#just the thought of Ghost going through hell and back to find a captured Soap
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call me simon

simon (ghost) riley x reader
content: violence, slow burn (again), injury, reader gets hurt, soft!ghost, not proof read???
wc: 4k
The mission had been simple—infiltrate, extract, and get the hell out. At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.
You and Ghost had worked together for years, and in that time, you had come to understand him in a way no one else had. You could read the subtle shifts in his body language, the way his hands flexed on his rifle when he was tense, the almost imperceptible softening in his gaze when he looked at you. He never said much, but you didn’t need him to.
But even now, after all this time, he still kept you at a distance.
“This one’s risky,” he had warned you before you deployed.
You had grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Since when do we play it safe?”
Something flickered behind his eyes, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he just nodded once, gripping his rifle a little tighter.
That was the last conversation you had before it all went to hell.
The ambush came out of nowhere. A planned extraction turned into a massacre, bullets raining down from every angle. The comms erupted with frantic voices—Price barking orders, Soap cursing as he tried to cover the retreat. You had been close to Ghost, always covering his six, but then—
The explosion.
A deafening roar swallowed the world, and then there was nothing.
When Ghost came to, the first thing he felt was the cold. The second thing was the weight in his chest—the suffocating pressure of something far worse than any physical injury.
“Where’s (Y/N)?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a growl.
Silence.
Soap was the one who finally spoke, his voice grim. “We couldn’t find them, mate.”
Ghost’s world tilted. His hands curled into fists, rage and grief colliding like a storm inside him. “That’s not an answer.”
“We searched,” Soap continued carefully. “We didn’t see a body, but… there was a lot of blood.”
A sharp, ugly sound tore from Ghost’s throat. He wasn’t the type to break—he had seen too much, lost too many people. He had told himself he was used to this. But this was different.
This was you.
Price put a hand on his shoulder, but Ghost barely felt it. His ears were ringing, his heart pounding against his ribs. He thought about the way you had smiled at him before the mission. The way you had promised to have his back.
And now? Now you were gone.
Ghost had lost people before. He had buried every shred of his past beneath layers of concrete and steel, building himself into something untouchable. But this? This felt like a bullet straight through whatever remained of his soul.
The weeks passed, but Ghost felt like he was stuck in the moment he lost you.
He barely spoke. He barely slept. Missions were carried out with brutal efficiency, every target eliminated with a level of ruthlessness that even made Soap worry.
He told himself it was just another loss. Another name to add to the long list of the dead. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake you from his mind.
Every night, he saw you in his dreams—sometimes laughing, sometimes covered in blood, sometimes reaching for him with a look of betrayal in your eyes.
Why didn’t you save me?
The question haunted him.
But then, weeks later, intel came in. A captured operative—one matching your description—had been sighted in enemy hands.
And just like that, the world snapped back into focus.
Ghost wasn’t losing you. Not again.
The safehouse was heavily guarded, deep in enemy territory. But Ghost didn’t care.
He was going in alone.
The rest of the team had tried to stop him. Price had warned him that this wasn��t a one-man job. Soap had reminded him that rushing in blind would get him killed.
None of it mattered.
The moment he breached the compound, it was a blur of bullets and blood. He cut through the enemy like a shadow of death itself, his every movement precise, brutal, relentless.
And then he found you.
You were in a dimly lit room, shackled to a chair, battered and bruised but alive.
Ghost felt something inside him crack wide open.
He was at your side in seconds, hands trembling as they worked to undo your restraints. “(Y/N)…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. Then, recognition.
“You—” Your voice broke. “You came for me.”
He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second. “Always.”
Getting out was messy, but Ghost didn’t let go of you once. Even when you were safely back at the base, even when the medics took over, he stayed nearby, hovering in the shadows, watching over you like some kind of silent guardian.
When you were finally stable, he sat beside your bed, hands clasped together, head bowed.
“You shouldn’t have come,” you murmured, voice weak. “Could’ve gotten yourself killed.”
Ghost exhaled sharply. “And leave you behind? Not a chance.”
You studied him for a long moment, something unreadable in your gaze. Then, with a shaky breath, you reached out—fingers barely brushing against his.
He didn’t pull away.
For the first time in a long time, Ghost allowed himself to feel.
And in that moment, in the quiet space between pain and healing, between loss and love—he realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as lost as he thought.
Maybe neither of you were.
The medbay was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside your bed. The dim light cast soft shadows across your face, highlighting the cuts and bruises left behind by your captors.
Ghost sat by your side, his gloved hands resting on his knees, body hunched forward like a man carrying the weight of a thousand ghosts.
He hadn’t spoken much since the rescue. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he didn’t know how.
What could he say? Sorry I let you get taken? Sorry I wasn’t fast enough? Sorry that you had to suffer because of me?
You stirred slightly, wincing as you shifted in bed. Ghost’s hands twitched, instinctively wanting to reach out, to do something—but he held back.
Your voice was hoarse when you finally spoke. “You should get some sleep.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “Not tired.”
You cracked a weak smile. “You never are.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy and full of words neither of you were ready to say. Then, in a softer voice, you asked, “How bad was it?”
Ghost clenched his jaw. How bad? Bad enough that he still saw the image of your battered body every time he closed his eyes. Bad enough that he had nearly lost himself entirely during the rescue, consumed by a single, violent purpose.
“You’re here,” he said gruffly. “That’s all that matters.”
You let out a breathy chuckle, but it lacked warmth. “That bad, huh?”
His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, he let his mask slip—just for a second. You saw it then. The raw, unfiltered guilt. The anger. The self-hatred that festered beneath his ribs.
You reached out, your fingers brushing against his forearm. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him freeze.
“Simon.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
His breath hitched. He hadn’t heard his real name from your lips in what felt like forever.
But before he could say anything, before he could acknowledge the way his heart clenched at the sound of it, you let your hand fall away, your exhaustion dragging you back into unconsciousness.
Ghost sat there, staring at where your fingers had been.
And for the first time in years, he wished he was someone else.
Someone better.
Someone who deserved you.
It took time. More time than Ghost was comfortable with.
You were healing—physically, at least. But there were nights when he caught you staring at the wall, eyes distant, lips pressed into a tight line.
He knew that look. He had seen it in the mirror too many times.
The ghosts weren’t just haunting him anymore. They had their claws in you, too.
One night, as the base fell into silence, Ghost found you sitting outside near the barracks, knees pulled to your chest, the cool night air brushing against your skin.
He approached cautiously. “Can’t sleep?”
You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Funny. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”
Ghost lowered himself onto the bench beside you, his broad frame casting a long shadow in the moonlight.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Then, softly, you murmured, “I thought I was gonna die in there.”
His fingers curled into fists against his thighs.
“But worse than that,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper, “I thought… I thought I was never gonna see you again.”
Ghost’s heart clenched. He swallowed thickly, staring straight ahead, unable to meet your gaze. “You’re here now,” he said, though the words felt hollow.
You turned your head, studying him. “Yeah. But are you?”
He stiffened.
Because that was the real question, wasn’t it?
Ever since he’d pulled you out of that hellhole, something inside him had shifted. It was like the barriers he had spent years building—the cold, unfeeling armor that protected him from pain—had cracked wide open.
And you had seen it.
And worse? He had let you.
“You don’t have to keep carrying this alone,” you murmured.
Ghost let out a sharp exhale, running a hand down his face. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do.” You reached out again, this time grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. “You think I don’t see it? You’re killing yourself over this, Simon.”
His breath caught.
The way you said his name—it wasn’t an order. It wasn’t a reprimand. It was something softer, something that made his chest feel tight.
Something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
He shook his head. “I can’t—”
“You can,” you interrupted, squeezing his wrist. “You just won’t.”
Ghost clenched his jaw. A part of him wanted to argue. To tell you that you were better off not knowing what he carried. That his ghosts weren’t just whispers in the dark—they were bloodstains, scars carved too deep to ever fade.
But the way you were looking at him now—like you weren’t afraid of what you might find beneath the mask—made his resolve waver.
And maybe, for the first time in a long time, he wanted someone to see him.
The real him.
The man beneath the name.
Not Ghost.
Not the soldier.
Just Simon.
So he didn’t pull away.
Not this time.
It wasn’t easy.
Ghost didn’t know how to let people in.
But you didn’t push. You didn’t demand things from him that he couldn’t give. You just… stayed.
And little by little, he started to let you in.
He started to sit a little closer. He started to speak a little more. He started to allow himself to believe—maybe just maybe—that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.
There were still bad nights. There were still moments when the past clawed its way into the present. But you were there. And somehow, that made it bearable.
One night, as the rain pattered softly against the window, you turned to him, voice barely above a whisper.
“You saved me.”
Ghost stared at you for a long moment. Then, quietly, he admitted, “You saved me first.”
And for once, he let himself believe it.
For once, he let himself breathe.
Ghost had never been good at this.
Not at connection. Not at letting people in.
He was used to distance—to keeping others at arm’s length, ensuring that no one got close enough to matter. Because when people mattered, they could be taken away. And he had lost enough already.
But with you…
It was different.
The realization crept up on him in the quiet moments. The way his heart beat a little differently when you looked at him. The way your voice softened when you said his name. The way your touch—so simple, so fleeting—made him feel human again.
And that terrified him.
Because Simon Riley didn’t get to have this.
Didn’t deserve this.
But still, he stayed.
And so did you.
It was a chilly morning when the shift finally began.
The two of you were on a routine patrol, your boots crunching against the frost-covered ground as the sun barely peeked over the horizon.
Ghost had always preferred silence, but with you, it never felt heavy. It never felt like a wall.
“You ever think about leaving?” you asked suddenly.
Ghost glanced at you. “The military?”
You nodded.
His answer should have been automatic. No.
But instead, he hesitated.
“…Sometimes.”
You stopped walking, turning to look at him fully. “Really?”
He huffed out a quiet breath. “Used to think I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I ever left this life.”
“And now?”
His fingers flexed at his sides. And now, I think about what it would be like to wake up somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. And not be alone.
He didn’t say it out loud. But you must have seen something in his expression, because your gaze softened, your voice gentler when you said, “I think you’d be okay.”
Ghost swallowed. Looked away.
And for the first time, the idea of something beyond this didn’t feel like a distant, impossible thing.
It was an accident.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
The mission had been simple—routine. But the terrain had been rough, the weather brutal. By the time you made it back to the safe house, you were shivering, your hands trembling as you tried to warm yourself up.
Without thinking, Ghost pulled off his gloves and reached for you.
You stiffened in surprise as his hands wrapped around yours, his calloused fingers rough against your cold skin. His touch was warm—warmer than you expected.
He meant to let go. He really did.
But then you exhaled, leaning into the heat, your fingers curling slightly against his. And he couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
Time stretched between you, heavy and thick, something unspoken crackling in the space where your hands remained locked together.
It wasn’t just comfort. It wasn’t just warmth.
It was something else. Something Ghost had been running from for a long, long time.
Your eyes met his, searching. Waiting.
But then you pulled away, clearing your throat, the moment slipping between your fingers like sand.
Ghost clenched his jaw. Fisted his hands at his sides.
And told himself that it didn’t mean anything.
Even though it did.
Something had changed.
Neither of you talked about it, but it was there—in the way you moved around each other, in the way his gaze lingered for a second too long, in the way your fingers brushed his shoulder when you passed by.
Ghost wasn’t stupid. He knew what was happening.
He just didn’t know how to stop it.
Or if he even wanted to.
One night, as you sat together in the barracks, an unusual quiet settled between you. The others had long since gone to bed, leaving just the two of you and the dim light flickering above.
You shifted slightly beside him, your knee brushing against his. He didn’t move away.
After a moment, you spoke. “You ever let someone in before?”
Ghost let out a slow breath. “No.”
“Not even once?”
His throat tightened. “Tried once. A long time ago.” He hesitated. “Didn’t end well.”
You didn’t push. You just nodded, your expression unreadable. But then—so softly, so carefully—you reached out and placed your hand over his.
Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just there.
Ghost felt like his lungs stopped working.
He could have pulled away.
Should have.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers slowly curling around yours.
A quiet acceptance. A silent confession.
And for the first time in years, Simon Riley let himself hold on.
The rain had started sometime after midnight.
It wasn’t the kind that lashed against the windows or roared through the wind—it was quiet, steady, a soft patter that filled the air with something almost gentle.
You and Ghost had been out on the balcony of the safe house, the night stretching between you in comfortable silence. The mission had been successful. For once, there was no immediate threat. No orders waiting to be carried out.
Just the two of you.
He stood beside you, his mask still on, arms crossed over his chest. His presence was solid, grounding. And yet, something felt different tonight.
Something had been shifting between you for weeks now, threading its way into every glance, every touch, every quiet moment where neither of you said what you were both thinking.
You stole a glance at him. He was looking at the rain, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against his arms—like he was wrestling with something just beneath the surface.
“You ever gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” you asked softly.
Ghost exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You wouldn’t wanna know.”
You turned fully toward him, tilting your head. “Try me.”
Silence.
For a long moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then—so softly, so hesitantly—you heard it.
“Don’t wanna lose this.”
Your breath caught.
This.
The space between you. The warmth that had slowly, inevitably grown over time.
The thing neither of you had dared to name.
Ghost shifted, his hands dropping to his sides. When he finally turned to face you, his gaze was unreadable, heavy with something you weren’t sure he even knew how to explain.
“I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t do this. I can’t.”
Your heart clenched. “Why?”
His hands curled into fists. “Because if I let myself have this—have you—I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk away.”
You swallowed, your throat tight. “What if I don’t want you to?”
Ghost went still.
For a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the rain, the distant hum of the world beyond this fragile moment.
And then—so slowly, so carefully—he lifted a hand.
Not to push you away.
But to touch.
His gloved fingers ghosted over your cheek, barely there, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he held on too tightly.
You leaned into the touch, closing your eyes for a brief second, letting yourself feel it. Letting yourself feel him.
When you opened your eyes, he was watching you, something raw and uncertain burning behind his mask.
You reached up, your fingers hesitating at the edge of his balaclava.
“Simon,” you whispered.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
Then, without a word, he reached up and pulled the mask off himself.
The air between you shifted, thick with something neither of you could ignore anymore.
And then he whispered it, his voice rough, breaking apart at the edges.
“Say it again.”
Your heart pounded. “Simon.”
A sharp exhale. A decision made.
And then—
He kissed you.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.
It was desperate, hungry, a collision of everything unsaid. His hands came up to cup your face, fingers sliding into your hair, holding you like you were something precious—something real.
Like he had been starving for this.
Like he had been starving for you.
And God—so had you.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, pouring every unspoken word into the way your lips moved against his. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just the undeniable truth that this had been building for so long, and now that it had begun, there was no going back.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, your fingers still tangled in his shirt.
Ghost—Simon—let out a shaky breath. “You really should’ve walked away from me.”
You let out a breathless laugh, nudging your nose against his. “Too late.”
His lips quirked slightly, a ghost of a smile, before he kissed you again.
This time, it was softer.
This time, it was real.
And this time, he didn’t pull away.
Not now.
Not ever.
a/n: add yourself to my taglist
#simon ghost riley x reader#cod x reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cod x y/n#☆sonya yaps☆#call of duty#simon riley#cod#cod mw2
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If only you would have trusted me (Simon "Ghost" Riley メ Female "Cobra" Sergeant)
A/N: MW 3 broke me, don't talk to me
Summary: Makarov blackmailed you into joining his army and Task Force 141 thinks you betrayed them without hesitation. Once Ghost and Soap find Milena and you, Ghost finally confronts you about letting him down.
Warnings: curse, angst, guilt, fight, betrayal,
Wordcount: 4.7k
”I thought I was someone whom you could trust because you can be sure as hell that I still trust you with my life. Whether you like it or not."
You knew this moment was coming once Laswell had let you know that Makarov escaped the gulag and was on the move.
You didn’t want it to happen but your job wasn’t famous for making guarantees. Especially with crazy terrorists who wouldn’t stop until the world fell to its knees in front of them.
And Makarov was just like that.
Ruthless, smart, cruel and unpredictable.
While running from location to location, you started to feel getting lost. There were too many dead ends while Makarov was playing with Task Force 141 as he’d wished.
Ghost noticed how much you’d changed since Makarov broke out and wasted no time in getting his hands dirty.
You’d heard stories of him before Price and Soap managed to capture him once 4 years ago which ended in agony and cost a lot of innocent lives. You’d dealt with all kinds of criminals who wanted to build their throne out of corpses but Makarov was by far the worst and most dangerous one.
With each mission you’d went to with the others, the less your voice could be heard. You were silent and kept checking every corner while wondering how could you finally make a step forward.
There were times when you were seated with Ghost and his favorite sniper to watch the others’ back, and while laying on the ground for hours, the lieutenant tried to get you to talk but you weren’t too bulged.
You hadn’t noticed because you were too focused on your task but Ghost always kept an eye on you when you were in his sight. He’d seen this kind of dedication before, so he understood where your change of heart had come from but he didn’t want you to completely forget who you truly were before.
He’d hated to admit but he would have done anything to bring you back to the surface. It’s been too long since he had heard your laugh or seen your beautiful smile. Hell, he even started to miss those moments when you’d happily join Soap and push his buttons while making fun of Brits.
Ghost couldn’t stand your silence, he liked listening to your voice even while you were only making small chats with him through the coms.
What Ghost had never expected – or anyone else for that matter – was you suddenly disappearing without a word and hearing from a source that you’ve been seen on Makarov’s side.
At first, he was confused and kept denying it but when Price told him that it wasn’t some sort of plan for you to get involved with the Russians, Ghost felt like someone punched him in the chest.
You’d left willingly without a word, and the next thing he knew, you were working under the hands of the enemy.
He was overwhelmed with your betrayal, he was sad, furious, and desperate to find an explanation for your treachery.
What Ghost and the others didn’t know was that Makarov had his eye on you since he escaped from the gulag. Firmly, because you knew Milena from before, and she knew that you were an unstoppable sergeant.
Makarov wanted to break Task Force 141 from the inside before he would grab a gun to put a bullet into everyone’s head, so he ordered his men to do their research on you.
It didn’t take them too long to find your family, even though you tried your best over the years to make it seem like you didn’t have them. You’d never once talked to anyone about your sister and mother who always waited for you to go home, who were always worried about you whenever you departed and had been gone for months while fighting terrorists.
For the first time in your life you didn’t know what to do, you wanted to tell Price and the others that Makarov had captured your family and gave you no choice but the Russian’s intentions were crystal clear. If you’d told anyone about this, he’d kill your family and would blame it all on Task Force 141.
You even thought about telling Ghost that Makarov had found you and backed you in the corner but you knew if the lieutenant would have found out about any of this, he’d never let you go.
Ever since you joined Makarov, the guilt has been eating you from inside, especially whenever your friends’ name was thrown around as Makarov was planning his next move.
Makarov has been calling you ’Rynda’ ever since you gave yourself up to him which you absolutely despised. Since you were his only living connection to Task Force 141, he’d given you the task of always letting him know what the special forces’s next move might be.
”Like the bell ringing when danger is around the corner,” Makarov had said back then with a wicked smile on his lips. ”I don’t want you to disappoint me, Rynda.”
”I won’t.”
Your words might have caused satisfaction in the man but your tongue was burning with the forced promise you’d had to make to him. Your skin was crawling each time he touched you and his voice crept through your ears like venom.
You hated being Milena’s present. Makarov didn’t want any women on the battlefield but he admired your strength and skills, so he ordered you to always stick to Milena and watch her back. Without his financial support, he would have had some problems getting into this whole capture-or-kill scenario.
Milena always made a sound of her whines about how she hated that you were practically babysitting her. Don’t worry, I hate it too, you’d thought.
Whenever you were alone you missed the guys, missed Price being a father figure to you, missed Gaz making fun of your looks after a horribly executed plan, missed Soap teaching you Scottish, and missed Ghost for… for being himself and keeping you under his wing.
”I admire your dedication, really,” Milena called from the other side of the room.
”Do you?”
Milena glanced up from her papers and searched your face.
”Yes, I’m surprised you betrayed your people right away and did everything Vladimir ordered you to.”
”He didn’t give me much of a choice, did he?” you asked and crossed your arms. You hated that she was able to think that you betrayed your second family easily while in reality, it was wearing you down in every way possible.
You were sure you’d never be able to look into their eyes if you saw them again.
”He knows how to win people over.”
You cleared your throat and narrowed your eyes.
”Or to force them to do something that would benefit him.”
Milena was one delusional woman, you were sure of that. You hated how spineless she was and how easily she could get under your skin within seconds.
If Makarov wasn’t so intimidating then you would have already punched her whenever she said a bad word to you. You would have enjoyed it for sure.
Gunshots and shouting emerged from the other side of the building which made you tense right away.
”What the hell?” Milena asked as she stood up and walked to the wall where the security cameras were shown.
You took a few steps, examining the figures that appeared, and felt the color drain from your face.
You wished you would have mistook them for someone else but after serving with them for years, there was no way you wouldn’t recognize them.
It was Soap and Ghost.
Your heart was hammering in your chest, and your stomach turned when you saw Soap getting closer and closer to the door that stood behind you.
With trembling hands, you grabbed your gun and spun on your heel just when the Scots opened the door.
”Special forces, show your hands!”
Raising your guns at the same time, you faced your best friend whose eyes softened the second they found you.
”Cobra…”
It’s been so long since anyone called you that, you almost dropped your gun.
Then you forced yourself to remember your family whose life was on you and how you act now, so you tightened your grip on the cold metal.
”I’d advise you to turn around and leave, Soap.”
Soap lowered his gun while his face dropped in sadness. Your voice was cold and distant, something you’d never used toward him before. You’d only given this treatment to your enemies.
”That’s not going to happen, you know it.”
”I’ll shoot you,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness as he kept your stare.
”You won’t.”
Gritting your teeth, you took a step forward, keeping the gun at him as Milena looked at you in fury.
”What are you waiting for? Shoot him for fuck’s sake!”
No matter how hard you tried, your finger couldn’t touch the trigger. Your heart didn’t let that happen.
Memories flooded and invaded your mind as you looked at John MacTavish who was your favorite partner in crime. Moments of him making you laugh and calming you down after losing a battle made your hands shake in defeat.
You didn’t want to do any of this but you had no choice.
When Soap realized you were not going to shoot him, he let out a small sigh, grabbed one of the chairs, and pushed it forward, his eyes finding Milena.
”Sit.”
You didn’t want to admit but you missed the way Soap could talk coldly to those who were on the other side.
”Fuck you.” Milena spat in hatred.
Soap kept his gaze and gun firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
”Sit down, Milena.”
Milena gave you a deadly glare before dropping her hands and taking a seat. You couldn’t say a word, it seemed like your voice ceased to exist.
”Where is your boss?” Soap asked sharply.
”I don’t have a boss. No one tells me what to do.” Milena said and you almost scoffed. Only if her words were true.
Soap glared at her for a while before turning around when heavy footsteps broke the silence. You lowered your hands, sweat appearing on your skin as you noticed a familiar tall figure moving in the shadows.
Soap turned around when Ghost walked through the door with a laptop in his hand.
”She’s not talking.”
As Ghost’s familiar dark eyes met yours, he stopped walking and you felt your heart skip a beat. Just like every other time he’d looked at you, you felt exposed and small.
Ghost’s eyes never left you as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes held many emotions, such as surprise, melancholy, and distance.
You hated the way he was looking at you like you were someone else. Like you weren’t someone who was close to him like you weren’t the sergeant who was never afraid to be honest and open with him.
Before you could realize that there was nowhere to run from him, he blinked and walked over to the table.
”She’s about to,” he grunted and put the laptop down on the table, and walked to the other side of the room.
Not wanting to look into his eyes again, you focused on Soap who opened the white laptop and extended his hand to Milena who was sitting still like a rock.
”Give me your hand.”
”Why? Or else you’ll cut it off?” Milena asked.
”Your friend over there knows that it’s true when I say to you that it’s not my style,” Soap said glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. Then tilted his head in Ghost’s direction. ”He might.”
Milena seemed to lose her patience with each second that passed by.
”Why the mask?” she snapped.
You almost rolled your eyes at the question you seemed to hear a million times.
”To hide my face.” Ghost answered with cold eyes.
You were surprised he answered even though it was an obvious and useless response.
You felt Ghost’s eyes finding you again, making your skin burn as you dropped your gaze. You were intimidated by his presence and not because you were afraid of him but because you knew for sure that you hurt his feelings when you left.
You wished you weren’t here to live through this unwanted confrontation. A part of you was happy to see them but your heart was aching by the disappointed and hurtful looks you received from them.
”Cobra.” Ghost called after you as you turned your head away. His voice reached your bones immediately and you hated how much you missed your callsign falling off his lips.
”Don’t call me that,” you said dryly, turning back to him.
Ghost gave you a challenging look as he pushed himself away from the wall and closed the distance between you two. With each step he took, you felt your chest tighten with anticipation and guilt. You wanted to look somewhere else but he firmly held your gaze.
He always did and that hasn’t changed.
”How about we give these two birds a few minutes to find a way to cooperate with each other?” Ghost asked and you felt your eyes widen.
”I’m not leaving Milena.”
Ghost gave you a meaningful look and took the gun from your hand with such ease that wasn’t surprising to either of you.
”Yes, you are.”
Remembering that you weren’t supposed to leave Milena’s sight for even a second, you felt panic and annoyance wash over you.
”You can’t just order me around. Not anymore.” You said in a cold tone that made Ghost shift in his place.
Without saying a word, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you with him as he made his way to the other door that led to another empty room.
”Hey! Get your fucking hand off of me!” You shouted in frustration and tried to free yourself from his grasp but Ghost easily dragged you with him through the door and kicked it shut with his foot.
You let out a desperate groan as you grabbed his wrist, trying to pry it off of your arm which seemed tiny compared to his.
You bit into your lower lip as you tried your best to move his fingers but he wasn’t moving an inch.
”Cobra…” his voice was calmer and more thoughtful now that you were alone with him.
You didn’t look at him, only let out a defeated sigh and stopped fighting, your skin slightly aching.
”This hurts.”
Ghost glanced down at his hand still holding onto you and let go of you the second you’d admitted your physical pain. Hurting you was something he never intended to do.
Hissing, you brought your arm to your chest and touched it with your other hand, and turned away from him. You didn’t trust yourself when he was alone with you.
”What are you doing, Cobra?” Ghost asked from behind you and you closed your eyes. Hearing confusion and disappointment hiding in his voice made you feel guiltier than before.
”That’s none of your concern anymore, Ghost.” You replied still facing the wall.
Taking deep breaths you tried your best to collect your thoughts as you heard him walk closer to you, dropping your gun to the table standing next to you.
”It is.”
His voice circled around you like clouds darkening the sky before the storm.
”Why did you leave?”
You pressed your lips against each other and turned around. You got used to his menacing presence coming firstly from his height. You felt small and weak because you knew he could see right through you.
”People change, Lieutenant. You better get used to it.”
”People change that’s for sure. But don’t betray and stab others in the back just like that. A decision like this never comes from a single thought.”
You hated how much he tried to get into your mind, still trying to find answers to his questions that have probably been burning in him since the day you left.
”I refuse to believe that after everything that happened, you’d willingly just switch sides, I know you. And I know how much you despise traitors,” his eyes never left you as he was speaking.
You didn’t say a word, not when you were on the edge of breaking down.
”Talk to me, Cobra.” Ghost said, his voice quiet.
”I can’t,” you shook your head. ”Why don’t you just do your job and get out of here?”
”I’m not leaving until you say something to me.”
”There is nothing for me to say, especially to you.”
Ghost felt his chest tighten at your coldness. He would have never expected you to speak to him this way. Not after how long it took for you two to finally let your guard down around each other.
”Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
”I do, Ghost. Believe it or not, I’m not part of the special forces anymore, so either shoot me or get out of my face.”
”You really think I’d hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and sad.
”You eliminate targets and now I’m one too,” you crossed your arms, trying to look confident.
”I know why you’re pushing me,” he narrowed his eyes. ”And I know for sure that you didn’t betray us because you felt like you could. I know there is something behind all of this that you refuse to tell me.”
You didn’t answer and that was more than enough for him to confirm his theory about you.
”What happened, Cobra?”
”I left and now I’m one of Makarov’s people, that’s what happened!”
You were desperate to try to get him out of here because your heart was breaking with each word that was exchanged between you two.
”No, don’t even say that. I know who you are.”
”You don’t, Simon. Just get over it and let me go,” you snapped and his gaze dropped for a brief second. You didn’t even realize at first that you called him by his real name until you saw the change in his eyes.
It seemed like your words had made a final straw in Simon’s heart. You hated yourself for talking to him like that and you wished you could go back to them, to him, and forget about this nightmare you’d fallen into.
”I thought I was someone whom you could trust because you can be sure as hell that I still trust you with my life. Whether you like it or not."
His words made more impact on you than they should have. They meant the world to you and knowing that even after turning your back on him, he still trusted you and wanted you to go back.
”I trusted you.”
Trusted you. Past tense which didn’t go unnoticed by him.
”You didn’t if you could leave me like I was nothing to you.” Ghost confronted you with raw honesty, not even hiding the fact of how much your decision had pained him.
”It wasn’t easy,” you admitted, hugging your stomach and your eyes filling with unwanted tears. You hated if someone saw the vulnerable side of you, you hated being vulnerable but around Ghost, you knew he wouldn’t use your pain against you. Never.
Ghost stepped closer to you, making it impossible to look at anything else but him. When he heard your voice tremble and saw your eyes become glossy, he knew he meant something to you after all.
Lifting his hand, he put his index finger under your jaw and made you look at him. His eyes mirrored his emotions as he watched you slowly letting go of the invisible mask you’d hidden behind.
”You don’t need to keep anything from me, Cobra. Have I ever broken your trust and let you down?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat as a lonely tear escaped and rolled down on your hot skin.
When you slowly shook your head, he dipped his to your level.
”Then tell me. Please.”
Swallowing your doubts, you took a shaky breath, his hand still on you.
”He’ll kill me.”
”I won’t let that happen,” Ghost promised it without a second thought.
The words were on the tip of your tongue, almost jumping down. You hated to keep secrets from anyone, especially from Simon who had proven himself worthy of your trust more than once.
”Cobra, I can’t help if you don’t let me,” he continued with sad eyes and wiped your face.
It surprised you how a tall giant like him who had a name for his ruthless methods and interrogation scenes, could act so soft and careful with you.
It was hard to believe that the hand that was confronting you and wiping away your tears had killed so many people before.
With your lower lip quivering, you felt your fear taking over you, making your knees shake. Ghost watched you with worried eyes as you let out a sob you couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped into his arms, hiding your face into his neck.
As you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, you felt the heat coming off of his body, his tenseness slowly fading away once he’d realized what you were doing.
Ghost embraced your hug, his big arms wrapping around you like a shield, silently promising to keep you safe. He felt your scent filling his nose and his heart slowing down as your bodies pressed against each other’s.
”He has my family, Simon. He’ll kill them if I don’t obey his orders,” you sobbed in pure panic, your small hands holding onto him.
Ghost exhaled and tightened his grip around you, his head dropping onto yours with ease.
”Shh… I’m here,” he scooted you as you let your tears fall onto his gear.
”I couldn’t tell anyone and he made me swear to leave you or else…”
Ghost didn’t say it was okay or that it would be all right. Because he wasn’t sure if he could keep his promise if he’d told you something you wanted to hear at the moment.
So, he just kept you in his arms and rubbed your back while his heart came to peace now that he knew the real reason why you left them.
”I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
”Hey, hey…” Ghost pulled you away slightly so that he could look into your eyes.
When you glanced up at him, his eyes didn’t make you feel anxious like a few minutes ago, they made you realize you weren’t alone and that he wasn’t blaming you for anything.
”Don’t be sorry, family comes first.” Ghost answered. ”You did what you have to, I understand.”
”But you’re also my family,” you whispered in a defeated tone and his eyes softened.
”It’s okay, Cobra. I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you,” he admitted and pulled you into his chest, his hand caressing your hair.
You sniffed and hid your face in his chest, wishing you could wake up from this nightmare.
But unfortunately, you were awake. You have been this whole time and there was no turning back from now.
”I wish you would have told me without running away,” he said quietly. ”I understand why you did it, I just wish you would have told me.”
”I wanted to,” you admitted, your voice small and vulnerable.
”Why didn’t you then?” he asked, still holding you against his chest.
You sighed and wiped your flushed face, your other hand still around his waist.
”I was afraid you wouldn’t have let me leave.”
”You’re fucking right I wouldn’t have let you do that,” he agreed immediately, causing you to giggle.
Ghost felt warmness fill his chest at your almost laugh, making it easier for him to breathe now that you were in his arms and let yourself smile.
He missed you, a lot.
”I trust you, Simon. You know, I do.”
He hummed as he let his fingertips dance on your skin a little.
”It was hard to believe otherwise when I woke up to you missing one day.”
The familiar feeling of guilt made your expression drop and your brows furrow. You really wished things would have been different.
You hated yourself for making Ghost feel like he didn’t mean anything to you. You hated yourself for making him almost lose his faith in you.
”I’d tell you that you’re coming back with us but something tells me you won’t.”
You stepped away from him, letting go of his torso with defeated eyes.
”He’ll kill them, I can’t go with you,” you said sadly. You’d never felt so lost and desperate before and Simon could see that in your eyes.
”So, what…” his voice trailed off. ”You’re just going to stay by his side and do whatever the fuck he wants you to?”
”It’s not like I want to work for him, Simon. But I have no choice.”
”We’ll figure something out,” he replied.
You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair in frustration.
”You can’t, you know it.”
Ghost shook his head. ”No, there has to be a way… We have to do something before he kills you.”
”I appreciate your concern but there’s nothing you can do for me,” you whispered in a hoarse voice.
Ghost stared at you while hundreds of thoughts had run through his mind, wondering if there was a way he could help you. Hoping he could say or do something that would make you feel better.
”I have to do something… I can’t lose you again, I won’t.”
His words made your heart almost jump out of your chest while he massaged the back of his neck. You felt physically weak at the plea of his voice while he was trying to find a solution.
But there was none.
Not when Makarov had his chains on you like on a dog.
”I’ll be fine, just go.”
Ghost looked at you with hesitation.
”I can’t, Cobra. What if I won’t see you again?”
Wiping your eyes, you took a shaky breath. Him trying to get you out of this just made the whole situation more unbearable.
”We knew what we were signing up for when we joined the special forces, Lt.”
Ghost felt his heart starting to ache in sadness as he took your defeated and exhausted sight in. You weren’t the woman who once made a race with him about getting more kills on a mission or not.
You were only a shadow of yourself and he hated to see you this way.
He would have done anything to be able to take you back with him to the base and never let you go.
It terrified him how lost he’d felt when you left the team, he could still remember how he’d stare at the ceiling of his room, wondering if he’d ever see you again.
”Don’t talk like that, Cobra.” Ghost scolded you. ”Now is not the time.”
”You know I might end up getting killed after all.”
”Don’t.” Ghost said in a stern voice, his body tensing at your words. ”Nobody is dying. Not on my watch and I’m going to keep my word.”
It made you feel better to know that Ghost didn’t hold anything against you. Your soul found peace now that he knew the why behind your decisions and betrayal. It killed you that you couldn’t go home with him and Soap.
Ghost stepped closer to you and waited for you to look into his dark eyes that led you directly to his soul.
”I’m going to get you out of this, Cobra. I promise. I’m not leaving anyone behind, especially you.”
His promise made you forget the danger that was around the corner and just for a brief second you were happy to let yourself believe what Ghost was saying.
”You better not to, lieutenant.”
Ghost huffed and touched the side of your face, his thumb softly caressing your skin. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his touch and forgot how to breathe for a moment.
Simon Riley was famous for a lot of things and keeping his promise was one of them. That was the only thing that helped you come to peace with the things you were forced to do in order to protect your family.
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Drowning In The Depths
Sorry it took me so long yall, I have been sick af and with school starting back it is kicking my ass. Gotta love them STEM degrees, know what I mean?
Part 12
Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader
WC: 18.3k
Synopsis: Who said Price gotta be the Captain all the time? I am so sorry in advance
Warnings: NSFW 18+ smut, blood, canon typical violence
Darkness swallowed the team as everyone jostled against one another in the back. Well, almost everyone. Price and Gaz had both taken up positions in buildings on the North and South sides of the building in their individual sniper’s nest. Fuckin snipers. You had to stop yourself from snickering at the thought of the two of them laying on the floor the past day as if they were statues. It couldn’t be comfortable, that was for sure.
You stopped yourself though, sniffing as you reached up to wipe at your nose and look around the dark compartment of the van. Konig was sitting next to you on the bench the team had apparently earned after your last successful mission. It certainly made the ride more comfortable as Watcher navigated through the darkened and ghostly quiet streets outside. The terrible thunderstorms overhead were the cause of it this time, and just as the thought crossed your mind a strike of lightning flashed just over Konig’s head where you could just barely see the windshield of the van. His dark hood was hanging loose as he leaned forward between the front two seats to whisper quietly with the young man who was driving, deep in conversation as he took another turn.
Meanwhile Soap and Ghost sat on the bench across from y’all. The bigger man had his knife out as he meticulously, or rather obsessively, honed the edge to a razor-like finish. His black gloved finger ran over the spine of the knife, catching on the serrations that were closer to the hilt before his gaze shot up to find you. The man truly had a sixth sense and it was beyond freaky now. Hazel eyes narrowed into slits as he caught you staring, a smattering of thoughts were undoubtedly going on behind that sharp gaze, before Soap captured his attention completely by tapping his knee against Ghost’s and whispering something into the other man’s ear. The Ghost-whisperer it would seem for he had tamed the wild beast in front of you with merely a touch and a couple words.
The big one certainly had his death stare mastered though, good lord. Your head shook subtly as you suppressed a shiver before you shifted back along the bench and leaned forward with your rifle laying across your thighs while Cerberus laid underneath the bench right beneath you. His nose knocked against your calf as he lifted his head to find your gaze, a slight tilt to it as he expected some command to come from you. There was nothing to tell him right now, not yet anyway. When no order came though the Dutch Shepherd’s tongue lolled for a moment until you reached down to run your fingers over his brindle fur. You could feel the weight of his head as it pressed into your palm for a quick moment. His head fell back to his paws a moment later and you leaned back into the wall of the van as you took a deep breath.
This drive was becoming anxiety inducing as another wheel dipped into a pothole and the thunder rumbled overhead. It felt almost like something was coming to a head, like the crescendo of a song was nearing and you could feel the melody of it in your very soul. The vibrations of an orchestra in the strings of energy that surrounded you and had you sitting on the edge of your seat even as you actively tried to calm yourself down, breathing as deep as you could.
Why was this making you so nervous anyway? You’d gone after plenty of the worst this world had to offer. Amaan was so far from tipping the scales of lecherous actions you’d been witness to that it wasn’t even funny. Hell you’d been right next to the fucking Admiral on that bastard’s worst days. Even on his good days Amaan was far from the worst in comparison to that demon. Al-Mustafa could have been a fucking angel when he was standing next to him, and yet here you were having to actively stop your knee from bouncing while also forcing yourself to put on the persona that was Speck. Not yourself, but the man you were expected to be in this situation. The operator. Master Chief. Your role.
Suddenly the answer to your question hit you like a slap in the face. Back then, when you had been faced with the Admiral, his heinous crimes, and your own very obvious mortality, you’d had nothing to lose. Everything you’d worked for had been stripped from you and your decisions and past had left you devoid of anything to care for. Your family, your job, your home, every cent to your fucking name had been thrust into the incinerator and you’d lost it at the drop of a hat.
Everything had changed now, you had someone, something, to stay alive for and to come back to. It was going to cloud your judgment. You knew that all too well. Hell it already had been affecting your judgment over the past days that you had been digging yourself deeper and deeper into the trench that was Captain John Price. It would only get worse from here on out and you found that the little voice that always told you not to get attached was surprisingly silent.
John Price was an addiction that even your subconscious would forever be unable to shake. You were bound and determined that the only thing that could tear you from him at this point was death itself and you’d put up a fight with any god or ferryman who came after you. Death had, had his chance to take you once before and he’d fucked it up. That fucker wasn’t getting you any time soon if you had anything to say about it. Besides who wouldn’t fight for those beautiful blue eyes and that endearing smirk when he knew he had you right where-
Stop thinking about him, Speck. There was a fucking job to do. Slowly you found your eyes turning to your left where the seat on the bench next to you sat empty. Where he would have been if it wasn’t for the fact he was already in position. A part of you was already missing him and it hadn’t even been that long. You craved the way his calloused fingers slid along your arm, the way his lips felt pressed against yours. The way his striking blue eyes pierced your very soul as he looked down at you with sweat dripping off the tip of his nose. Those quiet words of praise falling from between his lips, amongst other, dirtier words that had your cheeks warming in an instant even now as you sat in the back seat of the van.
A hard shove against your shoulder nearly pushed you sideways on the bench as you blinked a few times and your eyes focused on the other men around you. “You’re listening, ja?” You could almost see the raised eyebrows beneath the hood, the way his forehead creased sometimes when he only had his facemask on. Price’s forehead had lines like that, though his were a bit deeper and a bit more mature in appearance whenever his brows furrowed. Oh and the way the corners of his eyes creased whenever he smiled and made his typically serious face a bit more hospitable when he looked at you.
Fuck, Speck, would you pay attention? “Yes sir, I’m listenin’,'' your accent slipped out as you tried to pull yourself out of your foggy thoughts. You caught the attention of the other two men sitting in the back of the van as well as the southern twang lilted into your words. A moment of distraction and a shard of your past revealed, though they may have been jokesters and enjoyed a good laugh that in no way meant that they were stupid. They paid attention and they noticed the smallest of details, it was in fact what made all of you so great in the field.
Not a word was spoken though…Thankfully. Your past, your heritage, wasn’t exactly something you liked to advertise, it could ruin the idea of who you were. What you were. The idea that you were a chameleon would disappear in a cloud of smoke if they really started to hear that twang that was hidden so well in your voice. Or so you always told yourself anyway.
Ghost grunted out a quick, “We’re a minute out,” as he stood up from his and Soap’s bench. Shit you’d lost track of the time. You quickly followed suit as you stood up and pulled a magazine out of the tac vest before sliding it into the magazine well. It took only a quick pull of the charging handle to chamber a bullet from the magazine and you glanced quickly towards where Ghost was already unlatching the panel that had closed you all into the back. “Thirty seconds,” his voice rasped out into your ear as the van slowed to a stop and Watcher shut the panel between the front seats.
You clipped Cerberus’ lead on before you did a quick check of his gear, tightening the straps on his harness that wrapped underneath his belly. A moment later you joined the other three men at the two back doors. When the lock clicked on the outside the door opened a second later and Ghost jumped down beside the small ginger. The rest of y’all followed close behind the big man with Watcher bringing up the rear. The door shut behind you, though you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of the rain as the storm was raging around you now. You moved behind Konig with Soap on your left beside you.
The four of you lined up on either side of the door with Cerberus between your legs as you kneeled at Konig’s back and watched your side of the dark alley. The dog’s eyes were locked on you, you could feel their gaze as he awaited whatever command you were going to give him or even something as simple as if you were going to move. Watcher moved by you before he stopped to stand in front of a keypad and he plugged something into it. You could just barely hear him as he whispered something to himself and his mic picked it up, along with the sound of him typing numbers into the door’s lock.
It took a few moments before anyone finally started to move and when they did you weren’t surprised by the perpetrator in the slightest. A snort came from somewhere behind you though you heard it clearly in your ear just before a Scottish voice muttered under his breath, “Yer no singing right now are ye? Ye do know we’re in a bit a fuckin’ hurry, right?”
Just as fast as the questions slipped out of Soap’s mouth the quiet muttering stopped as well as the sounds of the young man pressing the buttons, both of them seeming to be distracrted by the other in this tense moment. Rain muted the sounds of shifting from behind you as you forced yourself to stay focused on the alley in front of you and not fall victim to the teasing these two were leveling at one another. “Aye, I am ye bastart. Ye can’t do any better, trust me we hear yer howlin’ every time we try to take a fuckin’ shower,” your brows lifted at the quiet words that came out of the smaller Scotsman. It wasn’t so much the words that had surprised you but the one who had said them.
Up until this point Watcher had been nothing but a sweet, innocent- as innocent as anyone on this team could be anyway -young man who might have seemed a bit too young but it wasn’t like he had ever seemed incapable, quite the opposite in fact. Watcher had been quiet maybe whenever everyone else was around, but never did he seem like the type to mouth off in the way he was now. Especially not to someone who was technically his superior even if Soap didn’t act like it sometimes. There were intricacies to the relationships in this team that you still hadn’t quite grasped it seemed.
“Well get on with it then Freckles, we don’t have all bloody night. It’s pishin’ it doon oot here,” you could hear the smile in his voice just before Ghost let out an exasperated sigh behind you directed at what you assumed to be both of the Scotsmen who were very nearly about to go at it in this fuckin alley if the annoyed huff from Watcher was anything to go by.
It didn’t seem either of them cared too much about the fact that rain was currently pouring down on y’all in fuckin buckets. It had soaked through your clothes nearly the moment you’d stepped out of the van and your equipment had been right behind it seconds later. There was no doubt in your mind if they kept it up, even your waterproof boots were going to give way to the torrential downpour overhead and you hated the feel of wet socks. That wasn’t even mentioning how bad Cerberus was gonna be stinking after this operation.
Just before the tension broke and shit hit the fan though a deep voice came over your ear piece. Deep, smooth, calm, and authoritative, “ETA on your entry, Bravo 0-7.” It was a question yes, including the little lilt up of his voice at the end, but it sounded more like an order coming from that man. Most things in your experience did, you weren’t about to complain about it though.
Without thinking about it the corners of your mouth turned up in a small smile. A rush that wasn’t adrenaline for once, but instead was happiness. A feeling you were beginning to grow a bit more accustomed to after so long without it. You stayed quiet though as Watcher answered the silent question in a hushed tone, “Fifteen seconds.” Ghost quickly relayed the answer before everyone went silent once more. There was a hollow grunt from Ghost who seemed like he was about to say something more but he instead elected to leave it alone once Watcher continued on with whatever it was he was doing. Best not to distract the young man anymore than he obviously already was.
Before Price could speak again the more feminine voice of Laswell came through the ear pieces, obviously broadcasted to the whole team, “Be advised there are two unknowns nearing your location. I estimate thirty seconds before they are on you. You need to get inside the building. Do not alert any guards. I repeat, do not alert any guards. We don’t know what is inside that building.” Your hands tightened instinctively on the weapon as you shifted and your knee dug further into the grime of the alleyway as rain water flowed down the paved road by you.
Watcher behind you was still doing whatever it was he was good at in an attempt to get y’all inside before shit hit the fan. No one said a word for fear it would tip the scales out of your favor too soon and y’all waited quietly on bated breath to get the clear from the ginger to breach. Again an American voice broke the silence as Laswell updated the team, “Fifteen seconds. Your side of the alley Speck.” Your hand shot down to the dog still lying between your legs as you quickly assured yourself that he was still lying on his belly there, as if he could move with the lead still clipped on him.
Both you and Cerberus were tense with anticipation, the only thought in your mind being ‘Don’t let this op go sideways already. It’s too fuckin soon.’ Just as the words played through your mind though water splashed up beside you as Watcher backed up to stop beside you and shove the items in his hand into a small pack at his hip and readied his weapon. Your focus however stayed on the end of the all even as the door opened behind you.
Footsteps, muted by the torrent, sounded off behind you as the other cleared into the building in quick succession. Laswell’s voice was counting down quietly in your ear as the men filed in behind you as quickly as they could. There was a light tap on your shoulder and your eyes darted up to find Watcher just as the young man hurried away from you and inside. You stood and shuffled backwards with Cerberus who backpedaled along with you until you turned into the doorway and Konig shut the door behind you.
Silence buzzed in your ears until the soft sounds of droplets of water hitting the floor found your ears. Your ears adjusted quickly to the lack of the noise as you looked around the dark entryway that you found yourself in. It was like the building was light and soundproof despite you knowing better. Or at least you knew what the building specs had revealed, who knew what was really going on in this fucking building though. No plan, no matter how amazing, survived a battle.
The illusion of the building being sound and lightproof dissipated in a moment though as the sound of rain hitting the roof sounded somewhere above you. While outside the darkness of the storm was interrupted by flashes of lightning that managed to illuminate the hallway though it was only for a few moments. It was just long enough though for you to see Soap at the end of the hallway and his gun pointed into the darkness with Watcher covering the other corner. Both men were holding their respective angles on anyone who might come down the hallway.
A second later there was a strike of thunder that seemed to rattle the walls around you and also aided to ruin the illusion of sound deprivation, feeling more like an earthquake instead of a storm that was miles overhead. There was still no sound from the team though, even as Konig dropped his night vision into place much like the rest of the team had already done, you were just now noticing. A moment later Ghost finally broke the dead silence as his voice sounded over all the comms, “We’re inside. IR beacons on now Captain,” you reached up a hand to drop your own night vision into place. You reached to the back of your helmet then to turn the IR beacon as well and then Cerberus’ on the back of his vest as Ghost spoke.
It took a second before you heard Price answer in that calm, soothing tone that was all business and formality in the middle of this mission. And despite yourself it had the hair on your arms standing up in response, “Good copy Lieutenant, eyes on.” The big man didn’t bother to answer him and instead he moved up behind Soap as he took a second to survey both sides of the dark hallway.
The masked face turned back to find you as his hand came up and he directed you to follow up behind Konig and Watcher. The moment you gave him a nod he tapped Soap on the shoulder and the two men slipped silently around the corner. Stealth was your friend, at least for now, and was the only thing keeping the local law enforcement off of y’all and the rest of the building quiet as you moved through the building. Just one quick hand motion and Cerberus was out from between your legs as he came to rest at your right hip instead. Stepping up behind Konig you gave him a light tap on the shoulder and watched him mirror the same action on the young man’s before the three of you slipped around the corner and off down the hallway.
Watcher stopped at the first room as he opened the door quietly and his lean form moved with graceful, quiet speed you hadn’t seen from many. As you continued moving you found yourself appraising the skill with which he cleared the room, despite the fact that you knew it wasn’t actually your job to do so. To be so young it seemed he was well enough trained, maybe not as quick or experienced as the rest of the team but you had your suspicions that most of his skills lied elsewhere. Not necessarily just another jarhead with half a brain to throw into the fray when you needed bodies.
Quickly though you and Konig moved past the room as you watched the hallway behind and Konig the hallway and stairs up ahead. It took only a few seconds before the sharp features of his pale face reappeared in the doorway and you turned to tap Konig as the three of you continued on down the hall. Approaching the second door that branched off the hallway you heard a low rumble come from your right and you hurriedly reached forward to tap the taller man in front of you on the shoulder. He paused for just a moment before he too heard the low rumble just behind him and he gave a stiff nod.
A quick hand gesture and the rumble stopped as Konig lined up on the side of the door before checking to make sure it was unlocked. When he looked back you were quick to give him a single nod as he returned his attention to the door and pushed inside. You didn’t catch what happened in the first moment. All you could see was Konig’s large body that seemed to swallow the nearest hostile as he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and drug him to the side against the wall, as out of the way as the Austrian could get. You stepped inside in the next moment as you listened to the muffled sounds that came from the man that Konig was fighting to put to sleep.
The wide eyed face of a young man, you’d wager to guess even younger than Watcher, came around the corner in a flash. You barely had enough time to register the fear that had grown there. All you could see was the thought that he was in too deep, that his time had come even as he reacted in his own defense nearly as quickly as you. The silhouette of a handgun began to rise in what felt like slow motion in front of you. Instinct carried you forward as your right hand shot forward as quick as the strike of lightning that flashed outside and blinded you for just a moment. You didn’t need to be able to see though now that you had your hands on him.
Just as quickly as your sight was taken it returned in the midst of your next strike. His trachea slammed into your thenar web and you could feel the way it began to give way beneath the force of the blow. Dark eyes bugged at the sudden contact and immediately the gun in his hand dropped, a metallic clack echoing around the walls as it hit the ground, and he reached for his throat while he struggled to catch his breath.
In the next moment his throat was trapped between your forearm and bicep while his hands clawed fruitlessly at your arms. Nails dug into the fabric of the long sleeved, black shirt that clung to your torso and arms like a second skin. When that didn’t seem to work a primal instinct began to take over that few could have suppressed, and part of you would have gone so far as to say not a soul alive could have fought that urge down.
It was a desire to survive, to continue dwelling in this cruel world that every creature walking this planet had. His sharp elbows drove back into your ribs and you couldn’t help the quiet grunt that he drove from your lungs. The young man’s mouth opened wide in a scream that he couldn’t quite get out but damn did he try. You could even feel the muscles of his neck as they flexed beneath your forearm. A quiet hum passed through your lips as the wild and struggling actions slowly began to ebb into the hazy last ditch efforts to get away. Futile attempts but the human brain responded the only way it knew how, remove the threat and get away from it. Even if the brain knew it could never hope to accomplish that task.
As the fingers around your forearm loosened your gaze darted towards Konig across the room who was lowering the other man to the ground before he turned to find you. Cerberus was still standing idly beside you while his chocolatey eyes stared up at you with reverence as if you didn’t have a man currently struggling in your arms. When the other’s arms finally started to fall back to his sides you took a step back to lower him to the ground before he slumped to the floor and you stepped over his body to join Konig where he’d moved back towards the door. A single tap on the tall man’s shoulder and he stepped outside with Watcher as y’all continued on down the hallway.
Like a well-oiled machine you cleared every small room on the first floor and rotated with one another all the way to the stairs. As you cleared the final room on your side of the hallway, Ghost's voice rumbled through the ear piece, “Clearing the second floor now. Team three clear the third floor.”
You exited the room with a tap on Konig’s shoulder as the man answered back, “On the way up now.” He released the button on his mic before he whispered just loud enough to hear, “On you, Watcher.” The young man didn’t hesitate even for a moment before he mounted the first step on his way up. His head tilted up as he watched the top of the landing, taking the steps carefully as he went, doing everything in his power not to make a noise. Not a single shot fired so far and the guards weren’t alerted, hell this was going far better than any of y’all had dared to anticipate.
“Be advised, one just left his room on the second floor…” the man paused before continuing with an edge of nervous anticipation in his tone, “No clear shot on my end. He's approaching the stairwell on the north side of the building,” the Brit’s voice reached your ears though it wasn’t that of the man from before. This one was a couple octaves higher and missing the rough tone you loved so much. Watcher stilled on the stairs in response, just barely in front of Konig about halfway up the first flight of stairs. You couldn’t help but cast a nervous glance back the way you had come like you’d just assured y’alls mutual destruction by just daring to think positively for once.
A low rumble began in the dog’s chest that you silenced immediately with a quiet gesture of your hand. Konig took one more cautious step forward to come shoulder to shoulder with the comically shorter man just before a face came into view at the top of the stairs. Your stomach dropped as the middle-aged man froze with his fingers tangled through a long, dark beard. It took a moment for him to process what he was seeing, to register that y’all were the enemy and his life was in danger. The man tried to scream, he really did. At least he made the most honest attempt he could. His mouth opened and he tried to take a step back and turn. He put every muscle into action in order to take off back down the hall, probably to find someone, but his fate was never to walk down that hall again.
He didn’t even get the chance to turn his head all the way back around before a flash came from the end of Watcher’s barrel and then Konig’s. Blood sprayed the wall behind him as the light faded from his eyes and his body began to go limp. It would take a second for his body to realize that the brain had ceased to respond. No loud bangs echoed off the walls though, suppressors kept the sounds quiet especially with the cracks of thunder still sounding off overhead.
Your shoulders tensed as you watched his body tilt forward towards the two men and he began to fall down the stairs. Without even really thinking about it the two men in front of you stepped forward simultaneously. The weight of the now deceased man hit their shoulders as they let his body lay softly against the stairs before they continued up and you followed right behind them. Avoiding the blood pooling onto the steps and the body that laid there now.
Watcher lifted his gun to inspect the dark hallway for only a second before his eyes returned in front of him and the two men in front of you continued on with that same slow and careful step that you all had been using since you left the van. Again the two men started up the stairs together as you brought up the rear of the group, Cerberus still steady at your side, a rock in this tide of uncertainty. As the three of you crested the top of the stairs two shots fired off back the way you had come. Fuck.
Voices rose in a flurry from the floor below as Ghost’s deep voice growled into your ear, “We’re compromised.” Yeah, no shit.
“Time to clean house lads,” Soap’s voice cut him off, sounding strained as more shots fired off from somewhere below.
More voices began to rise like a chorus from behind the closed doors of the third floor before lights flipped on overhead and blinded each of you with the nightvision. You scrambled desperately to pull the goggles up even as startled shouts hit your ears and you tried to adjust your eyes with a couple quick blinks. Bullets flew past you, slamming into the walls behind you before you heard the quieter pops of either Watcher or Konig’s rifles firing. When you could finally focus your eyes a man was lying dead a few feet in front of you and further down the hall one was coming out of another room.
Watcher was just getting his night vision goggles up while Konig was turning back to check on the both of you. His eyes landed on the ginger first before turning his green gaze to you. Cerberus’ jaws opened in a thunderous bark as a crack of thunder sounded just outside, though you had to admit the dog was easily loud enough to compete with it. All thought stopped though as you watched the door in front of you fly open. You were almost certain you could feel every muscle go rigid in response, a moment of hesitation that would undoubtedly be your undoing.
A figure peeled around the corner that Konig had missed in his worry. You tried to lift your gun but there wasn’t enough time. You could see from here, in this slowed down, distorted version of time, that he was going to beat you to pulling the trigger. That was before glass shattered somewhere ahead of you and the man fell with a hole in the side of his head. Your gaze darted around to find the source of the shot, but Konig was helping Watcher to his feet so it wasn’t one of you. Then John’s voice rumbled in your ear in a tone that was nearly a growl, “He’s down. Get al-Mustafa. That’s an order.”
Your eyes darted to where Konig was already moving forward with Watcher hurrying after him. There was no time to waste now that your cover had been blown. Konig shoved his way into the first door on his right and disappeared inside as you moved to catch up with the other two. You reached a hand down to check on Cerberus as the big dog moved at your side and you continued on past the door to follow Watcher. By the time the shorter man was pushing in to clear the next room Konig was coming up behind you to give you a light tap on the shoulder and you crossed the hall to the next door.
A hard shove inside with your shoulder and it started to give way only to come to a jarring halt as it slammed into something solid which was currently refusing to budge on the other side. Your brows furrowed then before someone shoved at the other side and the door slammed hard into your chest. A quiet curse fell out of your mouth as you took a step back and glanced Konig’s way as he pushed into the room next to yours easily enough while Watcher continued on down the hall past you and towards the last door already. Do not ruin the rhythm, Speck. Don’t be that fucker, get your shit together.
Get it together, get it together, finish this so you can get everything back to normal. Unclipping Cerberus’ lead you took a breath before you stepped forward and your boot collided with a door. The force cracked the wood which might as well have been paper thin at this point as it flew inward. Curses sounded from inside the room as you forced it the rest of the way open with a hard slam of your shoulder. When it finally gave in to the force you felt your teeth jar just before you caught sight of furrowed brows and the barrel of a gun rising your way.
Time was short but the distance between the two of you was shorter. Your gun slipped from your grasp as you shot forward and grabbed his wrist with one hand. You slammed it against the wall with enough force to make the wall shudder beneath it as you slipped further into his guard. The gun smacked against the wall uselessly as you did, your arms straining to maintain control with one hand around one wrist and the fingers of your other hand wrapped tight around the other.
The man growled out more than a few curses in Pashto as he tried to force you back through the door. Even as you held his arms wide and the gun away from your chest he still seemed only to be worried about keeping you out and away. It was like he was trying to get rid of you even as the sounds of gasps echoed from further within all in the span of a few seconds. All of the noises from within quickly turned into cries and sobs as you let your grip slip ever so slightly to wrap your hand around the barrel of the gun and force it from the man’s hand. It only took another half second to flip it around in your palm and shove it into the center of his chest.
When you pulled the trigger the sound would have nearly deafened you if not for the headphones over your ears. The bang bounced off the walls around you as the man fell to the ground and you turned without thought to find the source of the noises from before. The man’s dead body was irrelevant now and you had no more attention you needed to pay it. Your eyes darted down towards the woman and the little girl she now held wrapped in her arms and as hidden from your sight as she possibly could be. Her face locked you into place as you immediately remembered the way she had looked so confused and pleading at you the last time you had seen her. Your jaw tensed and Cerberus whined at your side, sensing the way your mood immediately changed from business to uncertainty.
She had been at the other compound, you’d sent her directly back into the fray with the foolish hope that her mother would get her out of here, out of this life. Really it had been more like the hope that she could get out there. However even as you watched her you realized there was no recognition behind those eyes. This was the same little girl you had gone out of your way to speak to and she didn't even remember your face, and for some odd reason it made you muscles tighten in response. You were so used to people not remembering you, hell it was why you could do what you did, but you’d spoken to this girl. Killed another man right in front of her. Yet there she was not even realizing the deja vu you should have been causing her at this exact moment.
God you were getting sensitive lately, it was truly becoming pathetic as nearly everything was altering the course of your thoughts. You couldn’t think about that right now Speck, you’d come here for a reason and you had so much more to deal with than a child you didn’t even know. The reason you were here was somewhere else in this building, it wasn’t this little girl and her mother. Amaan was the cause of this girl’s suffering and you had a chance to stop that tonight. He was the reason that all of you were even here. The reason that you all had to be in this place with a dead man behind you and a woman and child who were begging quietly for their lives in front of you. Yet you hadn’t even gotten confirmation of an ID on him to prove he was even in this building.
Glancing towards the door you took half a step forward and leveled the barrel of the gun at the woman. Even as you did it though you felt the finger you had resting against the trigger freeze. You couldn’t kill unarmed combatants, and especially not a child. Not here and not now. Son of a bitch, you bit the inside of your cheek and glanced back at the door once before turning back to the two and growled out a quiet threat in Farsi, the only hope you had of keeping them alive and seeing this through to the end, “Do not move, do not leave. Try to leave and you will be shot. Stay here until we are gone and do not make a noise, do you understand?”
The mother’s eyes glanced at the man on the ground behind you before looking into your eyes once more as she pulled her daughter closer and then gave a few quick nods of understanding. You watched as the mother and Jasra disappeared into the small closet in the room and the door closed behind you as you left the room with a clipped, “Fuss.” The second you turned the corner though and started towards where you knew the other two would be clearing the final room another round of shots rang out through the third floor.
“FUCK,” the Scottish voice yelled out as he fell back around the door frame and his hands reached for his side. Too good, things never went this smoothly and you never should have let yourself believe that it would. You closed the distance in a flash though Konig was there a step before you, speaking words in German that you didn’t understand. His hand shot to grab a hold on the young man’s vest as he pulled him further away from the door. You didn’t stop to afford Watcher that same level of concern, not when the person who had done the shooting could have come out of the room at any moment, besides Konig could handle any first aid better than you could.
Slipping inside the final room you slid around the corner gun first as you came face to face with al-Mustafa who was standing securely behind his two wives with his arms wrapped around both of their necks. He had one hand wrapped around the grip of the pistol as he held it to one of their heads. Your eyes searched them carefully, analyzing and planning in the matter of a moment. There was no way you could fire off a shot and hope to kill the other man before he killed one of these two women though. Again time was short and you didn’t exactly have much time to figure out a way to get through this situation.
Especially not when you could hear the two men outside the door and you were already having to fight to turn off the side of your mind that held the worry and fear for the young man outside the door and everything that could possibly go wrong. Doubly so when you heard Konig’s voice in your ear piece, “Watcher has been shot. Soap, get up here now.” You didn’t flinch, you couldn’t, you were in the middle of a stare-off with a true piece of shit and you knew whoever flinched first was going to lose this match.
The ensuing chaos on the mic nearly broke you but it was still secondary as you continued to watch al-Mustafa. “Come on Amaan, there’s no reason for this. Just come with us,” play your role Speck, like maybe you wouldn’t have put a bullet in his head given the first chance. God you wanted to though, you wanted to kill him more than you’d wanted to kill anyone else before in your life. Your words, which had come out in Farsi, seemed to be a cause of confusion for Amaan though that lasted only a moment before he dismissed your presence as a whole in favor of searching for a way out from behind his two body shields.
There was fear that was evident in both of the women’s eyes and even though you couldn’t see it you knew that sweat was beginning to dot their brows as they watched the end of your gun rather than you. They were both expecting to meet their end one way or another tonight. You need to break that bastard’s concentration, your eyes darted down to the dog at your side who was a steady rock at your side. “Gib laut,” you mumbled to which Cerberus responded with a series of thundering barks directed at the man still searching for a way to get out.
The tension was instantly palpable in the room, the barks served to keep the other man on edge, no respite for the adrenaline fueled panic you knew was currently flowing through his system. Good, the last thing you needed was a terrorist with a fucking plan. “I don’t have a line of sight into the room, Captain, how about you,” Gaz’s voice came through your ear piece and you barely even had the chance to glance at the walls of the room to realize that there were no windows except for the one on the south side of the building.
Of course there weren’t, nothing could ever be that easy huh? It took a moment for Price to answer as well though you didn’t need to hear his answer to know what it would be. Still you enjoyed hearing his voice as he growled out in what you were beginning to learn was frustration, “Negative. Konig status report on Watcher.”
The Austrian was doing his best to hide his worry but it was painfully obvious as he answered, “Two gsw’s, one to the abdomen the other to the thigh, his plates caught the rest. Soap, where are you!?” You could hear the man outside without the need of his mic as his voice rose in what was nearing panic. The worst part about it though were the quiet grunts of pain that the young man was doing his best to choke down. However, as much as he was trying it wasn’t working too well as your imagination painted a vivid picture of Watcher leaking blood all over the hallway. With Konig’s huge hands pressing desperately over two flooded wounds as he tried to staunch the bleeding.
For the love of God, drown it out Speck, focus on the problem in front of you before you get yourself killed, idiot. You blinked once as you tried to push the thoughts into the back of your mind and forced al-Mustafa came back into your forethoughts. Your eyes caught sight of the women’s fear again, their gazes darting towards the door on their left and then back to you. Amaan’s eyes were everywhere but, his gaze was instead now drawn to the escape route he had planned out for himself. A flash of lighting struck outside followed by a series of three more strikes that you struggled not to let yourself get blinded by and instead keep your eyes on the man you were actually here for.
In the next moment though the power flickered and then everything went dark. Son of a bitch this shit needed to make up its fucking mind. Again shots rang out just before glass shattered as you hurried to flip down your night vision once more. When you finally managed to see what had happened the scene in front of you made your shoulders tense in response. A small pit settled in your stomach as you stared down at the floor.
One of the women was lying dead on the ground, the place where the bullet had gone through and left a hole in her skull covered by the headwear she wore. The other woman, presumably her sister, was reaching for and cradling her head as she drug the limp corpse into her lap. Sobs racked her body as she did and when the door to their left opened you lifted your gun instinctively at whoever was coming through. When three young girls quickly ran to their mothers in the dark though you felt that pit beginning to widen. Especially as you caught sight of the blood already soaking into the rug on the floor.
Holy shit. You let the barrel of the gun lower slowly before you reached up to the radio attached to your vest and spoke quickly, “One of the wives is dead, Amaan killed her. He’s gone, but I can still get him, Captain.” Silence took over the line as the sound of a second Scottish voice entered the hallway from a distance. Your mind was anywhere but the three men now outside the door though, you had other things to worry about.
You took a quick step up onto the bed and moved over it to the now opened window. Glancing out quickly at the torrential downpour your eyes narrowed as you inspected the narrow ledge of the window and the straight drop down. Time for retrieval was escaping, Price needed to make a decision and he needed to make it now before his opinion became obsolete. “Speck…” There was a hint of warning in his voice as he said your name, making your jaw tense once more as you glanced the other way down the street towards where Price was nestled in a building somewhere. You caught sight of Amaan’s retreating form as he tried to make his escape for the second time from your team. John was out of time to make a decision now.
“Fuck it,” you drawled out the words as you used the stock of the gun to clear out the larger shards of glass still stuck to the frame. In the next moment you were climbing through the window before you pressed the button on your radio and growled out, “I’m going after him.” It wasn’t a request this time, it was a statement. You were going after him. A woman had died and Watcher was injured and you couldn’t let his sacrifice go to waste…Not if the worst happened.
Glancing down quickly you found the awaiting gaze as you commanded, “Bleib,” and watched the dog’s focus narrow onto you and you alone. Both of you were now actively ignoring the crying children and the one woman still left to deal with the three children. They weren’t your problem to deal with anymore though, you had other things to worry about. Like how far this drop was gonna be and how you were gonna catch up to that slippery bastard. It was time to treat this just like any other obstacle course or training drill now. Just get it done, put this bullshit to rest.
As you clung to the ledge of the window your eyes searched for the easiest path to the ground, and you could feel your fingers slipping just slightly as you fought to hang on. The shining gutter on the right caught your gaze as you swung yourself off the ledge of the broken window and towards it. Your hands couldn’t grip it all that well but before you slid down you managed to get your feet around it as you controlled your descent to the street below. It only barely broke what would have been a bone-breaking fall, but it broke it enough that you could ignore the pain in your knees and turn to yell up, “Hier.”
Only a moment passed before Cerberus launched himself through the window and you saw his head tilt down as he looked for you. Reminiscent of the way he had launched off the top of the training wall during the training run with full faith you would be there to catch him. It was all the same to him, work and training were no different. So long as you were there he couldn’t have cared less about the situation that he was in while doing it.
Your arms lifted as you took a couple steps back before the weight of the dog landed on your outstretched forearms and you cushioned his fall. Without another moment of thought you issued a quick, “Fuss,” and then turned down the street and took off at a sprint, not bothering to check on Cerberus. There was no doubt in your mind that he had slipped into his place at your side.
Where had Amaan been when you last saw him? You were struggling to remember now. He’d turned down a side road and disappeared between the buildings, you could recall that much at least. But had he been at the dead end of this street? He had been, right? Yeah of course he had. For sure…Maybe? Fuck.
“I’ve got eyes on Amaan,” the deep voice sounded akin to the rumble of an engine in your ear as he answered a question you hadn’t even dared to utter. “Three streets to your north, Speck. Move fast, I don’t have eyes anymore,” the callout made your head whip to your right just as you began to pass a side street. It only took a quick glance for you to catch sight of the man in question once more.
Oh yeah, you were definitely faster than that fucker. You could catch up to him easily, you just had to put everything clouding your mind out of it. None of that was important right now. All you had to do was get yourself and Cerberus out of this mess alive now. That was it.
You slipped in the wet streets as you took the hard turn and started after him. Ahead he darted out of sight back towards the west and you had to raise a hand to shield your eyes from the rain pouring into your face. Even your eyelashes were beginning to drip as the thunder continued to rumble overhead and another flash of lightning lit up the sky. Had you been standing still you might have even gotten cold with how wet everything around you was, but with your arms and legs pumping you didn’t exactly have the chance. Instead your skin felt like fire beneath the tight, black shirt and comparatively loose, black cargo pants you’d donned for the mission.
The dog beside you was focused ahead and for the first time it seemed you weren’t the only thing on his mind. Cerberus was well aware that the chase was on. You’d both been on enough together that it wasn’t all that surprising he had realized what was happening by now.
The gun in your hands and the gear strapped to your body felt like a weight dragging you down into the streets that were now turning into mud as you neared the poorer parts of the city. The water that had soaked into your shirt and pants was becoming a fifty pound burden as it slowed your typically light and agile form. You could only hope that Cerberus’ thick-furred body wasn’t feeling the same in these conditions. One of you slowed down was enough cause for concern, the both of you being drug down was beyond concerning.
As Amaan’s head whipped around to find you, you watched his form take another turn, he knew he was being followed. Lovely. He was trying to shake his tail and if you lost sight of him for too long he might very well be able to do that. Cerberus couldn’t track in these conditions…Well that was a lie, he could do it. It would just be painstaking and it was doubtful you’d end with your query in hand anyway, and you weren’t about to let Watcher get shot trying to get this fucker and then have to find out that the bitch got away again. And if the worst happened…Fuck why hadn’t you hurried the fuck up in that stupid fuckin room?
A pit opened in your stomach as your mind tried to backtrack. Son of a bitch you couldn’t be thinking about all of that. Drown it out and focus Speck, for the love of God and all that’s right and holy in this world fucking focus. He wasn’t the priority right now, not yours anyway. Konig was more than willing to take care of the kid and Watcher didn’t need your worry or your pity. Right now you needed to think rationally not with whatever the fuck else your mind was trying to force on you.
Even as the thoughts crossed your mind you heard the crack of the mic as words spilled through, “Someone get the fucking van. We’ve got to get the fuck oot of here.” Soap’s tone didn’t hold worry so much as it did urgency. A need to get out of what had turned into quite literally a bloody mess before things got even worse, or so you assumed. You weren’t exactly there to see how things were going since you left.
“On it,” Ghost’s deep voice answered back immediately just as the man you were chasing made another turn and forced your focus back to him completely. This slippery bastard was gonna be the death of your knees with all these fucking turns.
Catch him, stop him, hell kill him if need be. Fuck the info you could get from him at this point, you’d rather know this was over than worry about some intel. Just end his life and finish this bullshit. You turned the corner around a tall fence and were met with an empty dead end street. Your gaze darted back and forth from the collapsing building on one side and the tall, chain link fence on the other side as thunder continued to rumble overhead. “Where the fuck-”
Pacing back and forth in the alley your mind worked quickly towards a viable solution. One hesitant step forward and then a quick turn back and your eyes slid over the fence next to you. Mud had kicked up on it. No, that was way too high to be from anyone just running by. You froze as you looked at it for a moment, watching as gravity played its part and the silty mud dripped slowly down the fence.
This fuckin guy…
In the same moment you saw him through the small holes of the fence as he weaved around a car and disappeared from sight once more. It didn’t take you a second longer to start climbing over after him as you hauled yourself up towards the top. At least until you swung a leg over and then stopped, your eyes surveying the broken down cars and junk piled around the fenced in area. One hand braced against the top as you held yourself in place while the other still held the gun nestled tight against your shoulder as you waited a second.
Stop and take in your surroundings Speck, get your fucking head on right or you’re gonna get yourself killed. There he was. Your brows furrowed and then lowered into a look of frustration as you watched him. The figure's hands were clinging to the opposite fence as he desperately tried to pull himself up.
When he turned to glance back a flash of anger curled your lip up instantly and you couldn’t stop yourself. You lifted the gun and without even a thought your other hand steadied your aim as you fired at the man. Every muscle tensed as you watched him fall backwards off the fence, a yell of pain just barely audible in the rain he reached for his shoulder. You watched for another moment, still holding the gun up though you didn’t really expect him to move again.
But it was raining, it was dark, and you weren’t exactly shooting from a good spot as you straddled the fence. There was just barely a flash of metal that you caught before you instinctively dove head first off the fence and for cover. At least you could take comfort in the fact that the man was on the opposite side of the yard in complete darkness and without your technology to aid him.
Gunshots sounded off from the other side of the fenced in lot as your shoulder slammed into the mud below and you clamped your mouth shut. Don’t yell, that was the last thing you needed. You pushed yourself across the ground as you tried to gather your thoughts and your broken body. One hand was still holding the gun out of the mud as you used the other to push yourself up. You braced yourself against a broken down car as you searched the lot once more for movement. You could only hope he was too stupid to reposition himself.
The thought that Cerberus had still been on the other side of the fence didn’t quite register until you heard the clink of metal and the scratch of claws on chain link fence over your shoulder. Fear rushed through you for the first time the whole mission as you heard another round of shots fire off from across the lot. You could only hope he was firing blindly into the night and that he hadn’t somehow caught sight of Cerberus in this darkness.
Your gaze darted up as confusion swirled in your eyes along with a hint of pain you were trying to ignore as well. Without any command the dog had leaped the fence as his resolve and patience finally wore thin and ran out. Mud and water sprayed up into his thick, brindle fur as Cerberus hit the ground. He didn’t even take a second to listen to anything you had to say. It was apparent that he was running on instinct, completely wild and untamed now. It wasn’t exactly something you would be inclined to praise in another situation but right here in the middle of a storm and with both of your lives on the line the longer you remained outside the wire you didn’t attempt to stop him this time.
Cerberus, a missile across the ground even in the bog that was this…Was this a fucking junkyard? Oh yeah without a doubt, especially as you hopped the decrepit car you had almost landed on top of. You tried to follow the dog but he was impossibly fast and a thousand times more capable of flitting into the opened skeletons of dead cars. He disappeared from sight as he dove through one frame of a car and scrambled out the window on the other side.
And then he disappeared from sight as you vaulted another car and tried to follow after him. As you jumped to the next car you heard a scream rip through the air. The sight of the person who uttered it was blocked by a stand of cars though as you continued to wind through the junkyard. Rain continued to pound down on your helmet and drowned out the splashing of mud and water as Cerberus wrestled Amaan to the ground. You weren’t there to see the way the skin tore as the man struggled to get away from the iron jaws around his forearm. Nor did you see his arm as it was nearly torn apart and off by the animal that was operating completely rogue at this point.
As you vaulted another car just beside the stand that was blocking your sight your eyes landed on the violently shaking head as Cerberus’ jaws and body kept the man pinned to the ground. Almost dragging him over the mud and now covered the man as you took a slow step forward. You found yourself reveling in the man’s screams, enjoying them. He was a vile man, a demon that had come to visit the mortal world and you couldn’t help the peace you felt watching Cerberus work. This man had killed so many, hurt even more both physically and emotionally with the death he had wrought on this realm. He deserved this. He deserved to feel a fraction of the pain he himself had caused.
“Speck!?” A voice yelled into your ear piece, raspy and deep and probably the only thing that could have caught your attention at this point. He always caught your attention. Your eyes darted around you for just a moment as if you expected to find the man somewhere around you before Amaan’s screams reached your ears again. Growls from the dog in front of you drew your eyes just in time to see the man’s free hand reach for the gun he’d dropped when Cerberus had initially taken him down.
Again your lip curled up in response as you aimed at the perpetrating hand and sent a round straight through the back of his palm. A fresh scream tore from his throat before he drew his hand back towards him in an attempt to protect it. Taking a step forward you knelt on his back before grabbing one of the zip ties that hung from the pouch at your waist. With one quick, “Aus,” the animal’s jaws relented and fresh blood pooled out of the wounds as he did.
His loud barks thundered in your ears even louder than mother nature’s ruckus overhead. It was still all a game to him, even if he had broken his hold for a moment he still thought it was just a game. There was no distinction between play, training, and work, and you’d used him not as a tool but as revenge this time. What the fuck were you doing?
“Speck, answer me!” His voice broke you from your thoughts again as you shot a glance down to the wire connecting your earpiece and the mic around your throat. Hurriedly you drug the man’s arms behind his back, smiling as he groaned out in pain and said a few garbled words you couldn’t make out in the storm. You tightened the plastic around his wrists before standing back up with your foot on the middle of his back to hold him in place. Amaan wriggled helplessly in the mud as rain still poured over the both of you in the dark din of the storm.
Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath and reached up to press the button on the mic, “Junkyard.” Well that was certainly descriptive now wasn’t it? Good God Speck, say something else, give them something else to go off of. What else could you give them?
Your eyes darted around the fenced in lot as you actively ignored the man still writhing beneath your foot. Think, Speck, think of something else to say, there had to be some other way to tell him exactly where you were. “I’m about a hundred and fifty meters from my last known,” silence encapsulated you for the first time that night, even the tumultuous skies overhead went quiet seeming to sense the urgency of this situation. Cerberus had fallen silent at your side as well, his eyes still watching the man at your feet in what was as close to a daring look as you’d ever seen, if a dog were even capable of that.
Seconds passed by as you waited for someone to answer you. Any reply at all to set your nerves at ease. Finally, John’s voice rumbled in your ear again as he asked, “Did you get him?” You could sense the hope in his voice even over the radio, a daring want for this to finally be over.
Your gaze slid to the man beneath you as you rolled Amaan over onto his back with your boot and glared down at him. His teeth were gritted and his lips peeled back over his teeth as he tried to hold back the sounds of pain he was no doubt feeling as he laid on several injuries to his limbs. “Oh yeah, Captain, you bet your fuckin ass I got him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bloody hand prints painted the white metal floors and walls as the false panel of the van sat open in front of you. Your jaw tightened as you looked at the evidence of what had happened on this latest mission, the blood that had been spilled on both sides of this war tonight. You were standing at the back of the van with your knees pressing against the bumper, and despite how empty it made you feel you couldn’t find the will to look away from the mess before you.
Even Gaz passing in front of your gaze couldn’t interrupt your rushing thoughts. Your mind went idle as you watched him spraying the blood out of the back, your arms crossed over your face as you stayed put. Mud still caked nearly every inch of your clothed body after you’d all but rolled in it back in that junkyard. While both specks of blood and dried mud decorated your face like the makeup a toddler would have painted across your skin. Even strands of your beard were stuck together with the dried, brown substance as it cracked every time you reached a hand up to run your fingers through it. You watched with every muscle tensed as the bloody water dripped out onto the cement floor before it disappeared underneath the van to head down the drain.
Not all of the blood was Watcher's at least, half of it belonged to Amaan after Cerberus had nearly torn his arm off at the elbow. You should have let him do it too. It was what that fucker deserved after he shot that poor kid. Sure Watcher had signed up for this just like anyone else had, but it didn’t mean that the whole team wasn’t still feeling this hit. Even you were as new to them as you were.
A door opened somewhere behind you and still you stared ahead as Gaz continued to clean up his friend’s blood slowly, seemingly as lost in his own head as you were. You certainly weren’t blaming him. “Speck,” the deep voice broke your concentration as you turned to eye the perpetrator with a cocked brow.
John came to a stop beside you finally and you caught his gaze just as it landed on your face. He’d been in an interrogation with Ghost and Amaan for the past few hours as you all waited for the sun to set once more, not to mention the tail end of the storm that was still raging overhead. Your arms dropped from your chest as you turned towards him, your head tilting quizzically. Jesus you needed to get out of your fucking head, that was never a good place to be. “Did he talk? What’d he say?”
Blue eyes held you hostage in their gaze, his hand finding yours as he stood there. It was only for a fleeting moment though, not nearly long enough for either of you. Only a passing graze over the rough texture of your palm that was still dyed a deep red. His index finger felt like a feather ghosting over your skin just as the rest of his hand wrapped around yours. John’s thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles before he pulled away so that the only other man present didn’t see and shook his head in answer, “No he didn’t. I doubt he’ll talk any time soon, Speck.” At his words a flash of frustration passed across your gaze as your eyes flicked towards the door that led into the main room of the safehouse.
You’d been here before in this safehouse, been at the end of this interrogation once already. So why was the only thought crossing your mind, ‘They ain’t tryin’ hard ‘nough.’ They knew what they were doing, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but feel like you could do more. There was this need to seize control in such an unsure situation that scratched at the back of your mind, it was the way you’d been trained. Thrown at problems relentlessly and told to figure it out, it was the only thing in life you’d ever been good at. Or at least that was what you had always told yourself.
Your features darkened but you didn’t give him a chance to see as you stepped away from him without a word and your eyes shot to the door as you headed straight towards the door back into the safehouse. Until fingers wrapped around your bicep and John intercepted your progress, putting himself between you and the door. “Just let me give it a go, John,” even before you finished though the other’s head was shaking. His strong grip stayed securely around your arm as his other hand came up to rest gently against your chest. Warmth spread into your skin from his palm as it laid against the gear you still hadn’t stripped out of. His head continued to shake even as you pleaded helplessly, “You’ve been in there for hours, he’s obviously not all that afraid of you. Let me-”
“No,” John’s firm answer resonated through the small garage and you heard the hosepipe stop behind you, though the gaze leveled in front of you held you frozen in place. This was the man who had soothed the raging inferno of your temper in the worst of times, and after letting Cerberus nearly tear Amaan apart that fire had burned out to a barely smoking ember as you questioned everything about yourself. You needed something to ground you and as the realization hit you couldn’t help the small huff you let out because of course you did. When did you not need him to stabilize your deteriorating mental state of late? Pathetic. “Go clean yourself up, Speck. Take a break.” Your jaw tensed as you neared an overt refusal of his suggestion. When he sighed deep though and you had to watch his head tilt as he leaned a bit closer, “You smell like shite, Love. Trust me, yeah? We know what we’re doing.” Trust him. Damn.
Your eyes hit the ground immediately as you took a step back to put some distance between y’all. Shrugging his hand off your arm his other hand fell off of your chest and the cold you’d been ignoring began to set into what felt like your very soul. A deep chill rushed through you though you kept your head on as you nodded a hesitant answer, “Yeah, John, I know.” You glanced back over your shoulder towards the van just as Gaz turned his back in an attempt to give some semblance of privacy. Surprising. Turning back to the Brit you found the ocean depths in front of you and took a slow breath, “Where’s the bathroom?” You watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed in front of you and he curled up the corner of his mouth in a half smile.
Nodding his head towards the other door that led off the garage he lifted his arms to cross them over his chest before answering, “Through the door and down the hall on the left.” You nodded slowly and turned, leaving him behind as you headed to clean yourself up. Cerberus lifted his head as you passed where he was laying against the wall.
The smell of wet dog and the pungent, metallic tang of blood wafted up your way as you went, nearly choking you with the severity of it. Smells had never really bothered you before, but now you felt a roiling in your gut as you neared and unconsciously sped up past him. Cerberus’ head fell back down to the concrete as you passed, failing to signal or call for him. The Dutchie could wait until y’all were back at base, there wouldn’t be much you could do for the smell right now anyway. You’d let him sleep for a bit now, he’d earned that much at least.
Opening the door you stepped through the threshold, letting the darkness of the hallway swallow you into its embrace as your hand reached out to slide along the wall. You weren’t even sure you were actually walking, not until your fingers ran over the knob of a door on the left hand side of the walland you pushed it open. Fumbling for just a moment your hand searched the wall beside the door before you flipped the lightswitch on the wall and your eyes ran over the small bathroom. Your eyes froze as they found the mirror on the wall, swallowing hard as you took in the sight.
You hadn’t truly looked at yourself in so long now that it was hard to recognize the mud and blood covered man who stared back at you. Sure you had shaved in a mirror on occasion or seen yourself in the reflection of a window when you passed, this was different though. You hadn’t actually taken the time to gaze upon the visage of what you had become over what was now nearly three years. Hadn’t let yourself realize this was your life and you had ruined it. And as you looked at yourself you slowly began to realize you no longer recognized the man who looked back.
The deaths you had lived through had changed you, they’d rewritten the etched lines on your face and put patches of gray in your hair. You’d still been a young man when you’d lost them, as carefree as you could have been living that lie anyway. Your mind had still been that of a teenager and in some ways it still was, but you’d lost that bright, young smile and carefree attitude. They had made you callous to the pain of others and you’d lost some of yourself over the years. And what made it all so much worse was that you hadn’t even realized it until Cerberus’ teeth had been tearing flesh from Amaan’s forearm. Hell you’d been more than ready to kill a man who had simply been doing his job and Wade hadn’t deserved that.
Your eyes dropped to the sink below, blinking as you cleared your thoughts of the man you’d seen in the mirror. Taking a deep breath you flipped the water on, trying to smother the way your heart was racing and how clouded your mind was becoming. Water from the faucet ran cold over your hands as you tested the water before sighing and reaching up to the straps of your tactical vest. You stripped it off over your head with a vicious pull and threw it into the floor, the panic still rising as you fought to keep it together. Rolling your shoulders and head you felt the tension in every muscle and you could only wish for a shower at that moment, something warm to melt the ice forming in your veins. Fuck you wanted, no you needed a damn shower.
The skin tight shirt clinging to your torso was still damp and made chills rack your body as you stood there. Reaching down to the hem of the shirt you pulled the thin fabric up over your head and glanced down at the pink droplets of water left behind on your chest that had seeped through the fabric. Diluted by water and mud you watched as they slid down your chest and disappeared into the waistband of your pants.
Christ you were still thinking too much. You leaned down over the sink and cupped your hands underneath the water as the blood that had been caked on your hands and in the grooves of your fingernails began to wash down the sink. Mud turned the typically bright red into a darkened ruddy color as it added to the already dirtied sink. The stains on your hands slowly began to dissipate as you leaned your face towards the sink and dipped your head beneath the water. Running your fingers through your hair and beard you could feel the dried mud and blood begin to loosen in the strands, doing your best to clean up in the small space.
Slowly you lifted your head back up, running your hands vigorously over your hair as if they themselves were towels and in the same moment you heard drops of water hit the murky liquid still attempting to drain below. Your hands braced on either side of the sink’s bowl as you stared down at the rust colored water below. You should have been better, been there. Why hadn’t you been the first one through that door? Because you’d been too busy dealing with non-combatants. You should have been fucking quicker. The tips of your fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the side of the sink as you got lost in the realm of your thoughts once more unable to pull yourself from them.
“Speck,” immediately your head jerked up at the deep voice right behind you and your eyes shifted to his reflection in the mirror, focusing on the face that now stared back at you. The brunette beard drew your gaze first but only for a moment before it shot up to the deep depths of what was quickly becoming your only place of safety and calm. John was the one who broke your locked eyes as he turned to look out of the door before he closed it behind him with a soft, barely audible whisper of sound. In fact the only noise was that of the lock clicking into place though you barely even noticed because your eyes were glued only to that face, completely incapable of looking away. Stock still in his presence.
Turning your head cautiously you glanced over your shoulder, watching him now out of the corner of your eye. Even that was too much though and had your face and the rest of your body warming in response. The second he was there though your mind stopped whirling. How could it not when the only thought running through your mind was, ‘He looks good in black, he should wear it more often.’ The tempest that was raging had come to a halt in the eye of the storm the moment you were captured by his eyes. Standing back up straight you turned, just barely enough to look at him and with one hand still holding on to the sink for support for fear your knees were going to give out.
You watched him for a moment in the precarious silence of the room, in the whole building really, before his head tilted. The blue gaze was unable to stop its descent down your bared chest though, giving his thoughts away like a snitch. There was no doubt he was tracing the droplets of water that were dripping from the strands of your hair and beard and falling over your skin. Without meeting your gaze again and while he was still inspecting the scars and muscle along your stomach and chest, he asked in a voice still laced with concern, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Good Lord that was the last thing you wanted to fucking do. Talk about feelings? Right now? Fuck that. There was no way in the fucking world you were gonna allow the boner killer that were your thoughts out. Your fingers loosened on the side of the sink as you turned fully towards him. You needed a distraction, something to pass the time. You needed him.
There wasn’t exactly much space to cover in the small bathroom, only a few inches at most. You were across the short space at the speed of light. Probably faster if you were being honest. One of your hands ran over his cheek before it wrapped around the back of his head to tangle into his short brunette strands there. Your lips pressed to his gently at first before something more needy and wanting overcame you.
His body went rigid at the initial contact, almost like he seemed unsure of what you were doing. Surprised maybe? At least that was until your hand slid against his hip to run across the small of his back and you pulled him closer. You could feel his muscles start to melt in response to your touch then before he was matching your neediness. Matching the desire you had for him at every moment of the day. His need for you was shining through just as much as yours was and God if that didn’t feel just fucking amazing.
For once it wasn’t Price jumping on you, in fact you could still sense some hint of hesitation despite his hungry, devouring mouth still pressed to yours. Your hips grinded against his and you could feel yourself twitching in response, still confined to the tight fabric of your pants. Desire and need and some tail end of an adrenaline high fueled your movements like throwing gasoline on a fire. When John pulled his mouth away to take in a breath your lips moved to the corner of his, pressing a kiss there and then down across his beard and caught the strangled sound of a groan in the air before it cut off.
You were insatiable in your need for him as you nipped at the thin skin of his neck, pressing ever closer to him in search of the warmth you knew radiated from him. Impulsively you sucked at the skin of his throat, not considering the hickey you were probably giving him as you listened to the deep rumble of his throat. It vibrated against your lips and you pressed a quick kiss to the spot before moving a bit lower to do the same thing, his body tensing again in response before melting once more.
Fuck. He tasted like the salty prick of sweat and the earth yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. Enough of him. The fingers that you had tangled into his hair pulled and his chin lifted up in response as you continued to mark his skin. As you continued to claim him as your own even though you knew that he wasn’t yours to claim but fuck he was, wasn’t he? That’s right. He was yours. Yours and only fucking yours.
Your body pushed closer as you shoved him back against the door, trapping him against you and the hard surface as you tried to control yourself to no avail. John didn’t seem to mind too much though as you listened to him let out a huff in response and then he was reciprocating. His hands pulled you impossibly closer as strong fingers grabbed at your hips and you felt him roll your body fluidly against his own. He was urging you on without even needing words and good God it was the sexiest thing you’d ever witnessed.
When his other hand ran over the expanse of your bare back you felt his calluses scratch across your skin, and a noise rumbled deep within you in response. Something primal and animalistic and you could feel John’s body shudder against yours in response. It was a noise you’d never made before that had his hands sliding over your skin and grasping harder at your hips. Searching for something neither of you seemed too certain about yet.
Fuck you wanted him though. You wanted to bury yourself inside of him and never pull out again. You felt like a King when he’d done it to you, you could only imagine how you’d feel sliding into his walls. He’d never let you though. But God did you want it, you wanted him. You wanted just about anything and everything he’d fucking give you or let you take. Fingers grasped at the back of your neck, digging hard into the muscle as you rutted your hips against him again.
You could feel yourself harden at just the thought of fucking him like a man gone feral, and you were well on your way to that exact point. “Spe-” his voice sounded strained as a moan escaped and cut off his pleading voice. When you glanced up through dark lashes you could see his teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and part of you wondered if he had. God why was the thought of that so hot? “Speck,” he finally managed to groan out as your thoughts ran rampant with the many different ways you could ravage him right here in this bathroom. “We need to talk.”
Fuckin hell, John, not right now. The hand you had at his waist slipped around to his front as your hand groped blindly at his hardening length. He twitched beneath your palm as his cock strained for more. “Ya really wanna talk right now?” You could barely catch your breath enough to ask the question and to be fair he didn’t seem much better either. Your heart was racing in your chest and your head felt like it was swimming with so many things you couldn’t even begin to identify exactly what it was. At least whatever had been bothering you before was long forgotten now though.
Without waiting for him to answer your mouth was on his neck again as you pressed a trail of gentle kisses on your way up his neck. One after another they pressed into his skin until you felt the hairs of his beard tickling against your lips and the tip of your nose. He hummed in response for a moment before he finally tipped his head back again and groaned out, “Fuck no. Later.” Unable to resist your teasing mouth you felt his throat rumble against your mouth again with pleasure. Slowly, you made your way along the underside of his jaw with your fingers still pulling at the short strands of his hair to keep his head from tilting back down. You were holding him in place with just your body now and the gravity of the situation was starting to sink in.
You were in control. He was letting you do whatever you wanted to him and he wasn’t stopping you. God you could feel him still straining against the fabric that held his erection at bay, the buttons of his pants straining to keep the fabric closed now. Glancing up you watched his face as something close to a smile found his mouth at the attention you were paying to his neck. At the claim you were steadily etching across his skin in what would be small purple bruises in a few hours. Fuck.
Letting go of his hair, both of your hands made for his waist as you grabbed hard at his sides, your thumbs pressing against the bones of his hips hidden just beneath the muscle there. The moment you released his hair though his chin tilted down and you felt his fingers pull your face back in range so he could press his lips to yours. You pulled him off the door with a sharp tug and spun the two of you around slowly as your hands slid behind to grab at his ass. One palm for each perfectly shaped globe.
God he was perfect. All you could think about was how it would feel to sink inside of him, how tight his walls would grip your poor, neglected erection. What he would sound like and what it would feel like to hear him moan as you fucked him until the only thing his foggy mind could think about was you, and how good you felt. You wanted to fuck him stupid, and christ right now you certainly had the stamina too. God just to fuck him until he came on your cock like he’d done to you so many times already.
A strained moan left you at the thought as his teeth sunk into your lip and you pressed him back slowly into the sink. Without so much as a single thought going through your head your hands grabbed at his backside and you lifted him up sliding him backwards to sit on the rim of the sink. He grunted and you felt him stiffen again as he pulled away with a bit of surprise in his eyes. You froze in place with your hands still holding him tightly and with your hips slotted perfectly between his thighs, just a bit too far for either of you to feel any friction though. “Bloody hell, Speck,” his voice was quiet and just barely reached your ears as he watched your expression.
Dark brows furrowed and you watched the tip of his tongue slide out to wet his lips before he leaned forward to press his forehead into yours. His fingers dug into the locks of your hair that had grown out way too long these past months out here, pulling at the strands with a spark of something unidentifiable in his eyes. When your jaw tensed though you saw his mouth turn into a smirk before he muttered, “You’re always surprising me, Love.” The tension in your jaw dissipated slowly as you watched him without a hint of what was going through your head now.
Slowly your face tilted up until you felt your nose tap against his. When you leaned forward again though he pulled away with a teasing shake of his head. You couldn’t help it when your gaze darted down to his lips and narrowed, before you jerked him forward until he was flush with you once more and nearly falling off the sink. Grinding against him you muttered quietly, “Full of those, ain’t I Angel?” The corners of his mouth turned up just a bit more and this time he was the one who bridged the gap as he pulled at the hair still trapped between his fingers and he captured your lips once more.
It didn’t take long before your head was swimming in him once more. After y’all had been stopped last time that feral need for one another was boiling hot and you needed him. Every single thought was lost in the way he felt pressed against you. Lost in the way he kept one hand wrapped around the back of your head and the other was sliding around your throat and then down your chest slowly.
Blunt nails drug over your bare flesh before you felt fingers pulling deftly at the belt around your waist. You couldn’t help the smile that raised the corners of your mouth as he did. Something far more primal than you’d ever felt was clawing its way across your mind now. As his fingers moved on to the buttons of your pants you felt the friction as it grazed over your sensitive member.
You couldn’t stop yourself as you bucked forward towards his hand, your mouth falling agape with a low groan. John’s amusement came out in a short huff as his hand delved inside of the black cargos, pulling your member free quickly. The moan you let out was sinful before he shot forward to cut it off with a hard kiss. Strong fingers slid along your shaft slowly as he swallowed down your quiet groans that you couldn’t hold back despite your desperate attempts. It didn’t seem to matter though, John had no qualms with keeping them quiet himself at this point.
Fingers wrapped around your length as you leaned further into him with a groan. Begging him wordlessly for more. You tilted your head down and you could hear him give a low hum of appreciation at the weight of you in his hand. Your head had already been swimming before he’d even gotten his hand around you, but now? Now you were drowning in the attention he was lavishing upon you in heaping servings.
Still holding tightly onto his backside you knew you were denting his perfect flesh, dotting it with even more bruises. You couldn’t wait to see them. God just the thought was enough to send you near spiraling again. “Fuck John,” you managed to whisper as his free hand moved up to cup your cheek and his thumb ran over your skin with a delicate touch. It shouldn’t have been so intimate. You’d never meant for this to be sensual, you were in a bathroom for fuck’s sake. This should have been rough, quick, distracting, no room for thought. Yet here you were as he tried to hold your gaze with his.
The need to be something more would never escape you when it came to him, you knew that somewhere deep down, but you couldn’t deal with that, not right now. His thumb grazed slowly along the head of your cock and you barely stopped another moan as you watched his deep blue gaze, your eyes half lidded and barely managing to stay open now. There was a smirk on his face as he realized he had you like putty in his hands once more despite that for the first time you didn’t want to be.
Fuck it. Your hips rolled forward with a fluid motion as you thrusted into his open hand and simultaneously pushed him further back onto the sink. When his head tilted, your eyes shot down to avoid his gaze and your hand slid over his hip and then around to the inside of his thigh.You drug your thumb slowly over the closure of his pants and your fingers dug into the flesh of his thigh he hummed in satisfaction. “When did you become a tease?” His voice was husky as his hips pressed up into what little bit of friction he could get from your feather-light touch. Meanwhile his own hand was still pumping up and down your throbbing length in slow, careful strokes.
Giving him a nonchalant shrug you answered back in a slow drawl, “What can I say?” You pressed your hips closer as your lips once more dipped in search of his neck, wanting to feel his pulse against your sensitive skin. They pressed lightly against the dark stubble, once more tasting the earth and salt of his skin which for once was absent of his usual chocolatey taste that you knew came from his cigars. When you pulled back again your voice was lower as you rumbled out a quiet, “You bring out the best in me, Angel.”
His chin tilted up just before you felt a heel hook around your thigh and he pulled you closer. The hand that was still around your length stilled. It was like he was frozen in place and in that moment you realized just exactly what you were doing to him. This was a two way street, he felt it too. You were doing to him exactly what he always did to you and you couldn’t stop the smile that bled through as you continued to press kisses against his neck and popped the buttons on his pants. The pulse that thudded beneath his skin almost felt like it quickened against your lips.
However, you were certain you felt it quicken when your fingers slid into the waistband of his underwear to graze over the length of his cock. The man beneath your mouth and touch shuddered and squirmed against you, nearly begging for more before you pulled his length free. Your mouth stopped its relentless assault on his neck as you leaned away for just a moment before your forehead tilted down to lay gently against his shoulder. John copied the motion as you felt his beard scratch against your cheek, the longer hairs grazing over your skin and making it tingle with an itch that you ignored.
Both sets of eyes turned down to watch as your hands moved in sync along the length of your erections. Precome welled from the tips slowly and you could feel his calluses catching along the veins of your cock and you knew that yours were doing the same along his. Especially when you heard a mumbled, “Shite,” into your shoulder as he tried to keep himself quiet. The pressure was building though as your heart began to beat a solid rhythm that you felt not only in your chest but throughout your length as well.
This wasn’t the same as being buried inside him but you’d take what he was more than willing to give. Best not to push your luck for now and you’d take anything he gave you in truth. Twisting your wrist at the head of his cock you heard him gasp before his hand let you go and his head tilted back. “Bloody hell, Speck. I can’t-” You repeated the motion and his words turned immediately into a moan as his head tilted back.
There it was. He was losing himself in the moment as you continued to jerk him off, eating up the sight of him getting lost in the way you could make him feel. His mouth was babbling nonsense as he tried to keep his thoughts together and failed miserably. God almighty, you could listen to these breathless gasps for air and his quiet pants for the rest of time and be completely happy standing right there between his thighs.
Blue eyes disappeared behind pale lids and his cheeks flushed red before your eyes. The collar of his shirt dipped just barely low enough that your gaze could pick out the dark dustings of hair at the top of his chest along with the smallest hint of his collarbone. A treat for your eyes just as much as every facial expression was. Good God he was beautiful and you could feel a near painful throb in your length just as you thought it.
When his cheeks flushed deeper your hips bucked forward instinctively, your cock searching for something and something it found as the head of your dick ran along the underside of his. The moment you felt that little bit of friction you just couldn’t stop yourself as your fingers wrapped around both of your leaking erections. Newfound need had your hand pumping quicker and it was obvious both of you were feeling yourselves getting closer and closer to the finish line. Hell John’s mouth was held agape as he tried to catch his breath while the rest of his body worked relentlessly to reach that peak.
One hand held painfully tight on to your shoulder as the other seemed to dig into the side of the sink. His muscles tightened but it wasn’t the same as last time even though you weren’t sure what he was doing. Not until you felt his hips thrust up towards your hand as he tried to speed his climax along. His member ran along the underside of your own as he moved and you sucked in a breath just barely holding in a long moan and instead let it out in a quiet hiss that was covered up by a soft groan of pleasure. “John,” you paused and he hummed in response with his eyes still closed while your hand continued dragging up and down your lengths. “Angel, you’re being too loud. Someone’s gonna hear us.”
John whimpered deep in his throat before it escalated into another moan and you watched as he tried his best to bite it back. Teeth dug into his bottom lip before he leaned his head forward and forced his eyes open to find you. Blue hues searched your face half lidded and lazy as he gazed at you. The blush across his cheeks deepened and the Brit let his mouth fall open again as he panted into the stale air of the bathroom. “Sp-” Your thumb ran over the head of your own cock and gathered some of the precome before continuing on to graze over the tip of his.
This was a completely different man in front of you now. You’d broken him down and God it felt good to know that you even held that power over him, over anyone really but especially John Price. Even more though was that you had him at your very whim right now, there was no doubt in your mind he’d have given you anything in that moment. John was completely under your spell and you’d never felt more in control of another human being as you did now. “Shhh sweetheart, I’ve got you,” your voice was quiet as your eyes stayed locked for as long as the other could manage. When you said that you had him though and you implied that he could trust you, that he could let go of that dominant persona he always seemed to exude, that was when the last of his resolve evaporated.
You rolled your hips forward again in a fluid motion and as you did the last hand you’d been holding onto him with shot up. Your palm slapped over his mouth and you just barely managed to muffle another whine that would have undoubtedly given the two of you away. John’s head fell back hard and smacked against something behind him but the both of you were too far gone to really piece together what exactly had just happened. Heads so far in the clouds someone could have been firing a gun outside and you would have been none the wiser.
With your hand still muffling the noises he couldn’t hold back and the way he continued to thrust in your still pumping hand you knew he was about to finish soon and you doubted you were going to get a warning. Not with how he was still panting into your hand and the flush on his face only seemed to get deeper by the second. Hell the throb in your own member was beginning to edge nearly into pain as the pressure continued to build, just aching to be set free.
Fuck you were close, so fucking close now. You couldn’t help the low grunt you let out as your hand tightened around the heads of your erections. Pumping one more time your eyes darted down as you felt his body stiffen and his cock twitch in your hand. Your eyes landed on his cock just in time to watch his cum paint the back of your knuckles and the front of his black cargos. It almost felt wasteful in that moment but in the next you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking about.
He whimpered against the flat of your palm as his body spasmed once and he thrusted into your hand again, another shot spraying along the head of your cock and dripping slowly down your length. Your eyes darted up to find his beet red face as you quickly continued to pump up and down the length of both of your members. Letting him ride out his orgasm while you still hungrily chased your own.
Slowly his muscles unwound and John slumped back against the wall and mirror behind him. Pale eyelids lifted tiredly and revealed the ocean hues to you once more as you pulled your hand away from his mouth finally. You slid it slowly to his cheek as you cupped his face with one hand, still chasing your own climax with the other to no avail.
The air was too warm against your skin though. Everything felt too tight and too close even though he still wasn’t close enough. You couldn’t imagine how John felt with his t-shirt clinging to him. God why hadn’t you pulled that fucking thing off of him already? You wanted to see his chest now, that gorgeous fucking body that you knew was hidden beneath as you still tried to find your own release.
It was escaping you though, dancing tantalizingly out of reach. When one of Price’s hands wrapped around your wrist and stopped your rapid chase as he mumbled out, “What’s wrong, Love?” The hand that had been cupping his cheek fell away as you ducked your head and your hand fell away from your throbbing member.
It felt like all the energy dissipated from your limbs the moment he stopped you as you leaned forward and relaxed into his chest. Your forehead nudged lightly against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you and you felt your length dragging against the fabric of his pants still throbbing painfully as the pressure at the base of your cock begged for release. Your own hands settled at the small of his back as you continued to roll your hips forward against him unconsciously.
As you turned your face into his neck you answered quietly, “Nothins’ wrong. Just tired.” He hummed his acknowledgement of your statement as his fingers traveled slowly down your back and side until he halted at the bone of your hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles into it as he took a pause. You waited a moment before you questioned him quietly, “Why’d you stop?”
John’s shoulders moved up in a quiet shrug before he muttered out, “Thought you said you were tired.” You pulled back to look at his face and found a lazy smirk on his features before his fingers tightened around your hips to keep you from moving too far away.
Your brows furrowed before you gave him an annoyed huff of an answer, “Tired, Angel, not fuckin stupid.” The smirk turned into a look of amusement as his hand trailed across the muscle of your stomach. John’s fingers wrapped gently around your length as you thrusted up into his hand unable to control yourself. You were already nearly gone before he got here, and he was only igniting that inferno again that you’d been afraid had danced too far out of reach. You should have known better when it came to John Price though.
His hand slid down your length once before he released you and lifted his hand to his mouth. You asked a silent question with a tilt of your head but he didn’t need to respond as he spit into the palm of his hand and returned it just as quickly as he’d pulled it away to your length. The burn of his calluses disappeared as his saliva and cum slickened palm slid over your sensitive skin. A much needed relief as his hand tightened around your length and you felt your release racing forward once more. It was crowding in on you so fast now that the fog in your mind was returning with a vengeance. The fog you’d been chasing earlier and been unable to find shelter in was now clouding every thought as you struggled to remember why you’d even been upset.
Your lips parted in a silent gasp as he trailed his thumb against the underside of your cock and then over the head. Leaning forward you tried to capture his lips for a kiss but he pulled away and instead your chin tilted down and you felt your forehead rest against his chin as you panted into the stale air once more. Your gaze traveled slowly down his front to where his hand was pumping steadily over your member.
Closing your eyes for just a moment you missed it as he added a second hand to the mix. It was the straw that tipped the scale as you hissed out a quiet, “Holy shit.” There was a pulse in your length and then your whole body went rigid. Your hands fell a bit lower on his sides and you jerked John forward to press his chest to yours. You let your eyes shut for a moment and you somehow managed to hold back a moan that would have most definitely traveled beyond these walls as you focused instead on the way his hand felt still traveling up and down your length.
A moment later your muscles began to unwind as you relaxed into the grip he had around your shoulders and John’s hand pumped slowly as the last vestiges of your climax began to dissipate. Everything stayed silent for a few long moments while you regained your thoughts and the fog over your mind cleared in that post-fuck haze. Even though you had been the one in control he still had your head in the fucking clouds. It wasn’t fair and truly you couldn’t have cared less. Not in that moment…Not ever.
#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost#modern warfare#soap cod#soap#john price#captain price#price x reader#captain john price#price x oc#price x male reader#captain price x male reader#captain price x oc#captain price x reader#john price x oc#john price x reader#john price x male reader#konig call of duty#gaz#kyle garrick#gaz cod#konig cod#konig modern warfare#cod modern warfare#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley
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(If you don’t do requests or your requests are not open feel free to delete)
Omg I saw your fnaf reader and cod and I was looking through your blog and saw u write for Resident Evil and I wanted to ask if you for Resident Evil 8 and cod with a gn!reader that’s a dimitrescu daughter
( I don’t know if this violate your rules sorry)
No this is totally fine! I’m actually watching someone play RE8 as I’m writing this lmao
GN!reader, reader is a Dimitrescu child/sibling, reader looks very similar to the Dimitrescu sisters/daughters but readers gender is not specified, OOC characters
They had discovered the castle all as one big group
Hearing about the village and how it has a bunch of supernatural stuff they were sent as a giant group for safety
Going through the village was already tough enough but going through the castle stressed the ever living hell out of them, even if there was basically an entire army
Soap was the one Bela managed to capture
Being the oldest and wanting to impress her mother she was ecstatic to have captured one of the soldiers wandering her home
Unfortunately, your mother was busy doing her own thing
So you all just kept Soap locked up
Daniela was flirting with him the whole time as she was the one to watch him
You, Cassandra and Bela were out gathering the others
You were the second youngest, older than Daniela but younger than Cassandra and Bela
Although yes they all had guns and gear you captured them and brought them to the room you were holding Soap pretty easily
“Oh he’s so in love with me” Daniela whispered to the three of you while pointing at Gaz
“Stop it Daniela” you snapped, you loved her really you did but she got on your nerves
She thought every man was head over heels in love with her
Although you thought you had captured every single one of them there was one soldier missing, how did you find that out? Soap has no idea how to be quiet
“Aye, where’s Logan? the sneaky bastard”
“Fuckin’ hell Soap do you ever know when to shut the fuck up?!” Ghost couldn’t help but snap, Soap had just given away that there was one more solider missing, their only hope
“[name], would you be a dear and go grab him for us?” Bela turned to you with a grin, she had always been the one to give orders
Without saying anything you dashed out the room, darting around to try and find him
Logan was in the library, wracking his brain as to his he could possibly defeat four, tall… things? AND save everyone else
He was just about to open the door out to the hallway when we felt himself be lifted from the ground
Pulling him up by the back of his jacket, you spun him around to face you like he was a cat being held by the scruff of its neck
“Annoying little thing” you snarked at him, dashing back to the room everyone else was
He didn’t even have time to think
Daniela snatched him out of your arms and held him out by his arms “He’s so cute! Like a little doll, I feel bad about eating him” she whined and giggled
“Daniela put him down” you snapped, you had always been the one to keep Daniela in line.
She reluctantly dropped him as he tried his best to cushion his fall
“Logan! You okay?” Hesh’s voice was filled with worry as he pulled his little brother up by the arm
Logan just simply nodded, never really being a man of many words
You picked up König, by the back of his vest
“We should eat this one first, don’t want all the meat to go to waste” you remarked
“This one looks unwashed 😒” Cassandra bent down to look Graves in the face
You couldn’t help but laugh
#cod x reader#cod#cod mw2 x reader#cod mw2#cod mw x reader#cod ghosts#cod ghosts x reader#resident evil village#resident evil x reader#dimitrescu sisters#resident evil 8#resident evil 8 x reader
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POW Pt. 2
Summary: Male reader whose part of the 141 gets captured during a mission and the team rallies to rescue them.
Warnings for: Graphic depictions of injury, torture, violence
Pt. 2/?
Captive
Those asked to be tagged: @katsukiarchives @cptg00s3 @peter-the-pan @c0nny3917 @dominos-palast
Hands.
Everywhere.
Pushing, shoving, pressing and holding you down.
Punching, smacking and striking.
Through the fog of pain and hunger and misery that’s left you feeling numb, the awareness of hands on you- controlling, hurting, manipulating- is painfully clear.
It burns your skin, searing the unwelcome sensation into your flesh during the day to haunt you in the night when no one is near.
And just when the burn starts to subside, when you think you can finally muster enough willpower to shut off your senses and get some relief, sunlight glints through your little window, and the cycle begins again.
You try to give them as much hell as you receive, thrashing and kicking and snapping your teeth like a cornered animal.
Even managed to break a guy's nose with your forehead at one point, and grinned as his blood trickled down your face for a change.
But your strength was waning, and it wouldn’t be long before you didn’t have the energy to fight back anymore.
Beaten, bloodied and nearly broken, you slump against your restraints. The small comfort of the chair you had been tied to when you first woke here was long gone, and the rope around your neck, now suspended from the ceiling, was the only thing keeping you from falling into a heap on the floor.
The inky, black darkness of night consumes the inside of your cell as the last of the day’s sun recedes back into the small hole from where it came. You weren’t sure how many sunrises you had endured, having lost count as the part of you that is here slowly started to shut down.
But through it all you tried not to lose hope in your team. That they would come looking for you, and they would find you.
It was hard to imagine what that would be like at this point. To even remember what it was like to be free.
A soft breeze, a gentle touch, comforts took for granted at the time.
Not that you were here for very long yet. Your hair hadn’t grown and your muscles had not yet begun to atrophy. Still, every day here felt like an age, and the longer you were here, the more you could feel *you* slipping away, becoming an empty husk.
Keeping your team, your friends, in your thoughts at least seemed to slow the decay. Kept you holding on when everything in you told you to let go. To close your eyes and be free.
But as time went on, when days and nights blurred together in a cacophony of linear progression, now it was becoming difficult to even remember their faces.
What you wouldn’t do to see Soap again, to hear his laugh and to laugh with him. You knew he would walk through hell for you, as you would do the same for him. And Gaz’s radiant smile. You’re glad he made it out, didn’t have to share your fate, but you knew the man would switch places with you in a heartbeat. Not that you’d let him.
And Ghost, well, as intimidating as it was at times to be underneath the intense gaze of the Ghost’s eyes, you would give anything now to have them on you. A usually uncanny feeling made comfortable by circumstance.
The Lieutenant worked hard to keep up the appearance of the lone wolf type. But you saw how loyal he was to his team and vice versa. It was telling, whether he realized it or not, about what kind of man he is under the mask, and you felt honored to be picked to be among them.
And Captain Price, who hand-selected you. Who sees your worth and pushes you to your best. A Captain you’d die for. You’d have to remember to thank him, as absurd as that sounds right now, for the opportunity he gave you. One, despite the current circumstances, you wouldn’t trade for anything.
A smile so subtle it’s nearly undetectable tugs at one corner of your lips as you think of them, momentarily bringing you back to yourself and letting you feel human once again.
Their faces may be muddled in your memory, but it’s these things, these feelings that well up inside you when you remember them, that keep you grounded.
At least for now.
A commotion outside rouses you from your half-awake state and you raise your eyes to see two guards fumbling into your cell and locking the door behind them. They don’t acknowledge you, but they’re speaking to each other frantically, turning their backs to you and pointing their weapons at the entrance.
Their voices are muffled, but you can sense the urgency in their tones.
This is different. This has never happened before.
Your cell is still dark, it’s still dead of night, and no one has ever come in here at this hour.
The guards seem on edge. Something must be happening. But through the fog in your head, you can’t conceive of what. You can only focus on the two men standing near you, and how focused they seem to be on the door and not you.
Adrenaline begins to coarse through your veins as you see the opportunity you might never have again.
Your captors were organized, consistent, and always careful to keep you watched. To keep weapons or anything that could be used as such out of reach of you. Escape attempts, you had learned early, would be futile.
Whatever was happening now was unplanned, you can tell by the lapse of judgment in the two men guarding you, eyeing the gear well within reach if your arms weren’t bound behind your back.
And as your heart starts to race, your instincts come back to you, and you begin to tug on your restraints, careful not to draw attention to yourself just yet.
A few quiet moments pass before gunfire erupts from somewhere outside, and in the sudden commotion you manage to dislocate your thumb and pull one hand free of your bindings before lunging forward to grab the knife at the hip of one of the guards.
In one swift motion you yank it free and bury the blade deep into the side of the opposite guard’s neck.
The other one turns, startled, weapon turning with him, ready to open fire. But with your bindings now loose, the other hand is free to grab and yank his gun, bringing the stunned man stumbling towards you as you rear back and bash him in the face with yours.
The man falls to the ground, cradling his face in his hands, and you waste no time slicing the rope around your neck and freeing yourself before finishing him off.
After looting the corpses for gear to make your escape with, you make your way to the door and kneel beside it. Peering out the bars of the door to your cell, you quickly scan the corridor before using the key you had lifted off one of the guards to let yourself out.
Jogging to the end of the hall, you kept your feet light and the knife tucked close to your chest, and peered around the next corner before advancing.
You had picked a gun off the guard, but with your thumb still dislocated, it made it difficult to hold properly. No matter, it was probably best to stay silent anyway, use the knife until absolutely necessary, lest your captors realize their error and send reinforcements to cut you off.
There was no plan, no strategy you were relying on. You hear shouting above you, and gunfire in the distance, but your only concern is with finding a way up and out of this place. That, and downing any obstacle that stands in your path.
After that, you hadn’t really thought it through. You’d deal with it when you got there, but at this point anything would be better than captivity.
---
With Gaz providing cover fire, Soap and Ghost are finally able to breach the compound where they suspect (Y/N) is being held.
Enemies are light inside, most everyone is outside defending it from the rain of heavy fire they’ve unleashed upon this place. An act of absolute fury at the audacity of taking one of their own, as well as a diversion to get them inside covertly.
Every once in a while they do happen upon a stray fighter or two patrolling the halls, but before they even know they’re no longer alone, the pair are swift to silence them.
As quiet as possible, and with Captain Price in their ear helping them navigate, the two soldiers make their way down into the lower levels.
The schematic they were able to obtain of the facility showed a sort of cell block formation in the lowest level, so it was clear that's where they would begin their search for a prisoner of war.
The corridors are dark, long shadows paint the walls and floors and provide excellent cover for the two to move through. Ghost is on point, with Soap closely covering his six.
Rounding the last corner before another descent, the two stop in their tracks when they spot two bodies splayed on the floor at the top of the stairwell, dark liquid splattered and pooling around them.
Ghost, without looking back at his companion, signals to Soap to stay quiet and alert. These are not their kills, they both know it. They know they hadn’t been to this part of the building yet. So they could only surmise that they weren’t alone. Someone else was also stalking these halls and preying on enemy soldiers.
It was like something out of a horror movie, Soap thinks to himself, as a shiver runs up his spine. He catches eyes with Ghost when he turns to glance at him, and nods when he’s signaled to follow, but keeps his head on a swivel as they get closer, hair standing on end at the prospect of something else lurking in the shadows.
Moving closer and carefully kneeling down beside them, Ghost examines the bodies as Soap covers him.
The one closest to the top of the stairwell is face down with a puncture wound in the back of his neck, just at the base of the skull. The second one, a little further away, is in a similar position, though the injury to the head and the blood on the nearby railing indicate he was bashed into it before taking a blade to the carotid artery.
On the ground nearby, partial, bloody boot prints lead away from the bodies and into the darkness where the light above the stairwell doesn’t reach.
Ghost notes their tread pattern, recognizing it as matching his own.
Standard issue.
“(Y/C/S),” the lieutenant mutters quietly, garnering Soap’s attention.
“(Y/N) did this? He must’ve escaped then,” Soap says, a hopeful tone rising in his voice.
“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost warns as he rises back to his feet. “We don’t know what kind of condition he’s in, he cou-”
He’s cut off by a commotion behind him, and jerks around in time to see Johnny hit the ground, with a figure kneeling over top of him, holding a knife ready to plunge into his heart.
“No you don’t!” he hisses, snatching the assailant by the wrist just in time.
The attacker turns to him, and Ghost’s breath catches in his throat as he recognizes your familiar face.
Twisted in a feral rage and covered in blood and bruises, but yours nonetheless.
“(Y/N)!” Soap exclaims as he, too, recognizes you.
Though there’s a creeping horror welling up inside him when you don’t respond.
Not even a glint of recognition to your name or even their faces.
And the relief Soap had felt upon seeing you after all this time is replaced by a sense of pure dread as he watches you and Ghost struggle above him.
#mw2 141#cod fanfic#male reader#cod x male reader#141 x male reader#soap x male reader#ghost x male reader#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price
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Can we get ex-barracksbunny Simon from your TikTok to finally give Johnny that one chance to treat him so good?
It would be criminal to not answer this lmao. In my brain, this is og soapghost but y’all can view it how you want
Ghost sighed softly as Soap started up again.
“Come on, LT. Bet I can treat you better than anyone else.” Soap sounded so confident. Ghost was well aware the only reason he kept pushing is because Ghost hadn’t actually said no. If he did, Soap would stop.
“Don’t think you can MacTavish.”
“You two aren’t on a private line.” Gaz cut in. “Just thought I’d say that.”
“Fuck off, Gaz. Simon, you could at least check for yerself?”
Ghost could hear Price taking a deep breath to scold Soap on how what he was doing was borderline sexual harassment.
“Alright. You act good on this mission, I’ll give you a chance.”
Price started coughing, choking on his words.
Soap very slowly, accent thick as honey, “What sir?”
“Don’t get coy now. We’ll talk later. But only if this mission is handled well with no injuries.”
Soap was a goddamn angel. Every order executed with precision.
Price looked so mad about it.
After their debrief, Ghost went to his room, planning on a shower. He noticed his shadow quickly.
“Johnny. You’re taking me to dinner first. Tomorrow. Unfortunately for you, I’ve gotten slightly higher standards.”
“I get to have dinner with you?” Soap followed him, looking at him like he hung the stars. Ghost rolled his eyes.
“Johnny, I’m already going to sleep with you. Now fuck off.” He hit the back of his head. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“Will you be taking the mask off?”
“You’ll find out.” Ghost closed the door.
In all honesty, Johnny’s simp behavior had zero to do with Ghost saying yes. It had been four years since he got laid. After getting captured and... everything that came with it, he just hadn’t wanted to.
His therapist had suggested two days ago that he was touch starved. Normally, he’d brush it off as dumb as hell, but he matched all the symptoms. He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant have sex with the nearest person, but casual touch didn’t seem like enough.
In his past, he slept around a bunch. It had felt nice. Gave him connection. Was a lot easier than trying to fumble through conversation.
Who knows. Maybe Soap would be good. At the very least, they’d be pressed against each other for a few minutes. Hopefully Soap had some stamina.
He texted him. “Dress up nice and pick the place.”
“You got it, LT. Just keep looking pretty.”
Bitch.
Ghost did dress up nice though. As nice as he could. Plain black shirt, nicer black trousers, his ski mask.
Soap had flowers when he opened the door. Carnations.
Ghost stared at them for a second before taking them and setting them on his desk. “Thank you.”
Soap smiled at him and walked with him, immediately talking like it was any other day. Ghost was actually pretty thankful for it, even though he didn’t admit. They were pretending they were just hanging out. Like normal.
Soap had picked a pretty nice place, catching Ghost off guard. “One check, please.” He told them ahead of time. Ghost tilted his head but let it go.
“So why did you want to have dinner first? Not that I’m complaining.” Soap said the second part quickly, hands going up.
“I didn’t want it to feel like a cheap one night stand afterwards.” Ghost glanced at him. “I have to work with you. I’d like to be able to pretend I respect you in the morning.” He was teasing, moving closer. “Do you mind that much?”
“No. I like that I’m getting to spend time with you.” Soap smiled at him.
Bastard.
Simon felt stupid butterflies in his stomach. He squashed them.
When the food came, he lifted his mask up only slightly. Soap openly stared at him. His eyes traced every feature he could see.
Ghost started eating a bit quicker. He didn’t normally like being observed but something about the way Soap stared at him made him feel particularly weak.
Soap smiled softly at him and they kept talking.
It wasn’t until much later that Soap made a comment about the thing.
“So... You really let them call you Pretty Boy Riley?”
Ghost blushed and unfortunately Soap could see it this time. “Yes. I did for a while... When I first joined the military, it was my first time away from my family. It was... I had never really got a chance to be out and then suddenly I was not only out but surrounded by a bunch of men who were interested. It’s why I slept around so much.”
Soap smiled at him, seeming genuinely interested. “Makes sense. I came out in secondary school. It was a bit different then.”
Ghost hummed. “Hard to imagine you as a teen.”
“I was a football player too. If you can imagine.” Soap laughed, taking another drink. They’d both went nonalcoholic for today. Probably a smart choice. “I bet you were a theater kid.”
“Nope. In a band.” Ghost laughed. “I was the bassist.”
“No fucking way. Still play?”
“Haven’t tried it in years, but I could always try to pick up again.” It had been fun. “We were awful before you ask. My brother was the singer. He had my dad’s voice.”
“Wasn’t your dad in a band?”
“As a drummer.”
Soap laughed immediately and paid. He drove them since he “didn’t trust Ghost behind the wheel” for some reason. Ghost didn’t really like driving so he rolled with it, enjoying getting to sit passenger.
Soap’s hand fell on his thighs and he stared, a little taken back. Ghost was ushered into Soap’s room.
He expected there to be an awkward pause. For Soap to realize what he was doing, but then he was lifting Ghost’s masks up to just above his nose and kissing him hard. His hands were on Ghost’s hips, backing him up.
“Simon. Can I take the mask off?”
His mouth was too dry to form words so he just nodded. Soap pulled it off of him.
“I see why they called you pretty.”
“I’m sure the scars are pretty ghastly. Try not to look at them myself.”
“Still a bonnie even with them, Si. Always will be.” Soap pressed his hands against his chest and Ghost fell willingly, hitting the bed. Luckily it was one of the nicer ones.
Soap’s mouth was on his neck before he could really think, pinning him down.
“Told you, Lt. Best you’ve ever had.”
“Cocky.” Ghost spat out but it ended up more of a whine thanks to Soap tugging his hair. They undressed each other in record timing and Soap just wouldn’t stop kissing him, holding his face with his hands running all over him.
Soap pulled away. “Are you okay if I...” His hands slid between Ghost’s thighs, being... gentle.
Ghost stared at him, finding it a little hard to breath. “Yes. Keep going.”
Soap nodded and reached under his pillows to grab a bottle of lube. It was half empty and Ghost shoved down any feelings that gave him. He watched him coat his fingers before gently pushing his first finger into him.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
“Been a while.” Ghost hummed, feeling his face flush. “Should’ve prepped beforehand...”
“Nah, I like this part.” Soap grinned at him and started to kiss along his jaw. “I’ll return the favor later, yeah?”
“Who says we’re doing this again?”
“I’m sure you can handle a couple of rounds tonight, right?” Soap kissed him and Ghost relaxed, letting him fit another. The stretch was... fuck it was great. Their chests were pressed together and all he could think about was how warm Soap was.
Ghost groaned at the third one and he felt Soap’s tongue lick its way into his mouth. He grabbed the headboard, panting.
“Okay, enough. Come on, show me a good time, Sergeant.”
“That an order?” Soap teased as he pulled away. He was still being gentle as he moved him around, lining up. He reached up and grabbed Ghost’s hand. “Just squeeze if you need a break, okay?”
Ghost nodded, though he thought it was a bit silly, and held his hand tighter. Soap leaned over him so their lips were almost touching as he pushed in.
Ghost groaned before whimpering. Soap paused, looking stunned he managed to get that sound out of him.
“I swear to God Johnny, keep moving.”
Soap immediately started to push in again as he marked up Ghost’s neck and his shoulders. “How did you hide the hickeys?”
“Never let them make them. You’re special.” Ghost grabbed Soap’s hair and tugged him back down when he went to pull away. “Keep making them.”
Soap bit him hard and thrust into him, Ghost scrambling at his shoulders with his free hand. He adjusted them slightly and slammed into again, making Ghost whine. Ghost was just about to say some sharp retort when Soap found it, hitting his sweet spot hard.
Ghost saw stars, moaning softly. He squeezed Soap’s hand hard to ground himself and almost beat the man when he paused.
“Please.”
Soap didn’t need anymore than that. He started to thrust in hard, hitting the spot over and over again. Ghost’s legs went around his hips as he moved, kissing Ghost every chance he got.
“Johnny.”
“I got you Simon. What do you need?”
“Just keep doing this.” Simon bit Johnny’s lower lip and made eye contact with him. His hips continued to snap right into Ghost’s who was loving the treatment. Soap’s chest was also very nice to stare at and he got to run his hand over it, feeling the hard muscles under soft skin.
Before long, Ghost couldn’t seem to shut up. Moaning and whimpering as Soap hit that spot over and over again. He kept his eyes closed and felt his legs start to shake. A pressure was building his core and he knew he was going to have to take Soap up on the multiple rounds because he didn’t want this to end yet.
Soap noticed. No clue how, but the fucker knew and he sped up. His hand bruised Ghost’s hips and he purred when Ghost scratched down his back. It was all so much. Too much. The skin to skin contact made him feel half insane already.
Ghost pulled him down for a kiss and came, squeezing Soap’s hands so hard he thought he’d hurt him. He shuddered and buried his face in Soap’s neck, feeling warmth spread through him as Soap came too.
“Sorry, i should’ve worn a condom or asked or..” Ghost shut him up by kissing him.
“Not the best but you’re up there. Your technique needs work.” Ghost flopped back. “You’re a quick learner. I’m sure you can figure it out with experience.”
“Experience? So we are doing this again.”
“If you want...”
“Knew you like me LT.”
#Johnny Soap Mactavish#Simon Ghost Riley#Soap Cod#Ghost COD#Soapghost#Ghostsoap#Soap x Ghost#Ghost x Soap#Macriley#Call of Duty#Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2#bottom ghost
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gahhhh i love your work sm!! perhaps reader comforting the 141 + König and Horangi if possible? something along the lines of like you were away on a mission for too long, you nearly died, they had a really tough mission, or maybe even that they just a bad nightmare </3
Task Force 141: Real World Nightmares
[GN!Reader]
[Warnings: Like, none?]
[AN: Hi love bug, I only accept 5 characters per ask so I'm only doing Task Force 141. Also thank you so so much!! I also don't,,, know about about Horangi at this moment and I'm a certified Konig hater /lh]
Reblogs are appreciated!
Captain John Price
It's hell waiting to see if you're still alive. Pacing the halls, unable to think straight and far too aggressive with anyone that even asks if he's doing alright. Price doesn't handle your life being on the line very well.
He's been waiting for correspondence from you. Hours feel like weeks. You're supposed to come back to him. He hasn't bothered to change out of his gear, not when he's posted by the door hoping you'll walk through it.
When you do? He feels the world roll from his shoulders. He holds you tight. He's not emotional in the sense of crying, I don't think any of them really would, but he does that thing where he like, chastises you for taking so long to get back to him.
He checks you over, quickly, just to make sure you don't have any life threatening wounds. You're okay, rough, but generally okay. He can't let you go, won't let you go.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
A bit more neurotic when making sure you're alright. He almost gets lost in his head when waiting for you with bated breath. The moment things start to go wrong for you, he wants to figure out plans to help and get you out. Kyle isn't so clouded by his emotions that his judgment goes to hell but he's not the best at decision making either.
Price will tell him to sit down, might argue with him just a bit, but overall, Kyle listens to Price. Price knows you'll handle yourself, and even though the situation it awful, you'll be just fine. You're slippery and intelligent. And they're working on helping you.
Kyle, naturally, is the first to actually find you in the heat of it all. Slides up beside you, thankful he's at your side while the two of you are pinned for a moment or so and all he can think of is protecting you. You look a little worse for wear, but he knows it's nothing too bad physically.
You'll both make it. Eventually, after managing a tricky escape, he holds you. He's much more affectionate and spends more than enough time saying how much he loves you but it's for good reason. He can't bear the thought of actually losing you.
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
Instantly wants to come get you. Hearing you've been captured makes him lose most of his rational thought. He has to be held back from just storming in. And it's not that Johnny is a bad strategist, he just really can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you when he could have been doing something rather than sitting around!
He eventually reels himself in and gets the others to come up with a plan, still working quicker than what's considered sane after getting confirmation you're 'okay.'
Coming to get you makes him feel everything all at once. He's focused on being disciplined and deadly accurate. He won't play around with your life.
Seeing you is the biggest relief. He holds you so tight, squeezes you and doesn't let you go. He's so sweet in making sure you're alright without smothering you in the same way others might.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Quite clinical! He tends to care so deeply about other people it hurts. Doesn't know when to reel in his own empathy despite hiding it so well. You hold his entire heart, and if anything happens to you, it'll break. To protect himself, but more importantly you, he needs to keep you safe.
He's got plans about everything brewing in his head. I think Ghost likes to think of every possible route in case things go wrong, and unfortunately that means he was also expecting something like this. He's on it, everyone else is on it.
You're... he's afraid you won't make it through the night once he finally gets you in his arms. He sees the loss of his loved ones flash in his eyes as he holds you when you make it out of surgery to recover. Squeezes your hand, rests near you and gives you space while also clinging so tightly to you. He knows he won't and can't live without you.
You eventually fall deeper into sleep. He watches. His eyes are stuck on you, can't look anywhere else. Won't look anywhere else. There's still a chance you won't make it. He hates that his nightmare might finally become true.
#don't bully me I haven't stared at this game for a hot minute or two#captain john price x you#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#soap x you#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader
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Perfect Mouth
Masterlist:
Not only does Simon love the words that come out of your mouth, he loves what you can do with it.
“Bloody fucking hell. That mouth is perfect.”
Tags: Smut/Blowjob/Riding/Marking Each Other/Spanking
Possible TW’s: Brief use of morbid and cruel jokes between Simon and Soap.
You and Simon had been sneaking around to be with each other during the downtime of your deployment. Most cases of sex having to be rushed and quiet as you both were on strict time schedules.
“You look lonely. I can fix that.” You whispered in a teasing tone as your hands swiped over his shoulders.
“Now’s your chance to prove it.” He growled, his tone muffled by the balaclava.
His gaze was sharp and primal. He wanted to tear you apart for teasing him during the convoy on the way to a new base. You would purposely graze your fingers over the inside of his thigh while he would sneak a grasp at your ass. There was no stopping the constant foreplay between you two.
Even when you took your shower, you purposely walked by the open door of his room clutching your shirt over your breasts instead of putting it on, knowing he would look your way and get jealous of the thought of possibly someone else seeing you.
He had just gotten out of the shower and changed into a clean uniform before going out on guard duty for the night.
Perfect.
Waiting until after midnight, you snuck out of the barracks and to where he was on duty. It was a small hunting-blind-type shelter, which was hard to see in the daylight, let alone the dark. Even though you knew where it was, it was still hard for you to see.
Once finding the entry, you walked in to see him sitting on point with his back turned to you as he acknowledged your presence. You both knew what was going to happen tonight. The sexual tension between the pair of you was enough for your peers to notice.
You felt his breathing shudder as you touched his shoulder. You smelled the muffled scent of his deodorant (he wears Axe chocolate - you can’t change my mind) as you leant over his shoulder, you chuckled as he had been bickering back and forth with Soap who was also on guard duty on the opposite end of the base. “Oy, two goldfish were in a tank. One turns to the other and says: do you know how to drive this thing? Little Army humor.”
“Very funny,” Soap snickered. “Why don’t shrimp share?”
“Why?”
“Because they’re shellfish.”
“Good one.”
“I got another one for ya.”
“Go.”
“What do you call Iranian popcorn?”
“What?”
“A terrorist.”
Ghost breathed a chuckle, “That’s fucked up.”
“You need some company?” You asked him in a whisper.
“I’ll never deny your company, sweetheart.”
You had other thoughts on your mind, the sexual tension between the two of you rising since you entered the blind.
He sat with his legs apart, comfortable.
“What kind of company would you want?” You asked in a teasing tone.
“I’m fine with whatever you offer.”
You bit your bottom lip before standing in front of him, watching his dominant gaze look over your features. He didn’t eye your body like you expected - he never did. Not that you weren’t attractive to him, you were, but he favored looking into your eyes more. He could tell your exact emotions through your eyes - something that he knew not many men looked at when looking at their partner. “You look lonely. I can fix that.”
“Now’s your chance to prove it.” He growled, his voice muffled by his balaclava.
Seeing the spark of arousal in your eyes, he watched you straddle his lap, setting his rifle aside to lean up against the wall as his hands went straight to your waist. He couldn’t help the blood that rushed to his groin. You couldn’t help but grind into him as your hands rushed to the bottom of his balaclava. You hesitated for a moment, expecting him to stop you, but he didn’t. You rolled his balaclava to where it exposed his lips, capturing them with your own, your nostrils filling with the smell of his aftershave.
His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you closer to him, irritated because of the tactical vest strapped to his chest. You felt his erection pressing into your thigh, giggling into his mouth before moving to your knees between his thighs and moving your hands to where they rested at his belt. “Fucking hell.” You heard him grumble.
You hummed, removing his length from the confines of his boxers. He was staring down at you, breathing heavily as you took him into his mouth. You took him into your hot mouth inch by inch until you physically couldn’t take him completely. You splayed your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before sucking a bit harder once at the tip of his aching length, a satisfying pop! leaving your lips. You held eye contact with him as you did so before going back down on him again.
“Bloody fucking hell,” He groaned. “That mouth is perfect.”
His hands found their way to your hair, messing up your bun to his own pleasure. He couldn’t help but buck up into your mouth, the heat and moisture driving him crazy. You had been giving him the perfect mixture of sloppy and sensual work with your mouth, feeling the familiar heat between your legs pulsing with excitement and clenching over nothing.
You then stood to your feet, his gaze fixating to your stomach as you loosened your belt. The sexual tension between you two was almost too much as the both of you seemed to want to rush to lovemaking. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll cut them off of you.” He groaned playfully. You smirked, removing your boots before the pants followed, purposely keeping your underwear on to tease him.
You straddled him, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your covered core. He breathed heavily with irritation as he had another problem keeping him from penetrating you. With no hesitation, he eased you back on his lap, you watched as he cut the underwear from your hips. “I told you - don’t tease me.” He graveled as he tossed the underwear to the side before easing you back to where you were lined up with him.
His hands held your hips as he helped guide you onto his length, not once forcing you on him as you slowly took his length. You moaned, gripping his shoulders as you couldn’t help but clamp around him. A guttural hiss came from his lips as he looked to where you both were joined. He was pleased with how you stretched to accommodate his size.
You rolled your hips on him, begging for friction against your clit as the way he was sitting was the perfect position to rub your pelvis on his, although the gear he had around his waist was making it harder for you, but you weren't giving up on achieving your orgasm. He felt too good to care about taking his gear off. "Not yet," He panted, holding your hips close to his, keeping you from continuing your rhythmic pace. "Don't go too fast. I want to savor you."
You groaned at his words, rewarding him with another kiss.
He ignored Soap's eager tone to tell another joke through his comm, knowing he would probably cuss him out if he were to reply right now. You let him control your pace as he enjoyed the warm feel of you enveloped around him. Fucking hell.
A thin layer of sweat beaded on your forehead as you were begging to orgasm at this point, but he felt like he was just getting started. His orgasm was on the horizon, but he loved when he reached his orgasm at the same time you did.
"Come for me, baby." You whispered into his ear, moaning at the sudden grasp of your buttocks by his strong hands.
He groaned, moving your hips faster as the sudden friction of his pants against your clit had your orgasm coming at a rapid pace. He felt you clench around him before you could even hum the beautiful song of your sweet release before he released his spend the same time you did, slowing your hips down to savor every last drop.
You slumped on him, the pair of you panting as you peppered kisses along his neck. You could still feel him pulsating inside of you, but you didn't care to even move. "I'm going to volunteer to go on guard duty more often." He sighed.
"And let me guess, I'm volun-told?" You bit your lip with excitement.
"You've never been more right, sweetheart."
#simon riley fic#simonrileysmut#ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley#ghostcod#ghost riley#cod mw2 smut#cod mw22#cod mwii#modernwarfare2
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//ass beating//Simon Ghost Riley
A/N
So, this is first one of me on Tumblr. Still not sure how this really works, so I hope I did good for first time.
Usually I write on wattpad, but I wanted to try something new and do some one-shots.
Sorry for the mistakes, or grammar english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoy this. And I'm open for requests!
Ghost wasn't easy on anyone. Including you. Wasn't easy from the first day that you entered the room, joining the team. You don't blame him entirely. You didn't like him either.
At least that's what you kept telling yourself.
He's been on your mind lately, and it annoyed you. The way his hooded eyes watched your every step. The way he stands close to you when the two of you argue over anything. The way he walks. The way his hips sway. The way he is huge before you. He was the giant that seemed to wait to crush you under his foot.
But you? Oh you were the little thorn in his eye. You knew how to give him hell out there. You were so stubborn and he couldn't gain control over you. You were sure that's the reason he couldn't stand you. You didn't let him bark you around. You couldn't be silent.
And now, it made him go mad.
Price sent you Ghost and Soap to a mission. You and Soap went well togehter, the two of you talked through the whole mission. That's what got on Ghost's nerves, there wasn't even a minute of silence. Most of the time, you don't even want to talk that much, but you loved doing it because it was going on his nerves.
The three of you had to question one of the puppets of mafia to find out where the boss is hiding. He got to codes of important locations and he had to be eliminated.
Ghost throws pictures on the table. It was younger man, with brown styled hair up, facial beard that's neatly done and piercing cold blue eyes. He looks like he's in good shape and pretty good looking.
"Damian Ergala. He's the leader of a nightclub Midnight. Highly secured, can mostly be seen there. We can't just barge in and make a mess, it will end up everywhere and we're back at the beginning." Ghost spoke crossing his arms. His sleeves were pulled back so his tattoos are visible and his arms are flexing. It made you look for a bit.
"So what we do then? Go in and get him while he's all alone?" Soap frowns looking at the two of you. You shake your head, coming to an idea. "Negative. He's never alone if he has such a security. I've got one idea."
You meet Ghost's hooded eyes. He didn't look like he cared, but Soap was all ears. "Well, let's hear it we don't have whole damn day." Rolling your eyes at Ghost, you give a little devil smile at Soap.
You sit at the bar, loud music banging in your ears. There's a coctail in your hand that you ocassionaly bring to your red painted lips. You're at your best right now. Hair curled up sprayed on your shoulders, make up, luttle tight red dress and black heels. When you met with Soap and Ghost, Soap whisteled while Ghost was looking you up and down.
Soap should be somewhere near, while Ghost is watching your back from the shadows. You're waiting for Damian to show himself somewhere.
When you said your plan, Ghost didn't agree on first. He again didn't like it because it was your plan you thought. Soap said it was brilliant, and it would be easy. It was, and you should be over with it in a blink of an eye. And it made you feel relaxed, to get ready and go out even if it was for a mission. You don't remember when was the last time you were dolled up and gave yourself a chance to drink. Luckily it didn't have a bad influence on you, you could drink a lot without even getting buzzed.
A warm hand found the bare place of your back and your head turns slightly to see Soap looking you up and down. All part of an act of course.
"What a pretty lady like you does here all alone?" he leans a little closer so you can hear him over the music. Chuckle bubbles through you as you bite your lower lip. "Oh, you know. Just here to capture someone. Maybe kill him whatever." Soap laughs at you.
"Can the two of you focus?" Ghost's annoyed voice came through the earpiece. You roll your eyes. "Lt, don't be bitchy because you didn't get all the fun."
"That's not my kind of fun." Of course. Ghost wasn't a type of person that would go out and party. He wasn't the person to get wrecked and wasted. He is calm and steady. He is all nose in the work. You knew it and it made you like him. But you loved to tease him.
"Yeah we know, your kind of fun is being closed in your room in the dark, probbably touching yourself." Soap gave you a side eye and a little smile. You bite your lip. Okay, you would never say that to him, so probbably you had a little too much to drink.
"Banshee, focus on the mission more, and less on my night routine or else I'll bend you over and fucking beat your ass." Your face flushed and Soap laughed out loud. You clear your throat, as your eyes fell on a figure among the crowd. Damian entered the party.
You catch Soaps hand and pull him to the floor. "Let's dance pretty boy." The two of you were in the middle of dance floor, dancing with each other. Few times you had to put Soap's hands on your waist because he didn't want to make you feel bad, but if he didn't you wouldn't look convincing. Damian finally catched your eye, and looked as you lowered yourself down, never breaking the eye contact. "Banshee, calm down." Ghost's rough voice came again. "I'm going in." You pull away from Soap and walk through the crowd. Damian sat alone with bodyguards. As you approached, he spreaded his legs more and you swear you saw him flex his muscles. His bodyguards looked over him when you stopped in front of them, and he nodded to them.
Few minutes in, and you were seated next to him, his arm arround your shoulders, while his other hand found the inner of your leg. "What do you say we take this somewhere more private?" Your fake smile was all it took him to bring you into his private room.
His lips found your neck as his hands grabbed your ass. You laugh as you push him away. "Calm down tiger, you can't get everything at once." He groans and wants to take another step towards you, but you pull out a knife that was well hidden and put it to his throat. His eyes went wide and his breath hitched. "Oh, you didn't really think you'll get some, did you?" You rise your eyebrow. His brows furrowed and you can visibly see he's mad.
"You won't get far with the bodyguards at my door." Just then, the two men barged through the door. Glowed hand with skeleton print pulled the gun next to your head and he pulls himself closer to you so your breath hitches a little.
"Think twice." Ghost says into your ear and shiver runs down your back.
When it was all over you were retreated in your room, getting in some sweatpants and a top, washing all the makeup of you. Knock on your door took you by surprise. You open it to see one of the rookies. He jumps a little when you open the door with a little stern look. "Uh, sorry to disturb you, but Lt. Ghost asked for you." I frown at the young man. "For me, why? Where?" Why would he need you? You did pretty good job out there today. Maybe not pretty good for him.
"He didn't say. He's in his room."
As you stood in front of Ghost's doors, a lot of thoughts roamed through your head. What bothered him now? What did tick him now? You were all great today. You knock on his door, heart pounding when he answers to you to come in. The door closes behind you. He's sitting in his chair, his mask lifted while a cigar danced between his lips. He's still in his full gear, feet up on a table.
"You called?" He puffs a smoke and puts out the cigar. "Yeah." You shift in your place, not sure what to say. "I don't understand, why." He rises from his chair, slowly walking towards you like you're some kind of pray and he's going to eat you alive. His hips sway slowly as he comes closer. Now, inches between two of you, you're sure he can hear your heartbeat.
Suddenly, his hand held the back of your neck and he made you look up at him. "Why? Because you've been a bad girl today, Y/N." He said it. He said your name. You don't remember if he ever did, but when he did, it made shivers go down your back. "Looking so dolled up, dancing on my mate, flirting with the enemy, talking back at your Lt. You remember what I said to you?" Your chest rised faster with his words as you frown.
"What did you said, Simon?" You bit your lip as his eyes go wild. He let go of you and walks few steps away breathing deeply. He turns arround and looks at the table. Within a second, he pushes it with his leg and it stops in front of you. You confusedly look at it and then back at his eyes. Something shifted in them. Lust.
"Bend the fuck over, and don't expect to be able to walk tommorow. People will hear why we call you Banshee while I pound in you and you scream my name."
#modern warfare imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#mw2#call of duty#soap mw2#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john price#ghost mw2#ghost x you#ghost call of duty#call of duty mw2
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Captured - SoapGhost
Ghost PoV
TW: violence, mentions of blood
Short summary:
Ghost got captured during Shepard's betrayal and is being interrogated.
All he could make out was a ringing sound. It was all around him in the darkness. The only thing that existed. It penetrated his ears so deeply. The space, no, more like the sound around him was spinning. He felt so sick.
A touch like thunder interrupted the spinning for a brief moment. It hit his head with an ungodly force, making his whole body tremble. His eyelids fluttered for a second and revealed a blinding light. Too bright, he thought. Only then he realized, his eyes had been closed this entire time. He attempted to open them again, but the light burned in his eyes. The ringing became even louder at his second attempt. All of his senses seemed to be in overdrive. Something wasn't right. What was happening?
"Good morning, Skullface! Or should I say Ghost?"
He was barely able to make out the words. There was too much noise. He was still trying to figure out what was going on.Then it hit him.
He had been captured. He had been separated from Soap. But how? It just didn't make any sense.
Suddenly, another strike went through his body. His eyes shot open and his hands clenched to fists. He was ready for another one. Although, it did take a while for him to finally get used to the brightness surrounding him. The light felt almost sterile. Slowly gaining his eyesight back, Ghost noticed something else. He couldn't move. He. Could. Not. Move. Quickly, he scanned his surroundings. He was strapped to a wooden chair in the middle of a nearly empty room. A guy stood above him. Soap? No.
"Hey! I'm talking to you, fucker!"
He lifted his head slightly, just enough to glare at the man who towered over him. But his vision was just too blurry to make out, who it was. The spinning intensified and it just made him feel even more sick. Ghost was sure he would have to throw up if it didn't stop.
"It's so much more fun to be doing this while you're awake, you know?" - "Shut up!"
Ghost growled while struggling against his restraints. The ties were cutting into the skin around his wrists. The guy raised his hand. Another hit to his face followed, he felt it in his whole body. Ghost hissed in pain. "Haven't had enough yet?" Ghost stayed silent in reply. He simply didn't have the strength to say anything. What the hell happened?
"Listen, all we want to know is where the sergeant is hiding. So you tell us and we might make all of this a little easier on you."
The sergeant? Soap.
Memories flashed in his mind. Graves. The betrayal of Shepherd. Alejandro. Soap being shot at. His eyes widened. He himself had been captured. Him and Alejandro. Soap had been shot. He remembered seeing the blood. Where was he? Was he okay?
If they were questioning Ghost about his location, at least that meant they hadn't found him yet. Ghost sighed a sigh of relief.
"You want to tell me where he is? Shepherd and I, both, would love to find him."
Ghost looked up again, right into his capturer's eyes - Phillip Graves as he now came to realize. Having gained back some of his strength, he shook his head without breaking eye contact. Even if he wanted to, he had no idea where Soap could have gone to. He just prayed for his safety.
"It's not like I did expect you to tell me. However, you are still opposing a direct order from Shepherd himself. And while we're at it..." Ghost felt a hand slip under his balaclava. "Aside from disobeying orders, it is also quite disrespectful to not at LEAST show your face." And with those words, the cloth was ripped away from his face.
"Hello there, Simon."
Ghost shuddered. He hated this feeling. He felt so exposed. It was like his only safety blanket had been taken away from him. The only protection he had. More protection from himself than anybody else at this point. Of course, concealing his identity was part of it, but he grew into the role of 'Ghost' through this simple piece of fabric. The only person he could stand to be. Someone fearless, someone strong, someone who wasn't being held back by his past. Without it, he was just Simon and this realisation hit harder than any of the hits he had received.
"You know, you don't have to tell me anything. We can just have a little fun together. Like the good old days." Graves reached for something outside of Ghost's view. "Then again, I don't think we ever really did have those. And I also think it's going to be a bit more fun to me than it will be to you."
Ghost felt something cold run across his throat. A knife, he assumed. Then, all of a sudden, he felt a sharp pain in his hand. He didn't want to even look at it. But curiosity got the better of him. In horror he stared at his hand. The blade had cut through it completely and was now stuck in the wooden chair. The pain came in waves, with every beat of his heart it stung more. Blood was seeping through the edges of the wound.
Ghost felt dizzy again. "Now, would you like to share the location of your little friend? I'm sure he would absolutely love to see you again in one piece." The nails of his injured hand were digging into the wooden armrest as he spat on the floor.
"But I see, you're not much for talking right now." This was the first time, Graves had turned his back on Ghost. "Don't worry, we can talk later." With those words Graves walked out of the door.
The knife was left where it was, hurting more by the second. He carefully tried to wiggle his fingers, making sure none of them were injured. To his surprise, even though there was a blade embedded in it, his hand seemed to be fully functional. Overall, he had a massive headache accompanied by nausea, they had probably knocked him out to capture him. He didn't really remember anything. His wrists were tied down with zip ties and his legs felt like they had received the same treatment.
After assessing his physical condition, he began trying to process everything that just happened. He had been captured and taken to whatever this place was right after Shepherd and Graves had betrayed them. Alejandro and him had been taken by the Shadow Company, but Soap had managed to escape. Now Graves was after Soap. Nobody else could be trusted.
A sinking feeling spread in his chest. They were completely on their own. Nobody would be coming for them. Aside from Soap that is. He was most likely their only chance to make it out alive.
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Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).
You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥
Thank you so much 🥺💕
hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)
well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig
characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)
this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!
based off of this post
itadori
- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night
- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)
- gets horny so easily LMFAO
- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring
- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)
you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.
“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.
“y-uuuu-ji!”
after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”
you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.
“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.
“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.
“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.
“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?
“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”
“so why don’t you?”
“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”
“and besides-“
he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.
“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”
itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.
after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.
itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.
“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”
“i’ll take care of you.”
“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.
you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.
“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.
blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.
“tell me how you want it.”
by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.
you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.
itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.
“here, babe.”
you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.
“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”
yuuta
this man is about to end my whole career
yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.
it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’
but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.
the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man
can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’
similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto
“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.
“red, by the way.”
you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.
“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.
“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.
“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”
“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”
“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.
“i want green.”
“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.
you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.
“uh- i can see your cards-“
“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”
at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-
“hey.”
your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.
he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.
“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”
whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.
yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.
he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,
“why don’t i show you?”
before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.
“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“
his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.
“-unless, of course-“
“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”
“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”
truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.
with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.
“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.
his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.
“don’t look at me. look here.”
you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.
his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.
and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.
“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.
he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.
“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”
gojo
- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao
- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.
- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.
- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”
you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.
you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.
you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.
“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.
“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.
gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.
“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.
“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.
“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”
“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.
“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“
“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”
“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.
“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.
when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.
“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.
“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”
you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.
with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.
you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.
despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?
slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.
“surprised to see me?”
“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”
really? that’s his issue at hand here?
“so which is it?”
“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”
gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.
“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”
“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.
gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.
“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”
“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”
your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.
“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”
he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.
“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.
“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”
his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.
“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”
you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.
gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.
“i’m not playing with you tonight.”
toji
- i literally don’t even need to say anything here
- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something
- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay
maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.
fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.
you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.
when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.
“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.
“yes?” you squeak out meekly.
“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”
“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.
“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.
“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.
when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.
he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.
“see anything interesting down there?”
“as a matter of fact-“
you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.
“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.
it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.
as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.
“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”
“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”
“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”
“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”
toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.
“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”
incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.
even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.
“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.
you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.
you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.
your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.
as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.
“megumi. you’re just in time.”
“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”
#BYE-#TOJI’S-#hello! today we offer cleansing holy services such as adult baptism or even holy communions! remember god is watching#i’m joking LMFAO#god can’t help me#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen gojou#gojo smut#gojo x y/n#gojo saturo x reader#itadori yuuji x you#jjk itadori#itadori hcs#itadori x reader#itadori x y/n#itadori x you#toji x you#toji fushiguro#toji imagine#daddy toji#toji x y/n#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta x reader#yuuta x you#yuta okkotsu x reader#okkotsu x reader#jjk smut
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I’m So Baked (says the pie)
A/N: So I’ve been paying more attention to Topazi (mentally) and I realize that I need more shenanigans between her and Klaus..so here we are.
Warnings: some suggestive material
Tag List: @joz-stankovich, @misskittysmagicportal, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @ghouls-buddy, @maerenee930, @frogs–are–bitches, @neuroticpuppy, @forenschik, @bisexualnathanyoung, @robert-sheehan, @firstpersonnarrator, @salvador-daley, @lokis-rock-n-roll-chick
“Klaus, what happened to your hand?!” Topazi asked, as her partner walked in, his hand held far away from his body, almost as if it had offended him greatly.
“I was trying to get inside of the house and the patio door shut on my hand. We need to get that fixed at some point.” he said, putting a generous amount of dish soap on his “Hello” hand before putting it under the tap.
“I’ll put it on my list to get to. Do you know when Allison and Claire are supposed to be coming over. I need to make sure I have time to get the flowers done beforehand. And I need to make sure there’s no extra snails in them, like I’ve let slide recently.” she added, getting her tools gathered on the floor of the living room.
“Uh, I think she said around regular dinnertime, 6-7ish.” Klaus replied, and Topazi let out a sigh of relief. That’s plenty of time to construct and reconstruct her design.
It was a simple bouquet, really. Allison hadn’t asked for a specific type of flowers, but she wanted to get a specific message across. Maternal love and affection. Claire had been through quite a lot, and she wanted to be sure that her kid knew that she loved her very much. Material objects only do so much as well, so Allison planned to write a letter, and just generally try to spend more time with her kid, and be there for her more.
“That’s valid.” T remembered saying, as she picked a few cinquefoils, as well as a few carnations from her collection, looking back at her sketch.
It reminded her in pieces of a sunflower, actually, how it looked. There wasn’t a darkness in the center, but she chose yellow cinquefoils, and yellow carnations, with regular greenery on the outside, so she’d need to change something up a little. She worked away for some time, and made multiples of the same bouquet, trying different combinations of the flowers.
In the kitchen, Klaus was looking at a recipe book. He wanted to make Allison one of her favorite desserts, a key-lime pie. He was sure that there were limes somewhere in the house (or if the neighbors have some). There had been multiple occasions where he wished to make a specific dish and lacked a few ingredients. Topazi had mentioned, in passing, of her wishes of having a fruit orchard. That would help with the fruit issue, lest Klaus decide to become a full-time baker. It may not be a huge one, but she wanted to provide for herself. Plus, who doesn’t want to take care of plants?
“Now where is the microblade?” he asked himself as he rumbled through the cabinets, trying to make sure he didn’t let anything drop too loudly.
“I don’t even know if we have one.” Topazi replied, eyes focused on trying to properly tie a ribbon on one of her bouquets.
“Ah, here it is!” Klaus exclaimed, extracting the microblade from between the cheese grater and a plate.
He finally went into the fridge after a few more minutes of glancing over the ingredient page, and withdrew a few limes from the bottom drawers. Soon enough, Klaus began working on the crust, and took some of his anger out (mostly at the sliding door) pounding the graham crackers to crumbs. A small part of him wanted to taste said crumbs, but then he remembered that it was for his sister, not him. (although her giving him a slice isn’t completely out of the question) He pressed the crumbs into the side of the pie plate, making sure to press from the bottom, going up. He put it in the oven, took note of the time, and got started on the filling.
“T, why do you like flowers so much?” Klaus asked, zesting a lime. He knew the obvious answer, “They’re pretty, and a lot of people like them.” However, he wanted to hear his partner talk, as the sound of the cicadas outside were beginning to annoy him.
“I like them because what’s not to like about them? In a sense. They’re pretty, and were historically used as a means to communicate, when people thought it rude and insensitive to discuss such things in public. Everything about them is made so carefully, down to how they look microscopically. Even though plants themselves aren’t sentient, they still live, and have their own systems to maintain, and how they work. If one was to extract a piece of DNA from a sunflower, specifically one that gives it its color, our perception would be completely different of it.” she stops for a moment to collect her thoughts.
“It’s also how people work, too. I like flowers because they’re easy to maintain, if you know what you’re doing, and don’t forget they exist, or run out of energy. And they’re so nice to look at. You’ve seen me stop in parks to just admire how flowers are placed in the mulch, or soil. They planters may have had the littlest idea of how I would view them, even down to what order they put them in, but they’re there. I find it so worth it to just pause for a moment, and to think, and indulge in the true meaning of something, even if it wasn’t meant to be. That’s why I like flowers. It’s completely fine to just see the surface when someone gets you flowers “Ah, they got me something pretty, and thought of me to give me this. It’s a meaningful gift.” But I want to pick apart every part of it. Because there’s so much more to so many things than what you see.” she responds, and jumps when she looks up to see Klaus leaning over the kitchen island, his face in his hands.
His hands have small bits of pulp on them, and the “Kiss the Cook” apron that he wears has abstract juice drippage on it.
“I fuckin’ love you T.” Klaus whispers, and bends over to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, and he feels her smile into it. Her hands carefully come to wrap around his neck, making sure not to get any of the stem juice in his hair.
“Love you too.” she whispers back, pulling away “Your crust smells just a smidge burnt (pronounced buent), by the way.” she says, picking up her phone to refresh her memory of other flower requests. A small look of panic passes across his face before he pushes himself off of the counter, practically ripping the oven door off to check on his crust.
It, fortunately enough, wasn’t too terribly damaged. It wasn’t too crisp, or burnt. He set it on the stove to rest for a moment, and he grabbed the yogurt from the fridge, and sweetened condensed milk from the pantry. He poured the juice, zest, yogurt, and sweetened condensed milk into a bowl, and whisked to combine.
“I never thought I would be so turned on by a man cooking, and the pie isn’t even for me.” T admitted, looking at the way Klaus’ arms flexed while he continued to mix the ingredients together.
“Oh, is that right. I’ll be cooking a lot more then, if your response is openly admitting your horniness to my non-conformity to gender roles.” he said casually, blowing a stray hair out of his face.
Topazi looked up, and stared Klaus straight in the face, and put a finger up, opening her mouth, only to close it, and put her finger down.
“I’m not sharing my thoughts with a malewife like you.” she uttered, shaking her head in mock disgust.
“And this malewife puts it down every evening for you, willingly that is, and this is how I’m treated, ugh, the gumption.” he mutters, putting a hand to his chest, feigning disgust.
Topazi and Klaus look at each other once more before breaking out in laughter, urging Minnie, who was sitting on the floor, to wake up from her nap. Klaus snorted, hand gripping the counter. Topazi had to put her head down to prevent any excess spittle from getting on her flowers. Once they caught their collective breaths, Klaus poured the filling into the crust, and put it into the oven to bake. He washed the dishes that he had, and dried the bowl, due to needing it for the topping.
“Okay, good, I just need to write these cards, then I’ll be done with this.” T said, grabbing them, and grabbed a permanent marker.
“These look really good T!” Klaus exclaimed, his eyes shining with glee.
“Thank you love.” she said, dragging a hand across her face. She stood up to stretch, and her back cracked loudly, mildly surprising her. She walked over to Klaus and wrapped her hands around his waist, her head resting on his back.
“Every time you put your arms around my waist like that, I swear I gain 10 more years of life.” he said, wiping his hands on his apron. She felt the vibrations of his speech on her face, and she took a deep breath before responding.
“I wonder what happens when I hug you then.” T said, walking away to put the flowers in their designated “T’s flowers, do not touch nor smell.” place in the fridge.
“I’m so smart, I know.” he retorted, pouring the heavy cream into a bowl, along with a few tablespoons of confectioners’ sugar. T jumped at the sound, and shook it off.
She had mentally took note of the time Klaus put the pie in, and took an oven mitt off of the hook, (patterned with tiny cookies on it) The top looked set enough, and she set it to rest on the counter. She turned the oven off, and watched as Klaus finished whipping the topping, holding it upside down to check if it was ready. It didn’t fall on his head, so he put plastic wrap over it, and looked outside for a short moment, looking up the tree in the front yard.
He took a breath, and thought for a second. Maybe a bit too long. His mind fluttered back to what it took for him to be where he was. How much it physically took out of him, his siblings, hell, even the timeline for him to be able to have a peaceful life (for the most part) and a loving partner. A tear slipped down his face, and he thought of how silent the ghost had been recently. He still had his powers, but the ghosts seemed to respect his current want for peace. And he loved that. He would float around the house if his feet were tired, and sometimes even do a side gig of being a medium if he felt inclined to. However, something about knowing that he couldn’t physically see Ben anymore, (his Ben, he thought, now with his newest collection of siblings, with a limited edition Sparrow Ben). He still even missed the cult, even with its downsides. He never got the right type of parental love, or familial love. At times, he doubted his siblings’ love for him, even though they’d made it pretty obvious that they’d be there for him, lest he need it.
“Hey, Klaus, the- are you alright?” Topazi asks. She had been calling a few clients back from her home office, telling them that their bouquets had been completed. She got a random craving for cookies, and planned to go to the kitchen to make them, but she found Klaus in tears, hand covering his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed her there.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I was just thinking too much.” he explained, letting her wipe the tears from his face.
“You sure?” she asked, and he nodded before taking a deep breath, and releasing it. “I was just coming in here to A. make some cookies, and B. tell you that the pie is good and cooled, and it’s time for it to be topped.” she said, rubbing his back gently.
“Okay. Thank you T.” he responded, gathering the willpower to put the whipped cream on the pie, and adding small lime slices and spare zest on top. He smiled at the completed job, and put it in the fridge to finish chilling.
“Go take a nap darling. You’ve been on your feet for a while, and you look tired. I’ll let you know when Allison is here. Or at least 5 minutes before.” she whispered, kissing Klaus’ cheek. She looked at him for a moment more, and cupped his cheek with her hand. The light scruff that covered the bottom of his chin tickled her hand, and she had the urge to scratch her palm. She however, resisted said urge, and took her hand away. Klaus smiled at her once more, and trotted up the stairs, with Minnie in tow behind him. Topazi went back to the kitchen and gathered her ingredients. She spun some vinyl as background music, and got to work on her cookies.
A couple hours pass, and Topazi is drying the last cookie sheet she used for her cookies, putting it back in its rightful spot. She stretched again, and checked her phone, seeing that Allison had texted her a few seconds go, saying that she was on the way, which gave her about 30 minutes to get Klaus awake. She headed up the stairs, and ended their bedroom, where Klaus was sprawled across the sheets Minnie resting on his pillow. T gently shook him awake with one hand, and giving chin scratches to Minnie with the other.
“Come on, it’s time to get up Klausie.” she mutters, watching as her partner came to slowly, more of his hair having escaped from its confinements.
“Hmmm, I’ll be more up in a bit. You smell good, hon.” he whispered, rubbing his eyes.
The sun was shining in his face, and although it may have been mildly uncomfortable to wake up to, he looked absolutely stunning in it. His hair seemed to glow, and his skin, albeit a little pale, seemed to reflect every bit of sun that hit it. His eyes though, seemed to be pools of emerald and gold. Topazi admired him from afar, and she ignored the strong urge to climb into bed with him and bask in the sunlight together.
“You’re staring love.” Klaus says, leaning on his arm in bed, petting Minnie, who was beginning to wake up as well. She meowed gently, and purred at his touch.
“Oh, hush. Like you haven’t stared at me in the sun before.”
“.....You got me there.”
“Yeah, mhm.” Topazi said, jokingly side-eyeing Klaus.
“Come here mama.” Klaus teases, pulling T’s arm towards him. She falls into Klaus’ arms, her head resting right below his. He bends down and kisses her lips, breaking away, before Topazi reciprocates the gesture, taking a small handful of Klaus’ hair in her fingers. Klaus smiles, and chuckles, letting his mouth fall to her neck. He nuzzles into it, and they sit there for several minutes, before coming to a realization.
“Oh shit, I forgot that Allison and Claire are coming over.” T said. “I’ve got to get the cookies in the jar...and I need to fix the bed too.”
“Ah, calm down. It’s fine. She’s not going to come up here and see where we engage in sinful activities, is she? No. However, I would love to join you in the cookie jarring.” Klaus mutters, smiling at her.
“Fine, you can help. But so help me god if I find even a crumb on the freshly swept floor.” Topazi said, closing the bedroom door behind her.
T worked quickly to get the cookies together, and Klaus took a very short shower, as he knew that it would help wake him up, and he could go back to bed without having to worry about showering again. The doorbell sounded, and Topazi almost slipped trying to get to the door. She checked herself in the mirror once more before letting her niece and sister in law into the house.
“Hey Allison! And little miss Claire.” Topazi said, giving the respective people their own hugs.
“How’ve you been T?” Allison asked as she was welcomed in, shoes taken off at the door. She was also carrying a dish of some sort, covered in Aluminum Foil.
“I’ve been good. The business has been going well, and I’m thinking of making an orchard.” T replies, leading them both to the living room. “Let me get that for you.”
“That’s good. Claire’s been begging me to let her go visit the shop, but it’s always been at a bad time. Oh, thank you! I brought dinner as a bit of a treat.”
“It’s much appreciated. I like seeing you both, and having you two visit would never be a hassle.” she replies, petting JJ, the other cat, who just so happened to be waiting for attention.
“IS THAT MY SISTER AND MY FAVORITE NIECE?” Klaus yelled from the top of the stairs, quickly running down them to give his sibling a hug.
“Uncle Klaus!” Claire exclaimed, giving said uncle a very big hug around his middle, only to be picked up.
“How’ve you been, Allison, smaller Allison?” he asked, setting his niece back on the couch before taking the place next to his partner.
“We’ve been good.” Allison says. “We’ve been doing really good.”
The four of them sit and converse for a while, and eventually dinnertime comes around, signaled by Klaus’ stomach growling loudly. Allison had brought a very large amount of lasagna, and Topazi immediately dug in, which shocked Klaus, but he’d bring the cause up at a later time. Claire did, however, get a pre-dinner cookie (Topazi’s request because “That’s how you teach kids that good things come to people who deserve them.”)
“So, I do so happen to have a bit of a surprise for the both of you.” Klaus says, standing up and opening the fridge.
“Ooh, what is it?” Allison asks excitedly, and Claire matches her mother’s expression.
Klaus pulls out the pie, and T moves to gently give Claire her bouquet, asking her to hold it a specific way as to not jostle the flowers, or change the position of the ribbon.
“That’s so pretty, T! Oh my gosh, I need to ask you to make more things for me, I swear I’ll pay you in whatever you want.” Allison exclaims, looking at the bouquet, leaning forward to smell some of the flowers.
“Thank you! The meanings of the flowers, and ribbon placement are on the card. Also your brother made a whole pie...by himself......we need to eat it before he does.” she teases, sticking a pointed thumb back at her partner, who already had a knife out to cut said pie.
“Klaus, it’s my favorite! Thank you so much.” Allison says, taking another bite of the pie.
“This is really good Uncle Klaus.” Claire states, looking across the island at him.
“Why danke. It was made with love. Both the pie and the bouquet, actually.” he said, kissing T on the cheek. She smiled against him, and took a piece of the pie for herself, trying to resist eating the rest of the pie it all of its entirety.
The night came to an end, and Allison and Claire said their respective goodbyes, and drove off. T and Klaus lay in bed that night, with a book and knitting needles in hand, respectively. Klaus feels a weight against his shoulder, and Topazi had fallen asleep, small breaths escaping her lips. He put a marker in her book, and took note of note of where he stopped in his stitches. It took him some more time to get to sleep that night, probably due to his earlier nap, but he got to sleep, so peacefully. Something he’d wished for many a day, and now it seemed that he was finally getting it answered.
Masterlist
Key Lime Pie
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15 thiefshipping please.
15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick. (Thiefshipping)
"Well?" Bakura gave his roommate a pointed look.
Malik tried his hardest to suppress a grimace, but only managed to press his lips together and wrinkle his nose. "What's in these cookies?"
"Cookie stuff! Obviously. Ryou showed me the recipe yesterday. He said it was so easy even I could make it."
Malik tried not to gag when he swallowed, failed, and moved the rest of the cookie under his tongue. "What's the recipe?"
"Butter, flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla," Bakura listed off, clearly getting impatient. "Normal cookie stuff. So how are they?"
"Are you sure you put sugar in them?" Malik shuddered again at the flavor still crawling over his tongue.
Bakura heaved a sigh and picked up a ceramic canister from the counter. "Sugar."
Malik squinted at the little faded label made out of masking tape. "It says salt."
The former Yami spun the container in his hand and glowered at the label, scrutinizing it like some secret coded message. "Fuck. So it does."
Malik took this opportunity to scrape his fingers over his tongue, and dig the rest of the cookie out of his mouth. "Why was I the first one to taste these anyway? Shouldn't it have been you?"
"I tasted them yesterday when Ryou made them. I thought they were good."
"Ryou didn't make them wrong!"
"So I suck at baking! Screw this!" He grabbed the plate and chucked the cookies into the garbage bin, plate included. "I try to do something nice..." the sentence trialed off in muttering that sounded more like swear words. Bakura folded his arms over his chest, practically throwing himself against the counter when he leant back against it.
Much to his distaste, Malik dug the plate out of the trash can. He gave his roommate a side-eye as he placed it into the sink.
"This is why I buy everything from the store," grumbled Bakura.
The soap suds squished between Malik's fingers as he washed his hands, watching the water splash around the clean and empty sink as he did so. It was only then that he took in the state of the kitchen... which to his surprise was oddly clean for a Bakura that just made a batch of salty cookies.
Come to think of it, there weren't even any dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast or lunch.
There was no way his lazy-ass roommate made cookies and washed all the dishes. Was there?
Suspiciously Malik's gaze darted over to Bakura himself. To his utter surprise Bakura was dusted in patches of flour. Bits on his shirt, on his arms, and even some on his face. There very well could have been flour in Bakura's hair too, but it blended in flawlessly with the natural white color caused by his albinism.
So, he really did bake cookies. He turned his attention back to the sink and the surrounding countertops. It wasn't perfect by any means, a little cluttery, and there were some crumbs under the toaster. But the sink was empty aside from the cookie plate, and the counters had been wiped down. He even cleaned the kitchen.
"Thank you," Malik said lowly as he finished rinsing off his hands.
"What?" Bakura spoke the word sharply with a little too much emphasis on the H.
"For cleaning the kitchen," Malik clarified, turning away from the sink and using the dish towel to dry off. "It was... thoughtful."
"Whatever," Bakura huffed and turned his face away.
Malik caught the tint of pink on his pale cheeks regardless. He strode across the kitchen and stopped in front of his roommate leaning in a bit as he grinned. "Teach me."
"Teach you what?" he snarled. "To make salty mistakes?"
"The cookies, Bakura, not your half-ass blowjobs. You said Ryou taught you the recipe, and I want to try them." Malik snagged an apron from a drawer nearby, and threw it over his head. It was a weird, white and pink, frilly thing that Bakura always sneered at but Malik liked it.
"Like hell I'm going through that again. I'll just fuck them up."
"Guess I'll have to make cookies by myself," Malik sniffed, wandering over to the cabinets to take out a mixing bowl. The first thing he grabbed was a pan for a bundt cake. After a blink he shrugged and set it on the counter, then he fished out a wire whisk. "I don't know any of the amounts."
When he collected eight eggs from the fridge, Bakura finally cringed. He heaved a long dramatic sigh before coming up behind Malik and tossing the bundt pan back into the cabinet. He tore down the mixing bowl he'd used earlier and placed it on the counter, then collected a rubber spatula from the utensil drawer.
"Was that so hard?" teased Malik.
"Yes." Bakura pulled out the large plastic container they kept flour in and began measuring it.
Malik watched him carefully, helpfully holding the glass mixing bowl in place while his roommate dumped the white powder in. "I honestly don't know how there is any flour left, you're wearing most of it."
The next cup of flour went right down the front of Malik's shirt.
"Son of a bitch, Bakura! What was that for?!"
The former Yami nonchalantly resumed the task at hand, smirking down at the mixing bowl. "I missed.”
Any attempt to brush the flour away only resulted in smearing more of the white powder over his brown skin, so Malik gave up. He watched Bakura put one more cup into the mixing bowl before asking, "is that the last one?"
"Yes. We need to mix the butter and sugar together in a separate-"
A sudden cascade of white plummeted down over Bakura's head before he could finish his sentence. It exploded into the air in thick clouds, dousing him in powder from hair to socked foot.
The Egyptian beside him stepped away clutching the now empty plastic flour container. A cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.
For a long moment Bakura simply stood there, dusted like a pale ghost, chocolate brown eyes staring at the counter but focusing on nothing in particular. Malik's nasally chortling the only sound punctuating the moment.
Then the former Yami took a handful of the flour from the mixing bowl and hurled it into his roommate's stupidly laughing face.
Malik sputtered and coughed when a second handful came down on his head, Bakura smacking the flour into his hair.
"S-stop that!" he screeched, still trying to spit out mouthfuls of powder.
"Make me!"
Another fistful of flour almost made it into Malik's hair, but Bakura's socked foot slipped on the flour covered floor, and his flour-covered self ended up careening into Malik instead.
This sent the two men tumbling to the ground where they proceeded to roll around the floor, scooping up fistfuls of excess flour and trying to smear it onto the other. Hair, face, nose, eyes, down the shirts, and into the pants. Malik's foot kicked a cabinet, and Bakura's elbow smacked the linoleum, but neither of them let up.
That is until until Malik's hand came way to close to Bakura's mouth, and his teeth snapped down like a trap.
"You bit me!" Malik recoiled a white dusted arm, that now sported a neat wet teeth pattern amidst the powder on his palm.
Bakura bared his teeth and snapped them again, making a sharp clicking sound.
It was a challenge as much as it was a warning.
And Malik was just the sort of moron who would bait a shark and then go swimming with it. Or bite it back.
He pinned the white-haired male to the floor, difficult because Bakura fought him wildly, but not as difficult as it could be because Bakura was thinner, shorter, and lankier than him. And to anyone's surprise who saw Malik's body he was actually pretty toned. He definitely had more muscles than his roommate, and it came to his advantage in this moment.
He swooped in and clamped his own teeth on the flesh of Bakura's shoulder.
The man beneath him yelled—a strange yowling noise mixed with unintelligible protest—and flailed violently. The movement, coupled with the coating of flour, managed to dislodge Malik, but he swiftly dove in again and bit the next closest thing to his mouth.
That happened to be Bakura's cheek and jaw.
Bakura's socked feet kicked against the powdered linoleum, struggling to find purchase and leverage. He only managed to slip and rub awkwardly against the male above him. A strange noise choked out of Malik's throat that bordered on whimper, and his teeth slipped a bit. Bakura managed to get one hand loose, snagging a fist full of Malik's blonde hair, he ripped the other man off the side of his face. In the same motion he whipped his own head, and bit him in retaliation.
Right on Malik's upper lip.
Malik yelped. Bakura's teeth scraped. And their eyes connected briefly before they suddenly both jerked away.
"Y-you kissed me."
Bakura flinched like someone had taken a swing at him. "No I didn't."
Malik cocked his head and fixed him with a look of disbelief. "What would you call that then?"
"I bit you."
"On the lips!"
"On the mouth!" Bakura refuted.
If it were at all possible Malik's look became even more disbelieving. "It's the same thing." As if to prove his point, the man beneath him wasn't making eye contact.
"It's not."
"It is!"
Not one to back out of an argument, Malik dipped down to substantiate his claim. He pressed his lips flush against Bakura's, capturing the thief's startled mouth in a kiss.
He didn't react at first, unless Malik counted his whole body tensing up like a corpse in rigor mortis. The kiss wasn't long. His lips were soft against his, pliant and and tasting of raw flour. But this wasn't quite the point Malik was trying to prove. He nipped Bakura's bottom lip as he broke away, a lingering pinch of that soft flesh between teeth before he sat back and grinned in triumph.
Thirty seconds passed before the thief sucked in a ragged shuddering breath. "What the hell was that?"
Malik grinned, all white teeth and conceited superiority. "According to you it was a bite, you silly goose." He tapped the end of Bakura's sickly-pale nose with a powder-coated bronze finger.
Bakura's nose scrunched adorably. "Don't call me that."
"You s-ss—stupid bitch," Malik tried again.
Dark chocolate colored eyes narrowed under furrowed brows. He pointedly chose to ignore that and focus on something more important. "That was not a bite." Bakura broke from Malik's half-assed grip. "This is."
Before Malik could even open his mouth to protest, Bakura surged up, took two fistfuls of blonde hair and dragged the former tomb keeper into a fierce kiss that was just as painful as it was intense. They fell back into the pile of flour, a cloud of powder thrown into the air as lips and sharp canines smashed together, bruising and burning.
Nothing about the kiss was gentle or sweet, it was messy and vicious. Their teeth clacked, noses bumped, and Bakura seemed hell bent on shoving his tongue places that made static skitter down Malik's spine.
Despite it all, Malik kissed him back, matching the ferocity with just as much enthusiasm. He was still straddling the thief, bent forward with most of his weight settled on his elbows. Bakura's wild mane of white hair was spread out like a lion's mane around his head, and Malik couldn't resist curling his fingers in the unkempt tresses.
But all too soon the kiss ended, concluded when Bakura's teeth bit down on Malik's lip hard enough to draw blood. Malik hissed, and jerked away from the swipe of Bakura's tongue before it could draw over the wound.
"Shit, what was that for?!" He sat back, wiping a hand over his bloodied lip. He'd barely settled on Bakura's lap for a second when he yelped like a wounded dog and shot off of him and into the kitchen cabinets.
"That's how you bite someone," the thief sneered haughtily. He attempted to hop to his feet in a swift movement, but his socks slipped, and he went crashing down into the flour covered linoleum again, sending a cloud into the air around him.
Malik snorted, coughed, and would have laughed but his eyes were glued on the obvious tent in his roommate's pants.
His attempt at an exit failed, Bakura slapped a hand over his crotch and snarled, "Fuck you, don't look at me."
"I can't believe you kissed me," Malik said as he used the counter to pull himself up onto shaky legs. He cast another look at the flushed man on the floor then added, "and liked it."
"Don't flatter yourself," snapped Bakura. "It's not like it was pleasant. You tasted like salt!"
"Only because I ate your shitty cookie!"
"Because of you we can't make any cookies at all!" Bakura shot back just as defensively. He threw a handful of the ruined flour for emphasis.
"Why the hell were you making cookies to begin with!?" Malik refused to turn away from the counter and opting to yell over his shoulder.
The entire room fell silent.
What seemed like an uncomfortable eternity passed and he chanced looking back at the thief.
Bakura had his face turned away, cheeks scarlet despite the dusting of white, and jaw set like a vice.
"Bakura?"
The former Yami surged to his feet once more. This time succeeding. "I was making them for you," he growled so lowly before storming from the room.
~0000~
How was that, handsome? Hope ya like it. I used a quote from one of our conversations in here. ;3
Thanks for sending me the ask. You’re the best and I love you. 😘
#yugioh#thiefshipping#Marik ishtar#Yami bakura#Malik ishtar#Bakura#yugioh duel monsters#ygo dm#saijspellhart answers#saijspellhart writes#ask answers#fanfic#fanfiction#kiss prompts#kiss meme#prompt drabble
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Whatever It Takes
Sequel to A Forgotted Memory
Somewhere out there
Beneath the pale moonlight
Someone's thinking of me
And loving me tonight…
Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️
Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus
Meet Me Halfway
John "Soap" MacTavish
Task Force 141
Location Unknown
18 hours ago
He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.
He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.
If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.
~
2 Seconds.
A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.
Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.
He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.
"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.
"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.
"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"
"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.
"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.
"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.
"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.
"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.
"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."
"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.
"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.
"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.
"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.
The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.
"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.
Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.
He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.
Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.
Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.
"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.
"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.
"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.
"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.
"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.
"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.
"What's going on?" Nero asked.
"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.
"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.
Meet me Halfway
Francine "France" Winters
Task Force 141
Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room
"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.
"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.
"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.
"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.
"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.
"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.
"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.
"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.
"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.
"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.
"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.
"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.
"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.
"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.
"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.
"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.
"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.
"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.
~
"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.
Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.
Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.
The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.
Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.
"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.
"How so?" Price angrily muttered.
"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."
"Bloody hell. Now what?"
" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."
Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.
Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.
"John…" she whimpered and smiled.
"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.
Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.
Next Chapter : Secret Alliances
Notification Squad my beloved
@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach
#horRAYfic#whateverittakes#john soap mactavish#john price#gary roach sanderson#simon ghost riley#alex echo 3 1
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Read into Me Chapter 11: Love Story
Steve Harrington x Reader
CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE
Words: 4,771
Warnings: fire, injury-all end of season three things!
Author’s Note: Happy belated Strangers Things 3 Day! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn’t have it in me to work. This is the end of the series, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a fun little ride!
Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @jisungiesluv @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher
Paris was a lonely city. You’d arrived alone, having not seen Steve since prom and still desperate to see him one more time. You’d selfishly kept his sweatshirt, wanting a piece of him to take with you to a different country. Your mother hadn’t picked you up from the airport, having sent a car instead. She didn’t seem much interested in speaking to you after months apart; she was much more interested in redecorating her new condo and talking about her fiancé. You met him, a French fop named Jean-Pierre at least fifteen years her junior. He was nice enough, although a bit fruity for your liking. His interests were more on the modeling jobs your mother was getting him. She had no time for you, which was fine since your lessons at the salon began immediately.
You and thirty-five other young hopefuls spend your days locked in a studio with abundant resources and endless models and objects to sketch. And you hated it. You hated the long, rambling lectures from the artists who came to the salon to preach the values of the school and the importance of French art. They alternated between speaking in French and English without explaining themselves as they switched tongues. Your French language skills were nonexistent, so the lectures were exhausting and endless. The only time they ever seemed to help was when they brought you all to the Louvre to examining the long dead French men who’d made the museum possible. There, you could at least sketch out the greats and enjoy the beauty of the art. Inside the studio, you felt as though your head was going to explode. The lectures spoke too loudly and loomed over you without warning or word, you weren’t allowed your headset or Walkman in the studio to combat them, and the smell of various paints and clays made your stomach churn. The girl who’d taken up the easel next to you, a little German named Lisle, had taken to making clay pots and sculptures and the sound of her pottery wheel mixed with her incessant humming made you want to commit manslaughter. It didn’t help that the smell of the brown clay invaded your sinuses and made you sneeze violently. You dreaded the salon. But you dreaded being at home more.
Your mother had hired you a French tutor, utterly horrified by the fact that you hadn’t been practising. You tried to tell her that, despite her assumptions, Hawkins High had stopped offering a French elective two years before you started there.
“You cannot live in Paris without speaking French! It won’t do!” she moaned. Jean-Pierre was already on the phone, speaking fast into the receiver. You didn’t see what the big deal was. Everywhere you went, people spoke enough English to communicate with you fine. It didn’t occur to you till after dinner that if you were to study in the country, you’d need the language to understand your lessons.
So you got a French teacher, a short tempered older man who insisted on being called Monsieur Bérnard. His greying whiskers moved sharply as he spoke and he often spit on you as he taught proper pronunciation and conjugation. He ranted and raved all afternoon, disgusted by your apparent lack of an ear for languages and your doodling on the edges of notebook paper instead of working. You’d go from sensory overload in the salon to being bullied by a Freud-looking asshole each day with no room for a break or a breath.
You lived for weekends. Rest was very well thought of in the city so the hell spawn tutor didn’t work and the salon locked its doors. You were allowed to wander the city at your leisure, your mother glad to have you out of the apartment. You’d spend most of your days sat at a café near the Eifel Tower, a prime spot to tourists. Every day, you’d bring your sketchpad and try to draw out the profiles of those you passed you by. You spent two weekends working on a sketch of people sunbathing on the lawn in front of the tower. But it seemed you left all your talent in Hawkins. You’d spent so long drawing familiar faces back home, now that you were away from your nest, you found yourself without the skill to capture the faces around you. It occurred to you that you knew the faces of Hawkins far too well. They were engrained in your mind, your hand working like a stamp to put them on the page. France was full of strangers. You didn’t know how to understand them like you understood Hawkins. France wasn’t home. You couldn’t work out in a world of strangers.
You couldn’t work in the salon either. It was too much. Everyone was constantly showboating and trying out-do one another. You couldn’t work with people spying over your shoulder. You felt judged and insecure about what you could do. You didn’t want to be watched as you tried to make art. It didn’t help that you had no idea what to make. The closest thing you’d gotten done is that sketch of the Eifel Tower and that wasn’t something you couldn’t buy on the streets around the monument. You’d tried all the things that you couldn’t in your bedroom-paint splatter art, pottery, carving, paint pulling, mosaics. You never finished anything. The drive to push through wasn’t there.
When the loneliness and fear became too much to bear, you held Steve’s sweatshirt and cried. It still smelt like him; Irish Springs soap and Fabregè Organics shampoo and hairspray and a bit like sweat. It was nice though. You missed him. You tried to write him letters, but you knew that they wouldn’t get home before you did. You’d made up your mind that whatever the answer was, you were going home. Whether that meant deferring a semester or missing the first week of school you would go back to Hawkins. Still, you’d written over a dozen letters, all crumpled in your waste bin.
You waited until the last minute to finish something for submission. You’d tried to sketch your mother, to find who you knew in the fancy woman in front of you. With her bleached blowout and designer clothes, thirty pounds lighter and yellow gold jewellery glinting in the midday sun. She looked like the epitome of elegance, straight out of a magazine. The woman you remembered had greying roots and love handles, her only jewellery the wedding rings your father had given her. Europe had changed her into someone who you didn’t know and who didn’t seem to want to introduce herself to you. Nothing you drew seemed to capture the middle between who she was and who she is now. You realized in her profile that you weren’t a part of her life anymore, that she didn’t want you there. You were as strange to her as she was to you. You passed each other like ghosts in the hall, almost recognizable but hauntingly foreign.
The day before your final piece for submission was due; you got a letter from Steve. It only had one sentence.
“I should have asked you to stay.”
It was all you needed to hear to be inspired. You made your final project a tribute to him, mixing memories with unfinished letters building into his face. You used plain black ink to sketch his profile on the surface of the mess, building him into your loneliness. You only had your memory to recreate his face and your own letters to fill the canvas. Still, it was the only thing you’d done the whole time you were in the country that you were actually proud of. You didn’t finish it until the sun rose and you handed it off to be judged without a second thought, bleary eyed and exhausted.
You were on a plane home by the wee hours of July 4th.
Hawkins was a depressing place. After graduation, Steve found himself listless and at the hands of his father. He was a failure, a disgrace of a son. He was unready to start into the family business. His grades were pathetic. He had to get a job. Of course, with no job experience and late to the game, no decent place wanted him. The new mall only offered him one place of employment, Scoops Ahoy. And the uniform was embarrassing. Stupid sailor shirts and matching shorts, fucking knee socks and a corny paper hat. He looked like a certified geek. And his co-worker was a freak. Robin fucking Buckley did nothing but bug him all shift. It didn’t help that he had no friends without you, even Dustin had left for some nerdy science camp after the school year ended.
He was alone and lonely.
He tried to write you a half dozen times. But nothing seemed to make sense, nothing was worth telling you. What was he supposed to tell you? That he had become an even bigger loser overnight? He felt so utterly pathetic. He just wanted things to go back to the way things were. But what did that even looked like anymore? It wasn’t a life with Nancy, she’d dumped his ass, and it wasn’t a life with you, you’d left him for a different continent. He didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. So he did what any lonely, practically friendless teenager did-he worked his ass off. Eight hours every day in the mall with smart ass Robin Buckley, waiting for the ground to suck him up. And sure, he tried to hit on the girls his age that came around. It was a good distraction from his broken heart. He’d made up his mind that he was ready to move on and try to date again. That he needed a girlfriend. That he needed to be cool again.
And then, Dustin came back and Hawkins started acting up again. He thought it was over. Those damn dogs were gone, the thing was closed, the kid was safe and acting like a kid. Everything had gone back to as close to normal as he’d seen it in awhile. But Dustin just had to find a secret code and Buckley just had to decode it and Lucas’s bitchy little sister just had to be small enough to fit into the vents and find a secret Russian elevator. And they just had to get stuck in it.
He couldn’t keep that damn kid from seeking out trouble. And yeah, it was kind of fun in a scared shitless kind of way, but it wasn’t worth getting drugged and beaten up and nearly dying for. And it certainly wasn’t worth getting tricked into thinking that he had feelings for fucking Robin. He could murder that kid for getting it in his head that he liked that girl. Robin was cool; he wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a decent friend to have at the end of the world. But he didn’t need the embarrassment of trying to ask out a lesbian. At least the reason for her rejecting him wasn’t that he was unattractive or lame, just that she didn’t dig dudes. He was cool with that. And at least he got to punch out a communist. If he could tell his father that without going to prison or being murdered by a Russian goon, he’d be proud. Fuck that, he was proud. He won a fight! He beat up a Russian spy! More than one, he beat some up while drugged out; at least he thought he did. He couldn’t remember much, other than watching Back to the Future with Robin. That movie was too confusing. And then he stole a car, he saved Nancy’s life, he set up that weird tower thing for Dustin-there was too much going on to even recognize how crazy he sounded. How crazy all of this sounded.
And then, the mall was on fire.
Your flight landed on the fourth of July at about ten fifteen in the evening. It took about forty-five minutes to get from the Indianapolis International Airport back to Hawkins. You were buzzing. Seven words had given you all the hope you needed to push you back to the states. Every fibre of your being was alive with energy, with excitement. You couldn’t wait for your grandfather to park the car, you jumped out as soon as you were settled in the driveway.
“Don’t you want to go upstairs and unpack?” your grandmother called after you as you booked it down the driveway.
You turned back “No, I’ll be back later!” you called. Steve’s car wasn’t in the driveway but you figured if anyone was home they’d know where he was. You bounded up the stairs, ringing the doorbell twice.
Mrs. Harrington came to the door in her bathrobe. “Oh, hello there…” she trailed off, obviously unable to remember your name.
“Y/N, hi it’s nice to see you, do you know where Steve is?” you asked, bouncing from your heels to your toes.
Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes “He’s at his job I assume. At the mall.” She said slowly.
“What mall?” you demanded. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes blew wide open and you realized that you were probably coming off like an insane person. “Sorry, I’ve been out of the country for about a month.”
“It’s where the Hawkins Laboratories were, off East Wood Road.” She pointed out the door towards the roads. You knew instantly that the fastest way to get there was through the woods. You ran through the backyards of your neighbours and into the woods. You didn’t like the Hawkins forests. They were dark and dim and poorly maintained. The county hadn’t been out to cut down potentially problematic trees on the few hiking paths in the woods. Burs caught your socks and twigs scratched your legs as you hopped logs to try to get there faster. They’d carved a road through the woods, you’d found it halfway to the mall, deserted and blocked off. You could see the bright orange flames from a mile away.
Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Steve was in there. You could cry.
Instead, you hopped the blockade, running down the road despite the calls of passing fire trucks and police. You didn’t care if they tried to arrest you, although you doubted that they could. It would be a waste of time to bother with you during an emergency.
The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. Massive streams of water were attacking the building. Luckily, it seemed the mall was closed, judging by the few people who were milling around not in uniforms. You sprinted into the crowd, looking around frantically.
Steve had been ushered into the back of an ambulance and draped in a bright orange emergency blanket. It wasn’t that cold but he felt as though he was freezing. The EMTs had checked his vitals and disinfected the wounds on his face and knees. As for the remaining drugs in his system, he chose not to mention them. He knew that the high would wear off eventually. Robin was sat next to him, equally bandaged up and silent, save an uncontrollable shiver. Wordlessly, Steve took the blanket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. He wasn’t that cold. Moreover, he just felt numb. He’d had this happen so many times; his face beat in, an otherworldly thing trying to destroy his life and hurt his family, a major building destroyed-it all felt familiar. It made him sick to his stomach to know that it was familiar. If he had anything left in his stomach he would’ve thrown up.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something running towards him. At first, he tensed. He didn’t know what it was and it could probably kill him. His heart stopped and then raced wildly. He held out an arm to protect Robin and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Steve!” you cried. He was in an ambulance. He was hurt. He was alive. You felt as if you could cry. In the span of fifteen minutes he’d gone from working to escaping a fiery building to missing in a fire to simply hurt. And hurt was just fine, you could handle hurt.
“Oh my god Steve, are you okay? Are you alright? I love you so much…”You grabbed his face, examining the bruises. You pulled him tightly to your chest, trying not to cry or freak out. You knew it wouldn’t help.
“I love you too…” he breathed into your ear, pulling you close to him. He recognized you by the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arms around him. He could cry. He didn’t believe you were real. But when you pulled away and his hand came to your face. You were real. And you were here. And he was safe. He was safe and alive. Feelings of relief rushed through his body. He wanted to cry, but the shock was too overwhelming for a tear to even drop.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarser than he’d ever felt it. “I thought you were still in Paris.”
“I came home early,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw bone. “I didn’t get in.” That was the nicer version, the judges laughed at your final piece, they called it pedestrian. You should’ve been more upset, your mother was furious, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were free to go home. You could’ve thanked them for rejecting you.
Steve pulled away, looking you squarely in the eye. He wouldn’t have you give up on school to hang out with him in bum fuck Indiana. But you were telling the truth, it was written plainly all over your face. “Those bastards…” Steve murmured. You laughed, your eyes watery and throat thick. You were overwhelmed. You expected to come home and just see him in his element. You expected him to not necessarily want to see you. You didn’t expect a fire or Steve being injured or Steve to even be there at all. You pulled Steve back into your arms, you didn’t want to let go.
“I missed you so much…” you whispered. Steve’s arms came around your hips, pulling you in between his legs. He needed you here, to keep you in place for awhile.
“I missed you too…” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Did you get my letter?”
You looked up “Yeah I did…” you said “I wish I had written you, I tried so many times but I couldn’t find the words and-” Steve kissed you hard, stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t care if you didn’t write him back; this was the best thing he could’ve gotten from you. A letter wouldn’t do it justice.
You were lit up by his kiss. This is what you needed. No words could do the feelings he expressed in his kiss justice. You felt alive. You felt at home. Steve tried to pull away, but you pulled him back by his shirt, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. You couldn’t be sure anymore.
A loud clearing of one’s throat interrupted you and you pulled away to see Robin waving awkwardly. “Oh hey Buckley…” you muttered awkwardly. “How’s Samantha?”
“No clue, she never called me back.” The younger girl shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the ambulance deck. “I’ll catch ya later, Harrington.”
You turned your attention back to Steve, looking down at the material still in your fists. He looked ridiculous. “What the fuck are you wearing?” you asked with a laugh. Steve’s hands settled on your lower back, holding you in between his knees as if you’d run off if he didn’t.
“Oh this? This has been my whole summer.” He groaned “I’ve been captaining a boat on an ocean of flavours.” You couldn’t help but cackle, you had no idea what he was talking about but he seemed so serious.
“And by that you mean?” you lifted the fake red neckerchief attached to his shirt, running the material between your thumb and forefinger.
“Ice cream store in the mall,” he pointed to the embroidered Scoops Ahoy logo on his breast.
“You’re kidding…” you shook your head as if to shake the idea out of your mind. Steve’s fingers trailed the raggedy edge of your sweatshirt. Well, his sweatshirt, his last name and basketball jersey number were embossed on the back; he could feel the textured design on your lower back.
“I like my sweater,” he chuckled, reaching up to adjust the length of the drawstrings on the hood. You looked away, a bit embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to keep it I just…missed you,” You replied “You can have it back.”
“Nah, it suits you,” he smirked “Besides, I want my girl in my stuff, it’s cute.”
“Your girl?” you grinned giddily, elbowing him in the ribs. “Since when am I your girl?” You liked the idea of being Steve’s girl. It had a nice ring to it.
Steve smirked, squeezing your hips in his hands. “Oh come on baby, you’ve been my girl for awhile…”
“Oh really? Well, I wouldn’t know since you’ve never asked me…”
You heard a loud yell and turned to see a set of paramedics carrying a stretcher towards you and Steve. They were sprinting and bringing a badly burnt and unconscious Billy Hargrove towards the ambulance you sat on. You quickly moved out of the way. Steve grabbed your hand, allowing you to tug him from the ambulance’s deck.
You only got a brief look at the teenager, but it made your stomach churn violently. You felt ill. You felt Steve squeeze your hand. You turned to look at him and saw how hollow his eyes were. You wrapped your arm around his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn. You were exhausted from your flight and your run here and the trauma that had smacked you across the face.
Steve noticed anyway “Did you just get here?” he asked, lifting your chin.
“My flight landed at ten, I came to see you as soon as I could.”
“You should’ve gone home to rest, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” You looked absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.
“I missed you too much to not see you. And what if you had gotten hurt, if you hadn’t made it out then I would’ve never forgiven myself…”
Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, shielding you from the scene, as more mangled people were brought out. The beast must’ve fallen apart once the brain was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to leave, but he knew that the FBI would be called and he’d have to talk to them again. He wanted you to go home, but that didn’t seem like an option now. Selfishly, he liked having you there, it was comforting to have you in his arms, squeezing him under his ribs and keeping him calm.
“I’m not gonna get hurt, I’m okay…we’re okay…” You nodded roughly against his chest. You felt as if you were burning up and freezing at the same time. You saw blinks of red flashing lights and sirens as one of the ambulances sped past. You were so thankful that he wasn’t on that ambulance.
“Yeah, I know, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight ever again.” Steve lifted up your chin, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? Last time I did you nearly died and for what? A shit job in the mall?”
“Well, not just for a job, I was helping Robin and a couple kids who were with us,” That wasn’t the whole story. Steve knew he’d have to tell you eventually about everything, but for now he was more than comfortable ignoring the looming problem beneath their feet.
“What a hero…” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Something had been bothering Steve for awhile now and he determined now was the best time to tackle the subject. He turned away from you, folding his hands in his lap.
“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?” he asked quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that you meant it. Or if he had even heard you correctly. After Nancy, he wasn’t sure if anyone actually loved him back. He’d given so much of his heart away only to have it tossed to the floor and tread upon like it was nothing more than a cigarette butt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust that you meant it.
You let out a small sigh through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. You were a bit embarrassed. You were half hoping that he would forget about it. Your response brought all of Steve’s hopes crashing down. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you admitted, rubbing your arms, having suddenly gone cold. “I will admit, I hadn’t planned on saying that this early, feels a bit middle school to say that you love someone before they’re even your boyfriend.”
Steve turned to look at you once again, a bit surprised. Your face had gone red, adorably red, but still very red and your gaze had turned down to the asphalt at your feet. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Good,” he said with a smile. You turned up to look at him; brow furrowed “I thought I had like imagined it.”
“Oh…no you’re good.” You said slowly. He looked like a little puppy dog, his whole face was radiating sunshine; it was almost hard to look at. It was harder to not match his energy, to get drunk off it. Then again, no one was stopping you from just enjoying the moment. You let out a small breath, not so much heavy with sadness or regret, but simply exhaustion. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly despite the scene in front of you. If it weren’t for the smouldering building and the emergency vehicles surrounding the pair of you, it would almost be romantic. The fact that you were even trying to find romance in the scene felt a bit silly, but maybe that was what this was supposed to feel like. Finding love in a burning building was a bit dramatic, it certainly not what you’d expected for your life, but you determined that no matter what you’d keep Steve safe. You had no idea what was going on at this scene, you had no idea what happened. But no matter how scared you were, you knew that Steve must’ve been even more scared. You knew that you couldn’t protect him, the same way that he couldn’t protect you, but maybe together you could keep each other safe for awhile.
“I love you too, you know,” Steve said quietly, his gaze trailed on the smoke of grey smoke coming up off the extinguished fire. The front of the mall had crumbled and the giant neon ‘Star-Court Mall’ sign shattered on the pavement. You hadn’t seen the mall before the fire, you didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but a cavernous jagged mouth probably wasn’t the design goal. Still, you turned your attention to the side of Steve’s face. He couldn’t face you, the tips of his ears bright red underneath his flat, sweaty hair.
You swallowed hard “I know,” you say softly. Steve turned to look at you, examining your face with a nervous expression. You smiled and nodded reassuringly “I know.” Steve smiled and laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand tightly in his and you squeezed his back, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours the only feeling left in your body beyond the giddy buzz. You didn’t know how any of this worked, you didn’t know if you were doing this right, if there was a right way to do it. The buzz under your skin was two parts anxiety and one part excitement. But you didn’t pull away. You were glued to his side.
“You know, I think that was one of the first normal conversations we’ve ever had,” Steve mused.
You scoffed loudly rolling your eyes “That was not normal.
Steve shook his head with a small laugh “Yeah, I know…”
#stranger things#stranger things 2#stranger things 3#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve x you#steve x reader#steve x y/n#steve x reader insert#steve harrington x reader insert#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington au#steve harrington aus#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington hc#steve harrington hcs
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jjk | stardust
we’re all made of stardust, looking to find each other again; one time for the present, two times for the past —soulmate au
12,356 words
Jeongguk doesn't really know why he's here. Well, he knows why. Taehyung's his friend after all. Jeongguk would do anything for him: walk through fire or start a fight. Unfortunately, that also means going to his parties. Not that he doesn't like parties! He just... he also likes video games and beer in his apartment and getting enough sleep for practice the next day.
God, Jeongguk likes sleeping.
Any other night Jeongguk might be three drinks in by now and chugging a fourth, but tonight he's exhausted and he wants to play Overwatch. Any other night he could push the extroverted part of himself to the surface and force himself to have a good time until he actually does. But tonight…
Even the buzz from his beer doesn't lift his spirits.
Tired of watching the stillness of his beer in its red cup, he pulls his attention back to the party. Everyone's crammed into Jimin's and Taehyung's shared apartment. There are various snack foods laid out on the coffee table and in the kitchen. Bottles of hard liquor mingle with dozens of six-packs of beer. There's trash... everywhere.
Jeongguk glances at the watch on his wrist. 12:02 AM.
His eyes do a quick scan, like always, for his friends (it makes him feel better to keep track). Jimin is plastered and fully committed to a game of drunk Jenga with a couple girls from the Poli Sci department and an equally plastered Seokjin. Hobi is teaching a girl from their dance class how to do an advanced hip hop move despite the rather slow Sam Smith song playing over the speakers. Taehyung is talking enthusiastically by the kitchen bar with Namjoon and a few guys Jeongguk doesn't know. It takes him a second to find Yoongi but he eventually spots him in a secluded corner, smirking with some girl from the Music department.
Jeongguk feels lonely. Just for a moment, leaning against the wall with his half-empty cup of beer, observing the party instead of participating in it, he feels lonely. He and the others have been close for so long, have been like brothers for so long... when he realizes that things won't always be this way and they each have their own lives to live... loneliness hits him like a gunshot.
He downs the rest of his beer in one drink, chucking the empty cup in a nearby trash can perfectly without paying attention. He waves absently to Taehyung and the others on his way out, slipping into his jacket and opening the door.
That's where he finds you, bathed in fluorescent light and clutching a bottle of red wine that has a bow wrapped around it. You look so startled to see him there, to see anyone there, that Jeongguk almost thinks you might start crying. Your face is drained of color and the bottle of wine starts to slip from your hands.
Jeongguk's eyes move quickly over you, catching sight of the falling bottle and moving on instinct. He swipes the bottle before it hits the floor, placing one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady.
"Close one," he says, handing it back to you. He doesn't realize that he's too close until you flinch at the feeling of his breath on your cheek. He pulls away too fast, his nose filling with the smell of peonies and lavender fabric softener. Desperation tugs at something in his chest and he watches you with wide eyes, like seeing the sunset for the first time.
He shakes off the feeling and steps aside, holding the door open so that you can see inside the apartment to the party. "Going in?"
You take a step back, hugging the wine even more tightly now. There's conflict in your eyes and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to give you a once over: soft floral sundress, wrinkle-free beige cardigan, soft pink headband pushing back your hair, neat ballet flats. All this and a bottle of wine that... that almost looks like a gift.
You do seem familiar. The polite neatness off your clothes, the apprehension, the hopeless deer-in-the-headlights expression. But Jeongguk finds it hard to believe he knows you from an association with... Taehyung? He just can't picture the two of you even existing in the same space, let alone partying together?
"N-No."
"Oh...kay." Jeongguk releases the door and lets it fall shut behind him. "Uh," he sidesteps you, "bye."
You watch him descend the staircase with a knot in your stomach, following only after you've given him enough time to have left the building. You sigh and hang your head as you descend.
I froze up, you think. It makes you want to cry. Your knuckles turn white gripping the bottle. You feel a panic attack in your throat, the urge to hit your head against the wall making your heart race. You're just so... frustrated with yourself. Why can't I just be normal! Why doesn't my brain work like everyone else's? Why am I so... defective? You think you'll probably end up drinking this whole bottle tonight.
And you got so dressed up, too. This is your favorite dress. On good days it makes you feel confident, like you can talk to anyone or do anything. On bad days, it makes you feel safe, just that much less anxious.
You pause once you're outside. The night air is crisp and it helps clear your head. You sigh into the empty air and let disappointment sneak into the crevices off your mind. At least I can see the stars tonight, you think, craning your neck back to count the golden specks dotted into the inky blue night sky.
You startle when your mind floats back down to earth and the present moment to find him there on the sidewalk near you. He's leaning against a street sign with his phone in his pocket, watching you.
Oh crap. I must look like a crazy person.
Jeongguk doesn't think you're crazy. In fact, you remind him of Namjoon. You have the same kind of absentmindedness. Although, admittedly, Namjoon hides his insecurities better; you're wearing yours on your sleeve.
He's also thinking that you're stunning. The dress and the cardigan and the ribbon-wrapped bottle of wine didn't match the energy upstairs, but it's perfect here. Cool evening, yellow streetlight, and a girl. It's cinematic.
Your eye contact is only broken when a car pulls up to the curb, "Jeongguk?" Someone barks from inside.
"Yeah," he says softly. He blinks, hoping the spell will be broken. But whatever kind of magic that existed before still exists when he opens his eyes. You're still watching him, frozen on the sidewalk. He climbs into the car feeling that same eerie kind of magic snaking around his heart.
That night you dream of him. The way he looked at you on the street. The dewy softness of his skin in the yellow light. The feeling between you both.
You wake up in a sweat, your body remembering something your mind can't fathom. Ghost fingers caress your skin and make your blood burn. You stumble to the kitchen for water, trying to rid your mind of his face. It's 3 AM and you lie awake trying to forget him.
It's 3 AM and Jeongguk needs to sleep. He has practice in the morning, class after that. He was going to do laundry, catch up on some homework. He was going to relax for the first time in a few days, no parties, no plans. Just himself, some video games, and some soju.
Instead, he has long since kicked off all his sheets, skin heated from thoughts of you. The image of you on the sidewalk conjures so many other pictures. But they don't feel like fantasies, they feel like memories. Images of lives forgotten. It's making his blood warm and his body overheat. He burns through his buzz and tries to think of anything else.
The next morning, when Jeongguk's alarm goes off at 7 AM, he feels dead inside but also a little high. It feels like the one time Taehyung convinced him to do ecstasy ("It's a college experience!") and his heart felt like it was going to explode. But that feeling eventually wore off. It's been hours and he feels both hungover and like he could run a marathon. It's fucking wild.
He rolls out of bed, landing on his feet with a thump. His head feels like a 20-pound weight on his neck and it hurts when he blinks. What the hell, he thinks, did someone spike my fucking drink last night?
Jeongguk meanders to his bathroom, wincing at his own reflection in the mirror. He closes his eyes and tries to inhale as much oxygen as possible. If he stays perfectly still, nothing hurts. He hears his phone ding from the other room and he knows it's Jimin complaining. With a sigh and another stabbing pain in his head, he reaches blindly for his toothbrush and toothpaste.
He spits into the sink and looks up at his reflection again. He should probably shave. He should probably shower, truth be told. But he'll work up a sweat at practice so he might as well wait till later. Besides if he even tried to do anything more complicated than get dressed his body might fall apart. He already feels like 110 degrees just standing.
He swipes his phone from the nightstand on his way back into the room.
Jimin: who the fuck talked me into this
Jimin: 8 am dance practice
Jimin: are they fucking crazy
Jeongguk chuckles.
JK: So you're pretty hungover
Jimin: shut up
Jeongguk laughs again and launches the phone toward the bed. He steps out of the shirt and boxers he wore to sleep, relief flowing through him at the cool air on his skin. Maybe I'm getting sick, he thinks.
He pulls a pair of sweats and an oversized tee from his closet, slipping into them before stuffing a pair of jeans and a second shirt into his duffle for practice. He checks there's a full stick of deodorant and the travel-sized soaps Jin got for him forever ago.
He swings the bag over his torso, pausing in front of his bedroom window. He loves the view from here. It's nothing special. His apartment is on the 10th floor, just high enough to clear most of the buildings on this side of town. He can see a mountain range in the distance and the sky. He's spent all semester trying to capture it in his art class, but none of his renderings do it justice.
Then, as he's about to turn and leave, the sun breaks over the horizon and he's struck. His whole body flushed warm and soft pink, an image fogging his mind.
A similar sunrise. A girl wrapped in a sheet wrapped in his arms. The smell of peonies and citrus. A rose gold tint on his skin.
When his mind clears, he's still standing by the window, drenched in sweat. He's breathing heavily but his headache is gone and his fever has broken.
You're already awake when your alarm goes off. You're sitting at your desk with a fan on high pointed at you. It could be 102 degrees outside for how hot you feel. You slept on and off for a few hours, but every time you drifted off your dreams…
You try to clear your head, but his face pervades your thoughts. The dreams were inconsistent and fleeting; there were different scenarios, time periods, and people. But the one constant was him. The stranger you'd met briefly last night.
You run a hand through your hair and shut off your alarm, glancing at your notifications and seeing a text.
Taehyung: you didn't come to my party!! :(
Guilt wells within you and you twist your mouth trying to think of the best response.
You: Sorry! Last minute study group!!
You flip your phone upside down then so that you don't have to look at it. You don't have class for another few hours, but you're so warm that you can't think of anything but a cold shower.
You just stand to go into the bathroom when your phone dings again. Twice in a row.
Taehyung: fiiiine next time then!
Joy: coffee before class?? around 9?
You text back quick affirmative responses and head into the shower.
Jeongguk pulls up to the apartment building in his purple, beaten up Toyota Corolla and honks his horn. It takes three full minutes for Jimin to come stumbling out. He looks almost as bad as Jeongguk this morning, sleep-deprived and hungover but with large purple hickies littered over his neck.
Jeongguk is nearly glaring at them by the time he climbs into the car.
"What?" Jimin says, stuffing his duffle bag between his legs.
"Subtle," Jeongguk grumbles, shifting gears and pulling out of the parking spot.
"Taehyung's a biter," Jimin says lightly. He reaches forward to swipe Jeongguk's phone from the dash and change the music, and Jeongguk catches sight of the Chinese character imprinted on his wrist. Friends.
Jeongguk sighs, squinting out at the road, a pang of loneliness wrinkling his brow.
You're already sitting with a cup of hot apple cider and a book when Joy walks in. She dives through the mid-morning crowd bumblingly, accidentally hitting people and stopping to apologize several times. When she finally slides into the seat opposite you, she's out of breath.
You slide the hot chocolate and ice water you'd ordered for her across the counter. She pauses, somewhat surprised at your thoughtfulness, before smiling and thanking you.
"Sure," you grin and check your phone. Thirty minutes.
"You okay?" Joy wonders, wincing when she sips her hot chocolate and it's too hot.
You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair. "I think I might be getting sick," you say, tucking your book into your bag and sipping your cider again.
"Oh no," Joy pouts, "Are you sure you wanna go to class? Cuz we can totally skip!"
You narrow your eyes at her playfully, "Why would you skip?"
She chokes on her drink slightly and sputters, "Uh, solidarity."
"Of course," you giggle.
Dance practice was...fine. But Jeongguk realizes too late that he's irritable and that dancing isn't helping. Usually dancing always helps; he has to focus so intently on his body and it's movement that everything else escapes his attention. But today he doesn't even know why he's upset so nothing helps.
But he thinks maybe it's because of soulmates. Jimin and Hobi are both in this class, both with soulmates, and they aren't even talking about them but Jeongguk feels like he would rather bang his head against the wall than be near them.
And that's frustrating because he loves them, they're two of his best friends.
He does a series of pop and lock movements that the teacher demonstrated earlier with so much aggression that it's almost like krumping. He doesn't get why he's this angry. The soulmate thing...it's never bothered him this much. He has long since accepted that it's not in the cards for him. And even at his worst moments, he feels more sad than angry…
He leaves class with a half-hearted wave to Jimin and Hoseok before disappearing into the showers. He feels so flushed it's almost like he's going to pass out so he cranks the knob to cold water and lets it run over his hair and back, sighing at the relief as his body temperature goes back to normal.
Suddenly a spasm runs through his body, electrocuting him and sending his mind spiraling. He braces himself against the wall of the shower, the water cascading down his back.
Everything is misty and foggy and the grass beneath his feet is damp and soft. There's a person a few feet ahead of him, staring at the large expanse of the forest beneath the hill. The sun breaks over the horizon and the person turns to him—
"Hey, Kook, you good?" someone says from behind him, a towel hitting him square in the back the head.
No, he thinks, definitely not good. His whole body feels weak and exasperated, his mind hazy with confusion and memories he doesn't recognize. He knows the person he just saw but he can't place it. The memory feels familiar and yet separate from him somehow. His chest tightens uncomfortably.
"Yeah, fine," he mumbles, reaching for his shampoo.
You and Joy split after your first class. She has an art seminar on the other side of campus and you're free for another few hours. You wave her off and turn in the direction of the quad; the weather is nice and you want to spread out on the grass with your assigned novel for Lit.
But somehow, you find yourself in front of the music hall. It's almost like waking up after a blackout, you have no idea how you got here. You've only ever walked by the building, it's by your favorite coffee cart and across the street from the building where you take poli sci, but you've never been inside.
And now you're standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the funky Art Deco designs of the courtyard, with an insistent need to go in. It's like there's a cord anchored in your chest gently tugging you in this direction.
Your brows are furrowed in thought when you see him. His hair is damp and his expression is serious; he's wearing a giant white t-shirt and hip-hugging jeans, and your brain immediately conjures very sexual images in your head. Dirty, dirty thoughts that make you blush and turn away from him.
Jeongguk spots you, too, and it stops him in his tracks. Your back is to him and he can't place where he's seen you before, or even conjure specifically your face in his mind, but your posture strikes him immediately as being the same as from that memory.
His heart hammers against his rib cage and he's sweating, his mouth opens as if to call out to you, but it gets stuck in his throat. What would he say?
"Hey, want to walk together?" Hobi approaches him from behind, clasping a hand around his neck and squeezing comfortingly.
"Uh, yeah," he says, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. When he looks back up you're gone.
Am I fucking hallucinating?
Hoseok is watching him with a concerned look and Jeongguk forces a smile. Best not to say anything, he thinks, it's probably just a bad day.
You're not sure why, but you're hiding. You ducked behind a tree, your heart racing. Your palms and forehead are sweaty, and you lose your breath when you realize why. The dreams.
You peek out from behind the tree to see him walking away with another guy, down toward the science library. You breathe a sigh of relief and step out. What the fuck? you think.
Jeongguk can't focus on his Weather Studies class, although that's not unusual, he spends the entire time sketching out the scene from this morning on the edge of his notebook. Taehyung yawns and leans against his shoulder heavily, peeking at the sketch and saying, "New idea for your art project?"
Jeongguk shakes his head sharply but otherwise doesn't respond. His pencil scratches on the paper rapidly, making quick decisive movements that surprise even himself. His usual approach to art is planned and a bit apprehensive, but he never dives in like this without at least thinking about where to go next.
Now, though, he just has that memory? Flashback? Whatever it is imprinted beneath his eyelids and he can't think of anything to do with it except get it onto paper.
Taehyung watches Jeongguk's profile for a moment in concern. He's acting colder than usual and he's never seen the maknae sketch with such intensity.
Taehyung straightens and tries to shrug it off. It's probably just a bad day. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his lastest messages from Jimin.
Chim: kookie was acting weird at practice
Tae: weird how???
Chim: 🤷🏼♀️
Chim: upset about something maybe? Idk
Taehyung glances back over at Jeongguk, a crease forming in his brow as he watches anxiously. Without looking up from his page, Jeongguk says: "Stop it, hyung."
Tae nearly jumps out of his seat, but otherwise turns away, frowning.
Jeongguk keeps sketching and he feels bad. His voice was colder than he'd intended and harsher. He knows Tae is sensitive to those kinds of mood shifts and he wants to reach over and apologize, offer to buy lunch to make up for it, but he's still irritable. He tells himself he'll make it up to him later.
"Bye," Jeongguk says at the end of class without waiting for Taehyung. The elder watches him go with a frown. He clicks to call Jimin before he's even left the classroom, sniffling.
You end up in your building for poli sci instead of the quad, sitting in the hallway outside the classroom to wait another hour and a half. You're sipping on the sugary iced coffee you bought downstairs, earbuds in, eyes closed, listening to music.
His face swims before your eyes. He's so handsome that it makes your heart physically hurt. He's smiling with his nose scrunched, leaning in so that your foreheads touch. His lips are moving but you don't know what he's saying. A warm feeling crowds your chest and heats your skin.
You blink awake to find forty-five minutes have passed. Your coffee is sitting by your side, condensation pooling on the tile. You press the back of your hand to your cheek and find that you're flushed, beads of sweat on your forehead. You feel woozy like you might pass out.
Someone says your name and you blink up at them, your mind refusing to focus. The person kneels down in front of you, "Hey, are you okay?"
You blink again, "Taehyung?" His boxy smile comes into focus and you squeeze your eyes shut hard before opening them again.
Taehyung tilts his head to the side and says, "Taking a power nap?"
"Um, I guess," you whisper, taking his hand as he helps you stand. You lean against him heavily as you start to fall forward once you're on your feet.
"Woah," he says, "Alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm...fine." You shake your head, willing the room to stop spinning and your skin to cool down. Everything begins to straighten out and you say, "Woah, that was weird." You pull away from him and fan your face with your hand.
"I didn't know you had a class in this building," you say.
"Yeah," he rolls his eyes, "there's this logic course I take instead of math." He sticks his tongue out, "Hate it. Logic is for pussies." As he runs a hand through his hair, you spot the Chinese symbol on his wrist, friendship. His soulmate mark.
You force a smile and avert your eyes, glancing over to see your classmates filing into the room. "Oh, I should go."
"Okay, feel better." Taehyung's mouth twists into another frown as he watches you disappear into the classroom. Everyone's weird today, he thinks.
Jeongguk blows off the rest of his classes to run laps. He obviously can't be trusted to be around other people. The look on Tae's face as he ran out of class haunts him; it pushes him to run harder, faster, until his lungs, legs, and heart hurt.
Nothing's helping. He's still so irritable. Like there's something beneath his skin. He skids to a stop when he feels a swell of nausea in his stomach, his skin flushing from something other than running. He stumbles and barely catches himself, sinking to his knees as a memory comes to him unbidden.
"Wooo!"
He looks over. A beautiful girl in the stands with a handmade banner. There's a name on it that is unfamiliar but that is his. Someone bumps into him and he's...playing soccer. He kicks the ball and it goes flying into the net, cheers erupt around him.
His teammates slap him on the back and the girl barrels toward him, arms looping around his neck and squeezing.
Jeongguk blinks and the memory's gone. "You," he whispers, finally placing your face. "From the party." He falls on his back on the track, staring at the sky, unable to shake your image from his mind. "Who are you?"
Days pass like this. Days of endless wandering and a heat so extreme that Jeongguk peels off layer after layer of his clothing until he's laying in bed with nothing but his boxers on. Days of memories and flashbacks so intense it's like a bad trip. Or a good trip? The memories make him feel warm and fluttery, but when they're gone he's left in a cold sweat with a feeling of longing so painful it's like being shot.
You spend the next week and a half similarly. Lounging around in just your underwear and a camisole, fanning yourself with whatever you can find. You can't sleep. Your dreams are so lifelike and you wake up drenched in sweat. And it hurts. The waking up is a nightmare because it leaves you feeling so lonely and lost. You sit up in bed and wonder why you're alone. Something is missing and you don't dare admit to yourself that it might be the person that stars in your dreams, the tall, handsome man who takes you in his arms…
Sometimes you wake up crying. Sometimes you cry as soon as you wake up. Sometimes you stare at the ceiling and wonder if morphine would even be powerful enough to dull the pain.
Jeongguk gets fed up on day nine post-party, and calls Taehyung. It's 2 AM.
"Hello?" Taehyung answers, his voice thick with sleep. Jeongguk can hear Jimin mumbling curse words in the background. "Kookie?"
"Who is she, Tae?" Jeongguk growls, surprising himself.
"What?" He says, confused.
Jeongguk scrunches his face up in frustration, trying to calm down enough to have an actual conversation with an actual person. He breathes deeply.
"There was a girl," Jeongguk says and his voice is like a string pulled taut, all tension, "She came to your party, but she didn't come inside. She was wearing a dress."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"The girl, Tae!" Jeongguk snaps, lashing out and kicking the small trash can by his desk so that it goes flying into the wall. "The beautiful girl in the sundress with the bottle of wine! She obviously knew you, but she didn't go inside. Who is she?"
On the other end of the line, Taehyung is staring at Jimin with fear in his eyes. Jimin swipes the phone from his other half and growls into the speaker, "What the hell, Jeongguk? You can't just call us in the middle of the night and demand answers to vague-ass fucking questions! You need to calm down."
Jeongguk has the urge to throw his phone against the wall. He wants to trash his apartment. He wants to go out and start a fight. "Whatever," he growls into his phone, the line going dead.
You don't leave your house for days. Three to be precise. On day four you realize you're running out of food. Two more protein bars, a handful of potato chips, a questionable apple.
You pick the protein bar and lay back down in bed. You're torn between wanting to sleep and staying awake. Exhaustion coats your skin beneath the heat, you feel it in your limbs and your eyelids. You're so tired. And you want to see him. That beautiful slim face, those bright wide eyes. You want to feel his hands against your skin and in your hair, his lips dragging across your shoulders and neck, his voice floating in the air like music.
It's like a drug. But when the high's gone, you're left with a terrible feeling. An emptiness. Loneliness. You chew slowly at your granola bar, fighting to stay awake and losing.
When you come-to, Joy is in your apartment. She has her hands wrapped around your upper arms and is shaking you awake. When you blink your eyes open she nearly collapses on the floor, "Oh, thank god."
"What is it?" You say and your voice is dry and quiet. It hurts to speak.
"I've been texting and calling," she says, watching you with a frazzled expression, "I haven't heard from you in three days!" She leans forward and cups your cheek in her hand, "Are you okay?" Her voice is gentle now.
You look over and into the mirror, surprised to find red streaks on your cheeks. From crying. You haven't really looked at yourself in three days and it's shocking how different you look. You haven't showered; your hair is dirty and piled on your head, skin oily and blotchy from crying. But it's the sadness, so plainly evident in your face, that makes the tears come again.
"I need you to take me to the doctor," you whisper.
On day thirteen since Taehyung's party, Seokjin organizes a get together with just the seven of them with the full intention of having a conversation with Jeongguk about his behavior. Something is obviously wrong and he must talk to them about it.
Jeongguk goes. Even though he doesn't want to, even though he thinks he will probably end up doing or saying something stupid. Even though his skin feels like fire and every bone is filled with lead.
He's the last to show up and he does find this suspicious but he's too tired to do anything about it. The apartment smells like kimchi and gochujang, and he can hear everyone talk quietly with each other. There's music in the background that's soft and soothing so he thinks Namjoon probably got to the speakers first.
Jeongguk slides onto the couch without greeting them. He sinks into the soft pleather and feels as if he could fall asleep then and there.
"Hey." He knows it's Namjoon without having to open his eyes. "Kookie, can we talk to you?"
Jeongguk squeezes his eyes tighter. This is just like them. To do something considerate and caring and try to talk to him about what's going on. But how can he talk to them about it if even he doesn't know?
He opens his eyes slowly and sees that all six of his hyungs have gathered around him.
"Is everything okay?" Namjoon says and when Jeongguk meets his eyes they're dark and filled with concern. It stabs at his heart.
"Yeah, you've been acting kind of weird," Hoseok adds, sitting down next to the maknae. Jeongguk frowns and tries to look away from all six of them at once. He stares at his lap.
"That phone call to Tae the other night…" Jimin whispers. He was angry that night, but now distress is laced into his words.
"Are you mad at me?" Taehyung squeaks. Jeongguk's head snaps up to look at him at that, finding him clinging to Jimin's arm and looking so upset it breaks him.
"No, no, of course not," Jeongguk gushes, shaking his head.
"Then what's wrong?"
What's wrong. What's wrong, Jeongguk? You can talk to us. What's wrong? They're all talking. Talking talking talking. All their voices jumble and hit his ears at once. And he's so hot. And tired. And woozy.
"I don't know what's wrong with me!" He screams, wrenching his hands through his hair painfully. All six of his friends watch him in shock. Most of them have never heard Jeongguk so much as raise his voice. Now his hair is plastered to his forehead, there are deep purple shadows beneath his eyes, he looks pale and sunken.
"Kookie, when was the last time you slept?" Jimin wonders softly.
Jeongguk clenches his jaw, "I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her."
A look goes around the group before Jin finally steps forward and presses a hand to Jeongguk's forehead. "You're burning up."
Jeongguk nods, leaning into the cool temperature of Jin's palm. He speaks softly now, exhausted, "For days."
"Maybe we should take him to a hospital," Taehyung suggests quietly.
"When did this start, Kook?" Yoongi steps forward.
"Last week, after Tae's party." He pauses as Hoseok hands him a glass of water, gulping it down quickly.
"After you met that girl?" Namjoon says suddenly, his voice strung with tension, "Taehyung's friend?"
Jeongguk nods, letting Jin and Hoseok guide him to a chair at the kitchen table. Immediately, he leans against the table's surface, pressing his cheek against the cool wood and exhaling softly.
"Okay, okay," Namjoon says, flinging his hands in the air dramatically, "Wait a sec!"
"What? Namjoon—" Hoseok starts, but he's already run from the room.
Jimin sits beside their youngest member at the table, pushing the messy mop of dark hair from his forehead paternally. He presses the back of his hand to Jeongguk's skin and whispers softly, "It's going to be okay."
"Got it!" Namjoon says, losing his balance, socks sliding against the hardwood floor as he runs back into the room. He rights himself and sits on the other end of the table, opening the book he's brought with him and flipping through it.
"Okay," Namjoon scans the page, his finger flying fast down the text until he reaches a certain point, "Ha! Okay Kook, so you've been having hot flashes? A fever since that day?"
Jeongguk nods half-heartedly. The coolness of the table and the water have helped, he feels like someone drowning finally breaking through the surface. But he's still barely treading water.
"Have you been experiencing vivid, life-like dreams, daydreams, or memories?" Namjoon reads, some of the others coming to stand behind him, looks of shock on their faces as they realize what he's reading.
"Yes," Jeongguk groans, "I can't sleep."
"Do they focus on a particular event or person?"
Jeongguk sits up at that, leaning back in his chair and mustering as quizzical a glare as he can summon. "Yes, always her."
"Does your mind wander and you suddenly find yourself somewhere you've never been before but that seems familiar?"
Jeongguk thinks of the bookshop on the outskirts of town. "Yes."
"Have you found any birthmarks or tattoo-like marks on your body since the fever and the dreams started?" All six pairs of eyes watch him expectantly.
"What?" He says, "No."
Jimin's brow furrows. "But what about the heart-shaped mark on your forehead, by your hairline? That hasn't always been there has it?"
"The what?"
Jeongguk pulls out his phone faster than he thought possible, switching it to selfie mode and pulling his hair away from his face. Holy fucking shit. There's a pale pink heart peeking out from his hairline.
"It's a Late-Onset Soulmate Bond!" Namjoon exclaims, slamming his book shut to reveal the title. Modern Soulmate Science and Theory.
"What does that mean?" Taehyung wonders.
"According to my class, it's an incredibly rare type of soulmate bond. As you know, 98% of soulmate bonds occur in adolescence, with a person's individual bond type manifesting around puberty, usually represented by a mark on the body. 1.9% never manifest a soulmate bond at all. And the remaining 0.1% are assumed to have no soulmate bond, but then meet their soulmate later in life, resulting in these symptoms," Namjoon explains.
"But why are they so severe?" Yoongi says.
"Yeah, when my soulmate bond manifested I was only out of school for a day," Taehyung adds.
"Adolescent bodies and minds are more elastic and are thus more adaptable to changes. When a soulmate bond manifests, it takes less out of an adolescent body. It's also theorized that Late-Onset Soulmate Bonds are borne of past lives, and it's only when the two souls physically meet that the bond can be reawakened. Of course, this theory has been often hypothesized because of the memory-like dreams experienced by the soulmates, but research thus far has been inconclusive. At least…" Namjoon says, finally looking around to find his friends dumbfounded, "that's what my textbook says."
"So, she's my soulmate?" Jeongguk says softly. He's gone completely still.
"I think so, Kook," Hoseok beams down at him.
"I...I have a soulmate?"
The doctor is smiling at you so warmly that it's starting to give you the creeps. You can tell she's expecting you to react a certain way - cry, cheer, hug her maybe - but all you feel is shock.
"What...does this mean?"
The doctor blinks as if you'd asked her to explain the meaning of life. It takes her a moment to respond, "You find them, of course."
"How do I do that?"
"It's whoever it was when the symptoms first started." She's still looking at you like you're going to cry from happiness.
"Will the symptoms stop?"
The doctor nods. "Yes, to abate the symptoms, you have to..." her faces scrunches up, "exchange bodily fluids."
"I'm sorry, what?" you stutter, "We have to...do we have to—"
"Oh!" the doctor shakes her head, "While that would do it, a kiss will suffice."
You leave the clinic fifteen minutes later. The doctor is still watching you expectantly but you can't find it in yourself to have a big flood of emotion. You don't feel that way. You've seen soulmate matches in real life before, there's always tears and giant grins. The love becomes almost palpable.
But all you feel is apprehensive.
You'd be lying if you said you hadn't spent most of middle and high school daydreaming of having a soulmate. But after it became clear that you didn't have one...it was just too painful to keep daydreaming. So you closed off that part of yourself with a heavy padlock, resigned to your fate.
You're not sure you even have the key to unlock it anymore.
You're standing on the sidewalk with your phone in your hands. Alone. Joy was running late for work and, although it took some convincing, she left.
You stare at the black screen. You know who it is; you're... soulmate. Your mind skips on the word, it feels awkward in your mouth. But it's obviously that stranger from the night of the party. You can conjure his face in your mind easily now. And if the doctor is correct, you've seen his face from dozens of different lifetimes.
Meeting him would be as simple as texting Taehyung. But there's apprehension caged in your chest like a nervous bird.
Ding!
But it looks like you won't have a choice.
Unknown Number: Hi, this is Jeongguk. I'm a friend of Taehyung's.
"Are you sure I should've texted her?" Jeongguk worries his bottom lip and stares at his phone. His hands are shaky and the smell of ramen coming from the kitchen makes his stomach growl. He turns to look wide-eyed at him, "Are you sure it's her?"
Taehyung nods, "She's the only person I know who could match the description you gave me."
When a full minute passes and the screen still holds only his message and 'delivered' Jeongguk thunks his head against the table heavily. Yoongi snorts a laugh out through his nose at this and when Jeongguk turns his head to glare at him the elder keeps his eyes on his phone. But he's still grinning.
"Kook, it's going to be fine," Jimin says, taking the bowl of noodles Jin handed him and placing it on the table by Jeongguk.
"Maybe she's just busy?" Hoseok offers, taking his own bowl.
Jeongguk hits his head softly against the table a couple of times. He sits up, pausing when he feels the telltale signs of a flashback under his skin.
A small retro apartment with linoleum floors. A kitchen with pale green cabinets. A flimsy card table and folding chairs. And you, in a ratty apron smiling at him like there's nowhere else you'd rather be.
Jeongguk shakes his head and the memory dissipates. His chest feels a little lighter, though, and his fever's gone. The memory infuses him with confidence. As awkward and weird as the next part is, it's meant to be.
When he looks up, everyone is now seated at the table and they are all staring at him. "What?"
"Well, aren't you going to see what she said?" Yoongi asks, deadpan.
Jeongguk looks down at his phone. It's lit up with a message from you.
You: The one I met at the party?
You: I guess we need to talk...
Jeongguk's not sure what he was expecting. But he wasn't sure he had ever anticipated this level of awkwardness. If he's being honest, he was hoping for one of those heartfelt soulmate matches he's witnessed from the sidelines for so long. But you're just sitting opposite from him at a coffee shop, staring at the mug of hot cocoa you'd ordered.
Your face looks so uncomfortable. So, instead, he watches your hands as they trace the funky art design on the mug, shift it back and forth. His focus catapults him into a flashback.
You're both still sitting at a table, one that's small and wooden and sturdy. The mug in your hands this time is black and glazed and he knows that he's the one who made it. You're smiling.
He's gotten so used to the flashbacks now that it doesn't take any effort for him to adjust back to the present. All he thinks about is that he wants to see you smile now, at him in the present.
His chest hurts with longing. Maybe it's worse to know he has a soulmate and not be with them. At least before his pining was arbitrary and foundationless.
"Are you okay?"
He looks up from the mug and you're staring at him openly, your eyes wide and concerned. He tilts his head, "Huh?"
"What was that?" You wonder, "You like...zoned out for a second."
"Flashback," Jeongguk frowns.
"What?"
"You don't get...flashbacks?" He stares.
You shake your head, "Dreams."
"Dreams?"
He hopes you'll elaborate, but you just stare down at the table. His heart feels heavy.
Your mind is blank. You feel so nervous and anxious that unshed tears are burning your eyes. You feel like a disappointment. You feel like you're doing this wrong, like you should be more and do better.
Your bottom lip is bruising from chewing on it nervously. You haven't even taken a drink of your hot cocoa.
It's so weird, him being here. You've seen his face over a dozen times since that first night but it's different when he's here. When he's so close that you could run your fingers through his hair or draw stars on his cheeks or run your thumb over his bottom lip.
Desire swirls in your stomach and turns to disappointment. So many things you want and feel you don't deserve. So many things you had accepted that you would never have and here they are. The possibility hurts more than the clear cut absence.
He starts to drum his fingers against the table and you let your eyes move over to them. It's his right hand, littered with tattoos. There are sets of initials on his knuckles, a heart on the back of his hand, a smiley face on one of his fingers. They're kind of quirky and you like them. You want to know what they mean.
Jeongguk's hand freezes when he sees you staring. You blush and look away. He's surprised to find that this gives him hope. You're interested. There's just something stopping you.
He can work with that.
"So," he tries again, "how do you know Taehyung?"
Jeongguk is relieved when you look up at him. It's odd to think but he really likes your face. Clear, expressive eyes and soft lips. And when you're looking at him...everything clicks. It's like finding his place in the world. Finally, obviously. It's by your side.
You narrow your eyes, "He didn't tell you?"
Jeongguk shakes his head and sips at his ice water. He holds his hands up as quotation marks and says, "It's something the two of you should talk about." He shrugs, running his fingers through his hair, "Why? Is it bad?"
You sigh and sip your cocoa to buy time. "No."
Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something, his eyes alive with the playful comment he had planned, but he's interrupted by a crash.
Directly beside you, a man drops his mug of coffee and it shatters on the ground, splashing your leg, shards of porcelain slicing your ankle.
You gasp, but your reaction is lost when you see the scene play out before you. The man who dropped the cup is wearing khakis and a button-down, but more noticeably there is a large, dark birthmark spanning his cheek, jaw, and neck. Across the room his eyes have found a woman, older than he is, dressed in a bohemian-style, with the exact same mark on her face.
Soulmates.
You'd seen this play out before and avert your eyes.
Jeongguk watches every detail. It's hard to describe, and others say that to truly understand, you have to experience it. But it's almost like the world slows down for these people, everything else fades and it's just them and the start of their new life.
When Jeongguk's eyes find you again, he's surprised to see how painful you find this. There are tears in your eyes.
"Hey, are you okay? I know that it can be—" He holds his hand out but stops himself short of touching you.
You shake your head. He's not wrong, that is part of it; these displays have always...bothered you. But it's mostly, "My leg," you wince.
Jeongguk's eyebrows rise to his hairline and he ducks over and beneath the table to inspect your leg. The whole side of your calf is soaked and the exposed skin of your ankle beneath your cuffed jeans is flushed from the hot coffee and bleeding.
"We should go," Jeongguk insists. Ignoring the display of love beside you, he shoves the stranger out of his way and helps you stand.
Jeongguk keeps an arm around your back and you just barely hear him whisper, "Lean on me."
Compelled by something beyond your control, you do.
You hobble out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk together, pausing as your adrenaline ebbs in the open space.
"Um," you fumble, trying to retrieve your phone from your purse despite being held up almost entirely by Jeongguk. It doesn't help that he smells like fabric softener and boy and it's making you lose concentration. "I just need to call a car."
"What?" Jeongguk shakes his head, "No." Using his arm at your back, he steers you down the sidewalk and away from the cafe. "My place is literally right here."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," you shake your head, but your body doesn't get the memo. One of your hands is twisted into the fabric of his cotton shirt, turning you so that you're almost hugging him as he helps you walk. Your mind won't listen to reason, you find yourself helpless in the face of your desire to stay in his arms.
"Please," he smiles warmly at you, "It's the least I can do." His nose scrunches up and his eyes crease, his front two teeth peeking out in an honest smile.
And now you know: you really are a goner.
Jeongguk lives in a cramped studio apartment. It smells like air freshener and fabric softener and...weed? Kind of. You're frozen in the doorway, leaning against his dresser to keep upright while he frantically clears the floor of his bags and schoolwork and art supplies.
The walls are covered in band posters and artwork (some of which you see is signed with a flourish of JK so you know it's his). There's a magnificent view of the mountains from out his window, mid-morning light pouring in and making the room stuffy. You let your eyes just barely skirt over his bed (which has a navy blue comforter and has been made), and move to look at this desk. There's a massive gaming computer, complete with a light-up keyboard, and different kinds of sound and editing equipment.
"Sorry," he says, grunting as he wrenches up the window, a brush of cold air coming in. "Wasn't expecting visitors." He's facing you, but his eyes are still skirting over his room.
"It's fine," you smile.
There's a long moment when Jeongguk finally looks at you, only mildly satisfied that there's nothing too embarrassing left out, and he just can't believe what he's seeing. You're his soulmate. You're in his room.
It's nighttime. You're standing in a dress that hugs your curves and hovering in the doorway. Your expression is nervous but hopeful as you step out of your heels. He's across the room, standing by the bed, his hands itching with the desire to touch you. "You sure?" he says, and his voice is soft and almost lost amongst the city sounds outside his window. You nod, stepping towards him.
Jeongguk comes back to the present, flushed and a little bit horny. Holy shit, he thinks.
"Flashback?" You wonder.
"Yeah," Jeongguk says, hiding his face in case it's too clear what he's thinking. He catches sight of your leg and jumps in the air, "Oh! Sit down!" He crosses the room and guides you to the expensive, high-backed desk chair, spinning around and darting into the bathroom.
You peek at the polaroids stuck to the edge of his computer screen. You recognize Taehyung and his soulmate Jimin, but everyone else are strangers. The one that catches your eye is of Jeongguk with six others (Jimin and Tae among them), they're standing in a line with Jeongguk in the middle holding a cake. Jeongguk looks younger, rounder cheeks and wider eyes. Scrawled beneath it is written Happy 16th, Kookie!!! -Hyungs
It makes you feel...warm and fluttery.
"Found it," Jeongguk chuckles, reappearing with the first aid kit and a towel. He kneels at your feet and the action feels familiar, like one of your dreams.
"What's it like?" You ask softly.
"Hmm?" Jeongguk says, intensely focused as he wipes the coffee from your ankle and starts disinfecting the cuts.
"The flashbacks."
"Oh," he says, pausing with a cotton swab above your skin. He shrugs and leans in closer as he starts again, "Just like memories. But I'm not expecting them," he chuckles. "Kind of like hiccups? Or sneezing?"
"Do they feel...real?"
Jeongguk leans back and watches your expression. He's surprised to find how scared you look, apprehensive. He can feel a flashback coming in his chest from this angle, but he's determined to answer.
"Kind of. It's like...watching a movie. I know that it's me, and you," he whispers, "and I empathize with them. But it doesn't feel like I'm living it." He looks away from you, the flashback he had sensed fading, and digs through the first aid kit for bandages. "It's like...the universe is giving me proof that it's meant to be. That we've done this before. That we will do it again. That this…" he pauses, wondering if he should say what he really thinks, finding that he can't say anything but the truth when he sees the vulnerability in your expression, "is a love that's meant to last lifetimes."
He pulls a bandage roll from the kit and his face scrunches up into that bunny smile from earlier, "Sorry, I know that was corny," he laughs, "also because this is all I have." He begins to wrap the gauze around your ankle, muttering that he really only has this stuff because of rolling his ankles and wrists during dance practice. But it sort of fades out as you identify the feeling that's formed in your chest...hope.
You avert your eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you and this light happy feeling crowding your chest. Your skin flushes but not in the hot flash way you've been experiencing all week, more pleasantly than that.
"Um," you stutter because you can't be alone with your thoughts anymore, "Who are all these people?" You wince at your own awkward attempt at conversation but Jeongguk laughs jovially.
He bounces up from his knees and squints at the birthday Polaroid you're motioning to. "Oh," he grins, his face doing that adorable bunny smile again, "My hyungs!" He peels the Polaroid off the edge of the monitor and hands it to you. His finger points to each person in turn as he says, "Jimin and Tae, you know them, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hobi."
Your eyes follow his finger and then move to his face. He's lit up talking about them.
Your thumb moves over the center of the photograph where young Jeongguk stands, looking almost identical as right now. Completely overjoyed.
"How did you meet?" You whisper, feeling his proximity.
Jeongguk moves to sit on the bed and shrugs, "We all lived pretty close together, in the same neighborhood. I've always gone to the same school as Jimin and Tae, they're one year ahead of me. Namjoon and Hobi were seniors when I was…" he thinks, screwing his face in concentration, "a freshman? I think." He shrugs, "I don't really remember how it began, we've been friends forever."
"Wow," you say, looking down at the photograph again.
"Yeah. Namjoon-hyung is like the smartest person I've ever met, he speaks four languages and is working on a doctorate already. And Seokjin-hyung is so funny and he's helping me learn how to cook! He's gonna open his own restaurant one day, I think. And Yoongi-hyung's a composer! He even traveled with a national quartet once, as a pianist, but says he likes hip hop and rap more so now he's a producer. Hobi-hyung is the one who started teaching me how to dance, he says I'm pretty good, but I don't know… He's the captain of our dance team and is amazing! Jimin-hyung was the student body president of our middle and high school, and one of the top-scoring students in math, and a really amazing modern dancer. He almost joined a ballet company, but he said his body probably wouldn't be able to handle it so now he just does hip hop dance with me. I think he should be a choreographer or something but he's double majoring in math? I don't get it. And Taehyung is amazing! He's a theater major and he's starred in every school play that he's auditioned for, and he's the one who convinced me to start taking art classes. But I think I like film better, I'm not really sure, I—" Jeongguk stops abruptly when he sees your face, frozen in surprise. His cheeks turn pink and he says, "Sorry."
"No," you shake your head, "don't be sorry. They're your family. It's good to be so proud of them."
"Yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. I can't believe I just ranted about my six hyungs to my soulmate, he thinks, what a fucking nerd! God just be cool for once Jeon, just once!
He looks back over to you when your phone dings loudly. You reach into your pocket and pull it out, Jeongguk smiling at the corgi butt design decorating the case.
"Oh," you put the phone to your ear, "Hello? Joy?"
You turn away from him and he stands up quickly, wandering away under the impression of putting up the first aid kit to give you privacy. He hears you mumbling into the speaker, catches small snippets of your conversation.
"I think it is going well, actually—""
"No! Joy! Oh my god." He peeks out to see you blushing fuschia.
You talk for another minute before he hears, "Yeah, okay, maybe in an hour? I have to change first. Yeah, yeah, what would you do without me?" You laugh and hang up, Jeongguk reappearing from the bathroom. "Sorry," you say bashfully.
Jeongguk holds up his hands, "It's fine. Everything okay?"
You nod, chuckling to yourself, "My friend put off this project to the last minute and she needs my help. I need to go."
"Okay," Jeongguk nods, trying to hide how disappointed he is. He wonders if all soulmates feel this way when their other half leaves them, even if only temporarily. "I can give you a lift. If you want."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he grins, scooping his car keys from the top of his dresser and helping you stand.
You like this car. The washed purple color, the faded black seats. It smells like the sun and a bit of cologne. There's a stuffed D.va plush hanging from his rearview mirror that makes you laugh. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat he plugged his phone into the aux cord.
The car starts and "Circles" by Post Malone starts playing through the speakers.
"Oh, I love this song," you say, humming the lyrics under your breath.
Jeongguk looks at you like there's nothing else he will ever need. He realizes this is a bit extreme, but it feels accurate. "Me too," he grins, his nose scrunching up in a smile.
It takes you three days to text Jeongguk. Three days to decide that you want to and summon the courage. You feel nauseous when you send the text and unsure. And it takes nearly ten minutes of constant encouragement from Joy for you to hit send.
It takes three days for Jeongguk to get a text from you and it nearly drives his hyungs crazy. He jumps around their apartments muttering, "She said she would text me. She said that right?" His eyes dart frantically to whoever's in the room, "Right?"
"That's what you said," Yoongi responds lamely.
"So I shouldn't text her? I shouldn't? Like that would be a bad idea?"
Jimin laughs loudly and Taehyung chuckles under his breath. Seokjin steps forward and squeezes his shoulder, "Do not. Do not text her."
When his phone buzzes and he sees it's a message from you he nearly starts breakdancing in the middle of the room. Instead, he starts jumping up and down frantically, looking more like a bunny now than he ever has before.
"And?" Namjoon wonders, "What did she say?"
Jeongguk glances down, beaming, "Hi."
His hyungs roll their eyes.
You: Hi
You: Sorry I know it's been a few days…
Jeongguk can't stop himself from replying. He doesn't care about remaining aloof or mysterious. All he knows is that he's been dying to talk to you and now that he has the chance he won't let anything stop him.
JK: No it's fine! No worries!
JK: How are you?
You: good...busy
JK: oh yeah me too
Jimin snorts, reading over his shoulder, "As if you haven't been staring at your phone for three days waiting for her to text you."
"That counts as busy!" Jeongguk pouts, eyes straying back to his screen when he sees the text bubble floating beneath his last message. He hears Jimin say something else but he tunes it out.
You: I was thinking we could hang out again?
You: If you have time
You: If you're too busy, just forget I said anything
JK: YES
JK: Was that too eager?
JK: I don't care, let's hang out
You giggle down at your phone, warmth spreading to your cheeks and crowding your rib cage. Joy peeks over your shoulder curiously, "So who is this guy anyway? I was surprised when you said you had a date." She squints down at your screen, shoving you playfully, "And you like him!"
Your blush turns crimson and you can't force yourself to meet her eyes. She wraps her hands around your arm and shakes you vigorously, "I want all of the information right now!!!" She pauses, a thought occurring to her, and stops shaking you, "But...does he have a soulmate?"
You can tell she's afraid to ask the question. You've known Joy for almost five years now, and she's known about your lack of a soulmate bond for almost the entire time. She knows how uncomfortable it makes you and how depressed you get about it sometimes. She doesn't really want to ask because she doesn't want to ruin whatever happiness you've found. But it does need to be asked.
"That's the thing," you chew on your bottom lip. You're hyperaware that you've never said it aloud before but that you are about to now. "I'm his soulmate."
"Dinner, dinner, dinner," Jeongguk chants, standing in front of his closet with a serious expression. Behind him, Jimin is on his bed reading a magazine and Taehyung is spinning around in the computer chair. "Dinner," he says again, squinting.
"Just wear that yellow button-up and jeans," Jimin says absently.
"Yellow?" Jeongguk crinkles his nose in distaste. He only owns that shirt because Seokjin-hyung bought it for him. The rest of his closet is a spectrum of black and white. In fact, the only colorful items he owns are gifts from others.
"Don't get too goth on her just yet," Jimin chuckles.
Jeongguk pulls the shirt out with a sigh, holding it up to himself in the mirror and twisting his mouth in confusion. He hangs it on his closet door, turning back to his closet with the same frustrated expression.
"It's so weird," Taehyung says.
"What do you mean?" Jeongguk's eyes grow wide with concern.
"Just that...well for Jimin and I, after our soulmate bond manifested and we connected that was kind of...it, y'know? We didn't have to, like, do this whole courting thing." He shrugs.
"Yeah," Jeongguk sighs, "It's hard because I can see our whole history together and it's us but not us? I don't know how to explain it."
It's a nice night, a soft breeze and a clear sky. You have your arms wrapped around yourself as you wait in front of the restaurant, and your heart nearly stops when you see him. He looks like a god. He looks so good. Tight jeans and a perfect muted yellow shirt. His hair looks soft and smooth and it falls into his eyes. And he's smiling, his nose scrunches up happily. He's only walking at first but he starts jogging when he sees you.
When he stops in front of you, you know you should say something but can't find the words. There's a feeling in your chest. Disbelief. That he's here, that this perfect person is in your life, is forever intertwined with yours. You have the urge to run your fingers through his hair and you have a distinct feeling that it's something you've done before.
Instead, you let out a shaky breath and avert your gaze.
"I've never tried this restaurant," he says, tilting his head back to read the sign.
You're too aware of how close he is. Of how good he smells. Of the heat coming off his skin. You want to wrap your arms around him and hold him close to you, bury your face in his chest.
"I really like it," you say, turning away from him because you're afraid of what you might do otherwise.
The restaurant is small because you hate large restaurants that cram people inside. There's soft classical music playing from speakers and warm lighting. But what you like most is the metal archway over the entrance that has pure white jasmine strung through it. You walk through and instantly feel at ease from the smell.
"Oh, hello miss," the greeter says from behind your podium, recognizing you instantly.
You blush and smile at her, a bit embarrassed that he now knows how frequently you come here.
The hostess glances behind you and you see her eyes sparkle at the sight of him. You wonder if that's what you look like when you see him too. When she looks back at you she gives you a conspiratorial thumbs up, whispers, "You didn't tell me your soulmate was so hot!"
Your flush goes darker. Soulmate. She said it so casually. But you suppose it's true. He's your...soulmate. The word feels right.
"Table for two?" She smiles, "I think I have your favorite one open."
"Yes, thank you."
Jeongguk focuses back on you and grins cheekily, "How often do you come here?"
You avoid his eyes, "Couple times a week. I like to...study here."
You sit at a table on the open patio. String lights curl around the wooden awning and the metal fence. Tall potted plants are perched in the open spaces. On the table is a flickering yellow candle and a lavender bouquet.
The hostess gives you both menus before taking your drink orders. You ignore the menu, while Jeongguk opens his and starts perusing.
He's so focused that you let yourself watch him. He's so beautiful; dewy, glowing skin, plush, pink lips, wide, brown eyes. It all feels so familiar. Dinner in soft lighting, sitting across from each other.
Your cheeks heat up thinking about it.
Jeongguk is surprised that, despite how nervous he feels, the night is going so well. You both order wine and pasta and just...talk. There's a familiarity that pervades through the night that he keeps from thinking about; if he thinks about it he knows he'll just freak himself out. He tries to keep his hands busy to stop himself from reaching over and intertwining your fingers with his.
"I like your tattoos," you say softly. Your plates have been cleared and Jeongguk seriously considers ordering a second serving of dessert to prolong the date.
Jeongguk raises his eyebrows and looks down at this hand. He often forgets they're there. "Oh," he says, flexing his hand, "Thanks."
"What do they mean?" you cock your head to the side.
"Oh, the initials are for my hyungs," he blushes, "And the rest just...seemed like a good idea." He runs his hand through his hair nervously.
You grin and boldly reach across the table, your fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling the appendage closer to the light. Your fingers trace softly over the inked pieces of his skin. You giggle at the smiley face on his finger, trace the heart on the back of his hand, tap each of the initials on his knuckles.
Jeongguk sucks in a breath as your fingers move up his forearm. You spend a long time on the flower decorating his arm, until Jeongguk finally says, "It's my, um, birth flower."
"Tiger flower," you whisper.
"Uh," he watches you with wide, doe eyes that reflect the flickering candle, "Yeah."
You meet his eyes, realizing suddenly how intimate this has become and pull back. Jeongguk coughs loudly, awkwardly, afraid he's having a heart attack from how fast his heart is beating.
"Is, uh, is yours on your forehead?"
"What?" you ask, wide-eyed.
Jeongguk sits up straighter and pulls his mop of dark hair from his face. There's a heart, just a shade or two pinker than his natural skin tone, peeking out from his hairline. A soulmate mark.
"I...don't know." You do the same as him, revealing your forehead and hairline.
Jeongguk's face transforms into a smile, his eyes light up happily. He presses two fingers to a spot just beneath your hairline, "Right. There," he says softly. He looks down at the table, his cheeks turning pink, "Meant to be," he whispers.
You let your hair fall back over your face, blushing.
The date goes well. The next three dates go well. A month passes and Jeongguk sees your progress. It's slow. You keep your distance. The fevers, dreams, flashbacks...they all continue. Subdued but still there.
You feel guilty. You know the solution. You're not sure if Jeongguk does, but either way, you're glad he hasn't forced you into anything physical. It's such a major shift in your worldview...you have a soulmate. You still have to remind yourself when you wake up in the morning.
"I'm not alone." You whisper it to your empty room. Your fingers find their way to your forehead to touch the heart that's now printed there. You stalk JK's social media and text constantly.
But every time you're with him (which is...as often as possible), something stops you. Fear, probably. You're afraid of making it real, of cementing everything.
Jeongguk's happy. Frustrated but happy. He can tell you're afraid, he senses your hesitation. He's glad, too, that things are moving slowly because he doesn't know what he's doing. He was popular in grade school, but soulmate bonds manifest during puberty. Once someone gets their soulmate mark...they pretty much refuse to make out with anyone else. He has little experience, but he doesn't care with you.
Anytime he's within six feet of you, his fingers start to twitch and his heartbeat quickens and he just...he just wants to wrap his arms around you and squeeze, he wants to kiss every inch of your skin, run his hands through your hair.
So he's frustrated. Because of the lack of physical intimacy, yes, but also because he doesn't know what you're afraid of. Or how to help.
And the flashbacks aren't helping. They feel like taunts. Like someone showing him something that could be his if only he'd do the right thing, say the right thing. It's infuriating.
"I think you should talk to her about it," Namjoon says flatly when he broaches the subject with his hyungs.
"Yeah, Kookie," Hobi says, looking up from the game of cards he and Yoongi are playing, "Can't resolve anything if you won't talk about it first."
Jeongguk huffs and throws himself against the couch, whiny.
It takes a week for him to build up the courage to bring it up. Date night.
You made sure to pick a movie for tonight that you'd seen before. You had made the preemptive decision to hold his hand. You did feel...slightly stupid for having to make a preemptive plan for something as innocent as hand-holding. But you figured that was the only way you were going to get yourself to do it.
So you waited until after dinner, halfway through the movie, the sun has set. You're sitting a few inches from him on the couch in the low lit room. You make a bit of a show of yawning and lean over.
His shoulders are broad and round and comfortable. Your cheek rests easily against him and you find a sense of security wrapping around you like a blanket from the proximity.
His hand is resting, palm up, on his thigh and you tentatively link your fingers through his.
You love his hands. Long fingers, soft palms, dark tattoos. It's warm and comforting, and they fit together perfectly.
Jeongguk doesn't need to bring it up, he realizes. This is progress. You're both trying. He squeezes your hand, leans his cheek against the top of your head. You fall asleep on his shoulder.
But it's getting worse. The dreams are so intense you can barely sleep. You keep waking up every few hours, remind yourself that he's real, talking yourself out of the anxiety. And his flashbacks are intense. Debilitating. He had one during dance practice and it ended up with him on the floor. The fevers are so intense sometimes that neither of you can move.
"Shit," he whispers one day, walking with your hands through the door of his apartment. You look over and find that he's drenched with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pales and his knees go weak.
"Woah, oh my god," you gasp, trying to hold onto him enough to ease him to the ground. "You're burning up," you whisper, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.
Jeongguk shakes his head almost, "S'fine."
His eyes blink rapidly and refuse to focus, "Are you having a flashback?"
He shakes his head and you can tell he's trying to stay present but he's struggling. His skin is so hot and he's sweating so much...you think he might pass out.
You screw your face up. You know what you have to do.
You take his chin between your fingers and lift it up, leaning in and pausing, whispering sincerely, "I'm so sorry I put this off for so long." You close the distance between you both, your lips brushing softly, tentatively against his at first.
Jeongguk eyes open wide, his mind suddenly reeling back into the present. Your lips are pliant against his and he finds himself responding without thinking. He surges upward, his tongue slipping between your lips and into your mouth. His hand threads into your hair and presses your head closer.
Your hands grip tightly at his shoulders, your mouth opening in a gasp as he's suddenly so responsive. You feel his fever break beneath you, your lips moving of their own accord.
And then suddenly, it hits you. All your lifetimes. Every memory, every moment. And it's all...Jeongguk. You understand now, what he meant about the flashbacks, about how they're you but not you.
You pull away, resting your forehead against his. You're both breathing heavily, grinning like fools. You close your eyes and just smile, "I remember everything," you whisper.
"Me too," he whispers, and he peppers kisses across your nose and cheeks, "It's been so long. So many lifetimes." He pulls your hair away from your face and presses his lips softly to the heart-shaped mark on your forehead.
"I can't believe we found each other," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him into your chest, "Again."
"Always," he says, curling into your embrace so that his face hides in the dip of your neck, "Always. We'll always find each other."
"Always," you affirm. You kiss the mark on his forehead and say it again, "Always."
author’s note—i really really really love this; i'm so proud of it omg
m.list :: wips :: ao3
#bts#bangtanbuds#bts x reader#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jk#jk x reader#fluff#soulmate au
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