shrugs. “I could take out the entire place in seconds. I could do that before your computer even hacks the place.”

“Is that so?” Tony says, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do if you come across this ectoplasm stuff and you can't get past it? Or it hurts you, or it negates your speed? We don't have enough information about this place for you to go in unprepared. Maybe after we get the defenses taken down you could, but it's still dangerous with that Phantom character around.”

Wanda hits her brother's arm lightly. “Think before you speak, brother. Not all problems can be solved with your abilities.”

“Most can,” Pietro mumbles quietly enough that no one comments on it. 

“As for everyone going,” Tony says as he claps his hands together, drawing the attention back to him, “We need Nat to sneak in and get Friday into Hydra’s system. Everyone else hangs back until security is down and their alarms are useless. Then Cap and his bestie can break down the front door while the twins go in the back. I want Vision to hang back until we find out just where and how to help this kid.” 

He shifts his attention to Rhodey and Bruce, who are sitting next to each other. “Sam and I will be air support while Rhodey makes sure the army comes running to sweep up the mess we are definitely going to be making. We don't know what state this kid is gonna be in if we even find him, so I'm going to have Cho stay on the plane with Bruce as her assistant. I don't think we'll need mean and green, but I'd feel better if Cho had someone with her, just to be on the safe side.”

“Mr. Stark, what do you want me to do?” Peter says, looking excited about the prospect of getting to go on an Avengers mission. He’s never gotten to go with the team on these sorts of things, but he really wants to go and help the poor soul that's been tortured. 

“Yeah, no. You are gonna stay here and man the helm. Your aunt would kill me if I let you go,” Tony says as he waggles a finger at the kid. It may be childish but nobody ever said he was mature. 

Peter sputters his protest as he stands up, gesturing wildly as he talks. “I can help! I swear I won't get in anybody's way or get hurt. I can even be backup like Mr. Banner! Mr. Stark, please, please, let me go with you.”

Peter pulls out his ultimate weapon and gives him the puppy eyes. The others look away except for Clint, who has kids and has become immune to that look no matter what his wife says. 

“No. Nu-uh. Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.” Tony completely avoids the look by staring down at his phone. “There's no telling what this kid can do and I'm not going to be the one to tell May that you got hurt because you wanted to tag along on a mission way above your pay grade. You can monitor the progress from the safety of the tower and that's final.”

With a sigh, Peter drops back into his chair the way only a teenager can. “Fine but I get to meet him once you get him back here and patched up.”

The genius stares at his apprentice for a moment, just long enough to make the teenager squirm in his seat. “We'll see.”

“How long before we're ready to go?” Steve asks as he watches Peter slump in his seat, defeated. 

“I'll leave now and let the higher-ups know to be ready. Let me know when we can move in.” Rhodey says as he stands up and hugs Tony before leaving the room. 

“Be prepared to go by midday tomorrow,” Tony replies “Hopefully, Friday will have even more detailed information for us.”

The groups leave after that, all going their separate ways to get ready for the mission. All except Peter who glumly goes back to Queens to do his evening patrol. 

~~~

“Okay, people! We land in 10. Everyone knows their part, so do your last-minute checks now.” Natasha says from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. 

Everyone adds the last bit of necessary items to their persons as the jet lands. 

Natasha leaves the jet first, quickly and quietly easing herself into the building unseen. Tony had been able to get better pictures of the guards and had made her a matching outfit to go over her Widow outfit. Between that and the face cloaking device she wears, she’s unrecognizable. 

It doesn’t take long for her to find an empty office with a usable computer. After powering up the device, she sticks the flash drive holding Friday in. It only takes five minutes before Tony is on the comm telling her the security system is down and all parties are go for entry.

It doesn't take long for the Hydra agents and staff to start rushing around in a panic. Pietro finds Natasha almost instantly knocking out any guards that come around. 

“Hold your breath. Tony wants me to take you to the lab where the scientists are,” Pietro says, grabbing Natasha’s arm with one hand and bracing her neck and head with the other. 

This isn't the first time he's done this to one of the team members. They've all practiced this maneuver during training so that the motion doesn't catch anyone unaware. So, she does what he says without question. 

It barely takes a second as they zip through halls faster than the eye can see. Thankfully, Natasha’d had the foresight to put her hair up so that the flowing red locks wouldn’t tangle into a horrid mess. The sudden stop unbalances her for a second.

The entire room of scientists are in shock as Natasha and Pietro suddenly appear. The scientists startle as their brains finally kick into gear but before they have the chance to react, Pietro already has them tied up with tape around their mouths.

“Well, that was easy,” Natasha says amusedly. “What’s in here that he wants…” She trails off as she looks around. On one wall are large screens showing off a lot of information on one subject. Hurrying over to them, Natasha takes pictures of each screen so they can be inspected much closer later.

Going through a computer, she finds a file on The Phantom Soldier Project. Not only does it include information about the various ways they tortured the subject, but it also has information on how they’re controlling it. The file also tells her exactly where the kid is now.

“If anyone can hear me, Phantom is in a cell on the Northwest side,” Natasha says into her comm. “His room has those weird shields in the wall preventing him from getting out, so you might have to break down the door. There should also be a collar around his neck that prevents him from using his abilities. Someone try to get to him before Hydra activates him!” As she speaks, Nat pulls out another flash drive and starts downloading all the files she can get her hands on.

“We’re on it,” Steve replies into the comms.

Natasha pulls the flash drive out of the computer and places it in a nearly invisible pocket in her suit. “The lab is secure and I’ve got the flash drive. Anyone need help?”

“I could use-” Clint’s sentence is cut off by a grunt as a Hydra agent manages to kick him in the knee. He’s at a disadvantage as the number of agents overwhelms him. 

Natasha doesn’t have to say anything to Pietro before he’s rushing her to Clint’s side. 

There are small burns all over Clint from the guns that Hydra has, something the two Shield agents have never seen before. The gun barrel glows a bright neon green with the same colored smoke coming off it. Clint grits his teeth from the sharp pain.

Natasha and Pietro make quick work of the agents, taking a few of the guns in the process. 

“What in the hell is this powered with?” Clint grunts as he stands up, grabs a dropped gun, and looks it over. “Is this that ectoplasm that Tony was talking about? It hurts like a bitch.”

Suddenly, a large explosion shakes the entire building and several alarms go off, bathing the hallways in red. A high-pitched scream echoes through the comms along with static and sharp crackling.

“What was that?” Tony shouts, sounding slightly distracted.

“Wasn’t from my end,” Natasha and Wanda say at the exact same time.

Clint and Natasha look at each other with concern on their faces. “Steve.”

~~~

“We’re on it,” Steve says, grunting as he takes a gut punch from an agent.

Bucky appears suddenly and picks the agent up. As if the guy weighs nothing, Bucky throws him at a wall, swings around, and punches another agent in the face with a harsh crunching noise. With a practiced elegance, the two super soldiers dance around each other with ease, each fending off a blow that was aimed at the other. They’d spent so much time together that they knew each other's movements without having to communicate it.

By the time they’ve gotten the agents taken care of, the floor is littered with bodies. Most are unconscious but there are a few who met the wrong end of Bucky’s guns. There are scorch marks mixed in amongst the blood splatters along the walls from these new weapons, but Steve and Bucky’s bodies are already healing, leaving behind red welts instead of burns. 

“We need to hurry, Steve,” Bucky says. “If Hydra has done to this kid even half of what they did to me, then we’re going to be in for a rough time. We have to hope that they haven’t been able to activate him.” Bucky continues in the direction they were headed before they got ambushed.

“What do you remember about this kid, Bucky?” Steve asks as he takes off after him.

“He wasn’t human. They made him wear this thing that prevented him from using his powers. It was a collar but it would inject him with this poison so that he was too weak to escape. They made me train him to fight without any of his abilities so I don’t know what he can actually do.” Bucky grimaces slightly as he continues. “They were still trying to turn him into an obedient little soldier when I left. Something about his physiology prevented the chair from being completely effective.” He sounds regretful. His role in this made him ashamed even if it wasn’t his fault.

“Did they try and add any…accessories to him like they did with you?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know. Well, I don’t remember,” Bucky replies.

They slow down as they come to a section of the building on the northwest side. It’s glowing slightly with the same neon green that came from the Hydra weapons. Steve’s pretty sure that this is the correct area, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and come across another new weapon that Hydra has made. 

The hallway they’re in is filled with steel doors. There must be about fifty doors lining both sides of the hallway with no markings on most of them. Bucky and Steve each cautiously open a door and find that the room inside is an empty cell. 

The rooms are dark, with only the light from the hallway shining in letting them see just how barren it was. The only things in the rooms were a simple toilet, sink, and bed. Leaving the door open, Bucky and Steve move on to the next room.

They check room after room, only to find them all empty. When Bucky gets to a door marked with a number, he whistles to get Steve’s attention.

The room is locked and they don’t have the time to find the keys, so they try to bust down the door. With both of them kicking down the door at the same time, it finally dents inward enough to peel away from the walls. Both of them grab a side and pull, using the entirety of their strength until they’ve ripped the door off the hinges.

Inside is a kid who looks like they’re on their deathbed. They’re lying on the bed with their back to Bucky and Steve. Neither Bucky nor Steve can hear a heartbeat, but the kid doesn’t stop them from coming into the room.

This room is brighter than the others, a soft green light bathing everything in a sickly glow.

“Hello?” Steve walks forward cautiously.

The kid doesn’t move and they still can’t hear a heartbeat. When Steve finally gets over to the kid, he puts two fingers on their neck to check the pulse. There’s no heartbeat and the kid’s skin is cold to the touch. With a sad sigh, Steve leaves the kid where they are and turns to Bucky. Bucky looks upset when Steve shakes his head, but there’s nothing either of them can do, so they move on.

They quickly realize that the doors with no markings are all empty, so they only go after the doors with markings. With each unmoving kid that they find inside, the super soldiers become more and more hopeless. It isn’t until they get to the end of the hallway that they realize that they only have one door left, and with it, all their hope that the person inside is alive.

Steve and Bucky rip the door off its hinges, but before Steve can walk inside, Bucky puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

Inside the center of the room is a glowing boy, kneeling and chained to the floor. He can’t be more than 17 or 18. His hair is pure white and floats as if gravity has no hold on it. His eyes are clenched shut and he looks absolutely terrified. There’s a thick metal collar around his neck that hangs around his neck tightly. Chains hang from his wrists and ankles, leading to several metal loops in the floor, all tightly drawn so that he’s forced to kneel.

The kid has no shirt on and looks malnourished, his ribs practically poking through his skin. Wounds and bruises cover every inch of exposed skin, making it hard to tell if the slight green from his skin is natural or if all the injuries cause it. The poor boy is hunching over as much as he can with the chains attached.

Bucky takes a step forward into the room, but it’s Steve that calls out gently. “Phantom?”

A sharp intake of breath comes from the kid and he flinches. He opens his eyes and his gaze immediately locks on to Bucky. Panic and terror flood through his glowing emerald eyes as Phantom starts jerking viciously on his chains.

“Nononononono.” Phantom cries over and over again, desperately trying to get away from the person in front of him. “I’ll be good. I swear. I’ll do better this time. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me. I swear. I’ll be good. I’ll do it right. Whatever you want.”

Anguish twists Bucky’s expression as he listens to the teen’s frantic pleading. He’s frozen to the spot watching the tortured soul trying to break free of his prison. What did they do to this kid? he thinks. Fuck. What did I do to him?

Steve slowly walks past Bucky, towards the struggling boy. With all his strength, he crushes the collar and rips it off Phantom’s neck. It takes Phantom only a few seconds to realize he no longer has the steel wrapped around his neck, but when he does, it’s like his whole demeanor shifts.

There’s a cunning gleam in his eyes and with a deep breath, Phantom screams loud and clear. The sound is deafening, forcing both Bucky and Steve to cover their ears. Phantom stops and takes an even deeper breath and the scream becomes something more. 

It’s a banshee scream that sends Bucky and Steve flying back through the doorway they’d walked through. They’re sent flying all the way out of the room into the opposite side of the hallway with such force that they dent the wall. The longer the wail goes on, the more the walls start to shake, until the walls are shaking so much that debris rains down onto Bucky and Steve. They’ve just managed to get themselves up when a loud explosion suddenly erupts in front of him, knocking them back into the same wall with such force that they’re knocked unconscious. Their bodies slowly slide down to the floor, and the last thing they hear is someone screaming their names.

[mayflora-18]

Incorrect CoD Quotes #10

Sherlock: Sarge, I am way too sleep-deprived to deal with your negativity right now.

Gaz: -_-

---

Soap: We gotta get to the hospital and we gotta get there fast.

Ghost: Then, I should drive.

Soap: Why you?

Ghost: I've got nothing to live for and I drive like it.

Soap: Okay, let's do it.

[Later]

Ghost and Soap in the car: AAAAAAHHHH!!!

---

Sherlock: What if…

*Sherlock frowns in concentration*

Roach: Ooh, Sherlock's wheels are turning. Your brain baby is crowning.

Gaz:: Roach, please, that's disgusting.

Sherlock: No, it's helping, I am having a brain baby.

Gaz: Then push, babe, push.

Roach: *lets out deep breaths* Breathe.

Gaz: You can do this, you are so strong.

Sherlock: I got it!

---

Price: Quick, you're losing a lot of blood! What's your type?

Nikolai: Smart, brunette, British, you-

Price: Your blood type, Nik.

Nikolai: Oh! Red.

---

Nikolai: Sherlock is taking the day off so I'm gonna light something on fire.

Laswell: ...Why?

Nikolai: She's like 80% of my impulse control.

---

Price: Naw, bitch. I'm not being petty.

Gaz: You just said, "naw, bitch."

---

Roach: Okay, here are the ground rules: you can punch me, kick me, pull my hair. I am a-okay being stabbed. Biting and scratching are ON the table. You CAN use fire.

Soap: 😰 These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits?

Sherlock and Gaz: 🤨🤨

Roach: Damn, man. You got something really sick you wanna do, huh?

Soap: What- Uh-

Roach: Oh, you little pervert. Alright, I like it. Don’t tell me. Surprise me. Ooh, this is gonna be fun!

Ghost: 🤦‍♂️

———

Sherlock: Did you just eat all of the powdered donuts?

Nikolai: …No.

Sherlock: Дядя, I can see the powder on your pants.

Nikolai, brushing off his pants: That’s cocaine.

(Дядя = Uncle in Russian)

———

*Sherlock’s phone rings*

Sherlock: Sherlock’s authentic stolen military police badges. How can I help?

Gaz: Hey, it’s Garrick.

Sherlock: Oh, hey Kyle.

Gaz: Hey, do you carry a hairdryer in your purse?

Sherlock: Of course, I’m not an animal.

Gaz, on the other end: Told you! You owe me 20!

Farah: …

———

*Graves escapes from the 141*

Price: This isn’t over! I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!

Graves: I love you, too! 😘

———

Ghost: All right, you’re clearly not listening to me. I can say whatever I want.

Price, paying attention to something else: Tell me about it.

Ghost: I murdered Johnny this weekend.

Price: I feel you.

Ghost: Now that I have the taste for blood, I can’t stop murdering.

Price: Been there.

———

Gaz: Well, remember when you told me not to burn down the base?

Price: You burned down the base?

Gaz: No! I had the fire put out immediately. This is a success story.

Price: …

———

Alejandro: I need some 141 drama, stat!

Ghost: I don’t think we’re that dramatic.

Alejandro: We’ve been gone for one week. Gaz and Sherlock are dating, and they’ve killed a person.

———

Sherlock: This is where we came the night that I won our bet and you fell in love with me.

Gaz: Sherlock.

Sherlock: The night that you flirted with me for 20 seconds and I became obsessed with you forever.

———

*preparing to infiltrate on a mission with Ghost zip lining through a window*

Soap, over the comms: Is the equipment secure?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Weapon loaded?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Did you have breakfast?

Ghost: What? That’s not on the checklist!

Soap: I added it because I care about you.

Ghost: No, I did not have breakfast.

Soap: Unacceptable! Look in your pocket.

*Ghost fumbles through his pockets until he finds a granola bar and unwraps it*

Ghost: Hey, there’s little chocolate chips in this.

Soap: Yeah, I’m not an idiot, I know how to trick my best friend into eating his fiber.

———

I’m posting again! 🥳 Still working on the other fact drop, but I will post it ASAP. On a different note…

🎵Tomorrow, tomorrow! I’m 21, tomorrow! It’s only a day away!!! 🎵

[skinnyazn]

I Will Not Ask and Neither Should You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 1/3 Notes: inspired by Hozier's Like Real People Do, this is unlocking a big chunk of Jag LORE (based off of her dossier I made), also Simon's backstory, there may be smut there may not be we shall see where the fic takes it, it's gonna be angstyyyy,

Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST Why were you digging? / What did you bury Before those hands pulled me / From the earth? I will not ask you where you came from / I will not ask and neither should you

___

“Ya ‘eard from her?”  

“No, Simon,” there was a pause on the other side of the phone line. A flick of flint and a few inhales. “Think I’d be the first to know anyway?”

Simon wandered the sparse room like his namesake. The cracked curtains let in a dull, yellow light from the streetlights outside. It was raining again, as it does in Leeds in November.

“Supposed to be enjoying time off, not working holes in the carpet,” a longer inhale this time.

“They’re hardwood.” and Price chuckled on the other side. “‘Something I have to do.’” Simon read aloud your note again, not caring that his captain heard him. The paper was warped slightly from the warmth of his hand.

It was the only thing you’d left, when you left, two nights ago. He’d woken to an empty bed and an emptier room. The flat was Simon’s—a simple place to crash when he was on leave between missions. He never bothered to decorate since he was rarely there. Just kept the minimal furnishings that came with the gaff. But somehow you and your black duffel and your warm body had turned it into a place he wanted to stay.

“Have you even called her?”

Simon stilled in front of the window.

“Christ, Simon,” was all Price could manage, then a long exhale.

“If she wanted me to know about it she would have said something by now.” Simon stared out the sliver of window at nothing in particular; the beads of rain created a bokeh effect against the glass. "Think she’ll be back?”

“Dunno with that one,” and it was honesty. “Tends to not stick around.”

“She’s stuck this long.”

“Yeah?”

There was a lingering silence as Ghost set the note down next to his skull mask on the nightstand. The mattress sunk under the weight of him. 

Price sighed on the other end of the phone. “People like her—like you—like their autonomy.”

Ghost let out a sharp exhale. “And yet ‘ere I am, still runnin’ headlong into shit missions with you.”

“Aye,” the other man chuckled. “You’re more desperate than she is, though.” There was a long drag of his cigar. “Needed somewhere to hone all that hate.”

Simon only grunted in response.

“It’s late, Simon. Sleep. You can figure out if you want to call her in the morning.”

“Sure.” There were a few breathes before, “Thanks, John.”

“Anytime.”

Laying down on the bed, Ghost stared at the dial-pad, contemplating what to do next. The archaic phone dimly illuminated his chest and face in the dark.

Missions were so easy—straightforward. Infiltrate and navigate all the unknowns until you reach the best outcome. But life outside of the task force was a muddle of grey. Simon never did fully figure you out; never fully made peace with himself either. He shut the phone and turned on his side, willing futilely for a sleep that would not come.

___

if you'd like to be (un)tagged for updates let me know! @deadbranch @solidly-indulgent @aalxrose @dotcie

[eksvaized]

Part Eight König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01, @mizu-bozu, @pinkslaystation

Each time you find yourself wrapped in the comforting embrace of Simon’s arms, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. It’s as if you’ve broken a solemn promise you’ve made to yourself—a vow, a pledge, a commitment to stay away from him. This whirlwind of emotions, this cycle, has become a repeated pattern, a recurrent loop that seems to have no end.

After every night spent tangled in the sheets of Simon’s bed, you sternly tell yourself, and him, that this was indeed the last time. You assert, with a firmness that lacks any genuine conviction, that you won’t be crossing the threshold of his doorstep again.

However, this proclamation, this denial has turned into a part of a routine, too. It’s just like the part when Simon, with that irresistible charm of his, teases you. A mischievous glint twinkles in his dark eyes as you hurriedly gather your scattered clothes from the floor, peeking under the bed to look for your missing panties, only to stand up and see Simon twist the thin, soft fabric around his fingers.

His voice dances around you, a teasing melody of amusement, challenging your resolve. He doesn’t believe you can resist him, and his assertion fills the room. A knowing smirk slowly, almost lazily, creeps onto his face. Then, he always adds, with a hint of anticipation in his voice, “I won’t lock the door—in case your bed gets too cold. Again.”

You dismiss his words with a casual flick of your hand, a facade of indifference masking the turmoil within. You declare that you plan on spending the night at your own house, in your own bed, under your own roof. Yet, no matter how hard you push Simon away, how intently you try to maintain the distance, how determinedly you try to build walls around yourself, an invisible, magnetic force always lures you back to him. It pulls you back into the warmth of his arms, back into his bed, back into a world where nothing else seems to matter…

These days, it seems to be more of a rule than an exception that you find yourself spending the night at Simon’s place. This is particularly the case when König isn’t around to notice your absence. However, even when König is present, his attention is far from you. He’s usually engrossed in his phone, busily dealing with work politics, rumours, and gossip. This scenario provides you with ample opportunity to sneak away, and you seize it on numerous occasions.

Every time you cross the street, leaving your house behind and heading towards Simon’s, a heavy cloak of guilt wraps itself around your shoulders. It’s like a shadow, constantly trailing behind you, tracing your every step. Yet, the adrenaline rush you experience from the risk of being caught in the act at any moment works like a balm. It momentarily drowns out the shame and guilt, providing a temporary respite from your inner conflict.

There were one or two close encounters with König, where you almost got caught red-handed. But each time, you managed to think on your feet and concoct a believable excuse. And each time, König, in his naivety, accepted your hastily made up excuse without suspicion.

Simon has grown into an obsession, more than just a fleeting thought. He’s an insatiable fire consuming your every waking moment, infiltrating your thoughts, spreading tendrils of longing and desire through your day and night. No matter what you’re doing or where you are, he’s always there, at the back of your mind. And the mere thought of him - his presence, his voice, even his laughter - is enough to send a giddy rush of excitement coursing through your veins. Everything about him, from his gaze to his infectious smile, makes your heart flutter in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s as if you’re a schoolgirl with her first crush again, blushing uncontrollably and giggling at the slightest provocation. And after what seems like an eternity of waiting and wanting, of yearning for something more, you’re finally receiving the attention you’ve been desperately craving.

However, you’re well aware that you need to end things with König. It’s a task that’s easier said than done, especially given the circumstances. You haven’t been able to muster the courage to break things off yet, knowing all too well that König will demand to know why. He will want answers, and you’re not yet ready to confess that you’ve been having an affair.

It all reminds you of the time when you wanted to confront König about his own infidelity. You kept telling yourself that you’ll do it tomorrow, but when tomorrow came, you found another excuse to delay the confrontation. It’s the same with your confession now — each night before sleep, you promise yourself that you will talk with König in the morning. But when the morning comes, fear and guilt make you push that conversation further and further into the future.

* * *

It’s one of those long, seemingly endless nights where you are lying wide awake in bed, enveloped by the frigid sheets. The evening’s chill seems to seep into your bones, making the bed feel colder than it is. The day has been a marathon, filled to the brim with copious amounts of coffee—a decision you’re now regretting as the caffeine courses through your veins, denying you the sleep.

Your mind aimlessly wanders, drifting to thoughts of König, who’s been dispatched on yet another mission, leaving you alone to endure the deafening silence of your home for the next few long days.

Drained yet restless, sleep eluding your desperate grasp, you reach out for your phone. You scroll through your contacts until you land on Simon’s name and decide to send him a text.

Minutes that feel like hours pass as you wait anxiously for his reply. The oppressive silence of the room is punctuated only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of the clock in the hallway. When a response doesn’t come, a pang of disappointment courses through you, but you decide to send another message. A more direct invitation this time. “Come over?” you type, hoping he’s awake and willing to offer you a much-needed distraction from the loneliness.

Not too long after, the front door groans as it swings open. You had hidden a spare key outside, tucked away beneath an unassuming rock, specifically for Simon. You lock your phone, its screen dimming before you toss it onto the plush mattress without a second thought. Your fingers weave through your unkempt hair, soothing your excited nerves as you sit up in anticipation.

Simon has been in your house before and is familiar with the layout, so you don’t bother leaving the comfort of your bed to greet him.

The sound of heavy, determined footsteps reverberates through the house, growing louder and closer with each passing second. Each footfall stirs a flutter of excitement within the depths of your heart. However, the rhythmic footfall abruptly ceases. An unsettling, eerie silence envelops the house. As you look at the gap under the bedroom door, a flickering shadow catches your eye.

“Simon?” You call out, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Though you’re aware, he’s likely just pranking you, attempting to scare you, you find it more irritating than entertaining and wish he would just drop the act. Reaching over, you flick on the lamp. Its warm, comforting glow bathing the space in a soft light. “Stop playing around,” you demand again. This time, there’s a hint of irritation in your tone, laced with an undercurrent of budding anxiety.

No answer. Your patience, already worn thin, finally snaps, and you rise from the bed, determined to confront Simon and put an end to his childish game.

As you tiptoe, each step taken with extreme caution, you inch closer towards the closed door, pressing your ear against it. The faint sound of Simon’s breathing reaches your ears, and you can’t help but smirk at the realisation that he probably didn’t hear your soft footsteps. You decide to scare him.

“Boo!” With a sudden burst of energy, you swing the door open in one fluid, swift motion, your fingers slipping off the cool metal handle because of the abrupt movement.

However, the smirk that was plastered across your face fades away almost instantly when you see he isn’t here. The hallway is dark and empty. It’s as though he has dissolved into the very shadows, leaving behind only a frigid silence that gnaws at your courage.

“Simon? This isn’t funny anymore,” you call out, your voice echoing through the silence. You wonder how he was able to move so quickly and silently — you should have heard him walking away.

Yet again, your words are met with no response.

An icy shiver runs down your spine, like cold fingers tracing your back, sending a wave of unease rippling through your entire body. Like a creeping fog, fear seeps into every inch of you, its grip paralysing you, forcing you to stand still. With wide, frantic eyes, you scan the eerie surroundings, your gaze flitting from one corner to another, desperately searching for any trace of Simon.

A terrifying thought crosses your mind, causing your heart to beat faster. But... what if it’s not Simon messing with you? After all, he didn’t respond to your text. He may still be asleep in his house, and instead, you are now playing hide and seek with a stranger who has broken into your home.

A sudden noise—the sound of shattering glass—from the kitchen breaks your train of thought. Your heart plummets and, in a state of panic, you dart back into the room, slamming the door shut louder than you intended.

You’re now certain that it’s not Simon who’s lurking in the shadows, and you realise that you’re left with two choices. The first option is to gather your courage and try to escape, but the overwhelming fear glues you to the spot. So, you stumble towards the bed instead—your second option is to call for help and hope that it arrives in time.

As you frantically search for your phone, your hands glide across the lumpy mattress, tossing pillows and other items onto the floor in your haste. You mentally chide yourself for carelessly throwing your phone onto the bed instead of placing it on the nightstand. But finally, your fingers wrap around it, and you let out a shaky breath of relief. Yet, just as you unlock the phone, a hand clamps over your mouth. A body presses against yours.

“Caught you,” a low voice whispers into your ear, and an arm slinks around your waist, effectively immobilising you and preventing any chance of escape.

Simon. Your heart slows down when you realise it’s him. The phone slips out of your trembling hand and falls back onto the mattress. As you swallow the scream that had been building in your throat, a faint smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

You attempt to turn around because you want him to push him away and curse him for scaring you. But as soon as your body moves, his grip around you tightens. Like a python ensnaring its prey, his arms pull you deeper into his embrace, binding you closer to the heat of his body.

“You shouldn’t have been so desperate, you know,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. “... your neediness for attention made it easy for me to manipulate you.”

You are not sure what he is talking about, but you don’t want to listen anymore. Whatever twisted game he’s playing, you want him to end it now. You want him to leave your house—leave you alone. Yet his hand remains firmly clamped over your mouth, his arm still wrapped tightly around your waist. His fingers dig into your side with such force that you know it will leave a bruise.

In a fit of desperation, you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. He responds with a hiss—a sharp exhale of pain that sounds like steam escaping from a pressure valve. His hold on you slackens momentarily. That brief second is all you need, and you push him away with all the strength you can muster.

Before you can whirl around and deliver an ultimatum, your vision starts to distort. A wave of darkness washes over you, pulling you down into its inky depths. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you stumble, struggling to stay upright. But it’s no use. Your body gives up the fight and you crumple to the ground.

As you regain consciousness, a harsh, persistent ringing fills your ears, drowning out the silence of the room. A throbbing, pounding pain pulses rhythmically at the back of your skull. It takes several agonizing, disorienting seconds for your memory to return, filtering through the fog of confusion that clouds your mind. When it does, your eyes widen in terror and scan the room.

Simon is gone and you are… tied to the bed; your hands are fastened tightly above your head to the headboard, your mouth sealed with a piece of tape, the distinct aroma of the glue filling your nostrils and making you nauseous.

A wave of panic engulfs you, washing over you like a chilling tide. You begin to thrash around in desperate, futile attempts to free yourself, to escape the bindings that hold you captive. However, the unyielding restraints only seem to gnaw into your skin even deeper, tightening their grip on you, etching themselves into your flesh.

Simon’s chilling voice reverberates reaches your ears. It paralyzes you, causing your body to turn rigid, as if encased in a tomb of ice. Your breathing becomes shallow, each intake of air a struggle as you try to muffle your whimpering cries. Your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes; hot tears sting, like a thousand tiny needles pricking at your pupils, causing you to blink rapidly in a frenzied attempt to clear your sight.

Despite the bedroom door being firmly shut, you can hear the distinct sound of Simon pacing anxiously in the hallway. You can’t physically see him, but you’re certain he’s talking with someone on the phone conversation with someone.

“...Hurry up. I have her—there’s not much time,” he commands, the authoritative tone in his voice chilling you to your very core. His voice gradually recedes as he moves away, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter. Only to become audible again, a haunting echo, as he draws closer to the door. “No, but what other choice did I have? She would never have willingly gone me...”

Wrestling against your restraints, you make a vain attempt to sit upright. Like a captured bird flutters against the bars of its cage, you tug and twist at your bindings, shifting them in an effort to loosen them. The rough texture, like sandpaper against your skin, grates, and rubs, and the constant friction only serves to magnify the uncomfortable pressure on your already raw and chafed wrists.

The low murmur of Simon’s voice is a constant in the background, his words washing over you in a disjointed rhythm. “... I would, but I can’t just toss her over my shoulder and carry her to...” His voice, muffled and distant, keeps fading in and out, like a radio struggling to find the right frequency.

While you’re unable to grasp the entire conversation, the fragments you do catch are enough to elicit dread, making it clear that it isn’t going to end well for you.

“... I doubt Sarah will keep König distracted for much longer—he puts up with her because he knows he has to,” Simon says in a matter-of-fact tone. The mere mention of König’s name sends a shiver down your spine, causing you to freeze in place. And… and Sarah? Why would she be involved in all of this? “And unless you want König to cut your head off for touching his girl, I suggest you move your ass....”

[daisygirlwrites]

Hi

I was wondering if I could get a platonic Simon ghost Riley headcanon of just simply being best friends with him ??

Rough Start (pt 1)

Summary: The first few months of Ghost and Crash's relationship

(pt 2-olive branch)

(pt 3-little things)

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and death. Mentions of verbal abuse. Slight Angst

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem! Reader (Platonic)

Note: No use of (Y/N). Crash's former callsign was 'Shrike'

a/n: hello hello! im so sorry that i've been late with posting, my schedule keeps changing >:0 but i am finding times to write! as you can see, this is going to be a multi part because i had no self control when writing these headcanons. not sure how long it's going to be but i do know that the next part will be up this week! another thing, just passed 200 followers! i will make a separate post about itbut please send me asks/request! thank you so much for reading!

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @itsscromp

He, along with Price, heard the rumors going around you. It was said that your skills were similar to his and that people called you “Little Ghost” behind your back. Like him, your specialty is sabotage and infiltration. Both men do some digging into your file.

Ghost was sent a redacted report, wanting to see what skills and training you’ve had but not really interested in your past. On the other hand, Price and Laswell were given the uncensored one. 

Some parts of the report made his eyebrow raise though. Especially the one about your former team and their last ‘mission’. At this point he was curious and wanted to take a look of Price’s copy because some of the things he read was: 

“Captain Lovelace Reported Dead”  “Section Name: ‘BIRD'S NEST’; Turned Against Each Other”  “Multiple Buildings On Fire”  “Three Survivors: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [(LASTNAME)]”

Hell, your (former) callsign was covered with a black line too

But again, he looked over your skill list and previous experiences. If he were to compare an old file of his to your current file, it would be identical. No wonder why Price wants you so badly on the task force, you’re a younger Ghost

He gets called in by Price to have a meeting about your recruitment. He wanted to know Ghost’s opinion about you, though, his mind is already made up about having you on the team. Ghost tells him that having you would be beneficial and that the task force needs more members anyway. But what he doesn’t tell Price is his hesitation for you. Files and reports are one thing but he needs to see you in action to be fully convinced

Price, knowing Ghost for years now, can see the slight uncertainty in his eyes. To help with this, he and Laswell call up old contacts and former teammates that worked with you. All of them give you a glowing review but Ghost remains unconvinced. That is until Price contacts Mace, a former operator that Ghost used to work with.

“Just need your honest opinion about her.” Price said to the phone. 

“About Shrike? Well, let’s see; Quiet, does what she’s told, hell of a shot and handy with knives too,” Mace paused for a second, trying to find the right words for what he was going to say next. “She’s still young and honestly, she can benefit with some training but I’m telling you, Price, she reminds me of Ghost when I worked with him seven years ago.”

Laswell made a face, as if she were to say ‘I’m impressed’, while Price eyed Ghost, studying his eyes for any reaction.

“You don’t say?” 

“Look, if you don’t want her on the task force, I will gladly have her join my crew.”

Price lets out a soft chuckle, “Sorry Mace, I think we’ll have her transferred to us.”

As Price and Laswell finalize your transfer, Ghost starts making his way out of the office. Price stops him. “Simon,” He calls out. It was rare for him to get called by his last name, let alone his first. Hand already on the doorknob, he turns his head, facing Price. He watches him take a breath, before stating “You’ll be mentoring her.”

“I’m sorry sir, what?”

“You heard me. You’re going to be her mentor.”

Ghost lets out a scoff, “I don’t want to play babysitter, Captain.”

“Out of everyone in the team, she shares the same skillset as you. Plus, it shouldn't take long before she catches up.”  Ghost looks away, not wanting Price to know that the last comment bothered him. All he could do was nod and leave.

Fast forward a couple weeks. He, Price and Laswell stand outside the base, watching planes and helicopters land and take off, waiting for your arrival. After a couple minutes, they see a Black Hawk touch down a couple hundred feet in front of them. The blades slow down as the side door opens. Out walks you, a duffle bag in each hand and a rifle case strapped to your back. Spotting the trio, you walk to their direction

Ghost stares at you as you walk towards them. For one, you are much shorter than anticipated, probably around 5’4. Another thing that he notices is your outfit; black hoodie, black cargo pants and a simple black facemask. Price looks at you two and takes note that you look like Ghost’s mini-me, matching outfit and all.  

Price was the first to greet you, and ever the gentleman, takes one of your bags even though you respectfully refused. “Now you can properly shake my hand.”

Laswell was next but she gives you a look, as if she were trying to remember something (or someone). Still your introduction was pleasant. 

Ghost stayed silent as he watched your interactions with each other. He didn’t even say anything to you as you held out your hand and told him your name and rank. There’s an awkward air between you two and Price watches on, only stepping in to introduce Ghost himself. “This is Lieutenant Simon Riley, your mentor.” 

Finally, he returns your handshake. “Call me Ghost.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Training doesn’t start until after your first mission together, which is literally the day after you got to base. Price was concerned at first but Ghost reasons with him; he wants to see how you do when being thrown in the deep end

And you do better than he expected you to. He understands what everyone is saying now and why they wanted you in their team; you may be young and have many things to work on, but you have the potential to be like him. As he is in the height of his career, within years time and training, you have the ability to surpass him.

This makes him a bit conflicted. For one, it’s an advantage to have someone like you in the team but on the other hand he’s worked hard and suffered through so much to be where he is now, so seeing you, young and even optimistic at times, makes him jealous. And Price’s comment stuck with him. A part of Ghost feels like he’s going to get replaced by a younger and better verison in a couple years

So when training does start, he treats you as if you were in basic again and he doesn’t hold back either, especially with how you are on the field. 

Price thinks Ghost goes a little too rough in the training sessions but he doesn’t know his jealousy towards you

Will nitpick at every little mistake you do, yelling and shouting as he does so. Has called you stupid, idiot and weak. Does not hold back his strength during hand to hand. 

But time and time again, you get up, hands and arms anticipating his next moves, blinking away tears that threaten to spill in front of him. Honestly, this makes him respect you whenever you do this and it also pisses him off even more.

During missions, you are amazing but Ghost wants perfection. He only talks about the objective and anything relating to it. However, when you get back to base, even if the mission goes well, he reprimands you on what you did wrong and what you could have done better. And like how he is during training, he isn’t nice about it either.

This hostile attitude towards you goes for about four months since you joined the team. The rest of the 141 made comments towards him about it but never really stepped in, mostly with how you’re taking everything and not letting it bother you. Yes you’re quiet and shy in the group, but they’ve seen your small acts of kindness. Helping to put gear away, getting them drinks and snacks during breaks and cleaning up the meeting room after it’s done. 

But you are still human and you have your limits too. Everything that he throws at you starts to chip the mask you wore whenever he yells. And tonight, you were at the breaking point.

The mission went well, all things considered. Objective cleared and only leaving with some minor injuries too. However during the mission, you noticed some movement from the corner of your eye. An enemy and he was close behind Ghost. You were going off of instincts, immediately pulling out your knife and chucking it towards the man behind him. From Ghost’s perspective, you literally turned around and threw a knife in his direction. He would have screamed at you if it weren’t for the sound of a man choking on his own blood. Ghost turns his head and finds the said man, slumped down against the wall dying and your knife stuck in his neck. Grabbing the handle, twisting it for good measure, he takes it out and hands it back to you. You feel a small sense of pride and happiness when he nods at you.

Thinking that you did good in the mission, maybe this time Ghost won’t yell at you afterwards. But you were very wrong. Once you enter the main building at base, he goes off on you. And your heart breaks all over again, confused at why he keeps doing this and angry at yourself for believing you did something correct.

Price and Soap step in, between you two, to defend your actions and even call him out on his behavior.

Honestly, at this point, Ghost just wants to see you blow up and he believes that you will. But to his shock, you put a gentle hand on Price and Soap’s shoulders and shake your head. You step towards him, meeting his eyes. 

There’s a usual ‘sparkle’ in your eyes but this time, you look like you’re dead inside. Months of this verbal abuse, you’re done and he can tell. 

The rest of the team step back to give you some space, the room filled with uncomfortable silence. 

Your voice, barely above a whisper, questioned him “Why do you hate me?” You search his eyes for an answer, a sign, anything. But he doesn’t give you one, so you guess instead. “Is it because you envy me?”

Ghost eyes widen and you scoff in response, finally getting the message and leaving the room without acknowledging the others. 

The team didn’t hear what you were saying but they can tell that it properly pissed off Ghost, watching his hands ball up into fists. However, he doesn’t go after you because in the end, you were right

Part 2 Here!

Part 3 There!

[fanficwriterlover]

Undercover

18+ Readers Only

As you guys have voted, this is another series I'll be working on...this one will have a different approach and I want to blossom this relationship with Ghost through harsh trails. We'll see where it'll take us. Don't worry will still work on Safe With A Ghost.

Enjoy ! Thanks for Supporting !

Chapter 1: Last Time

Summary: You're an undercover CIA, your job has always been to extract information from your targets to report back to Laswell. This time, things are different you'll be working with a team called 141, yet everything seemed to fall apart, you've become compromised and endangered. Now you have to have a babysitter to keep you safe, yet, it turns to something else~

Expectations: blood,shooting,cursing,intensity moments,flirting, indication of nudity, slight arousal, and more

Call sign: N/A

══════ ⋆Undercover Masterlist⋆ ══════

════════ ⋆Chapter 2⋆ ═════════

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sighing out, being undercover was hard work, it was never ending. You were always on the move with your next target and constantly dressed differently. This time, you were an assistant which, you've had to portray for months now. Least until Laswell's team got enough of what they needed to take action. That's right, you were the guinea pig they threw into a den of lions to chase after. Some times it'd take you a day to win over your target others took months. It was hard, you couldn't know from one day to the next. One slip up and you could have a bullet in your head. Recently your "boss" had moved into his other mansion feeling his enemies getting under his skin. He was growing agitated now, he couldn't for the life of him figure out how his enemies were getting information. Little did he know his "dorogoy" translation for sweetheart was the heart of the betrayal.

He cursed on the phone slamming his fist down on the table obviously not happy that his warehouse was found by Laswell's team. You of course leaked it out, as his personal assistant you had full access to everything. You eyed him seeing the big man look through the window. He spoke Russian through gritted teeth to whoever was on the other end "vam luchshe ispravit' eto seychas! Mne nuzhno, chtoby eta posylka byla otpravlena zavtra! Sdelay eto !" ( You better fix this now ! I need that shipment sent out tomorrow! Make it happen !) Luckily, you were a multilingual, and understood a variety of languages which gave you the upper hand to infiltrate and go uncover.

He slammed the phone onto the table nearly breaking it as you took the chance standing up walking over to him, speaking in a seductive low voice touching his arm "Gluboko vzdokhnite, lyubov' moya, ya uveren, chto zavtra oni sdelayut eto. chto-nibud', chto ya mogu sdelat', chtoby oblegchit' vashi problemy?" (Deep breaths, my love, I'm sure they'll get it done for tomorrow. anything I can do to ease your troubles ?) He seemed to be composing himself shaking his head. "Net. Ne nuzhno volnovat'sya iz-za chego-to podobnogo, moya dorogaya. Pochemu by tebe ne kupit' mne chego-nibud' v toy bulochnoy." (No. Don't need you stressing over something like this my dear. Why don't you go get me some thing at that bakery shop.) Giving a warm smile. "Of course !" You make your way out of his large office grabbing your coat and leaving his large mansion. It was too fancy for your taste, but all his estates were that way and you’ve lived in almost luxury for 7 months so far. You stride out the door, body guards every where as you take a deep breath, it was cold outside as always as you made your way to the bakery.

Once you felt out of sight you pulled out your phone and called Laswell, "I got something." You can hear Laswell sounding ready to log into the computer and record the phone call. You waited until she told you to speak. "Tonight, his men have to make up a new shipment, he's set on getting it out tomorrow to whoever." Laswell then asked "He hasn't told you who though" you huff "No...that's one thing he hasn't opened up to me about. And Laswell...I think he's catching on. You need to get this done now. My neck is on the line" you bit your lip. It was true, you were the only other person present in the room that would share information to the enemies, he's obviously going to figure it out soon. "I know, hang tight. I'll send a team to extract you. We have things to go over anyways, right now he's not our priority. Until then-" you frowned walking a bit making a right, for a while you felt someone was following you "I think I've already been caught on...." You began panting softly speed walking Laswell hearing this "I'm going to be sending two of my guys to your location. Stay alive until then. ETA extraction team be there at best 2 hours" you cursed under your breath speaking through gritted teeth "I may not be alive by then Laswell." She takes a breath from the line "Then guess you fight like hell" you walked yourself into an alley way the two men were definitely behind you as you put Laswell on hold."Excuse me for a moment" , looking at the men smiling "Good morning gentlemen, to what do I owe this encounter?" They both strided towards you but you were faster grabbing one of the man's arms kneeing him in the chest and grabbing his gun shooting his head. The other one reaching for his, drawing it. You use the man's limp body as a shield taking the shots as you aim his gun to the other man shooting him. Just like that, dead. You pick up your phone "Sorry about that Laswell, where do I rendezvous again ?"

A Couple Hours Later

You were in a jet flying back to base where you'd meet Laswell and her new team, for the first time. You've only heard a little bit about the team otherwise you didn't know what to expect. You had changed into your casual attire, it was tight jeans, boots that reached below your knees and a shirt that only one sleeve went over of your shoulders. You wore one sleeve to mask your other arm, your nails manicured and hair hanged down over your shoulder showing your natural hair color. It's been a long time since you've been back in your home turf. It always felt like you were always on the move dressing differently from head to toe.

When you finally landed you stepped down the stairs however you weren't greeted by Laswell, instead you saw 7 men all seeming to wait for your arrival. You then noticed the laptop on the stand with Laswell on the screen as you knew what this meant. Approaching the laptop you look at the screen seeing her serious face before smiling and nodding her head "Glad to see you still kept your head" you mumble softly "Barely, no thanks to you" she smiled slightly "I know you just got back-" you raised your hand "If you expect me to already go back in the field again you must be joking ?" Giving you an apologetic look as a man with a cup hat walked forward holding his vest "Unfortunately we are not lass, Kate says your the best. And quite frankly we need your skills lass." You wanted to scream, you just got home. You've nearly lost your head twice and already you want to be sent out like a guinea pig. Gritting your teeth "And you are ?" Cocking a brow at him almost glaring. "Captain John Price, I lead the team 141." You studied him for a moment scanning at the men behind him. Before looking back at the screen. "Last one, I mean it, I need a break Laswell" nodding her head "I agree" you frown crossing your arm "I'm going to need more assurance than you agreeing with me Kate" the words came out sharp but you couldn't be blamed, you were rightfully to be pissed. "I promise this will be your last one." You studied her, huffing hands on your hips "Alright, who now ?"

Laswell went on to speak with the Captain shifting the camera view for Laswell to see the interaction "Need you to meet whose going to help with this mission. Los Vaqueros, this is their leader; Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra" you raised a brow before speaking "Los vaqueros eh? México ? que parte ?" Reaching to shake Alejandro hand he was shocked and surprised smiling before responding "Crecí en Las Almas mi amiga, ¿hablas español?" Smiling at his remark "Sí, estudié todos los idiomas para moverme." He laughs softly "Debo decir que estoy impresionada!" You then shake his Sergeant Majors hand nodding your head. Next you were in front of two other men, both wearing UK flags. "Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and Sargent Johnny Soap McTavish" shaking both their hands Soap seemed a lot more excited to greet you as he spoke with a rough Scottish accent "Nice to meet you lass, you're quite the deal if Laswell hand picked ya" you laugh softly "So I'm told." Next was a person you didn't see before. He blended into the shadows was almost daunting from his size and aura. Laswell spoke "And that is Lieutenant Ghost." You nodded your head as he did the same. Flipping your head in Laswell's direction, "Okay....what do you want me to do"

After the Briefing with Los Vaqueros & 141

You were in your bunker putting on some makeup, was more natural looking and a glue on wig (honestly you hated wearing wigs but was essential to look different) it was blonde of course, they will be of course going back to Russia. You grumbled annoyed you just got back from that place and now you have to go back to find some guy named Gusev. This annoyed you apparently the man was selling illegal weapons and they want to know why. However, you had a feeling they knew more than they shared, it felt like you were out of the loop, just told to get whatever information you can and return. Apparently in two nights, he'll be meeting someone to give some information, a deal so to speak. Whatever was in his briefcase they wanted to know. Your job of course, is to get information out of the man within a night, take the briefcase and bring it to HQ. Sounds almost impossible, but you'll make it happen. This will be different though, you'll be watched over by 141 and Los Vaqueros. You frowned, Los Vaqueros patrolled in Mexico, so why exactly were they involved ? What do they gain from joining 141 ? And why was a team necessary to make 141. All of it confused you. People sell illegal weapons all the time, that's normal but for British,Mexican, and American to work together simply to track down some smuggler, it made you wonder what exactly you'll hear from Gusev that Laswell was withholding. You put in some green eye lenses to look completely different, sometimes you didn't even know who you were. Once ready putting on a dress with heels. Was a tight black dress that hugged around your body with not straps. You walked out of your bunker, the clicking of your heels can be heard through the halls as you made your way to the team.

Captain Price had the laptop up again, obviously talking to Laswell as you made your way closer, everyone else was talking amongst each other. It was the man with the skull balaclava noticing you first, his eyes scanned you from head to toe. You didn't let it bother you though, you were used to having eyes on you. Apparently was enough to make the Scottish man notice with his gaping mouth. You ignored it though approaching the Captain who looked like he was holding stuff for you, he handed you some IDs as Laswell spoke through the screen "You'll be a hooker this time" you raised a brow frowning at her "Really?" Kate laughs a little "Apparently Gusev is known for going to some strip clubs" if you thought your brow were high they went higher "You've got to be joking !" you blinked "I'm afraid not y/n, you'll find what you need in your bags. Ghost and Soap will be inside with you the whole time. With Price, Gaz and the Los Vaqueros guarding the exits and entrances."

You mumbled to yourself "Great....." with that Price spoke up "Alright team, let's move out." He then said a few words to Laswell, which you were able to catch her last words before "Take care of her John " was what you heard before boarding the craft. Finding a spot where the man known as Ghost sat across from you, with of course Soap next to you and Colonel Alejandro. Everyone else sat around. This was going to be a long flight you thought to yourself. Already Soap was asking you a bunch of questions, he seemed almost enamored to finally speak with a women, as you thought Poor guy, he must not go out a lot with women. His voice disrupting your train of thought "Where you from by the way ? You sound American." you nod your head "Spot on, I grew up in Kentucky." His eyes lit up "Country girl ?" You laugh a little covering your mouth "Something like that yes, my parents own property I used to ride horses. Well, kinda still own one but yeah" This really intrigued him, but Alejandro chimed in "Ah, a lass with good taste, no wonder. ¿Eres una vaquera tú mismo?" You smirk at him, he was handsome, he had a nice chisel face and slick hair "Sinceramente, no soy un estilo vaquero, monto al estilo inglés." He nodded his head "Ah, impresionante mi querida, seguro que eres talentosa." smiling from the compliment "gracias" yet this time Ghost caught your attention "How long you've been working undercover ?" The question seemed to surprise everyone as they looked in his direction My god, his presence could be obvious from his size and demeanor yet I forgot he was there. Guess he'd blend in well in the club. "Let's see- give or take maybe....6 years ?" His eyes narrowed in on you almost finding it hard to believe "Awfully young then aren't you ?" Your cheeks were red as you smirked a bit "I am old enough to be in the field, I assure you Lieutenant, I know how to do my job. I've never failed at getting what I want." He huffs "As long as you ain't a burden on my ass. Last thing we need is dead weight" Price looked his way "Ghost, none of that, Laswell and y/n, have worked together for years at the CIA, I trust Kate's judgement therefore I trust her." Price gave you a sympathetic smile "Sorry lass, don't let him intimidate you" you smile back "Not at all sir"

Arrival Somewhere in Russia

Getting off the plane, you were escorted by Ghost and Soap, to take you to a hotel to spend the night. You work at the club (already been given the job after the owner scanned your body from head to toe) Ghost and Soap, got jobs as bodyguards for the club, which the owner seemed delighted because apparently it's known for fights. You're to pretend to be a 21 year old, that gave you an eye roll. Your objective, find the target, seduce him, get the briefcase that contains plans that is needed. Apparently he's supposed to do a trade with someone. Ghost and Soap will stand in proximity to the best of their ability, if it all goes south they'll extract you immediately.

Getting a room card turned out to be more problematic than you thought though, the hotel had only two available rooms, therefore it meant someone would have to share since of course as the concierge said "The room for Mr and Mrs. Jones." You were about to say that must be wrong yet Ghost spoke up "Yeah, that'd be me and my new wife" clearly not trying to make a scene you went along with it. Feeling Ghost lay a hand on your waist. You knew it was for show but his hands were big on your waist, it sent a shiver up your core making you blush deeply. The concierge seemed delighted "Ah newlyweds! Here's your room then." Taking the keys Ghost and you walked side by side, well more like, he pulled you away from the desk with the press of his hand on your hips. Glancing back at Soap, you can see he was pouting about not thinking quick enough to be your fake husband. At the same time, you were somewhat relieved, you felt Ghost would be less obnoxious. And quite frankly less perverted. You hit the elevator button waiting for the doors to slide open as Soap eventually caught up as you all stepped in silently.

Ghost looked at the ceiling of the elevator obviously making sure their was no cameras as he spoke "Johnny, stop pouting" you looked toward Johnny seeing his arms crossed glaring at Ghost "It's not fair LT, besides you didn't even give y/n a chance to decide her husband." You laugh and blush a bit, Ghost looking down at you "Beggers can't be choosers." He says gruffly as you look at him as if he was encouraging you to say something as you look at Johnny who seemed to be fuming "C'mon Johnny, don't be like that. I tell you what- if we survive this mission, next time I need a fake husband I'll ask you" you gave a smirk. He beamed up "Aye, hear that LT, already should be expecting a divorce soon" Ghost snorted, the elevator door dinged as you stepped out walking to the room you'd be staying in. Unlocking it. Wishing Johnny a good night as you and Ghost went into your shared room. It was spacious, rose petals, fragrance smells, soothing lights, just perfect to set the mood...if you were an actual couple.

You look up at Ghost seeing his annoyed stare as he grumbled "Fuckin hell" you laugh softly, holding your stomach as you couldn't help it "Already regretting Lieutenant?" You walk into the room setting down your bag near the bed brushing off the petals. Ghost stood against the wall as you looked at him "You know "husband" if you plan to watch me undress that would ruin the element of surprise." You giggle seeing him become uncomfortable clearing his throat "Don't get any ideas lass, I don't plan on watching" you cock your brow zipping down your dress "Yet you're still staring." He looks immediately away heading into the large bathroom "Hurry up and fuckin change." You giggle seeing him rush into the bathroom shutting the door. You began undressing out of the dress into some shorts and loose shirt. Having to make do, with the dresser and your own mirror to remove your makeup, hair, and lenses. When finished you called out "Alright hubby, you can come out now" you can already hear him grumbling stepping out obviously not thrilled with the new pet name. He was still wearing his mask but in a shirt and sweatpants, cocking your brow at him sightly "You sleep with your mask on too ?" He groans rolling his eyes "You ask a lot of questions" you stand up sitting onto your bed "And yet you dodge every question. You are an unknown book, that I'm dying to read" he snorts "Poetic, don't get your hopes up lovie, best to stay curious and never know."

His eyes lingered on yours then moving down to your shirt, realizing you weren't wearing a bra as he adverted his eyes cursing in his mind. You pulled him out of his mind "Well we should rest. Big day tomorrow. Goodnight hubby" he grunts sitting in the sofa chair, you look at him and scuff "Ghost, there's plenty of room on this god for sake king size bed. Get in now !" Your eyes were sharp, he almost would've taken that as an order with your sharp tone as he grumbled feeling like he'd regret this. Laying on the other side, his back towards you before going to sleep. You lay awake for what seemed like forever unable to close your eyes. You could feel his warm body at the other side of the bed. Hearing his heavy breathing as you lay in silence. You turn to look at his back seeing him breathe. Your curiosity from what's under the mask as you wonder who he was and what he looked like. There was so many questions running through your head you didn't even realize until he spoke "Go to sleep, or I'll knock you out myself" with that you gave a huff but smiling softly, you finally close your eyes and mumble "Shut up..." he gave a low chuckle it surprised you but it made you smile falling into a deep sleep.

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Thanks for Reading !

[lolitastories]

GHOST

Javier Pena x Reader

I was going to write a series but I get more inspiration just with Javier Pena alone. So this will follow a story line and I hope it makes sense.

Chapter 1:

“Come in” I open the door and make my way inside to the closest desk. The blonde guy acts on his emotions as he is shocked to see me infront of him. “Hello am-”

“Agent Steve Murphy” I brushed off shaking his hand. “Am aware.”

“What do we owe the pleasure of your visit? Or are you even talking to us?” I brush off the annoying voice. Well to explain it better it wasn’t annoying, it was arrogant which is worse.

“I need copies and list of people you have encounter in the Escobar case”

“Aren’t you just an analyst following behind the ambassador like a lost puppy?” I took a quick deep breath before turning around to Agent Pena.

“Something like that” I lower my voice walking over until I am standing over him. He spreads himself into his chair, turning his chair in my direction.

“Then why would you need information on our case? Did the ambassador approve this?” He sits up straight looking up at me. His eyes are so innocent from my point of view. A little smirk playing on his lips, tempting.

“I think it doesn't concern you beyond this point,” I lean forward resting my hands on both of the armrests. “I am not just some analyst. If you decide to utter a single word towards the ambassador both you and your partner will be on the next flight out to the states.” I move my head to the side, getting closer to his face. “I know how important this is to you and him” His dark brown eyes stare deeply into mine without blinking. “And if you still have doubts I will tell you one last thing so you can believe me” I move even closer until I am right beside his ear so only he could hear me. “The ambassador can be right beside you on that flight. That's how much power I hold as just an analyst” With a smile I stood up straight. “Leave them in my office as soon as possible”

“Yes ma’am” . Satisfied I fix my skirt and walk out the room towards the ambassador's office. From afar I could hear a groan or two. Those are men for you. I shake my head as I open the door to see the ambassador talking on the phone.

“Of course, I will” She says her goodbyes. “Have everything you need?” She asked, knowing exactly what I was doing.

“Yes” Just need to brush up on some information but I am practically ready.

“Good” She stands up, making herself a drink. “You picked your people, you have 1 week left” I nod my head understanding how it usually goes. “Pablo is leaving so you will have time to infiltrate without much noise”

“Of course” I give her a smile before walking out to my office. A stack of files already thrown ontop of my desk.

Chapter 2

[marblemoovt]

Lace - Simon Riley/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Fluff with some reverse hurt/comfort. The reader's gender is not explicitly mentioned or referred to, but you do wear a dress and makeup in this.

Summary:

Going undercover at a Gala, you need some help lacing up the back of your dress. Luckily Ghost is around to help you.

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You turn around and show him your back. “Can you lace up my dress, please?”

“I think it looks better this way.” He nuzzles behind your earlobe, inhaling your scent. Goosebumps litter your skin, and you grip the table to ease the shiver that runs through your body. Ghost hums appreciatively, grabbing your waist and rubbing circles into your lower back. “In fact, I think you should take it off.”

Note:

This was almost complete and sitting in my drafts forever. So as a little birthday present to myself, I powered through and finished this fic. I could have worked on this more, but I'm happy with where it is. This entire idea started with a gif I saw on Instagram, which I can no longer find cause I didn't save it :(

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You smooth the gown of your dress, admiring yourself in the mirror. The fabric hugs your waist and flares out at your calves, with a slit up to your thighs on one side for more freedom. Turning around, you frown at the reflection of your back. You didn’t think that part through when you bought the dress. It looked so pretty at the time that it never occurred to you how you would close up the back by yourself. 

The dress needs to be laced up and tied. While you could struggle and try to manipulate the ribbon on your own, you know the result will be far from passing to fit in with the crowd at the gala. Laswell needs intel—intel kept in a mansion opened to the public only once a year. Price deemed you had the best chance at infiltrating the event; you didn’t get much say. At least you get to keep the dress after this, which is why you bought one of the most expensive dresses from the store. 

Heaving a sigh, you walk to the door and peek into the hallway. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to the doorway, skeletal gloves swiping across his phone. You bought him a new pair with thermal tips when you noticed him tugging off his gloves with a grumble every time he reached for his phone. Brown eyes shift from the screen to your face. Maybe it’s because of the flickering fluorescent lights, but his pupils almost tremble when they land on you. He doesn’t say a word, only pockets his phone and pushes himself off the wall stiffly. 

“I need help,” you say. His mask shifts, and he tilts his head. Stepping back from the door, you wait. Ghost walks in, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe. He pauses after one step, not quite in the room, but not outside either. A statue stuck in limbo. You wave a hand in front of his face, keeping the other on your chest to prevent the dress from falling. “Fucks sake, Simon. I’m half dressed—close the fucking door!” you hiss. He jolts and slams the door behind him. The walls rattle, and the lights flicker. God, you hope Price didn’t notice anything upstairs. When you don’t hear the pounding of footsteps from above, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Ghost continues his silence, but you can feel his eyes rake over you. You shiver under his gaze. “Y’look nice,” he mumbles.

You blink, not registering a single word. “I beg your pardon? I didn’t catch that.” Ghost walks closer, slow and steady steps that send a flutter in your chest. His hands grip your waist and pull you to him. Shivers run through your body when his gloved fingers trace your spine.

“You look ravishing,” he whispers, lightly massaging your exposed back. You bite your lip to suppress a groan, but he hears the quiet noise coming from the back of your throat and chuckles. “How’d I get so lucky?” You can tell from his tone that the question isn’t directed at you.

“I have to be in position in 30 minutes,” you remind him. His hands pause, and he pulls back. Beneath the stoic exterior, Simon is admiring you, burning your image into memory. You’ve noticed that he likes to watch, to silently absorb the world around him and all its minute details. The man makes planning surprises a living hell. There’s a silent promise in his eyes to continue this later.

Ghost clears his throat. “Right. What’d you need me for?” he asks, voice still husky.

You turn around and show him your back. “Can you lace up my dress, please?”

“I think it looks better this way.” He nuzzles behind your earlobe, inhaling your scent. Goosebumps litter your skin, and you grip the table to ease the shiver that runs through your body. Ghost hums appreciatively, grabbing your waist and rubbing circles into your lower back. “In fact, I think you should take it off.”

A throaty chuckle escapes your lips, and you lean into his touch. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You can see his reflection in the vanity mirror. The darkness in his eyes threatens to drown you in liquid pools of obsidian. His gaze is intense, but his touch remains featherlight. Constantly aware of his size. Sometimes you wonder how he would react if you told him you want to be torn apart. Would his self-control finally unravel? You suppose you’ll find out tonight. 

“30 minutes is plenty. I can give you at least 5 orgasms in that timeframe,” and he sounds almost boastful. You decide to knock him down a few pegs. Bastard’s cheeky enough as is. Personally, you think his banter with Soap has inflated his ego. You’re surprised his head fit through the door when he came in earlier. 

“Only 5?” you tsk and shake your head. “You’re losing your touch,” you tease.

Ghost chuffs, sliding his hands down and kneading your thighs. “Didn’t seem like that last night. Had ya beggin’ me to stop,” and his fingers brush dangerously close to your crotch.

Breathing in a shuddery gasp, you grab his hands and squeeze them in a warning. “I need you to redirect the blood flow back to your other head. Mission first,” you insist. His eyes glint in the mirror.

“Didn’t stop us last time.”

“Last time didn’t involve the risk of being flayed alive by Laswell. We can’t fuck this up, Ghost. It’s our only chance.” Months of planning have led up to this moment. This evidence is the last piece of the puzzle needed. Then there will be one less group terrorizing the world. Who knows what will happen in a year—if there even will be another event next time. Laswell has intel that the higher-ups are going through a reformation, and it’ll be too late afterwards. No. This is the one shot your team has at finding those files. You take a deep breath and grip the edge of the table. Your fingernails dig into the old wood, engraving crescent moons onto the surface. “Alright, I’m ready to have my organs rearranged.”

“Thought that was my job.”

“Jesus Christ, Simon!”

He snickers, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the edges. You fight the grin on your face and hand him the ribbon. He gets to work. His deft fingers lace the back of your dress, tightening as he goes. “Let me know if it’s too tight,” he says, nearly finished. You clench your teeth when it feels like a hydraulic press is squeezing your insides. Ghost hears you wheeze and immediately loosens the ribbon. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s not a real corset. Just has to be tight enough so it doesn’t slip,” you say, and he loosens the rest of the back until your organs aren’t one compact ball.

Ghost pauses. You’re not sure why. All he has to do now is tie a knot, and then you’ll be on your merry way to the party. Soap and Gaz are already posing as servers. Lucky bastards get access to the fancy food before you do. You don’t doubt that some expensive bottles will go missing by the end of tonight. You make a mental reminder to pilfer some of their bounties when everyone returns to base.

“Don’t….” It’s barely a whisper. You look back at Ghost, cocking an eyebrow.

“Did you say something?” you ask.

Ghost, gripping one end of the ribbon in each hand, tugs you into his chest. The air is knocked out of your lungs—more out of surprise than force. The warmth from his body seeps into your exposed skin, stoking the flames that are steadily building. You would have to be a goddamn liar if you said the maneuver didn’t turn you on in the slightest. “Careful,” he mumbles into the nape of your neck, arms wrapped protectively around your waist. His mask is cold, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Are you worried, Riley?” you tease. The arms around you tighten, and your gaze softens. “I always am,” you say, reaching behind to pat his head. Ghost huffs, but he leans into your body. You like to call him your personal weighted blanket.

You don’t need to ask what’s bothering him. You don’t typically go on the field for missions. Your position keeps you out of immediate harm, a blessing that Ghost would never admit. He must feel anxious. And while you trust Gaz and Soap with your life, the thought does little to quell his fears. Ghost can’t save or stop you from doing something stupid where his scope can’t follow. 

“Come back to me, please,” he whispers. You stare at him in amazement. It’s rare to see him beg. Normally he nags you instead.

“I will. I won’t leave you—not unless I die.” A wry grin cracks your face, but he’s not amused. 

Ghost’s signature glare burns into your face. “I’ll kill you if you die on me,” he grunts.

“That’s not how death works,” you say. Despite the ridiculous notion, it’s sweet in its own way.

His expression remains the same. “I’m a ghost, Poppet. I’ll find your spirit and kill you again.”

You tsk, “And here I thought you were going to say something romantic about bringing me back from the dead; I expected too much from you.” When his posture remains rigid, you sigh. “I’ll be fine, Simon,” you say, leaning into his chest. You hear the click of his jaw when he clenches his teeth.

Ghost remains silent for a few moments, lost in a memory from another life. He sighs, the words coming out scratchy, “You don’t know that—no one does.”

You lay a hand over his and give it a gentle squeeze. His fingers dig into your skin, desperate to keep you encircled in his arms where he knows you’re safe. “Well, I know an excellent sniper has my back,” you say.

“Rest of the team would feel left out.” You can’t see the grin on his face, but you can see his reflection squint and hear the lilt in his tone. He’s so cute, puffing up after a little bit of praise.

You snort, “Gaz and Soap are probably guzzling hors d’oeuvres without me as we speak, so fuck them. Mom and Dad always have our backs, so that’s a given.”

A low rumble tickles your back. “I dare ya to call Laswell and Price that to their faces,” Ghost says. 

You bark out a laugh. “Do I look suicidal to you?”

Ghost shrugs, “Must be if you’re with me.” Your smile quickly flips into a frown. 

“Uh uh. What did I say about self-deprecation?” You sigh and turn around when he doesn’t answer. Hopping onto the table, you sit and cross your legs. Ghost doesn’t meet your gaze. He stares at the mirror behind you. “Simon, you’re not as bad as you think you are,” you whisper, slowly reaching out a hand. When nothing happens, you gently grab his chin and tilt his face to you. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

His pupils swallow his irises. A faint halo of brown that struggles to contain pools of ink. “I think I love you.”

Your lips slant into a crooked smile. “I would hope so, considering we’ve been together for a while.”

He sighs. “Would it kill ya to just say it back?”

“I love you too,” and you go limp like a ragdoll, groaning for added effect.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Ghost scoffs. 

Your lifeless body snaps to life. “The hypocrisy! If I have to put up with your Dad jokes, I’m allowed to have my bits.” Ever since you groaned at the first joke, the number of puns on the radio channel has doubled—quadrupled if Ghost manages to wrangle Soap in on it. His posture is more relaxed now. “Better?” you ask.

“Mhmm.”

You place your right hand over your heart and hold the left one up. “I promise to neuter any man that tries anything with me.” The knife sheathed in your thigh strap will be your best friend tonight. 

Ghost crosses his arms, and you know he’s smirking underneath the mask. “Present company excluded, of course?”

“….”

“…Darling.”

“My knives aren’t picky; let’s leave it at that, yeah?” 

Ghost’s hands travel down your hips, squeezing them firmly. “Misbehaving already?” he purrs. 

You pat his cheek and trail your finger along his jaw. “I like riling you up, same as how you like putting me in my place.” 

He pulls you off the table, pressing his growing erection flush against your stomach. “What a pair we make,” he says, his smooth voice caressing your ears.

“Would now be a terrible time to remind you that I must leave in 15 minutes?” you whisper.

Simon doesn’t speak, only tugs his mask off before initiating a heated kiss that sends your head spinning. Minutes pass, and the table thumps against the wall when he pins you against it. Simon is insatiable, devouring you until you’re a gasping mess. His hands prevent you from melting into a puddle on the floor, keeping you upright when your legs lose the ability to stand.

He pulls away with a smug grin, thumb tracing your puffy lips. The bottom half of Simon’s face and his neck are covered in a smattering of red lipstick stains. You’ll need to touch up your makeup before you head out. His eyes flicker to the mirror, and he chuckles, admiring the marks you left behind.

“C’mon, love. You’ve got intel to steal, men to castrate,” he says. 

“Don’t forget a buffet to eat,” you add, patting your stomach. You haven’t eaten the entire day besides a light snack in anticipation of this mission. Who says you can’t enjoy yourself at a party thrown by a terrorist?

Simon shakes his head and chuckles. “I fear for whichever poor sod gets between you and the buffet table.” He gazes at you lovingly. His eyes always remain the same. Warm and filled with adoration. “And Poppet?”

“Yeah?”

Simon pauses and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Give ‘em hell,” he says, grinning widely. 

“Yes, sir,” you say with a salute, turning to strut out of the room. 

Simon leans against the table and adjusts his pants. Fuck, you look delicious from behind. Ghost will have to make sure not to pull the trigger tonight on anybody who shows an interest in you. But Simon? Simon is going to rail you into your bed later and leave some marks of his own. He admires the lipstick stains in the mirror once more. A pleasant reminder that there’s someone still alive who loves him unconditionally. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he assumes it’s a message to get onto the rooftop.

‘Stop shaking the walls, you animals.’ Simon can sense the annoyance in Price’s words. It isn’t until a stream of emojis appears that he realizes this was sent in the group chat. Gaz and Soap are already giving him shit, sending kissy faces and eggplants. His fingers tighten around his phone, the device creaking from the pressure. The screen updates, and he can see in the bottom corner that you’ve read the messages but haven’t said anything. He smirks and heads to the rooftop, putting his mask back on.

Simon gets to watch a free show tonight through the scope. He can’t wait to see how you’ll terrorize the ‘waiters.’ The spam in the group chat continues, messages zooming through his phone screen. He sets the device down next to him, setting up the rifle and locating you with the scope. Your dress makes it easy for him to find you, and you are power-walking straight to the buffet table, where a pair of waiters are discreetly sneaking food from. His phone screen stops flashing, and a chuckle rumbles through his chest. 

Those two are so fucked.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

This was going to be spicy, but then I decided not to. So the ending is left open for everyone's interpretation.

I don't know if anyone will see this, but I'm planning to stream on my birthday, so check out my Twitch if you can! I'm hoping to reach the 50 followers goal for affiliate status.

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Taglist: @lovecats123451

[foap-enjoyer]

Drugging | Sick | Poisoned

Sick.

'Soap thinks he's got just a simple cold. Nope. Anyway, cue blizzard safehouse one bed trope because I'm lazy'

Trigger warnings for this prompt: Vomit. Ships for this prompt: Sort of the start of Ghoap? Ghost is very affectionate, more or less.

The one my lovely tumblr people voted on all those days ago! :)

Read it here, on AO3: Ouch. - Chapter 5 - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Call of Duty (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

~

Missions in Russian mountains were becoming way too common. 

At least, that’s what Soap thought.

There were positives to mountain missions, he supposed. There were positives to everything. A beautiful view; clean, fresh, untouched air. Sometimes, on long missions, he would even see rare wildlife, animals which had never seen a human before. They would peer at him through the brush, eyes bright and curious. Sometimes, some would even come over, eat a bite of whatever he had on offer before scrambling away. He liked those pros.

But the cons? Well those fucking sucked. The cold, firstly. The cold sucked- oh, and don’t forget the lack of signal, which meant no far-lined comms, no phones, no nada. Just him, his team, and a shit ton of snow, usually for days at a time. It could drive even the most social of men insane.

Oh, and to top it off, as a little added bonus for this mission, because that’s just how he rolls- he was sick. Not super sick, mind you. It’d started off as a cold, when he’d woken up pre-mission. At least, he assumed it was. Itchy throat, ugly cough, his usual first symptoms. 

In his childhood, he would have curled up into a tiny, sniffling ball and let his mammy hold him, and soothe the pain away just with her touch. But now, he was a fully grown man. A grown man who worked in a job that, unlike being a student in school, would not tolerate a day off. Especially for something as small as a cold.

So, brushing his teeth, tying his laces, and grabbing his bag, he went out to face the day head on. Like a soldier would.

~

He really wished he was still seven, still at home with his mum.

This… cold was no fucking cold. This was a parasite worming its way into every orifice of his body, a disease spreading through his blood, an alien forcing itself inside his chest, taking control of every nerve and joint and muscle until he was nothing but mush.

Fucking cold his ass. If this was a cold, maybe it was time to retire, because he clearly was getting too old for this shit.

The harshness of the Russian wilderness didn’t help his case one bit. 

They’d landed at their respective drop-off points. Price and Gaz were on the complete opposite side of the mountains to him and Ghost, and the plan was to meet in the middle, where he and Gaz would infiltrate the government-owned set of buildings as Price and Ghost ran overwatch on the outskirts. A simple enough plan, until the blizzard hit.

“You’re telling me that higher-ups can plan entire wars to a T, if they wanted to, but they can’t check the fucking weather?”

That was Gaz, voice static-y through the comms. He sounded pissed, and of course he was, he was allowed to, given their situation. Hell, Soap was too. Price sighed, and Soap could imagine him rolling his eyes at the younger man, “There’s nothing we can do about it, Sergeant, so quit whining. Ghost?”

Ghost was behind him, using his path through the heaps of snow surrounding them to guide himself, and his sniper-kit through the rocky terrain. He could hear the man grunt as he lugged the heavy bag over a large rock in their path. “Yeah, Cap?”

“There should be a little safehouse just a few klicks North of your position. Fancy taking a wander over there? Can’t do shit if this storm keeps up like this.”

Ghost grasped Soap’s shoulder, altering his course slightly up the hill, rather than downwards. Soap’s knees wobbled with exhaustion, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Back up they go. “We’ll take a look. What’re you two doing?”

“Cap’s looking now, says there’s a cave nearby.” Gaz huffed out a laugh, “At least you guys get an actual house.”

Soap chuckled softly, his teeth chattering together like a talkative parrot, “Send me a pic if you find a bear in there, Kyle, would you? You know they’re my favourite animal.”

“Will do, prick.”

The comms silenced soon after. Soap assumed it was because, like them, Gaz and Price were having to hike a while to get to their location. The mountains weren’t the steepest, deadliest of mountains, but in a blizzard as bad as this one, you needed full concentration. 

The wind was at its peak now, whistling through the canyons of the snowy wilderness, spiking him right through his clothing with its cold crystals of air and ice. If it weren’t for his deathly grip onto the passing uncovered roots of mountain-grown trees, he’s certain he would have fallen right off of the cliff-face by now. 

He felt numb, his whole body was ice-cold. He was trembling, at least, which was a good thing. Meant his body was still working. Ghost was still behind him, lagging behind slightly, preoccupied with lugging his bags as well as checking their location. When he’d last trusted himself enough to look back, the man had been busy checking a little grey piece of technology, the blue light reflecting in his snow-white mask. 

He knew that the little ipod-like thing hadn’t initially been supposed to be used to find this supposed safehouse, but rather help Ghost angle himself correctly when it came to overwatch protection. For later in the mission. At least higher-ups had been courteous enough to give them some form of direction in case of an emergency.

“Should be over this last hill!” Ghost startled him with his shout, even if he barely heard it over the wind. A hand clasped his shoulder when he stumbled, startled, and he could see a gloved finger in his peripheral, pointing in said direction. When Ghost spoke next, his voice was in his ear. “Through those trees.”

He nodded.

Another twenty, maybe thirty minutes, and they finally, finally came upon the house. If he was honest, it was more of a glorified shed, maybe. At least from a distance. No windows, one door, a little wooden building sat nestled between a few cut-down stumps of previous trees. Maybe the wood used to make it? Probably. 

The door had been locked, but a sharp boot to the lock had solved that issue. Their fingers were too numb to pick the lock anyway. 

Inside, it wasn’t too bad. There was a little fireplace, a sofa- actually no, it was a pullout sofa-bed, actually. In the other room, the only other room, a tiny kitchen. That was it, really. It wasn’t the worst safehouse he’d seen (he’d give that to the one he’d stumbled into, half stabbed, in Romania a few years back), but it wasn’t the best either. It didn’t even have a bathroom!

Ghost got to work as soon as the door was closed behind them. He shuffled forward, dumping his kit on the floor as he began shedding his clothes piece-by-piece, dumping them onto the back of the sofa-bed. He was in the middle of taking his shoes off before he peered up at Soap, confused. “Johnny?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Clothes.”

He blinked again, before nodding, fingers trembling, fumbling for his coat’s zipper, “Yeah, gotcha.”

“No inappropriate joke today, Sergeant?”

He shook his head tiredly, “Too fuckin’ cold, LT.”

A soft huff of a laugh, and Ghost placed his boots against a nearby wall, tugging his soggy, icy mask off. Frost clung to his eyelashes, and calloused fingers rubbed at them. Once the majority of the white was gone from the hairs, Ghost’s eyes were on him again, eyebrow curled, “Soap?”

Oh. He was staring again. He shook his head, going back to fumbling with his stuff. “Sorry.”

If Ghost was worried, he didn’t say anything about it. “I’m gonna go look at the kitchen for some food.” He said instead, “You get the fire going when you can. You’re right, it’s fucking freezing.”

He watched as the man turned his back and waltzed into the kitchen. Which, technically, was simply an extension of the living room. All that separated them was a tiny archway, after all.

Once he finally got his coat off, and tossed onto the floor, was when his body began to fail him.

“Ghost…?”

“Yeah?” Ghost turned, peering at him from the other room, his eyes dark in the dim lighting of the safehouse. “What’s up?”

“I don’t…” He swallowed harshly. The room was beginning to spin violently, and he reached a hand out desperately to clutch onto the nearest object, that being the sofa. “I don’t feel so good…”

“Johnny?” Ghost’s voice was starting to fade out as he fought to keep himself upright. 

Something was buzzing under his skin, warm and itchy. Sweat pooled against his neck. He had been cold only a moment ago, freezing, even… What was wrong with him? “Simon?”

A hand on his shoulder, “I’m here.”

“I think…” His stomach coiled, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a soft hiccup, “‘m gonna be sick.”

“Alright, alright.” Simon’s hands wrapped around him, guiding him forward, towards the small kitchen. But as soon as his hand released its deathly grip on the sofa, Soap’s knees gave in. 

He would have hit the floor if it weren’t for Simon, who took his weight with a grunt, barely managing to move them forward off of carpet and onto tile before Soap vomited.

“Easy, Johnny,” He could hear Simon attempt to soothe as he retched, fully held up in the older man’s arms. He felt limp, boneless, “Easy.”

His world continued to spin violently as he heaved, the cold tile on his knees sharply contrasting the horrible burning sensation consuming him whole. He whimpered, trying to squirm away from the heat inside him. Simon just held him tighter. “It’ll be over soon.”

“I-” He retched again, dry heaving over a steadily growing pile of vomit. His eyes stung, and he choked on a sob. “Fuck-”

A hand pressed into his forehead. “You’re burning up…” Simon muttered softly, “Fuck, Johnny, why didn’t you tell me?”

He hiccuped, turning to press his head under the crook of Simon’s neck. He was crying, he could feel the familiar wet warmth soaking into the fabric of Simon’s shirt. He wanted to apologise, but breathing was hard enough at the minute. His hands, trembling, clutched onto Simon wherever he could get a good grip, circling around the man’s back, holding tight. 

He swore a kiss pressed into his hair. He swore it. “You’re alright, I got you.” Simon’s voice was firm, and yet it was laced with worry. They were both hardened soldiers, he shouldn’t be sobbing like this over a simple sickness. It had to be something more, right? After a moment,  “Do you still feel sick?”

He shook his head.

“Okay.” Simon took a moment to think, to breathe. Soap. “Okay. I’m going to move you to the sofa, and then clean this up. Think you can move?”

He shook his head again. His knees felt like jelly, if he got up, he’d most definitely fall right back down.

“It’s alright,” Simon murmured, “I’ll carry you.”

With a quick rearrange of arms, followed by a soft grunt, Simon lifted him up. Instinctively, Soap clutched close, squeezing his eyes shut once more as his head spun. As soon as Simon settled him onto the sofa only inches away, he brought a hand up to his mouth, dry heaving into his palm once more. No vomit, this time.

A hand rubbed at his back. “Easy.” A hand in his hair. He leaned against it tiredly as Simon helped him lean backwards onto the old cushions. “Just breathe. It’ll help.”

As soon as he was sitting comfortably, the hands were gone. His eyes cracked open, looking around. Simon had just… disappeared.

“Si’?” He croaked, anxiety coiling. He hadn’t heard him leave, where was he? “Right here.” A damp cloth touched his forehead, and moments later the man was back in view, kneeling down in front of him. A bowl was given to Soap, settled in his lap neatly. “If you’re sick again.”

“Oh.” He rasped. Yeah, of course Simon would think to go grab something. 

A glass of water was offered next. His hands reached out shakily to take it, but Simon didn’t let go, instead holding the glass steady as Soap brought it to his lips, taking small sips. He pulled it away a moment later. “Not too much.” He reminded Soap, “It’ll make you throw up.”

He hummed tiredly. “I know.”

“Now you’re not puking your guts up.” The glass was placed onto a nearby old, dusty coffee table. Simon’s eyes were on him not long after. “Care to explain why you thought it was a good idea to come out on a mission when you were feeling like shit?”

“I didn’t feel bad this morning.” Which was true. Sort of. It’d, mostly, come on suddenly. “Once I felt sick, we were already off.”

“You could’ve still told someone.” Simon’s voice was soft, but firm. “Price, Gaz, me, hell, even the pilots. Anyone, Soap.”

“Sorry.” He whispered tiredly. “Wasn’t thinking.”

“I can’t get a hold of Price.” That woke him a little. “Signal’s shit. Blizzard is practically snowing us in, I think.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Simon sighed, hand reaching up to brush some blonde, stray strands behind his ear. “But we’ve got a while before we’ll need to check back in. So, we’ll just hunker down. Feel like eating?”

He shook his head. Simon’s eyes softened. “You need to, Johnny.”

He shook his head again, eyes drooping slightly. “‘M tired.”

“Alright.” Simon relented, biting his lip. “Alright. I’ll… We can eat later?”

He nodded. That worked. 

“You take the sofa,” Simon went to move, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He reached out, grasping his wrist. “We can share.” He murmured, exhausted. “It’s a sofa-bed.”

“Yeah, like a single bed.” The older man huffed, “I can take the floor.”

He didn’t let go of the man’s wrist. Simon didn’t pull away, either. “Just sleep here.” He yawned, “‘S easier.”

There was a pause, before a soft; “You’re not gonna puke on me, are you?”

He chuckled, eyes already closed, “Only if you snore.”

[i-am-vita]

Masterlist

WELCOME, gentle readers, to my One Piece (mostly live action) musings.

Expect: romance, adventure, NSFW, smut, x reader, Ocs.

My recs 🤌

The Storyteller Club

Sapsorrow Spinoffs Masterlist

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"You have cursed my soul..."

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OPLA Headcanons/Fic

👉 Hot Older Guys Headcanons

Mihawk, Kuro, Bogard, Shanks, Buggy x FemOcReader Reader is a semi-retired piratess who went into hiding to protect her little niece and may have history (past and recent) with certain renowned gentlemen.

👉 The OPLA men react to seeing you again pt. 1

Bogard, Mihawk x FemOcReader Reader's journey to find her runaway niece start at Syrup Village following the trail of a certain upcoming pirate crew that just sailed away in a new ship.

The OPLA men react to seeing you again pt. 2 (WIP)

Kuro, Buggy, Shanks x FemOcReader Reader arrives at Conomi Islands and then has to runaway and go on the low.

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👉 OC Ghost Rose Masterlist 🌹👻

My Oc bio, headcanons and posts that are not fics.

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Fics and oneshots based on my First Headcanons following my Oc Ghost Rose's past and present life and adventures with certain gentlemen 😉

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Shanks

👉 At the Bathhouse

Shanks x Ghost Rose Oc, Light NSFW "If there was one person in all the Blues that you can always count to somehow be exactly where and when you needed him was Shanks." 11'ish years ago you found herself stranded in a little island with a bathhouse and no signal of your captain or crew through your phone, but there's exactly one person that you can always count to pick you up.

👉 That Last Night

Shanks x Ghost Rose Oc Fic Inspo "Since you met him, Shanks had never kissed you on the lips." You and Shanks had been kind of an unofficial thing for the last two years since you reconnected at the bathhouse. Both of you had always been happy to give each other your friendship and sincere affection while also enjoying your bodies. Until one night, watching you sleep peacefully by his side, he wonders what could be and steals a kiss from you, vowing to confess himself the next day, not knowing that this is the last night he will have with you due to the demise of your family and you going to hide with your niece...

Mihawk

👉 A Diversion Dance (pt. 1)

A Diversion Fight (pt. 2, WIP)

Mihawk x Ghost Rose Oc Fic inspo, Teaser "The probability of a Warlord walking to any ball, specially one in honor of the Marine, was low but never zero." One year ago, the Phantom Pirates infiltrated the Hacienda of a famous Wine Producer during a party to recover and destroy some information. You have to resort to some diversions to maintain certain Warlord from a business meeting at the office being robbed by your crew.

Mihawk x Ghost Rose x Bogard AU

👉 Mihawk x Ghost Rose x Bogard Idea

👉 Modern AU Headcanons

👉 The Next Morning (drabble)

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Benn Beckman

👉 Beckman at the Bathhouse

Benn Beckman x FemReader, Light NSFW Beck gets some well deserved attention at the bathhouse ;)

👉 The Passenger (WIP)

Benn Beckman x FemReader, Light NSFW "She needed a safe passage to a new life, but her journey ignited unexpected passion..." Yes, the Beckman Bodice Ripper fic I know you all want.