#gary x reader

[shiroisotto64]

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

[viceroywrites]

private show - part two

part two of three - henchman 21 x camstar!reader

ao3 ver here

Gary ends up stumbling upon your profile on a camstar website 24 had mentioned to him. He quickly becomes your most loyal viewer and top tipper.

So why not reward him with a private show?

(Set during Season 3/Pre-Two Ton 21)

18+ only, minors dni.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Gary exclaims in shock, holding his laptop in between his thick fingers as he rushes out of his room. He books it down the hall, banging on 24’s door in urgency.

24 sticks his head out, cautious that the Moppets may be on the other side and ready to slam the door but relaxes at the sight of Gary, “I thought you were the Moppets… come in.” He opens the door, allowing Gary to rush inside and shove the screen up to 24’s face.

“Dude, you are not gonna believe this! Look at this message I just got from her!” Gary says in excitement, still in awe of the whole situation.

24 grabs the laptop from Gary’s shaky hands, sitting down on his bed as he reads over the message. His eyes widened before responding, “I told you she’s into you! So you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“I don’t know… I mean I’d absolutely love to get a private session with her but what if she wants me to turn on my camera? I mean I totally would get that, since there are total creeps in her chat that are probably like 60 year old men.” Gary rambles, pondering his next steps, “I don’t know if I can do it. What if she sees what I look like and gets turned off and totally just blocks me?”

“Well, too late because I already said yes for you.” 24 says with a grin, turning the laptop over to reveal the message he typed out and sent back to you, written eerily how Gary envisioned he might respond. 

‘Oh my god, I totally wasn’t expecting this at all! It would be an honor to get a private session from you.’

Time freezes for Gary as he processes what his best friend has just done, staring between him and the computer screen before snatching the laptop away from 24, “Oh my god, is there an option to unsend?”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity! When will a super hot chick just offer to have cam sex with you, no payment needed?” 24 attempts to rationalize it, placing his hands on Gary’s shoulders.

Before Gary can respond, a notification tone rings through 24’s room and the two huddle around the laptop to read your reply back.

‘You’re such a sweetheart, Viceroy. Just let me know what times and days work best for you, I’m pretty much available the rest of this week. Looking forward to it!’

“You’re welcome,” 24 replies simply, patting Gary’s shoulder, “Also, why are your keys sticky?”

“Well…” Gary trails off, and 24’s face morphs into disgust at the realization of what Gary was just doing prior to him storming into his room.

“Oh dude, gross! Now I have to wash these gloves!” 

-

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you read back Viceroy’s enthusiastic reply, having a brief back and forth to discuss each other’s availability before solidifying a time and day that worked with both of your schedules the following week.

You couldn’t put a finger on what had you so giddy about the prospect of potentially putting a face to the user behind the screen though you tried to level your expectations that he may not even show his face on camera. 

There was something about his charming yet dorky personality that showed through his sporadic comments that had you throwing caution into the wind, offering a private session that normally would cost a hefty price.

As the days began to approach, excitement bubbled in your chest, quite distracted from your day to day routine. In preparation, you had picked out a special set outfit that made you feel the most confident and sexy, and made sure your collection of toys was easily accessible at the edge of your bed in case you got any special requests.

The feeling was mutual as Gary had a pep in his step for the rest of the week, excited but also anxious about potentially having to reveal his face to you. He tried to push the latter feeling aside, though it was difficult to stay distracted considering his henchman duties were pretty much put on hold as the Monarch tried to find a new arch and the Moppets ended up going on the most recent arch.

However, after that arch went south and Gary and 24 joined the Monarch in his raid of the Venture compound against his wife’s wishes, things picked back up as Dr. Mrs the Monarch found an arch that was adjacent enough to Venture that it quelled Monarch’s desires to arch only Venture for now - his brother, JJ.

The days flew by, landing on the day of your scheduled private session. Gary and 24 alongside Henchman 1 were assigned to execute a Dark S7 Maneuver by the Monarch. What Gary had hoped would be a straight-forward mission that would somehow turn out smoothly and with him and 24 unscathed and back at the Cocoon by dinner time turned into a complicated mess with the addition of Henchman 1. Being stranded in the middle of the ocean somewhere near Spider Skull Island with no reception, Gary had no way of letting you know that he would not be making your planned private session.

-

You sat in front of your laptop, an antsy smile spread across your features as your hands fiddled with your outfit, assessing it through the webcam. You had agreed that Viceroy would initiate the call as he had mentioned earlier in the day that he may run a little late due to work. 

A few minutes passed and you shrugged it off.

5 minutes turns into 10.

10 turns into 15.

You bite your lower lip as you try to come up with reasons as to why he may be running late.

15 turns into 20.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard, shooting him a message through the camsite’s chat function. You curse internally, wishing you had another way of contacting him outside of the confines of the website.

20 turns into 30. 

When there is no response to your message, you slowly begin to give up hope. 

‘I mean he did say he might run late.. Maybe I’ll give it another couple minutes.’ 

30 turns into an hour.

You sigh in defeat, deciding to send a message offering to reschedule before shutting the laptop. Part of you thought about taking advantage of the fact that you were already dressed up to do a last minute live show but your ego was a bit bruised and you knew that you would be distracted the entire time.

You get up to change into something more comfortable, and slip back into bed, deciding to scroll on your phone to get your mind off of getting stood up tonight. It proved unsuccessful as your brain attempted to come up with reasons for why he didn’t show up.

Maybe work kept him later?

Maybe something came up after work?

Maybe his power went out?

Each excuse you made for him fell apart as you came to the reasons that revolved around you.

Maybe he didn’t want to do this?

Maybe you pressured him into this?

Maybe he got anxious over the thought of having to show his face and bailed?

You sigh, reaching over to grab your laptop from your bed-side table. You deflate slightly as there is still no response and decide to send one final message before closing the laptop and turning off the lights, hoping that there would be answers awaiting you the next morning.

-

The moment Gary boarded the Cocoon, he ran straight to his room, knowing he was at this point two hours late to the assigned time. By the time he and 24 figured out where Drop Point Alpha 7 was and got picked up by the Cocoon, it was dark outside and way past the time that you two had agreed upon for your private session. Praying for the off-chance that you might still be online, he opens his laptop, logging into his account on the cam site.

To his dismay, he’s greeted with the following messages.

‘Hey, hope everything’s ok! Just wanted to see how much longer you think you’ll be.’

‘It’s getting kinda late and I’m guessing you’re probably not gonna make it since it’s been an hour. Let’s try and reschedule!’

‘Hey, I’m about to knock out for the night but I just wanted to say I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by suggesting this. I also want you to know you don’t have to show your face on camera if you’re not comfortable and didn’t show up because of that. Let me know if you want to reschedule or if you’d rather not do it at all. I completely understand and hope you’re ok!’

“I can’t believe I screwed this up, now she’s gonna think I’m a total prick!” Gary groans, running his hands over his face before pulling back the hood of his uniform along with the mask in frustration.

He sucks in a deep breath, getting up to change out of his henchman uniform. After shedding his clothes, he sits back in his bed in just his boxers, laptop on his chest as he mulls over all the possible ways he can apologize.

After a few drafts that get rewritten over and over again, Gary finally hits send on his apology, placing his laptop on the side table next to his bed before closing his eyes, hoping that his apology will suffice.

-

You awake the next morning, finally sitting up in bed after about an hour of mindless scrolling. 

The sting from being stood up last night has subsided a bit as you go about your normal routine, getting out of bed, grabbing your laptop from your desk to check some emails, and heading to the kitchen to fix yourself some breakfast. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you carry your meal over to the table, taking a seat before cracking open your laptop.

You had started camming a few years ago after your work at the time had cut your hours, making it difficult to pay rent and bills without it being tight each month. After hearing about a friend’s experiences doing camming on the side, you figured you could try it out for a couple months just to help with your expenses while you searched for a new job.

A few months turned into a year which turned into more and while you were able to find a new job with more security, you liked having the extra money to spend on yourself and loved ones. It was like another job to you - log on, perform for an hour or two, log off. Rinse and repeat.

You rarely offered private sessions - only having done two so far in honor of hitting major milestones in your viewership. Yet you offered to a complete stranger who just started watching you regularly a few months ago. Something about Viceroy made camming feel different - more intimate, less like work. The last few lives you’ve done, your main focus has been what would rile him up versus focusing on appealing to your whole audience.

It was intriguing.

He was intriguing, clearly dorky and a bit awkward but that’s what made him so charming.

After checking your emails, you decide to log into the cam site, curious to see if there was any response from him.

Your jaw dropped, cheeks feeling hot as you’re met with way more text on the screen than you were expecting.

‘Oh my god, I am SO SO SO SO sorry! I feel really bad about keeping you waiting but please know I wasn’t blowing you off on purpose!  I got tied up at work way later than I expected and I didn’t have any signal out where I was so I couldn’t let you know. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, I can't believe you even offered because you have all these dudes in your chat every live and you’re like an actual goddess. I was kinda nervous to show my face but it’s totally worth it just to get to talk to you one-on-one! If you’re still up for rescheduling, I’m free all day tomorrow. Again, I’m so sorry and I really hope I can make it up to you. ’

Your lips turn into an amused grin as you read over the text once more, giggling at the sweet and sincere apology. Part of you wondered what work he did that had him going to places with no cell service but you brushed it off as an unimportant detail. Thankful that you have the day off today, you reply right away, the butterflies in your stomach returning.

-

“I mean at least she offered to reschedule. Most dates I’ve had in the past that I had to miss because of henching didn’t even offer, they just ghosted me.” 24 said, reading over the messages from last night before glossing over Gary’s message, “Jeez, could you have laid it on more thick with the apology? An actual goddess?”

Gary snatches his phone away, crossing his arms defensively, “Hey, she is a goddess! Plus you’re the one who said this was a once in a lifetime opportunity!” 

Before 24 can respond, Gary’s phone buzzes to life, a notification popping up that you had replied to his message.

“Oh my god, she replied back!” Gary said with excitement, his fingers typing in his passcode hastily to unlock his phone to read the message.

‘Hey, glad you’re ok and thanks for your apology, it was really sweet and while I don’t think I’m quite goddess level, I appreciate the compliment. :) 

I’m coincidentally off today too, I’m gonna run errands in a bit but does 4 work for you?’

“I told you the goddess compliment was a bit much.” 24 said, reading over his friend’s shoulder to which Gary silenced him with a “Shush!” before typing out an eager reply.

‘It absolutely works for me! I’ll see you then, thanks for giving me another chance.’

Gary pauses before hitting send, looking back at 24, “You’re positive The Monarch doesn’t have anything planned for today?”

“Nope, think the boss is scheming up a new plan to arch Dr. Venture again. Plus today’s Friday, it’s date night for him and his wife so you’re in the clear.” 24 explains.

“Sweet, didn’t want to hit send and then he calls us to do some random reconnaissance in the middle of the day.” Gary huffs, finally sending the message before grinning up at 24, “We’re back in business, dude.”

“You’re not gonna wear your henchman uniform right? Though, she might just think you have a costume kink or something… It could hide your face too if you’re still nervous about that.” 24 points out, the two of them donning their costumes at all times while in the Cocoon.

“God no, I have my normal clothes! Besides, I get to see what she looks like all the time, it’s only fair for me to show what I look like.” Gary admits, having some anxiety about revealing his appearance but he’s certain that your comfort outweighs his discomfort. 

“Who knows, maybe after this private session, she’ll offer for you to come over.. and then you’ll have sex.” 24 says with a grin.

“Oh, don’t get my hopes up! I’m just glad I get another chance at this.” Gary grins, getting up from the chair in his friend’s room, “Well, I’m gonna go get ready, wish me luck!”

“Good luck! Don’t cum too fast, she’ll think it’s super lame!” 24 calls out. 

[macandcheeselover1]

Hi!! Could I request a Hell Park! Gary Harrison or Gregory of Yardale (separate) x reader with a reader who’s an angel?

SUREE!!

GARY, GREGORY X ANGEL READER

GARY

omg two angels?!

ANGEL BUDDIES

He luvs you and your wing color

he finds you as the most perfect being ever

he loves to cup your face and shower it with kisses

CUDDLING>>>

This man will cherish you and the ground you walk on

GREGORY

Demon x angel trope>>

He loves you sm

You're his dimond, his star, his gold

He loves to run his fingers through your wings

PICKING YOU UP>>

He forgets you can walk

cause he loves carrying you

protects you from everything and everyone

(GAHHH WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL)

[vrisrezis]

can you write Headcanons for your favorite Pokemon Characters to date someone who acts like Mikan

Gary thinks you’re adorable and super fun to tease and embarrass, but he often worries about you tripping over something. The way you talk about yourself and how you were treated makes him feel a bit of guilt for how he’s treated ash in the past.

Gladion worries about you a lot, you’re going to give this poor boy a heart attack. He already finds himself worrying about Lillie ;( but he loves you so much, he’s positive you and his sister are besties.

Bede was a hit mean to you at first but he eventually came around. He will never understand how you can just take his shit and not fight back at all, he feels bad and because of this is overprotective.

Guzma is overprotective to the max. He loves to flirt with you and everything, but he’s the only one allowed to tease you given how you take most jokes from others.

[mentionally]

Jimmy, Gary and Petey with a deaf S/O

Shi I’ll try lolll

Jimmy:

doesnt know your deaf at first

“Why are you ignoring me…”

Someone had to approach him and explain to him you were deaf

…

..

Oh.

He’s (more) nice to you considering that

if yall were friends or dating or whatever he’d be more protective of you

“So uh… is there like… any medicine to fix that…? My mom usually takes advil when she’s feeling bad”

“Jimmy she’s deaf.”

“Forgot, my bad”

He’s not gonna learn sign language sorry

Bro texts you

“Whachu want from da sto girl🤣🫵”

Let’s be fr he does find it annoying that you cant hear

Gary:

you’re just a victim of him

OPENLY shit talks you to your face

If y’all were friends (bffr he isn’t gonna be friends with a deaf person) he makes fun of you

He texts you random hand emojis and pretends its sign language

He’d flip you off and tell the teachers and prefects that it’s sign language for “help me with this question”

Tons of pranks

You’d get to know him VERY well considering all this shit

I mean

If he cared about you

Its like a dice

Like a 37% chance he’d care enough to frequently interact with you

Peter:

There’s a stereotype of him being really sweet in the fandom

but

He’d def get annoyed at ur deafness

Sometimes wishing you weren’t deaf just to make it easier

he would NEVER tell you that tho

But he’d be the nicest out of all three

Most likely to be your friend

65% chance

But if yall were close he would learn sign language

TRY to learn it

He tries </3

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[lxvvie]

Simps 'R Us, Between the Sheets edition: Your faves and the wholesome and funny things you two get up to in bed, part I.

Capt. John Price - When he's half asleep and about to snore loud enough to wake the dead (Price vehemently denies this), you like to have random conversations with him because you know questions you ask will do one of two things: elicit a nonsensical answer from the Cap'n or... wake him up from his sleep altogether.

Gaz - Is curling up into himself because you're the big spoon, you're running your hands over his body because he's highkey lowkey ticklish, and your face is buried in his neck because... he's highkey lowkey ticklish. "Darling, please—" Gaz manages to gasp out between... wait, are you giggling, Garrick?

Soap - Your darling golden retriever chaotic good boyfriend loves... to sleep naked. You're not complaining, though, especially because he loves it when you lay on him. You've made a home for yourself between his thighs; his stomach is your pillow, and he usually has a hand rubbing your head. Helps him to relax, y'know, bonnie? And whenever you don't lay on him, it's an affront to Johnny's... everything. His heart is broken. His soul is crushed. You're too far away from him (even though you're still right under him). How could you do this to him? He can't live like this. No other stud muffin can offer you what he can, beautiful. But no really, bonnie, he needs you on top of him like... yesterday.

Ghost - You really like his body. Like... really like his body. You blow raspberries on his stomach, you smack his ass, you talk about his eyelashes—scratch that, you love his body. To you, every scar tells a story, and you've asked him plenty of times to talk about them. And then you did the unthinkable that had Simon wanting to disappear into the fucking blankets—"Si-bear, I didn't know you had a mole on your inner thigh!" Bloody fucking hell, he'll never hear the end of this. And then you kissed it and Ghost's face had never felt so bloody hot before. Christ, you'll be the death of him, sweetheart.

Roach - Nothing but the most sickeningly saccharine stuff to ever stuff happens with Roach. A poke-fest, a kiss-fest, a tickle-fest, you name it, it happens. Roach loves to sleep with his face buried in your chest and arms wound tight around you. Always. You rubbing his head soothes him to sleep as well.

Alex - You're also the big spoon here, too. You're busy talking about conspiracy theories you believe the government is/was involved in and Alex is entertaining you ("That so, Boss?"). In actuality, his eyes are comically wide because the truth is oftentimes stranger than fiction and you may or may not be walking a little heavy there, Boss.

Alejandro - Is the big spoon to your little spoon in bed no matter what you're doing. Loves to intertwine your legs together, too. Alejo murmurs how much he loves you in your ear and kisses the top of your head before telling you good night.

Rudy - Sometimes when he's asleep, you'll whisper "Rodolfo" in his ear which causes Rudy to shoot up, eyes comically wide because the only time someone calls him by his full government name is when he gets into shit but it wasn't him this time, it was that idiot Alvarez— "Didn't get to tell you good night and I love you, Rudy, so... good night and I love you, Rudy." Oh. Oh. Ha. Real funny.

Farah - A cuddle bunny through and through. She loves laying up under you, her head resting on your shoulder or under your chin, or her face in the crook of your neck. She wants to hear you as you sleep. She wants to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest or the resonances as you speak. Farah simply can't get enough of you.

Keegan - It's really you teasing him because Keegan isn't one to really get flustered or deviate from his infamously neutral expression. Much. Until you came along. You two are relaxing in bed and you're the one randomly calling out, "Hey, Kee-Kee," to which Keegan makes the most surprised and disgusted face in response and you're wheezing.

[feralgoblinqueen]

At the rehearsal dinner, the night before your wedding, your bridesmaids have prepared a presentation for you. They laugh conspiratorially before pulling the slide show up on the projector. The title is: Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband. Each slide has a photo and beneath is the unhinged text you sent with it. All the photos are sneaky pics you took while working with them.

Slide one: A slightly blurry image of him sitting on a bench at the gym.

The caption: “Sitting on his lap would probably fix me.”

Slide two: Picture is of him sipping his morning coffee or tea, disheveled.

The caption: “I’m jealous of a mug.”

Slide three: It looks like a selfie at first but you’re in the bottom corner and he’s in the background in full tactical gear.

The caption: “Love a man that uses protection.”

Slide four: Another blurry image obviously taken on a drunken night out with the rest of the team. There’s a tipped over shot glass and he’s licking the liquor off the bar. He’s got a big, goofy grin, being egged on by those around him.

The caption: “How many shots do you think it would take for him to want to lick me like that?”

Slide five: It’s a picture of his bicep flexed and the corded muscle on display, a slight sheen of sweat glistening in the light.

The caption: “I want to gnaw on him like a chew toy.”

Slide six: This is, much to your relief, the last picture. It’s of him sitting across from you at a dining table, dressed in nicer civilian clothes. Your first official date.

The caption: “Please, whatever deity is out there, don’t let me fuck this up.”

__________

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for ages. I don’t even know if anyone else will find it as funny as I do.

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Part 2

Masterlist | Secrets Masterlist

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2

Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you. 

“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”

“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys. 

Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.

---

Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley. 

A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You. 

Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.

“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,�� Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.” 

The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap. 

Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily. 

“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon. 

Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station. 

---

In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here? 

A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny. 

“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here. 

“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could. 

“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”

Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin. 

“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”

“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”

“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”

Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone. 

When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense. 

Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.

---

“Coffee.”

Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch. 

You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”

“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading. 

“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips. 

The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

[viceroywrites]

meeting ms. fischer (drabble)

[gary/21 x gn!reader]

[very loosely tied to my gary fic but can be read separately]

[you & gary started dating during blue morpho arc & went to hs together at one point]

[i gave gary's mom a random name since she isn't named in show]

i've been sitting on this drabble for the last three months and decided to post it cause why not. enjoy!

-

“If she makes you uncomfortable at all, you say the word and we’re out of there!” Gary says firmly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you both pull into a residential area, having left the bustling city to a smaller suburban neighborhood.

“Gary, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s meeting your mom for heaven’s sake, not a Guild interrogation.” You chuckle, reaching over to place a soothing hand on Gary’s thigh and squeezing gently.

“I’ll take scaphism over this, any day.” Gary groans as he pulls into the driveway, glancing over at you, “You sure you want to do this? Because once you’re in there, my mom will talk your ear off, keep you prisoner.”

“Positive. Now let’s go.” You say with a grin and Gary sighs, unbuckling his seatbelt as he begrudgingly gets out of the car and unlocks the front door to his childhood home.

Being caught up in all the Blue Morpho drama when you first started dating, you and Gary both realized over dinner one night that he hadn’t let his mom know that he was dating let alone now had a significant other.

Needless to say, the moment he called her to let her know, she demanded that she needed to meet you as soon as possible.

An tan, energetic dog comes dashing towards the doorway the second Gary opens the door, immediately jumping on you with its tail wagging happily.

“Oh my god, Lady, no! Mooom, call the dog!” Gary yells out, gently tugging on the dog’s collar to get her off you.

“Gary, it’s fine!” You laugh as Lady happily licks at your hands as you try to pet the squirmy dog, “I didn’t even know you had a dog! How could you not tell me?”

“Technically, my mom got Lady after I moved out to become a henchman so she’s not really mine. She’s super friendly thankfully.” Gary sighed before wincing as he heard his mom’s voice calling from the kitchen.

“Gary, I told you to call me before you got here! I’m still making lunch for the two of you!” 

“Mom, I said not to make anything! We had a late breakfast!” Gary groans, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen.

As you walk into the kitchen, you see an older woman with the same shade of brown as Gary’s hair with slivers of gray showing through, hunched over the stove. She finally turns around, wiping her hands on a nearby kitchen towel as she sees you for the first time.

“Mom, this is my partner, [Your Name].” Gary introduces the two of you, squeezing your hand tightly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Fischer.” You say politely, extending your hand but blink as instead you’re wrapped in a warm embrace instead. 

“Oh my god, no need to be so formal! Call me Irene!” Ms. Fischer teases before pulling away to look at you full on, her eyes assessing you up and down before they widen, “Wait a second, I remember you!”

Gary and you glance at each other confused before saying in unison, “You do?”

“Weren’t you two in the same little comic book club, Gary? Remember you had that meeting here when the school kicked you out for trespassing, thinking you were an adult. I told you they were cute, didn't I?”

“You remember that far back? That was before I even turned 15!”

“I’m not that old, Gary!”

-

After Gary begrudgingly agreed to split the lunch his mom had prepared for the both of you, the three of you were squeezed together on the couch with Ms. Fischer sitting in the middle, a worn-out photo album in her lap, showing you page after page of baby photos of the henchman.

“Mom, don’t show her that one!” Gary protests, his cheeks red as he attempts to snatch the photo of him as a toddler wearing just a diaper with a plastic sword and a paper crown on his head.

Irene’s reflexes are too quick for him, dodging his large hand as she places the photo into your hands. “I swear, I could never get him to take off that darn crown once we went to Medieval Times.”

You reach across her lap to give Gary’s hand a firm squeeze, grinning at the cute photo, “It’s okay, Gare. You were such an adorable kid,” Your hand reached up to squeeze his cheek playfully, “And you got even more adorable as you got older.”

Gary smiles warmly, pressing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. Irene looks between the two of you with a look of admiration before clearing her throat, “Gary, those comics that you got shipped to our house are piling up in your room! Can you please go grab them?”

“Now mom? I can do that later…” His voice trailed off when his mother gave him a stern look. “Alright, fine! I’m going!” Gary groans, getting up from the couch, heading to his old room in the basement of the Fischer home, leaving you alone with Mrs. Fischer.

“I swear, I don’t know where he gets his stubbornness from.” Irene sighs before placing the photo album on the coffee table and turning to face you. “I just wanted to get you alone for just a second to say thank you for looking after my Gare Bear. He’s such a sweetheart and I worry about him doing all that dangerous stuff.”

“Of course, there’s so much to love about him and I’ve always got his back.” You say which Irene beams at, bringing you into an embrace and squeezing you tightly before pulling away, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“And if he ever does something stupid, you call me and I’ll whip him into shape!” She says pointedly to which you hear a groan echoing from your boyfriend as he ascends up the stairs, a box full of comics in his arms. 

“I heard that, mom!”

-

On the drive back to your shared apartment, Gary makes you pinky promise not to tell the Monarchs about his mom’s nickname for him.

“Of course… Gare Bear.”

“[Your Name]!”

[darlingsaturn]

We Need You Back

TW : none.

What if you left the military because of health issue and decided to sign yourself back to college. Maybe you used to go to college but stop because of financial problem.

Working in the SAS for so many years means big paycheck and you’re barely having time to indulge yourself in luxury because of missions. It has made your bank account fat with money that you barely touch over the years. You don’t have to do any work or part time, just focus on studying.

One day, while you’re in class, suddenly all the window got shatter and door got forced open by bunch of men in military gear. Your professor look around in panic and anxiousness. On instinct, you reach for your knife that you hide in your boots but stop your movement when your eyes catches the familiar faces.

A bearded man with bucket hat approach you carefully, face stern but eyes soften as he took your form. “Sergeant Y/L/N,” Captain Price, your idol and the one who has help you many times, greeted you.

“Captain. I would say it’s good to see you but the circumstances seems to not be looking good...” you eyed the busted door on the corner of your eyes and also saw your former lieutenant, Ghost, standing there with your favorite mohawk guy, Soap and your bestie bug boy, Roach.

“Yeah... Sorry about the commotion, but we need you back.” Price said while Garrick hand you a bulletproof vest with a ‘sorry’ smile. At least he’s guilty, somewhat.

You heard whispers and looks from your new friends and the other students but all you can see/feel is the silent hopeful gazes of your old comrades.

You sighed out loud before grabbing the vest and putting it on, effortlessly. “Who’s the target?”

Ghost smirk under his mask, not worried at all since he knew you’ll be back. (Lies. He was worried you’ll decline and has loss sleep over it.)

Price smile knowingly and hand you a handgun while Soap goes to the professor to give them Laswell’s number for repairment.

Note : i do want to write this, but feel free to add your blurb too!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Cuddling with 141 (+Roach!)

Summary: How I think Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost and Roach would cuddle + little blurbs.

Word Count: ~ 2.1k

Warnings: None!

A/N: wrote this at 2am😭 hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀

- Tries his hardest to act tough and scary, but only because that’s how a Lieutenant is supposed to act. Or at least that’s what he thinks.

- Also isn’t sure how to cuddle, never saw his dad trying to do anything other than abuse his mom, and his brother was dead before he could ask him for any advice.

- As stiff as a board, has no idea what to do, just awkwardly sitting and glancing at you, increasingly concerned.

- Would eventually get the hang of it only after Johnny made fun of him for being so awful with it, did it just to spite his beloved Sergeant (also practiced cuddling with Johnny, obviously just for practice, nothing more.)

- Likes being the little spoon.

It had been one hell of a mission, 141 barely finding a safe house to rest in for a few hours and restock their weapons and ammo before having to move again. A few more hours, and though Simon knew he should be resting, he couldn’t get his brain off of alert mode, so he settled for watching the game on the telly, even if it was in Spanish. He was mostly fluent, anyway.

You had plopped down next to him after a few minutes, mumbling something about cleaning your gun, taking a rag to wipe it down and try to clear it out, your hands soon slipping down as your eyes dropped.

The other boys had gone off somewhere else in the safe house, probably to find a bed or secure it further like he should be doing right now, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and shake you off.

You eventually went fully limp, head banging against his shoulder, somehow now waking you even then as you mumbled something, hand slipping towards your gun’s trigger. It was then that he moved, but not to get up, simply to gently pry the firearm from your hand as he clicked the safety on and let it drop to the floor.

The game blared in the background, but Simon was more focused on you, still leaning into him, and the fact that he was even entertaining this. His muscles were stiff, quickly growing sore and agitated at him after the constant use of the day. Slowly, he relaxed, finding that you melted into his body a lot easier when he wasn’t tensed up completely.

Slowly sliding one arm around your waist, obviously just to make sure you didn’t fall off the couch, nothing more, Simon leaned his head back against the couch, his own honey-brown eyes fluttering shut soon enough as he found enough peace of mind for an hour or two of rest.

Not much, but a welcome reprieve.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish 🧼

- Has no shame at all. Will cuddle you during exfil in front of everyone with no care.

- Very clingy, and also a living furnace. Good to have in the winters, since he keeps you warm, but a nightmare in the summers.

- Will whine like a puppy if you refuse to cuddle with him for heat reasons or whatever, absolutely desperate, golden retriever of a man.

- Definitely see him as the type to enjoy lying on top of you, or being the big spoon, but is down to experiment with anything you want. And I mean everything. Frighteningly open to experimentation.

- Sleeps wild or like a rock, no in between.

Of course, they’d sent Task Force 141 and their one notoriously cold-sensitive member out to Russia, staking out for any sign of a recent contract signed between them and Germany, an agreement for some form of biochemical weapon that could be catastrophic in the wrong hands.

“Doin’ alright over there, Shivers?”

You heard a Scottish voice ask from the crunchy grass you were all lying in, Gaz and Price twenty feet to your left, Ghost twenty to your right, you and Johnny right next to each other. You could see your own body shaking, feeling the ground leach out any remaining warmth from it despite your thick clothing.

“Yeah, just-t-t cold.”

You saw Ghost glance back at you, probably having heard your teeth chattering from over there. You heard the radio hiss before his voice sounded.

“When I said stay frosty, I didn’t mean it literally.”

His deadpan tone said, earning a hushed bark of laughter from Johnny, and Price shooting you a sympathetic look with Gaz. You sighed.

“Very funny-y, Ghost.”

You mumbled, not even bothering to say it over the radio. Warm palms encompassed your wrists before you could do anything to stop it, and Johnny moved in closer.

“What’re you-?”

“Ain’t gonna be any use to us as a popsicle, eh Shivers?”

You felt the weight of his body settle even closer, nearly right on top of you, gingerly taking your numb fingers and switching your gloves out with his. His gloves were already warm, and larger and kept the air insulated better. Your gloves barely fit his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind. His body heat leaked into you, numb limbs springing back to life as that pinpricky sensation crawled up your body.

You relaxed a bit more into the snow, mind clearer now. Soap moved even closer, now quite literally on top of you, trying not to crush you with his weight but also keeping you nice and warm. After a moment of shifting around and adjusting, you got quite comfortable.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

You mumbled, already seeing the stupid grin he’d be wearing because of the praise.

“Anytime, bonnie.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick ☁️

- Serial cuddle enjoyer.

- Usually the one to fall asleep first because he’s more relaxed around his team. Has fallen asleep on Ghost’s shoulder before and been promptly pushed off.

- Prefers cuddling in bed over anywhere else, will slip into your bed in the middle of the night if he felt lonely or somehow has a sixth sense for you getting nightmares.

- Likes cuddling in a pretzel sort of position, or face-to-face despite the fact that he buries his head in your neck every time.

Rousing from his sleep for god knows why, Kyle rubbed his eyes, slipping from the warm bed he slept in and padding over to the kitchen to grab a drink of water. His throat was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. Probably the consequences of not drinking enough water while on mission, but he was in his little flat and off duty for now, so it wasn’t like it mattered much anyway.

Drinking nearly an entire glass, he heard a small thug, and his sluggish brain snapped awake as instinct kicked in, he put the glass down, approaching your room where he’d heard the sound come from slowly. Your door was already open.

He peeked inside, abruptly opening it to avoid the awful tension of the slow creaks it would’ve made had he dragged it out, only to be met with the sight of you, his roommate, curled up on the floor and sniffling.

His eyes softened and he crouched down next to you, hands moving to brush the hair out of your face as he caught sight of your watery eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked, nearly a whisper for fear of making you jump. You sniffled again, and tried to get to your feet, only to stumble and be caught by Kyle again before being sat on the edge of the bed by him.

“Had a nightmare.”

You answered in a meek tone, seeming a bit embarrassed, which then was overridden by surprise when Kyle sat on the edge of the bed next to you, calloused hands gently shifting your body around until he was lying right next to you, his dark brown eyes gazing into yours.

“I have them too,”

He admitted, watching as you carefully slipped a hand around him, moving closer as he pulled the blanket over both of your bodies. He relaxed, tense muscles going nearly limp as his head leaned into your shoulder, his breathing deepening out as both of your eyelids grew heavy, eventually shutting as you drifted off into a peaceful rest.

John Price 🏷️

- Is just a big bear of a man. Loves cuddling with his missus when he gets home from a mission.

- Prefers spooning, but when his joints get achy and sore he’ll just lay on his back and let you lay on top of him.

- Is a human furnace just like Soap, so you probably won’t be needing a blanket.

- He usually waits until you’re asleep to fall asleep, but on the really rough nights, he’s out in a few seconds flat.

- Enjoys having your hands in his hair.

- Definitely an experienced cuddler.

Just as you finished your shower, you heard the front door unlocking and opening, and not caring much about getting proper clothes on, you rushed over and pulled a very-tired-looking John into a hug.

He chuckled, hand giving you a few little pats on the head as he pulled you in, taking a deep whiff of the smell of your body wash and shampoo, before slowly releasing.

“Missed me, huh? Missed you too, bird.”

He mumbled as you refused to let go, only releasing when he gave you a light little pinch on the arm, leaving you to finish getting ready after your shower as he trudged off to change and probably at least get a comb through his hair.

With a small smile now on your face, you hurried through your skin and haircare routines faster than ever before, throwing on some underwear and pajamas. As you walked into your shared bedroom, you found John struggling to get a knot out of his brown hair.

“Let me,”

You said, gently taking the comb from his large fingers, brushing the ends of the knot out first, working down to the center of it when you finally got it out. He took the comb and placed it down on his little desk with a little “Thanks, darlin’”, then took your hand and led you over to the bed.

He crawled in first, groaning when his body was finally able to sink into the soft mattress of the bed, body aching after weeks of being gone as he laid on his back, you being quick to crawl above him, head laying against his chest.

He loosed a deep sigh, pulling the blankets over both of you despite the warmth already being shared between you two.

“M’ glad to be home.”

He muttered, pulling you closer, arms settling around you as he already began drifting off.

Smiling, you replied.

“Me too.”

Gary “Roach” Sanderson 🪳

- I definitely hc him as nonverbal (like he is in the games, for whatever reason, you can decide why) but that doesn’t mean he’s any worse at cuddling.

- Roach is a little bit of a wild sleeper, so expect a few nudges and maybe some flips from him during the night.

- Enjoys the sweetheart position the most, just because it lets him hear your heartbeat.

- Serial nuzzle enjoyer. Will nuzzle into you at any moment he can, it’s just something he really likes doing.

- Douses his pillowcases with a lethal amount of your signature perfume or what reminds him of you (has an entire candle of it, too.)

- Can be very clingy.

When you got back home from the little girl’s night you’d had, finding Gary wrapped around one of your pillows and holding it with a death grip, your favorite perfume on the bedside table and a lit candle to match in the same scent wasn’t something you’d been expecting.

As soon as you walked into the room, he glanced up, beckoning you closer almost frantically. With a small smile, you held up a finger, signaling to wait for just one moment. You slipped out of the dress you’d been donning, and pulled off the shoes as well, the heels having made your feet ache anyways.

You used some basic wipes to get any makeup off, deciding that the more complicated cleansing process would be left for the morning, and promptly pulled some pajamas on, finally walking over to the bed, and being pulled in.

Within seconds, you were under the covers, and softly laughing at how he hooked one arm around the back of your neck, pulling you gently into where your head was against his chest, and intertwining his legs with yours. The scruff of his slightly unshaven face scratched lightly against you as he rubbed and nuzzled into you unashamedly, peppering a few little kisses on you while he was at it.

“Clingy,”

You murmured teasingly, and he frowned for a moment, raising a brow as if to call you a hypocrite, and you hummed lightly for a moment in thought.

“Touché.”

You said to his silent response, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose, before finally settling in and getting comfortable against his body. Within a few minutes, the both of you were yawning, sleep pulling both of you slowly under as the rhythm of your breathing deepened.

[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.