#either i make em fics that r too long and hard to edit

[arminsumi]

that one req i got ab gojo being a tol boy trust i have not forgotten u... i'm cooking smth for our fav daddy long legs... 😉😏

(mdni/nsfw), here's a sneak peek!! 💗

he the type to consult some dating advice site lol

[ivestas]

hearts aligned

PART TWO

Summary: He keeps pretending he doesn’t know you and it’s starting to get on your nerves. 

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2010 version), childhood friends, grief, smoking, lowkey reader x konig, canon divergence, hurt/comfort(?), barely edited, suicidal implications

Word count: 1.4k

Note: this is kind of the continuation of the konig fic i made with that reader, though not really? like these oneshots r connected but u can still read this without reading the other, but i recommend reading that one first

He was pretending not to know you. 

He avoided your gaze, full of ire and judgement, favoring the sight of the wall behind you. 

“You’re Captain Price?” You’d asked gruffly, trying to stave away the flame that licked at your nerves. “An honor. Didn’t think KorTac would be able to contact you guys.” 

“Could say the same for you, Hound.” Price responded, lighting a fat cigar. “Though I’m more surprised about how yer still alive.” 

Price’s men—all talking among themselves in the KorTac lounge—didn’t avoid your prying stare, nodding to you before turning back to their comrades. 

Ghost hadn’t. He’s not looked at you once. 

Instead, he’s still staring at the damn wall.

“What can I say? I have the devil’s luck. I’ll share my secrets if you ask nicely.” 

Price chuckled. “Keep ‘em to yourself—in any case, how long’re you plannin’ to stay?” 

You were staring fully at Ghost now. 

He’s turned his head, now talking to the Scotsman—Soap, was it? 

“Dunno. Just gonna stick around till I feel like I’ve done my part.” 

“You always been a vagrant? Why not settle down with KorTac—or, perhaps, with the 141? I wouldn’t mind the extra set of hands.” 

“I wouldn’t mind prying my molars out with my own hands, either.” 

He sighed. “I can’t help but wonder what crawled up your ass and died. Even if you’re opposed to the 141, why not KorTac? You even have your own right-hand man trailin’ after you like a lost pup.” 

It was your turn to sigh. “You’ve noticed König?” 

Price leaned against the wall, taking in a quick puff before snorting. “Hard not to when he’s a fuckin’ giant—you don’t seem to mind, though. Didn’t think you were that type.” 

“What type?” You smiled, extending a hand.

He passed you the cigar. His voice lowered despite the fact no one was listening. “The heartless type. You’re humoring the man when we both know you’d sooner die than settle down like that.” 

You took a long suck. It’s expensive—aromatic with clear punches of spice and earth. 

Too expensive.

You handed the cigar back. “I don’t mind the shadow, the sun’s pretty harsh here and I don’t wanna age like a pig.”

“Wrong thing to worry about,” he hummed, lifting the cigar to his mouth once more.

“Let me be a little vain, Price,” you stretched your arms. “In any case, I’m gonna go ‘hit the hay’. Have fun spending the night slaving away at papers.”

“Don’t remind me...” 

You laughed at that. You shot one last glance at Ghost—whose back was turned to you, prick—before heading out of the lounge. 

It was just after a few seconds of walking you heard footsteps behind you. You recognized the light steps immediately. 

Without bothering to turn, you spoke. “Not tonight, König. I’m busy.”

“...Tomorrow?” 

You hated the power his voice had over you—how fucking soft it was. It made you feel bad. Guilty.

You turned around then, offering him an apologetic smile. Under the dim, flickering lights of the hallway, he looked monstrous, but his eyes were warm. “How about the morning, then? We can shoot at the range on the crack of dawn.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, just enough for you to know he was smiling. “That sounds good, thank you.”

“Now, go to sleep. It’s late.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I thought I told you before not to call me—”

He’d turned around already, walking off in the opposite direction, back to his barracks. 

I’ll talk to him about that tomorrow. You continued walking, making your way through the twisting hallways until you finally found it.

His room. 

It was an invasion of privacy in many ways, this could get you in trouble in an instant, but you didn’t give a shit. Not now.

Simon’s gonna answer to you, and he’s not gonna hide behind that shitty mask of his. Not now. Not after the past you’ve shared. 

You opened his door with ease, and inside, it was just as you expected: empty, save for the raggedy cot and personal equipment. 

There was a deep shadow cast in one of the shadows just along the wall where the door was. 

Shutting the door, you went to the corner, back pressed against the hard concrete as you just stared at where the door was. 

You were going to stay here till he comes, and you were only going to leave till he answered you. 

Until he finally looked at you. 

---

You didn’t know how much time has passed, your brain had been filled with nothing but static and air, but when you finally heard footsteps draw close to the door, you snapped out of your stupor. 

Standing tall, you crossed your arms, staring at the door as it swung open. 

He didn’t notice you—not right away, his peripheral gaze not aimed at the side where you were lurking. 

It was only when he shut the door and looked around the room that he finally noticed you. 

He froze, tired eyes sharpening with ice. 

But he wasn’t looking at you, no, he looked at your face, not your eyes. 

“What’re you doing here?” His voice was cold, callous.

“You know why I’m here, you piece of shit.” You took a step forward, lifting your chin. “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

He snorted. “Didn’t know we were in middle school again—”

“We might as well be with how much of a fucking idiot you are.” You took another step forward. 

He narrowed his eyes but remained as still as a stone. Still, not looking at you. “Well, now I’m here. Happy? Leave.”

“You—fuck, Simon—“

“Ghost.” He corrected coldly. 

“Oh, shut up, you’re Simon and you’ll always be Simon.” 

“You haven’t earned the right to say my name—“

“I earned that fuckin’ right the moment I took in your sorry ass back when we were kids.” Now you were right in front of him, looking up, trying to meet his gaze. 

And he did—fuck, he finally did, and what reflected was an incomprehensible mix of emotions you couldn’t decode—you couldn’t care to. 

Because that wasn’t enough, you realize. You didn’t just want his eyes, you wanted him. 

In hindsight, it was obvious, but at that moment, your rage was numbed by confusion. 

You stumbled back. 

Again, he was unmoving, but his hand had twitched forward.

The movement made you scoff. Your heart was on fire. 

You laughed. It was loud, harsh, grating. “You can’t just—you can’t just spend an eternity with me then run off and pretend I don’t exist—” 

“Then imagine how I felt when I found out the girl who’d been up my ass was not only a goddamn soldier, but one that ran around throwing her life away without even bothering to find me.” 

You froze. 

“You act like I’ve wronged you when it’s the other way around—I knew you, you and your little feats on the battlefield, flaunts of strength as though you had no value. As though I wasn’t a thought in your mind.” 

“I—“

“No, don’t ‘I’, shut up. Selfish little shit—so eager to toss your life, because what?—hadn’t you heard me when I said ‘I want you alive’? Back in your room when you were obsessed with video games and art? When you told me that secret, and I told you mine?” His words were straining, as though he were struggling to spit them out—to piece them together and coherently present them.

As if he, too, had been alight with anger. 

“...”

"You told me to cut off frayed links, and I did just that... so don’t be angry. I just did what you told me to—”

Your arms wrapped around him in an instant. 

Your chest was tight. Ragged. You squeezed the words out, though. “I’m... sorry.” 

Ghost—Simon—whoever this version of this man just stood, still and quiet, even when a part of you broke.

Just as when you were kids, except this time, there was no silent hope for the future, no yearning for a better past, but the cold and unyielding weight of reality slowly encompassing the two of you. 

That weight lightened the slightest bit when he reciprocated, arms around you too.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[criminarchy]

I think I’m gonna post my fic here. I’ll probably post it to AO3 once I’ve had it read and edited.

1800+ words.

The day started out with Whirl waking up and seeing that Brainstorm had swiped all the cushions and cloth from the berth for himself. It wasn't entirely strange, Brainstorm preferred to recharge in cushy comfort while Whirl could do without, but he usually left him some of the blanket or a pillow or something. But this time Brainstorm had hijacked everything, clumsily tangled around him and some within his hold. One cushion, in particular, was held close to Brainstorm's built-out chassis for dear life while he shifted and fidgeted and groaned very lightly into the fabric. Cute. But whatever. "Psh. Could'a clung to me instead and maybe you would've had to take my bedding." Whirl grumbled, maybe a little more fondly than intended, before he got up and moving. One morning trip to Swerve's and back to check in and bring him a cube to drink, and Brainstorm was still where Whirl had left him. Brainstorm had managed to move himself to the center of the berth, keeping the pillows and blankets close to him still and curled up tight enough to where Whirl could sit at the edge of their rather large berth and still have plenty of room to move in. His optics were shut offline, but the increased fidgeting and resettling, how he was positioned and where the bedding was placed accordingly, showed that he was a little more awake than earlier. His distress would have usually caught Whirl's attention, maybe even his concern if this hadn't become somewhat common for Brainstorm to be uncomfortable as of late. "You're guaranteed to be uncomfortable. A lot." That's what ol' doc Ratch said at the beginning of Storm's carrying term. Of course, he was right, soon after came the weird internal shifts to set everything in place, and a while after came the increased chassis mass and thicker plating to make room for the protoform. On Whirl's part, he rather enjoyed the transition from helping Brainstorm with his stupid picky tanks to mutually poking fun at how the jet had "gotten almost too stocky to fit through the doorway." But hey. When it comes to these things, better safe than sorry. Reaching down, he gently tapped the rim of his claw against the teal mech's forehelm. "You, ah.... feelin' all right there, Stormy?" Brainstorm seemed to relax just a bit at the contact, leaning into the touch with a low hum. Whirl assumed that meant he didn't have to worry too much. Maybe. "Trouble gettin' comfy?" The jet onlined his optics, dim and just a bit foggy, definitely unfocused. A small nod. A voice filled with static. "Y...eah. I guess tha's..it." "Need anything?" Whirl asked. A small crackle of a vocalizer quickly resetting. "Thnk'm...m'okay..." "...Alright." It wasn't totally convincing, but then again, Brainstorm was hard to get a read on. Two weeks ago he swore he'd never move again his plating hurt so bad and one week ago he ran a double-shift fun-run that he wasn't supposed to have in the first place. Whirl didn't feel any pain resonating in his EM field, just a lot of discomfort and anxiety and restlessness and.... ...and Whirl took another look at how Brainstorm was arranging himself and the berth... Leaving the cube within reach, Whirl comm'd out to his favorite mech ever for a...second opinion. Maybe a little more. ~~~~~~~ "You want to know if he's what?" "Shh shhhhh. Keep it down you big purple pout..." Whirl shoved Cyclonus back out of the doorway, glancing back into his hab to see if Brainstorm had heard them. When he was sure he hadn't, Whirl leaned in close, voice low and raspy and maybe a bit embarrassed, if the copter could even feel shame anymore at this point. "I want to know if Storm's nesting." Cyclonus looked up at Whirl, brow raised. "Can't you tell?" "I...look. I don't really know for sure." "Hm?" "And I don't know how to properly handle this if he is nesting. Properly. And judging by how Storm's been struggling all day, I don't think he knows how it really goes, either." "Hmmm." "So are ya gonna come in and help me? I didn't exactly invite your ugly mug here to judge." "What's not to judge?" Cyclonus asked, almost with a chuckle. "A flyer who doesn't know how to nest." "Well, it hasn't exactly been common practice for a long time, let alone something you learn about living in barracks." Whirl hissed. "And since ya seem so proud to be older than the rivet itself-" "And what about Brainstorm?" Cyclonus interrupted before Whirl could get into a rant. "If he's not nesting, it's fine. If he is, just let the coding run it's course. Once it's active it'll help him know what to do." "He's been struggling since I woke up this morning. Maybe something in the coding doesn't line up, right? Don't take this the wrong way but Storm's a forced flyer..." "How observant." "Hey now-" "Oh shut up, you jagged, haphazard scrap pile." The purple mech sighed. "That last part wasn't an insult." And with that Whirl allowed Cyclonus in, the shorter mech humming deep when he caught sight of Brainstorm laying in the middle of his messy circle of pillows and blankets. "So far, it looks like you're right. How far along the cycle is he?" "Close to the end." "Are you nervous?" "A good kind of nervous." Whirl nodded. "Excited." Cyclonus corrected. "Yeah." "Let me see.." Cyclonus approached the berth. Whirl could feel Cyclonus' EM field expand a little bit, just enough to reach out to Brainstorm's, to let him know he was there in a comforting way before seating himself on the edge of the berth. Whirl was always mockingly endeared, if not completely unnerved, by how gentle Cyc could be when that horned grump actually cared. Brainstorm grunted and rolled over to look, the older mech noticing the glazed look in his optics. "Something's definitely trying to run in his processor..." But Brainstorm didn't protest when Cyclonus tapped a claw against his chest plates. "May I? Just to check?" Brainstorm, despite his agitation, was silent as his plating shifted, moving to open and show his spark chamber. Inside, Brainstorm's spark hummed a low tune, pulsating in a steady rhythm. The other, smaller, spark was nowhere to be seen. "What the hell?" Asked Whirl, who had decided to peak over, optic nearly flashing out in shock when he couldn't see the second budding spark that was supposed to be there. "Where's the other one?" "It's dropped to the protoform," Cyclonus explained, tapping on teal plating again to signal for it to close. Brainstorm shut his chest and curled back up in a low and defeated grumble. "Nice hunch." Was all that Cyclonus said as he got up, walking right past Whirl to leave the hab. "So he is-?" "Yes." "So where do ya think you're going? You gonna help me?" "I am." Cyclonus stopped and turned to Whirl. "And you're going to help me help you, starting by following me to gather a few things." ~~~~~~~ Getting Brainstorm out of berth was hard. Getting him to another room was even harder. Brainstorm was really adamant about not leaving the berth, whining in protest whenever Whirl had tried to move him, and it was almost pathetic and heartbreaking enough to make Whirl feel more than just a little bit guilty and sorry. Eventually, he sucked it up and just picked the jet up, making sure to wrap him in fabric first to at least try the ease the pain of being displaced like this. From that point on, most difficulties stemmed from the fact that, apparently, the protoform needed a lot of plating to protect it, and that made Brainstorm dense. Nothing Whirl couldn't handle, but by the time he got them all the way to Brainstorm's hab, the ex-Wrecker had started to feel the strain. "I hope this is worth it." Whirl punched in the code to open the door and sure enough, Cyclonus was waiting for them inside the dimly-lit room when he walked them in. "Psst. Hey. Stormy." Whirl whispered to the mech in his arms. "Take a look." Brainstorm peeked out from where he had his face buried in Whirl's neck, optics widening at what he saw. It was huge, taking up almost a quarter of his hab, a nest made from what had to have been every pillow and blanket from every hab down the hall, assembled to where a wall of colored cushion and cloth closed off the corner of the hab from the rest of the world. A soft glow emanated from within, illuminating the ceiling above it but not a single solid ray of light crept through the wall of fabric. Brainstorm nearly stumbled as he tried to climb down off of Whirl to get to it, but the copter stopped him, holding him close. "No need, babe. I got ya." Cyclonus lifting a blanket to let them in, Whirl carried Storm over into the fort. Looking abound, Brainstorm could see that the next was lit with string lights that looked a lot like the ones in Swerve's bar, the floor covered with large cushions that resembled the seat cushions from Visages, and in the corner was a pile of blankets, which was where Whirl decided to set him down. He snuggled in, feeling a lot better now. A lot more safe, warm, secure, private. Ready. Whirl laid himself right next to Storm, feeling a little proud of himself as the scientist moved very close to rest his helm on the bigger mech's cockpit, looking more content and relaxed now than he had all day. Who could blame him? This was nice. Even Whirl felt right in here. And so did Cyclonus as well, judging by how he offlined his optics, then took in a deep vent and slowly let it out. "...S'nice." Brainstorm hummed. "Exactly what you were needing?" Whirl asked, feeling a servo move to snake around his waist. "Mhm." It was almost absurd how quickly Brainstorm had fallen into recharge, finally getting some decent rest for what was soon to come, and for a while, all three of them simply rested there in silence, enjoying the comfort of the nest in it's fullest. It was a good while before Cyclonus online his optics again, grunting a little as he moved to let himself out and leave the odd couple be. "Now that he's nested, it should be a few days, maybe as early as tomorrow until the emergence cycle begins." "Thanks," Whirl muttered, almost in recharge himself. "Good luck." "Who needs luck,” Whirl laughed. “When I got help like you?” And wow, maybe he was already dreaming, but Whirl swore he saw the rigid old grouch smile as he left.