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pricegouge · 4 months ago

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Haul

Part Three MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: noncon nudity, noncon touching, graphic depiction of injuries

It takes some test runs, but you eventually figure out your arm and shoulder are okay, though your collar bone likely isn't. You're lucky there - as far as you can feel, if it's fractured at all, it isn't compounded and you'd much rather heal a clavicle than a shoulder. Your cheekbone's fucked though; you can feel how it sinks into your face in a way it never has before, and blood pools in your sinus cavity, infects your saliva. It's likely going to need surgery, though you doubt your current ride is headed to a hospital. If you survive this, you'll end up with a pretty lopsided face, you figure. If you survive this indeed, though.

You count distance in the taste of fabric on your tongue. As hours and miles pass, the cotton fades from heavy copper, to salt-lick piquant. The trailer heats with the rising sun, metal hull hotboxing you in. The tight space you're kept in is padded, probably for sound proofing though you're almost grateful for it, given how it prevents you from burning yourself on the corrugated siding.

It's hard to guess how much time passes. It feels like days, but the trailer does not go through a cooling cycle, nor do you die of dehydration, so you assume only a handful of hours pass. You spend them drifting in and out of consciousness, wishing you had enough wherewithal to try escaping. Unfortunately, with the heat and the dark comes exhaustion, and with the adrenaline crash comes intense pain so you do little more than catalog injuries when you can concentrate enough to do so.

If you survive this indeed, though.

Poor Ash. She may have been a pain in the ass, but no one deserves to go out like that. It's hard to stop the tears when you think of her but you try anyway, knowing full well that further inflaming your face isn't going to do anyone any good. You wonder why they kept you alive - why Ash didn't make the cut. Or, did, you suppose. Maybe they felt two victims would have been too difficult to deal with. Maybe they thought Ash, who was still able to get around quite well, would've been too much of a handful.

Maybe you're trying to reason with hurricane season, as it were, find rationality where there was none. These men were motivated by something you'd never understand and perhaps it was best not to waste your efforts on it. Still, it's hard to move past Simon and Gaz's brief exchange.

'For cap?'

'For all of us.'

The thought of being shared by them made your stomach turn, but the thought that there was another one - one they evidently often brought victims back home to - that was even worse.

'Captain,' you sneer. You can't help but picture some old geezer who couldn't pull his own victims anymore; real Texas Chainsaw shit. The boys would probably have to hold you down so he could wax poetic at you about what a good hauler he used to be, help him lift a tire iron so he could get his rocks off. It would be enough to make you laugh, if it didn't feel like the tire iron was already whaling on you.

Still, you suppose knowing your fate lies with an old man and his lackeys is better than the alternative; even in your current state you know a truck with a soundproofed false back generally spells human trafficking for anyone with the misfortune to find themselves stuck in one. Your prospect doesn't make you happy by any means, but you suppose the enemy you know is better. Even if that enemy is a group of known killers.

It's not too long after the trailer starts to cool that the quality of the roads changes; long, smooth interstate giving way to potholed, winding highway. You grit your teeth each time you're jostled, groan every time you remember your jaw is actually your biggest source of pain.

The passiveness with which you wonder about our whereabouts surprises you, but you're so exhausted you don't hold yourself too accountable for that. It's not until the truck slows to a stop that you sit up straighter, heartbeat hammering when the back up alarm confirms your fears that you have arrived at your destination. They let you sit for a while after. Long enough to get cold. There's the occasional sound of air brakes firing and you figure you're in some sort of lot. You try yelling for help a few times, but between the gag in your mouth and the soundproofing around you, your cries go unanswered.

At least you hope that's the reason. Otherwise this entire lot is filled with people who are in on this potential trafficking ring and Simon's words echo even more ominously in your ears.

A quiet rattling form the end of the trailer tells you when they open the doors hours later. The truck engine roars to life seconds after, backing up the final few feet necessary to slam into the loading dock hard enough to make a gruff voice from within yell.

It's unfamiliar, makes you steady yourself harder against the unknown quality of it. You figure this must be Cap, feel some small sense of satisfaction when the old, ragged voice matches what you'd pictured. You listen intently as pallets are cleared away, the loud clatter of the jack ringing even through your soundproofing. There's a lower murmur of laughter, the boys regaling the older man with a story you can't quite hear but can definitely infer. When the truck is fully unloaded, their heavy boots tread the short runway - Johnny's truck, then; you'd wondered who you'd been riding with -, their voices coming clearer as they draw near.

"- banged up, but mostly from the crash," you hear Simon rumble.

Johnny's next, his grating brogue echoing within the trailer, "Well, except her nose. We can thank Gaz for that one."

"She can thank herself for it," Gaz snarks back, and you would bite your tongue if you could. There's a beat of silence. You can almost feel the heavy gaze their silent captain turns on Gaz, prompting him to elaborate, "She ran. Not very fast. When I caught up, she tried bite me so I headbutted her a little."

"A little!?" Johnny cries, but is cut off by a gruff scoff.

"No way to treat our new guest, Kyle. Go on, make it up to her. Bring her out here."

You expect something dramatic, like a flood of blinding light or strong hands reaching in to yank you out. Instead, when the panel is pulled back, the indirect light from the building is mostly blocked by the row of bodies in front of you, and Gaz squats off to the side, body language friendly and inviting despite the coldness you can feel radiating from him. This man hates you, you can feel it. You remember how he wanted to kill you, wish you could tell him the feeling was mutual. Rather, you stare at him loathingly until he tires of your inaction, leans in to grab you by the zip ties that bind your feet and cuts them with a knife you didn't even see him pull. When he grabs your wrists and pulls, you resist as much as you're able but in the end you're no match and he pulls you from your hideaway with little more than a grunt of pain and annoyance when you elbow him in the ribs.

"Feisty one, is she?" the captain's low growl observes and you turn to the newcomer with fury in your eyes which stalls out when you take him in properly for the first time.

You're disappointed to discover he's not as old as you'd been expecting. Nowhere near, in fact. Mid forties most likely, early fifties at absolute most. And densely built enough to speak of a physicality far younger. None of them were small, but the captain still managed to look big among them - nearly as tall as Simon and just as broad as Johnny, though it looked a little leaner on him given his height. You think the worst part about him is how genial he looks. Like Gaz, he's a brand of handsome that comes with charm and approachability, and you wonder how long it will take for that facade to crack like Gaz's did. Worse, if it ever will.

Certainly, his voice is disarmingly sweet when he greets you, coos and calls you a dove. "Weren't lying were they, love? Did a number on the poor girl, Ghost."

Simon - Ghost? - grunts in acknowledgement, motions for you to step closer. You don't, of course, and get a sharp shove from Gaz which sends you stumbling toward the larger men, caught by a firm hand on your bad shoulder. You yelp, breath heaving behind your gag as Cap adjusts his grip, studying you by your hip instead as his eyes dart to Simon.

"Shoulder. Maybe collar bone. Happened when she flipped her car." When you flipped it. Right.

The older man tuts dissapprovingly. You try to swat his hands away but stumble without his support. He ignores you anyway, hand returning easily while the other reaches up to carefully grip the edge of the duct tape. "Can't be easy to breathe in there, can it doll? Not with that poor nose. Let's get this off, shall we? Easy," he soothes, voice a low pur. His task hurts like hell anyway, the sticky strip pulling your tender, swollen skin. He's gentle about it at least, murmuring sympathetically when you can't contain your whimpers. You don't judge yourself too harshly when a few tears slip through, but do very much so when his thumbing them away twists your stomach unexpectedly.

It's just because you haven't seen tenderness all night, you reason, and resolve yourself against him, even as he removes the gag with utmost delicacy.

"That better, dove?" he asks when your breaths come quicker, deeper. It's like resurfacing after being submerged for too long, clarity coming to you like a cold breeze on soaked skin: this is a calm meant to put you at ease, but you will die here if you become complacent.

So when Cap tells you to call him John and asks what your name is, you spit at him, blood and mucus staining his shoes.

The boys go quiet, like a record scratch moment in an old b-movie. You stare up at John defiantly, waiting for him to scream at you, hit you - anything.

Instead, he just pulls a pocket knife from his pants, grabs your bindings when you go to flinch away. "You've had a long day, love," he starts as he slips the thin blade between your wrists. Your skin is tender there, rubbed raw from the tight binds. The cool blade feels sharp despite the care he takes to aim the edge away from you, never once letting it touch your skin. "You've had a long day, so I'm going to let you get away with that this time." When he pulls against the zip ties, they cut into your skin briefly before giving with a sharp twang. He pulls one of your wrists into his free hand, rubs the raw skin there with a calloused palm before taking the other wrist in his grasp and giving it the same treatment. "But the next time you misbehave will not go well for you. Understood?"

Of course, you don't listen. Fuck this guy for real, you figure. What's the worst he can do? Kill you?

This time, when you go to spit at him, he catches it against his palm, wide hand slapping over your mouth so hard you're breifly concerned for your good cheek. You gasp in shock and pain, nearly choking on your own spit. John steps closer, one boot knocking your foot wide to let himself between your legs. He's so close, if he moved his palm you'd be breathing the same air.

As it stands, you can barely breathe at all, nose flush against the fat side of his hand. His own breath fans across your skin, heavy and hot as a bellows. The quality of it is thick, humid. You're glad you can't smell anything because it feels like it reeks.

"Simon, she give you a name?"

Ghost's uncomfortable movement is obvious in its silence. "Took to calling 'er Betty."

"Betty," John repeats, lips curling in amusement. "Like an old timey, proper little wife. That you, pet?" You wanna shake your head, fear for your sinus cavity if you do. "Not yet, eh? Gonna have to train you up first. Ease you into it." As if in demonstration, his body sags into your own, presence oppressive. "That's okay, pet. We'll start you off easy. Get you nice and clean, get you fed. In the morning, Kyle will help with your injuries and when you feel more like a proper lady, we'll try again, hm?"

You can't say anything, so you don't.

"But in the meantime, I can't let that kind of behavior go unchecked. Boys," he calls, eyes still boring into you. "Which one of you wants to help our guest clean up?"

The general din of excitement makes you flinch, eyes going wide as if pleading with the man who holds you so cruelly will do any good. When Johnny suggests they play rock paper scissors to decide who gets the honors, it's suddenly, belatedly clear to you that your murder would almost be a kindness. No, the worst thing this man could do for you would be to keep you. John sees it the moment you realize this. His grip eases, eyes softening in some gross perversion of kindness. He strokes your cheek soothingly when Simon goes out in the first round, smiles condescendingly when you flinch at Johnny's crow of victory. John tuts at you, but says no more as he turns you toward the Scot.

"All yours, Soap," he rumbles, pushing you not ungently toward the other man. "Spic and span, you hear?"

"Aye, sir. Thank ye, sir." Johnny's hands are much harsher than John's when he guides you from the trailer, giving you no sympathy when you flinch under the harsh warehouse lighting. You try to take stock of your surroundings as you're pulled along: spare, dusty racking; a forklift in need of repair. There are multiple loading docks, most of the viewports obscured by backed up trucks. One sits vacant and you briefly wonder if there's even more of these monsters waiting in the wings before you're pulled past a dank little office. You catch sight of outdated equipment - a rolodex, a CB - but it's the shadow boxes full of military honors that your eyes lock on the longest.

Of fucking course.

The door Johnny leads you out through is tucked off the side of the building. You stumble when he pulls you down through the door, feet unsteady where they kick up dirt. It's cold outside, colder than it had been in the dankness of the trailer. You can't help but shiver, bite your tongue as best you can when your companion takes that as invitation to draw you in close and rub a big, solid hand up your arm.

"We'll have ye warmed up in no time, lass," he promises, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. This man murdered your friend with a crowbar and dragged her around like a slaughtered animal. You expect no kindness from him.

He orders you to strip before turning to a small station built into the side of the warehouse. You do not strip, electing instead to take off running in the opposite direction, cursing as the gravel churns loudly under your shoes. Soap swears, his own heavy boots following at a pace you didn't think his burly body capable of. Your breaths burn your chest, each pull coming labored in your blind panic but you refuse to slow or relent, ignoring the flaming pain in your shoulder every time you swing your arm forward for propulsion.

Well, you ignore it until the ground comes tilting up to meet you, your body crushed beneath the considerable weight of one grunting, cursing Scot. You sob at the pain, or maybe the fear - hard to tell. When he levers himself off you, he wastes no time grabbing your ankle as he stands up, towering over you. If you were capable of stringing two thoughts together, you'd wonder if this was the last thing Ash saw: pale blue eyes gleaming in the low light, the cruelty that twists his face. Instead you wonder how likely your arm is to maintain full mobility after a night like this.

Not very, you decide, sobbing in pain as he drags you back to the warehouse. He's muttering something above you, but you can't hear him over your own cries. When you kick at him futilely, he yanks on your ankle until you fear for it and you don't try it again. Not even when he gets you where he wants you, back under the wan outdoor lighting of the station he'd turned to before, crouching down next to you to rip at your shoelaces.

"Please, don't," you murmur instead, fear churning in your belly as he continues to strip you. You'd known it would come to this, known the moment the captain had mentioned something about a wife. It doesn't make it easier, doesn't make the prospect of the gritty sand underneath you any more comfortable, or your repulsion for the man above you any less sharp. "Please, please, please let me go. I could -."

"What? Suck me off?" Soap laughs harshly, "Think ah'm gonnae ge' tha' anyway, hen."

You were going to say keep your mouth shut, but you suppose that never works anyway.

The sound you make when he pulls your pants off is wretched, but the shriek he earns when he pulls a knife on you is worse. His laugh is mean, reveling in your fear for a moment before cutting your shirt from you with one deft movement. He's pulling you to your feet before you can really process why and shoving you against the metal siding of the warehouse.

"Stay there," he warns and you're unsure if his tone or the throb in your shoulder is a more effective threat. When he walks back toward the station he'd been after earlier, your gaze turns to follow until you catch sight of your own shoulder at the bottom of your field of view and you draw short, taking in the severe swelling there. You prod at the edges of the mottling, wincing at your own ministrations.

Absorbed in your own injuries, you don't notice when Soap turns on the spigot, or when he aims the nozzle of the high pressure hose at you. He calls for you to hold your breath, but gives you no more time than that which is necessary to look up, confused, before he's spraying you down.

It's freezing, the flow hard enough to bruise where it jets against the fatty bits of you; feels like it might sheer straight through hide where your skin thins around joints. You gasp, get a mouthful of aerated hose water. Spluttering, you try blocking the stream with your hands despite it feeling like your palms are being struck by a thousand rulers.

"S'wha' we use tae wash the trucks!" Soap calls, cackling loud enough to be heard over the spray that engulfs you. You can't get away from it no matter how much you fold into yourself, catching the jet alternatingly on your hip, your ribs, your ass. It does a better job of indexing your injuries than you did, the blooms of pain where you accidentally turn a bruise toward it letting you know that the hip which took the brunt of the collision is sore, that there's a spot on your good shoulder where Gaz tackled you which smarts. Your knees and elbows are all scuffed up, dirt grinding in before being stripped away. You feel like you're being sandpapered down; buffed until you're gleaming despite knowing how the dirt he kicks up clings to your skin wherever the hose isn't actively being pointed.

Soap keeps it up for another minute or so, only turning it off when your shaking gets so bad you think you're like to fall apart. "Quit yer whinging," he warns, creeping closer as he adjusts the nozzle to another setting. "Jes' havin' a laugh, bonnie, no need tae get all bent outta shape."

You want to tell him you're not laughing, but a small voice in your head says you should be grateful he didn't turn that hose on your face, so you keep quiet to prevent him getting any ideas.

When he's close enough to touch, Soap reaches out and grabs your wrist, spraying your pebbled skin down with a softer shower of water that would set you at ease, if not for how cold it is. From your arm, the stream moves up over your head, mussing your hair beyond recognition before trickling down your battered face. Here, the cold water feels good against heated skin and despite yourself, you heave a sigh of relief, tilting slightly into the unexpected relief.

"Like tha' hen?" he asks, and you hesitate briefly, wondering how much satisfaction you want to give him. He doesn't give you a chance to decide, ruining your brief moment of reprieve by reaching out and tweaking one hard nipple.

You squawk, swatting at him. Johnny laughs long and loud, letting the stream from the hose fall dead as he watches you fume, shaking.

"Look like one ah them wee doggies, lass," he chuckles, "angry cause ye cannae even bite properly." The bastard flicks your cheek, feigning a sympathetic coo when you flinch away. "Tha's righ', bonnie, nothin' ye can do tae fight back," he murmurs, gliding his fingertips against your cheek in a move he probably thinks is soothing. "Ye jes' remember tha', eh? Might keep you alive."

You swallow back the lump in your throat, eyes boring a hole into his shoulder because you can't stand to look him in his terribly cold eyes. When Johnny moves again, his touches are back to the easy, soft caresses from before as he hoses you down. He's surprisingly good at it, despite being armed with only a shammy and a gnarly looking bar of soap. At least he knows to avoid your hair once he realizes he'll need conditioner. That damage is already done, but you appreciate him not dragging his fucking fingers through it on top of everything else. You try taking the soap from him once but he just tuts at you warningly so you go back to shivering, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to preserve body heat and keep yourself marginally modest. You can't decide if he's being obstinately particular just to torment you longer or if he's genuinely just like this until he raises your good arm above your head and finds your armpit overgrown.

He grins, sending you a delightfully scandalized look. "See Ghost chose well. Cap's gonnae love ye," he chuckles, and you feel your panic heighten when you think of the threatening older man again. Soap notices. "No need tae worry, hen. You jes' keep bein' good fer us and Cap'll be good tae ye."

For some reason, you don't trust this man's definition of being treated well.

After getting you all washed up, Johnny marches you back into the warehouse where the other men gather around a small, dingy breakroom table pecking at microwaved burritos. They're laughing uproariously as you arrive, Gaz talking animatedly about a loading mishap back in Arizona. The noise drifts off when they spot you, eying you over like a scrap of meat. There's no covering everything and despite yourself, you're almost grateful when John stands, bringing you a blanket he had folded on the seat beside himself.

"Feeling better, doll?" he asks, patting you dry with a gentleness you didn't expect from the big man. He frowns at the swelling of your shoulder, eyes darting between you and it with an exaggerated level of concern that makes you want to hurl.

You avoid his gaze, your own flickering around the room as you ignore John, trying to gather your resolve enough to appease him. It's a struggle until your eyes find Simon's, apathetic as always despite the disapproving set of his scarred mouth.

"Yes, sir," you murmur, watching raptly as Simon disguises a quick nod as a glance at his plate. Your heart rate picks up, an impossible tendril of hope slithering up your aorta when John hums contentedly at your words.

"That's a girl, love," he starts, warm palm falling heavy on your back as he starts to guide you back through the warehouse. "Gaz, bring the soup. You're hungry, right pet?"

You are, but Gaz doesn't wait for confirmation, falling in stride as John guides you toward the quaint office you'd caught a glimpse of earlier.

"Now, one day, you'll be able to stay up here with us," John promises, gesturing magnanimously across the dingy warehouse as if it contained all the gold of El Dorado within its rickety racking. "But until then, we're going to have to keep you below."

Gait faltering, you glance up at the older man fearfully but he pays you no mind at all. "Don't worry honey, only temporary. And I'll have the boys visit you daily to keep you nice and stimulated, hm? Gaz," he barks before you can reflect too much on his choice of words. Kyle, evidently knowing exactly what's expected of him, places the soup bowl he's been carrying on the cluttered desk before moving some chairs, rolling the rug back enough to reveal a cutaway door in the cement slab.

You still, every muscle in your body tensing up when John tries to coax you along. "'S'not so bad, sweetheart, I promise. Come look, yeah? Think you'll have a nice little time if you just give it a try."

Like hell you'll give it a try, knees locking up so tight you look like a GI Joe when John guides you first down the stairs. It's cool, the descent marked by the wet gradient of the cement slab as you pass further underground. It's deeper than you'd expect, the dug dirt bottom damp under your feet when you alight on the landing. There's a short hall ahead, braced by rotted-looking timber. A lone door on the opposite end, braced on one side with a long line of bolts and locks. A single light hangs from the short ceiling, low enough you could smack your forehead off of it if you're not careful.

"Had Simon come down while you were out, get it nice and ready for you," John brags. You doubt the room on the other side of that door could be made live-in ready even if Simon had been given three years to work on it, but you know better than to say as much.

This time, when John prods you forward, your legs don't obey. "CanIsleepwithyou?" you blurt, a last ditch effort you're not sure you want him to accept.

But John just chuckles. "Eager, eh pet? Don't worry, you'll earn that right soon enough. Now go on, I'm sure you'd like some nice new clothes to put on, hm?"

Damn him, but you do, so you slink forward, ducking under the hanging light as you pass. The door creaks when you pull it open, weight heavy despite how meager it looks. It feels solid, unbreakable, and you notice quickly that you won't be able to barricade it if you have to pull it open. John does not notice your hesitance, following you into the room with a proud little smirk on his mustached face.

"Well, what do you think?"

Not much. The floor isn't finished, just cold tile pressed into the dirt. The walls and ceilings are, though, and you briefly feel grateful for it until the batting on the door registers and you realize it's for soundproofing purposes. There's a bed in the corner, larger than you need yourself and made up in cutesy sheets with a strawberry motif. A pile of heavy quilts sits folded at the foot and despite yourself, your fingers twitch eagerly at the prospect of sleeping soon, warm and snug under all that weight.

"We've got some clothes for you here," John continues. You get the feeling he doesn't need a lot of input so you stand there quietly as he opens a foot locker for you, tattered and olive green. Inside sit two neat stacks of clothes, battered looking but approximately the right size. You remember Johnny's comment about the Captain liking your pits and wonder if they always bring him back a certain type.

And if so, where they are.

"G'on love, pick out something you like," John leers, and you realize you won't be able to get away with waiting until he and Kyle leave to get dressed.

There's a marked efficiency to your movements. Grabbing the first top you see, you briefly check the tag before doing the same with the bottoms at the top of the pile. Close enough for rock and roll, you figure, dropping your blanket to the cold floor and pulling the clothes onto yourself as quickly as possible. Kyle's eyes are heavy, John's heavier. Your skin crawls, the goosebumps which never really went away after your little bath returning with a vengeance. To your immense displeasure, John has to help you pull your bad arm through the sleeve and he tuts sympathetically when you whine.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'll bring you down some button ups tomorrow, yeah? You nod when he pauses too long, realizing you're not going to be let off the hook without a proper answer. You creep toward the bed when he hums in acknowledgement, but he tuts in warning again, nodding toward a little desk shoved off to the side of the room. You sit obediently, thanking him with a little murmur when he ferries the bowl of soup from Gaz to you. He hovers, watching raptly until you bring a spoonful of the room temperature meal to your mouth.

"Good, right?" he asks, before you can even get a proper taste of it.

You take your time swallowing, playing up the pain in your cheek as you try to suss out a good response. It's just microwaved soup as far as you can tell, but you figure saying as much won't garner you any favors. Instead, you hum appreciatively and shovel in another bite before John can ask you any more questions.

It works, mostly. John takes a quick lap around the room instead of standing over you, sighing now and again at whatever he finds while Gaz continues to stand in the doorway, evidently unamused.

"It needs work, I'll give you that," John eventually concedes as you slurp at your meal. You hadn't realized how hungry you were until that sweet sweet MSG hit your tongue. "It needs work, but if you're good, we can spend some time down here fixing it up for you. Would you like that?"

You stall, spooning through some of the chunkier bits at the bottom of your bowl. It was kind of them to give you soup, you registered belatedly. Solid foods would have undoubtedly fucked up your mouth. Instead of answering, you ask John what would happen if you were to be bad and watch as his genial nature flips like a switch.

"Got a couple of news articles upstairs if you'd like to read 'em and find out."

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#dark fic #dead dove fic #141 x you #141 x reader #haul #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #Kyle garrick x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john price x reader #john price x you #poly 141 #💷🔪

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Part 2 of charmed serial killer Simon. (Part 1 is here.)

This part is heavily inspired by this particular Badjhur audio “Surviving the Slasher” from, like, a long time ago. Where he’s a killer. Easier to find than expected, thank you masterlist. It permanently has a room in my pea brain, no rent, utilities included.

You’re out with your little friends again. Simon scoffs to even call them that. You give them so much more than they even try to give you - support, encouragement, time, energy.

One of them has a shitty deadbeat boyfriend that’s throwing a flat party, so they’ve dragged you along per usual. You’re still swearing off alcohol after the last time you went out - when you got a ride home with him. So you’re totally sober when the rest of the idiots suggest “investigating” the abandoned hospital on the other end of the block.

You go with them as the only fully-sober one, but spend the whole, stumbling trip trying to convince them to go somewhere, anywhere, else.

Apparently the boyfriend fancies himself something of an urban explorer because he knows just how to get in, bragging that he’s going to start some stupid internet show looking for ghosts there. You end up getting knocked into a half dozen times just trying to keep your woozy friends from getting tetanus.

It doesn’t take long at all for someone to suggest hide and seek. You try adamantly to put your cute little foot down - reminding them that it’s dirty and structurally unstable and there could be people just trying to camp out in peace in here. You’re adamantly ignored and your friends scatter.

And Simon starts to hunt.

Oh, he wishes he could have seen your face when the screams first started. If you recognized the shriek of Addy, the one who yanked you away from a proper apology when you first bumped into him at the bar. Wonders if you felt anything when Simon stabbed her boyfriend in the stomach and sent him stumbling away to incite more terror.

Of course you did. His pretty little chatterbox, coming to the rescue as soon as you heard their cries.

You get yourself lost trying to find someone, anyone. He picks off your group one. By. One. He finds you trying to triage a nasty slice to Heather’s thigh. She was talking shit about you just two days ago to Addy.

And oh, how brave you are, trying to stick with her to the very end. All it takes is one well-placed throw and you’re scrambling back as Heather burbles blood.

He takes a single, loud step towards you - and you bolt. Such a smart thing, you don’t even glance back to see if he’s following. He’s not; there’s still trash to take care of.

You find one more friend - one he doesn’t mind so much, mostly because you just met tonight. She’s crying, making a fuss and you’re trying to soothe her while still focused on escape, letting her cling to your arm.

Simon starts herding you both towards an easy exit. A few well placed foot falls here, a jaunty whistle there. He loves watching your big eyes dart toward the noises, how you get low like a bunny hiding in brush. Always put yourself between your new friend and wherever you think he could come from.

Your friends’ blood is beginning to dry when he decides it’s time to wrap things up.

He appears in a doorway, and you shove at your fellow survivor, make her squeeze through the rusty door first. You’re just starting to follow when he snags you around the middle. You yelp, feet kicking at air, tugging at his soaked hoodie sleeve.

He shoves your back against a wall and presses close, the flat of his knife against your pretty cheek.

“What did we learn tonight, hm?” he mocks.

You’re flinching away, but know better than to struggle or scream. So clever.

“W-why are you doing this?” you ask.

How sweet, that you can’t understand the motivations of monsters like him. He indulges you.

“To teach you a lesson,” he answers. “Get better friends.”

You look furious, even as tears well in your eyes. He coos over them, tugs the bottom of his mask up enough to lick them as they fall down your cheek.

“S-Stop, that’s - that’s so gross,” you hiccup, pancaking yourself to the wall.

He snorts in amusement and tugs his mask down again.

“Now, I know you’re a good girl with good manners, so let’s see them.”

You blink at him, eyes soooo big. Don’t understand what he means.

He tuts. “Say: thank you, ghost, for teaching me a valuable lesson.”

You press your lips together in a tight, pouty line. He wants to bite them. Instead, taps the point of the knife against your jaw. A silent threat that’s he’s still debating if he means.

But you manage to get the sentence out, stuttering, voice breaking halfway through. Mm, he’s missed hearing your gratitude. It’s almost sweeter this way than all the times you said it in his car.

“You’re very welcome, sunshine. Now, off you go, before I decide to teach you something else.”

You don’t hesitate when he steps back. Peel yourself off the wall and wriggle out to freedom.

Simon chuckles. What a fun little playdate, he’s so glad he let you go that first time. He’ll have to arrange another one soon.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #serial killer ghost #charmed ghost

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unreliablesnake · 1 year ago

Text

Surprises (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Price finds out at a family gathering that his favorite niece's new boyfriend is none other than Ghost. The lieutenant thinks he's in trouble. How bad can things be?

Note: A little fluff and angst. What do you think? / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Simon knew he fucked up the moment he realized you were Price's niece.

The very niece he babysat several times when you were little, the one he talked so much about whenever they were discussing family. He loved you, he was proud of you, and despite you now being an independent young woman, he still treated you as if you were an expensive and rare piece of jewelry that had to be locked away.

So yes, when he attended a family event you invited him to and met the captain there, he knew he was in trouble. You had talked about your Uncle John before, sure, even joked about the two of them possibly knowing each other, but not even in his wildest dream could he suspect the two men being the same.

And now he was sitting there across from him at the long picnic table in the garden, his blue eyes piercing through his skull. Every time you intertwined your fingers with his on top of the table or leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek, he could almost hear the annoyed groan leave his lips.

You suddenly rested your head on his shoulder, smiling sweetly when he looked down at you. He couldn't help himself, he just followed his instincts when he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of your head. That move made the captain snap.

"Simon, why don't you help me bring out some nice, cold drinks?"

He gulped before nodding, his entire body suddenly going rigid from the terror he felt. "Hey, he barks, but doesn't bite. You'll be fine," you assured him as you kissed his shoulder through his shirt.

With a sigh, he stood up and followed Price into the kitchen, carefully closing the door after himself. "Look, Cap, I didn't know she was your niece. I'm sorry. But trust me, I'm serious about this relationship. I really like her," he began to explain the situation without hesitation.

But Price didn't seem interested in his excuses as he was quick to raise a hand to stop him. "I don't care, Simon. She likes you too, it's obvious and she told me before, I just don't want her to suffer if…"

If he dies on the field. That's what he wanted to say, he knew that. Nodding, he leaned against the kitchen island and folded his arms over his chest. The two of them stood there in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to do now. Simon understood why Price was so worried about this relationship, but he also had to understand that he wasn't about to give you up.

"Would you be happier if she was dating a civilian? Some loser who doesn't even know what he wants to do with his life?" he asked to break the silence.

Price drew in a sharp breath that he let out while running a hand through his hair. It was easy to tell he was dying to light a cigar, but his sister had a strict no smoking in the house rule. So he settled with the second best option and began pacing in front of him.

"You, as a person, are not the problem, Simon," he began. "You're a good man, I know that. The problem is our line of work. And the fact I'm your higher-up, and now I have to think about you not only as my right hand, but also as the boyfriend of my favorite niece. Every time I send you somewhere dangerous, I'll have to consider how she would react if something happened to you."

With a loud gulp, Simon considered his reasoning. He was right. Everything he said was understandable. "If you think it would be better if we broke up, just say it," he told him eventually.

There was no response for a while, they stood there in silence once again. But then Price shook his head and extended his hand. "Just make her happy, that's all I'm asking for," he said with a smile. "And don't tell her that we know each other. I don't want her to worry."

Hesitantly, but Simon shook his hand. He had no idea what made the captain change his mind, but he didn't have an issue with that as long as he was okay with him being with you. He then opened the fridge and began to put a selection of drinks on the counter next to it.

Once they made it back to the family, you immediately gave him a worried look, silently asking for a story he wasn't about to give you. So he lied like Price had just asked him to do, even if it hurt like hell.

"Everything's fine, he just wanted to get to know me," he told you with a smile before giving you a quick kiss. "We're good."

"Sure?" you asked with a suspicious look on your face. Simon nodded. "All right, if you say so. I'm glad he likes you," you noted with a smile on your lips.

Before he could say anything, Price raised a hand. "If I might add, you chose well, kiddo," he said with a smile before flashing a smile at the lieutenant.

"I know," you said with a triumphant smile before giving Simon a kiss.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #mw2 #captain john price #john price

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mrsparrasblog · 7 months ago

Text

You're losing me pt. 5

prev. part. first part.

TW: Gun, violence, mentioned rape, gaslighting, medic is shit

It was your last day on sick leave, so you spent it grading papers, cuddling with Winston, and getting distracted by Kyle's messages and his slutty pictures. You were so thankful for Kyle; he never pressed you for what happened with Johnny, just distracted you.

After you send a picture of Winston you heard the bell ringing and rolled your eyes. You knew Kyle never listened when you said not to come over, even though you really needed that time alone right now. Johnny is an artist, even though he didn't admit it, and so was being in a relationship with him. It was like being in a colorful picture, so vibrant. But since you left him, it felt like someone drained out the color; the painting is black and white, no longer golden.

You went to the door, opened it, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Kyle behind the door. She was there, her eyes puffy and red.

"What do you want?" If she was there to humiliate you, you’re going to throw up. You shortly texted Ky that she was there.

"I wanted to talk to you, I need your help," she sobbed.

Simon always called you one of the nicest people on earth, but right now, it was enough of being nice. "Well, you can ask Johnny for help." You tried to shut your door, but her foot was already between the frame.

"He is the problem."

"What, did he leave you?" you snorted out.

"He threatened to kill me because of the baby." You clearly misheard her. This can't be true, as if you can do anything against Johnny, and as if Johnny would do something against his own teammate.

"Baby?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant, three months." She rubs her nonexistent belly in front of you. Three months? Johnny cheated on you for three months? And a baby? No, this can't be true. Johnny loves babies; he’d never kill a pregnant woman, none of them.

"And he is threatening you?" You asked while slowly trying to pull out your phone again. You knew Si would be here in 4 minutes if you called him.

"Yes, he wants to tell everyone that I raped him, just so I get an abortion." With that, you burst out laughing. This was the worst joke you ever heard. When she wanted you to pull you away from him for real.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid to believe this shit now leave my apartment before I call the police." You already pulled out your phone to dial the number of the police, who are you kidding, dial the number of Simon. Simon and John always explained if something happens to you, call them instead of the police, they solve your problem faster, and that was a gigantic slag-formed problem.

"Bad mistake," she points out a gun to you, calculating. You trained for this situation endless times in school, but it was still different when someone held a gun against you. Would it work to tell her that there are people that love her? Or maybe you should argue with logic.

"When you kill me, they won't forgive you, it's not worth it," you said trying to sound as calm as possible.

"They won't find out," she laughed. God, that woman was batshit crazy.

"Here are cameras," they weren’t recording, but maybe she was stupid enough to believe you.

"They will understand," she said. Maybe she was stupid enough but also crazy enough to not care. There is only the last logical thing you could say to her.

"Then kill me."

"What?" She was surprised at your bluntness, but you knew she couldn’t really kill you, and if Kyle looked at his phone, he would have already been on his way, so you need to get through this for 10 minutes, 10 minutes, and you are safe.

"If you kill me, Johnny will find you, Kyle will break you, Simon will torture you, and John will finish your miserable life, my death isn’t worth this." You slowly walked backward towards the counter, there must be a gun. John put it in there when you first got together. You didn't quite know how to use it, but better than nothing.

"You're right," finally.

"So why don’t we put the gun down and just, you know, talk about it like adults," you suggested, still moving tiny steps backward.

"Stop moving, or I'll kill you," the same words over and over again. She sounded like a broken record recorder. You stopped moving, but this wasn’t enough for her.

"Maybe I should kill your rat, so you listen." Rat? Her gun pointed toward Winston. Fuck, she should better kill you than your baby. You lost complete hope in turning her; she is crazy.

"He is Kyle's dog, not mine. If you kill him, he will be sad." The shake in your voice was evident; tears started to storm out of your eyes; you didn't know what to do anymore.

"Three of four are enough, anyways." Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I can call them; I'll break up with them, just let Winston be safe, okay?"

"Really, you give up your boyfriends for that rat?" She gestured disgusted at your precious baby.

"Yes."

"Okay, call them," you walked to the counter, dialing Simon's number, close enough to the gun. You really hoped they don’t show a sign that they know; they are SAS; they need to understand, right?

"Hello," good, Simon's voice.

"Are the others with you?" You asked, trying not to tremble; she couldn’t find out what you planned.

"Yes, I put them on speaker, luv."

"I'm breaking up with you, with all of you for final this time. John, you're always putting me in danger, Johnny, you're always with her instead of my home, always on deployment with Simon, and you’re carrying all these scary guns with you that make me afraid, and I hate your stupid dog, Kyle." She looked proud and relieved at you, too stupid to realize. But they were smart, right?

"Okay, just give me back my keys to the office, they’re in the cupboard in the kitchen. I don’t want to see you anytime soon, I will pick it up at three tomorrow, bye." She gained heavily, and all you could feel was relief; you looked at the clock; it was 2:57, three minutes, and the gun. God, you loved your smart boys.

"Will you let me go now?" you asked, and she shook her head.

"Just need to make sure that you never go to my boys again, you can understand, right?"

"I'll move abroad if you want, the US, Germany, Italy, call it and I'll be gone." Before she could reply, she heard a loud bang outside, and that was your chance to grab the gun as she turned around, loaded fucking genius John, but not in safety, idiot. And then you shot, closing your eyes. You never did this before; the closest you came was a water gun at the beach; you didn't hit anything major, only her shoulder, but it was enough for her to lose her stance and fall. Seconds after, the boys went in Simon pulled her to the ground like a bulldozer with John. While Kyle and Johnny ran to you.

"Are you okay?" Both men asked, checking you for any injury.

"I don't feel okay."

"We know, love." You wrapped your arms around Johnny and began to sob. You needed him; you missed him and you were so scared. You knew for a fact he didn't cheat on you after that stunt that woman pulled today.

"We'll take care of her; we will be back soon, luv," Simon said with a devious grin while putting his boot on her to press down on her bullet wound.

John and Ghost left with her, and you knew for a fact your shot would be the nicest thing she witnessed in the next few days.

"I shot someone."

"Proud of you, hen."

"Never shoot again, please, babe; you're terrible at it," Kyle joked, but you still felt shitty. He knelt down, hugging Winston tight. "Oh, you've been such a brave and good boy protecting your mama. Let me take you to the park, pup," he said while Winston barked happily. "You two need to talk this out."

"Only we two now, Johnny."

"Aye, only we two."

"Where do we start?"

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

Taglist: @cod-z , @kaoyamamegami, @postmortem-angel, @jackrabbitem , @sseleniaa , @thigh-o-saur , @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121 @thychuvaluswife

A/N : so I added the picture of Eliot to make up for the Angst I write 😭

For any who has a light belly (do you say that in english or only in German lol?) the next chapter will be half torture of her and the other half Johnny and Reader <3

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dragon-kazansky · 7 months ago

Text

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Five - Diamonds

♡♡♡

The next ball you attended felt like quite the intimate affair. Understandably so.

You attended with your mother, but as soon as the Bridgerton's arrived, you waited for the opportune moment to join them. Benedict and Colin seemed particularly pleased to see you already. You were becoming quite close friends with them.

The Duke approached Daphne and asked her to dance. Anthony was about to intervene, but Lady Danbury, who had approached alongside Simon, spoke up before he could. "I shall need someone else to seek me a glass of ratafia, then. Lord Bridgerton..." She holds up her arm, "Do me the honour?"

You hide your smile at her tactics. It was so clear she was trying to prevent him from interfering further.

Anthony gives in. "Of course, Lady Danbury."

They leave.

You watch as Daphne goes with Simon into the main ballroom. You watch them go. As you enter the ballroom yourself, you watch them join the others in a dance.

They look happy together. They are enjoying themselves.

Could it be the Duke does, in fact, feel something for Miss Bridgerton? It certainly looks that way. You can only imagine what Whistledown will say about this.

Benedict smiles as he watches from beside Anthony.

"They look wonderful together," you say softly.

Anthony clenches his jaw from beside you. As the current dance ends, Anthony takes Benedict by the shoulder and urges him forward. "Go dance with your sister."

You look at them as Benedict asks, "why?"

"Because I asked you to!"

Benedict looks less than pleased but goes anyway, groaning. You watch him approach Daphne.

With Simon now free, Anthony marches off to talk to him. You sigh as you realise you are now alone.

Benedict dances with Daphne only for a short while before she parts with him and enters the next room. The same room Anthony went into with Simon. You find yourself walking that way to see what was happening.

You stand in the door as Anthony hurries past. Violet reaches out for him, but he keeps on moving. You find Daphne looking at Simon. She approaches him to speak with him.

Benedict comes up beside you. "Will you dance with me? My dance with Daphne ended early."

You chuckle and take his hand. "As did her patience, I think. What was that about?"

"I have no idea." He takes you to the dance floor. You both start to dance.

"Your family is quite something."

"That's putting it politely."

"Is Lord Berbrooke a problem?" You ask.

"I'm not sure. Anthony seemed to have it all handled." Benedict shrugs. "He seems to have control of the matter."

"Does he?"

"I think so." Though Benedict didn't sound so convinced.

"I have you any callers yet?" He asks, changing the topic. As much as he loved his family, he only cared to discuss them for so long.

"No..." You confess.

"Not one?" He asks, sounding surprised. "How is that possible?"

"The ton have their eyes on Daphne now. I shall be unlikely able to stand out at all." You tell him.

"I find that hard to believe."

"It is true. I appreciate your concern, but I fear I shall not find a match this year. I shall enjoy the rest of the season as much as I can."

Benedict frowns slightly.

"You need not pity me. I am quite content to wait another year." You assure him, or at least try to.

"Still, wouldn't it be nice to know someone noticed you?"

You keep your mouth shut. You fear him being able to read you too easily. Though it seems your silence was enough of an answer for him.

"You need not feel the need to pretend."

"It's nothing."

Neither of you speaks again. When the dance ends, you bow and part ways from him. Benedict watches you go, sensing you would rather have some time to yourself for now.

♡♡♡

Your mother enters the drawing room where you are reading. She has this morning's issue of Lady Whistledown. You care not for the gossip column.

"It seems Miss Bridgerton is indecisive about the duke."

"Is that so," you hum softly, turning the page in your book.

"She would make a fine duchess, do you not think?"

"Yes, quite."

Your mother looks up at you. You're awfully quiet this morning. "Something the matter?"

"Why should anything be the matter?" You ask.

"No reason... You are just so quiet this morning."

"Forgive me. I didn't get much sleep."

"Are you well?" She asks.

"Well enough."

Your mother comes to sit beside you. She reaches for your hand and pulls it into her lap. "You can speak with me about anything."

You smile and squeezes her hand. "I know."

"A mother knows when her daughter is upset."

"I wouldn't say I'm upset."

"Then what is it?" She asks.

You sigh and put down your book. "I have had no one caller this season. I know I am not diamond, and I know we are not Bridgerton status, but I thought surely one man in all of London would come see me."

"Yes. Well, I thought perhaps that Benedict might."

"Mother."

"I know. I know. You told me yourself. I suppose I am glad you have become friends with them. Though he would make a fine husband."

"I am sure." You smile.

"You will find someone. Perhaps not now, but soon. I am willing to wait with you."

You smile at your mother and lean against her shoulder. She kisses the top of your head gently.

You are thankful you have her.

♡♡♡

The grand picnic was an exciting time. All the ton gathered in the park to enjoy the wonderful weather and promanade. It was a chance to see who was courting who, if at all anyone.

You were in attendance with your mother and a couple of maids. You were sitting under the canopy, fanning yourself gently, not that it was extremely hot today. You scanned the park, looking out for family faces.

Lord and Lady Carlisle were strolling by. You spotted two young boys by the lake, one of which you were certain was the son of Mr Thomas who loved but two houses away from you and your mother.

Your eyes found where the Bridgerton's were stationed. Anthony and Colin appeared to be playing games with their younger siblings. Benedict was seated, watching them. You smile.

The thought of a large family seemed so comforting to you. As an only child, you would never know what it would be like to have the company of siblings.

Perhaps, you think, in your future, you may have many children. You would like your children to have the love and support and chaos of each other.

"You're smiling."

You turn to find your mother looking at you.

"What are you smiling at?" She asks softly.

"Nothing," you lie.

You know she doesn't believe you. You also know you can't hide from her either. "Do you think I can have a large family one day?" You ask.

She smiles. "I do not see why not." Your mother had already spotted the Bridgerton's across the way. She knew they were a large enough family. "One day."

You smile as you turn back to them.

"Why don't you go over? I will be quite alright with my own company for a while."

"Are you certain? I do not mind staying."

She smiles softly. "Go. Enjoy yourself. They are, after all, your friends."

You smile and thank her, rising from your seat to go join them. As you get closer, Benedict and Colin both perk up.

"Hello," you smile.

Anthony turns and smiles, too. "Hello. Come to join us, have you?"

"Is that alright?"

Before Anthony can reply, Benedict speaks up, sitting up in his chair. "Of course. Come, sit with me."

You chuckle and join him under the canopy. You sit in the vacant seat. Violet comes over with a smile. "Good to see you, dear."

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"Nonsense!" She smiles, placing a hand on your shoudler gently.

You watch the children play. Benedict offers you some food from the basket beside him, and you accept. Any sour moods about your prospects has been forgotten.

When Simon approaches on horseback, Daphne is quick to flee from her brother to join him. They stroll away.

"Are you alright?" Benedict takes the opportunity to ask.

"Hm?" You turn to him.

"The other night, you left rather quickly the other night."

"I'm fine. I was just tired. Forgive me." You offer him a smile, but he takes note it doesn't quite light up your face.

"Of course."

You continue to pick at the picnic.

Benedict watches you for a little while, but his attention is torn away when a voice calls out.

"Bridgerton!"

You look up in time to see Berbrooke coming forth with something in his hand. His face looks terrible, as if he took a beating.

"A bring cheerful new, Bridgertons."

Violet and Anthony turn to look at the man.

"I have taken matters in my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton."

"There is to be no wedding," Daphne states, pleading with him.

You stand, worried for Daphne.

"I told you. The arrangement is cancelled." Anthony recalls.

"Lord Berbrooke, you look in a great deal of pain," Violet says. "Shall we continue this in a more private location?"

"I require no further conversation." He says firmly. "Though perhaps I am finally speaking to the true head of the Bridgerton house. For if it were you, I imagine you would have instructed your sister to take better care than to encourage certain attentions while alone with me on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall. Of course, mere hearsay of such scandal could wreak havoc on even the most influential of families. What would someone like, say, Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?"

You stare at the man with shock and disgust. You had no idea lf the details of what has happened, but you know enough to know Daphne would never take part in such behaviour.

"Is that a threat?" Anthony asks.

"It is certainly not. Because in three days, I am to marry. I have the diamond of the season." Berbrooke states. "I have the beey best the ton has to offer. I have a Bridgerton. And I shall save her, as well as your entire family, from the ruin which you could not protect them." He looks at Anthony.

You want so much to make his black eye worse. You don't even realise Benedict holds your arm gently to prevent you from moving.

Simon goes to move past Daphne to do the exact same as you thought. Benedict quickly let's go of you to hold him back.

You're caught off guard by how quickly both men moved.

"I look forward to the union of our great families." Berbrooke grins. His grin sends your stomach turning. "Bridgerton. Hastings."

He leaves.

Anthony is left to look at the special license that had been thrusted upon him.

Daphne looks beyond upset.

Anthony and Violet are quick to see Daphne home. Benedict escorts you back to your mother while Colin sees to his younger siblings.

"Will she be alright?" You ask.

"I'm sure. Though you best leave this to my brother."

"She looked terribly upset."

"As she should be. Lord Berbrooke is a horrid little man." Benedict sighs. "My sister deserves the best."

You smile softly. "I'm rather fond of Daphne. Perhaps I shall pay her a visit soon?"

"I am sure she will be most pleased. For now, give her time."

You nod.

You reuter to your mother who comes to stand with you. She had seen Lord Berbrooke approach.

"Is all well?" She asks.

You let go of Benedict to join her. "It shall be in time, I'm sure."

You turn back to Benedict. "See you soon." He nods and departs.

Your mother loops her arm with yours and walks with you. You tell her little of what happened, but you know she, too, worries about Daphne.

When the eyes of the ton are all on you, there comes great pressure and challenges.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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a-b-riddle · 8 months ago

Text

A Simple (Mis) Understanding Chapter One: Location, Location, Location

John

"MacTavish," It had been about three months since the 141 had returned from our last OP. It had been a rough one and, although, we had all come back alive, we didn't come back unscathed. And we all had to thank a pretty little IT 'expert' to thank for that. Stupid fucking Omega...

"Usually I'm the one calling you. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I threw back the amber colored liquor, finishing the last of my latest bottle. It seemed all I had in my free time was drinking myself into an early grave.

Good.

"Care for a hunting trip, Cap'n?" Johnny's tone was playful, which was almost always never a good sign. MacTavish could seek out trouble like a bloody bloodhound.

"What d'ya have in mind?" I humored. I had come home to a sedentary life style. Any ideals I had about settling down, extinguished. I wasn't as young as I used to be, but I'm still too into the fight to retire now. So whatever Johnny had in mind, surely must be something worth at least entertaining.

"A pretty little flower." He says and I swear I can almost hear the see the smirk on his face. "Stands at about five foot three. Has a knack for stabbing a man in the back right after suckin' 'im dry."

Daisy.

"You got a lead then I take it?" I try to stifle the anger as I feel it beginning to bubble. Every Alpha instinct is telling me to track, hunt, kill. Before, every biological urge I had toward our flower was to protect, keep, and fuck until she forgot her own bloody name. Now, I wasn't so sure I could stand the sight of her long enough to get the answers I wanted-- needed-- before absolutely tearing her to fucking shreds.

"Aye." He confirmed. "Wanted to see if you were up for it before I called the lads."

"How polite."

"You're still, Cap'n." "And I know you had more..." There was a shift in his tone. Unease as he tried to find the words, but couldn't. He couldn't. None of us could. Because none of us could describe what had happened with Daisy. Betrayal is too gentle of a word, too short and modest of a word to describe what she had done to us; hell, me. Johnny cleared his throat. Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to retract the beginning of whatever statement he had intended on making. "Join me to settle an old debt, ye?"

I didn't need to think twice about Johnny's officer. An opportunity to finish what we started back in Austria. I didn't regret stopping Johnny as much as I did not getting the answers I needed before the little bitch disappeared like a damn thief in the night. Now was the chance. Not only revenge for what we had been through, but the betrayal she had put us through. Jeopardizing not only the 141, but the few loved ones we had. My mum, MacTavish's sisters, Garrick's entire fucking family and the little solace that Simon had. A peace of mind knowing if he wanted to start living again, he could. All of it was almost lost.

"You got eyes on our-" No. She wasn't ours anymore. Not our girl. Not our flower. Sure as fuck never our Omega. "On her."

"I got an address." If he noticed my pause, he didn't say anything. For that I'm grateful. I can't be weak again because some of doe-eyed little Omega. One who whispered sweet lies about how good my knot felt and all the things she wanted in life. Things we-I- wanted. "Had an old contact have her name pop up. Hen is too fucking dense to make sure to use an alias especially considering she stayed on our side of the pond."

Don't really plan on going home after this. Not really anything waiting for me back there except some student debt. She had hid the pain of having no family well, but, now after everything, nothing seemed genuine. Every kiss, every touch, every smile and laugh she had thrown my way was now tainted.

Now it was time to bury it all.

"I'll call Garrick." That was all the confirmation Johnny would get out of me. I didn't want to seem too eager to finally get my hands on her. I needed to be collected. Level headed. I was the Alpha. I was the one my team looked to for guidance. I had already failed them once. I damn sure wouldn't be doing it again. "I'll let you convince Riley to come along."

"Lettin' me call in the boogeyman?" Johnny was smiling again. Could fucking hear it in his voice. He was the one who had probably fallen the hardest for the little bitch. Indulging him in soft touches and soothing his temper. Probably the same reason he had put a barrel to her forehead the moment she had admitted to it.

I was going to tell you. She had tried to excuse her delay as if that were the issue. I just didn't know how to tell you. But can you blame me? Yes. We could. And we did. For the shitty last seven months. For the constant worry all of us had for having to pull our mind out of the mission to worry about what was going on back home.

Her tears didn't save her. Only until Laswell came in raising an absolute bloody stink. Claims of how the very audacity to potentially injure an Omega on her team could cost her career. Fuck her career.

"Send me the details." I pulled another bottle off the shelf. Promising myself it would be the last one I had until I finally pulled that weed of a woman out of existence. Killing her meant I could finally move on. Find someone, certainly not a fucking Omega, to settle down with. I could heal from the heartbreak I would never admit to. It would be the ending that we all needed.

"Will do Cap'n." Johnny didn't wait for my dismissal before he hung up. He was just as ready for a hunt as I was.

#captain john price #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #ghost #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #omegaverse #angst #betrayal

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deebris · 8 months ago

Text

Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod modern warfare #call of duty #imagine #x reader #simon ghost riley #mom reader #mother reader #task force 141 #angst #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

Coffee Shop: VI

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

Simon, having finished his workout earlier than usual, decided to break his routine and head to the coffee shop a few minutes ahead of his typical schedule. As he approached the entrance, he spotted the man who had asked you for your number the day before. Simon took a deep breath and increased his pace, striding purposefully towards the door with larger steps.

“C'mon, doll face, what’s the real reason you didn’t call me?”

“I lost your number, I don’t know what happened to the napkin you gave me.” He took a step closer to you, and you backed into the table.

“I know you're lying. What is it, hm? Not attractive enough for you?” He grabbed your waist, trying to bring you closer, and you shoved him off you.

His hand lifted, and you put your hands up to block him from hitting you, but in one swift motion, Simon’s fist collided with the side of his face. Your eyes grew wide, and you took a step back.

Simon, fueled by a surge of protective instinct, straddled the man on the ground, gripping his collar and lifting him up. Another punch followed, blood spouting from the man's nose, prompting a shocked reaction from you. Concern etched across your face, you gently placed your hand on Simon's shoulder.

"Simon, please, you're going to kill him," Reluctantly, he got off the man, taking a deep breath. Simon then lifted the man off the ground and dragged him toward the cafe door.

"If I ever see you come here again or she tells me that you tried doing something to her while I wasn't around, I'll find out where you live and fucking kill you. You understand, mate?" The man nodded in terror as Simon opened the door and forcefully threw him out.

You approached Simon with a gentle stride, placing your hand on his arm as you brought his hand closer to your eyes. A small gasp escaped you as you noticed the slight cut on his knuckles, your eyes widening in concern.

"Take a seat, I’m going to grab the first aid kit," your worry evident. Simon, trying to reassure you, offered a slight smile. "I’m okay, love, no need to burden yourself."

"Simon, you have a cut on your knuckle, it could get infected," Anticipating his protest, you furrowed your brows, looking up at him with a soft plea.

"Simon, please," he felt a subtle skip in his heartbeat. He nodded in agreement, not just to let you tend to the cut but also to let you disappear into the back, giving him a moment to smile to himself.

Observing the small red cut, he marveled at how you were getting worked up over this minor injury.

The thought crossed his mind – what would you think if you saw the deep scars that adorned his body.

You returned to Simon with purpose, speed walking and taking a seat next to him. His hand was placed on the table in front of you, and you swiftly opened the small medical kit, retrieving peroxide and cotton balls.

Simon gazed down at you, a content smile playing on his lips. Your hands worked deftly as you soaked a cotton ball in alcohol and tapped it onto his cut. He hissed, and your eyes widened, immediately shifting to his face. To your surprise, he was smiling.

"You ass," you teased, and he laughed in response. You resumed your task, tapping the cut before applying cream and securing a bandage. Simon raised an eyebrow when he noticed the bandaid – white with small brown bears.

"Sorry, it's the only ones we had left," He smiled down at you before relaxing his gaze.

"Are you okay?" asking with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'm okay. He didn't hurt me or anything," he simply nodded, and a smile adorned your face as you looked down at your hands.

"Thank you for protecting me... I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here," your eyes locked with Simon’s. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes you melt in the chair.

"No need to thank me, love. I wasn't just going to stand there and let him hurt you,"

You smile up at him, and the moment lingers for a few seconds, the two of you locked in a gaze that speaks volumes. The only thing that tears your gaze from his is the sound of your manager's voice from the back.

"I should go see what he wants. Do you want your regular?"

Simon smiles and nods, "please."

You grab the med kit and disappear into the back of the cafe. Simon looks down at his knuckle with the bandaid on it, lightly brushing his finger over it and smiling. The tenderness with which you cared for him resonates in his thoughts – the gentleness, the careful movements, as if you were tending to a fragile bird with a broken wing.

The moment was more than just about a cut on his knuckle; it was a silent acknowledgment of the care and connection growing between you two. Simon couldn't help but appreciate the emotional comfort that lingered even after you left.

His gaze shifted to the door, and a warm smile spread across his face when he spotted Elise. "There's the most gorgeous woman I know."

Elise turned, her own smile lighting up when she saw Simon. "Honey, you're back! Now, where have you been?" Simon rose from his seat and walked up to her, linking his arm with hers. Together, they made their way to his table.

"Overseas."

"Oh? A military man. Makes sense with these strong muscles," Elise remarked, lightly squeezing his arm, and Simon couldn't help but smile. They both took their seats, Simon across from Elise, who then noticed the book you had lent him.

"What are you reading now, honey?"

"Y/n lent me this book. I finished reading it a few days ago," Elise smiled and leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"When are you going to take her out, hmm? That girl is head over heels for you, Simon. She would not stop talking about you the entire time you were gone." Simon's smile grew, his heart fluttering and swelling in his chest at Elise's words. The realization that you had been talking about him in his absence brought a warmth that lingered throughout their conversation.

"Really, what did she say?" a curious eyebrow raised. Elise, however, merely smirked at him before getting up. "You'll have to ask her yourself." She strolled over to the register, and just as she did, you walked out, greeting her with a big smile and asking about her day.

After a few minutes of small talk and bidding farewell to Elise, you made Simon's tea and brought it over to him. "I'm sorry that took a while."

He handed you the money and smiled, "No worries, love. Was talking to Elise while you were out back." You took a seat across from him, your elbow propping your head up.

"Really? Did she offer to crochet you a beanie?" Simon smiled and shook his head slightly. "No, she didn't. She told me that you spoke about me while I was gone." Your smile faded into an awkward laugh as you mentally cursed out Elise for bringing up your conversations about Simon.

"Yeah, I was bored without you around," you admitted, looking away briefly before meeting Simon's gaze again.

"Missed my company, hmm?" Simon teased, a warm smile playing on his lips as he lifted the mug to his lips. You paused, holding his gaze for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, feeling a hint of embarrassment. Your eyes dropped to your hands, but Simon, sensing your vulnerability, put his cup down on the table and leaned towards you.

"When I was overseas, the tea at the base tasted like burnt nuclear waste. I couldn't wait to come back home," your face brightened as you looked up at him. A warm smile spread across your face.

"I'm glad you had something to look forward to," you said sincerely.

Simon's return had brought back more than just the familiar taste of home – it had brought a warmth and joy that you both cherished in each other's company.

During your break, you sat with Simon, and for the first time, you heard him ramble about something - specifically, the book you had lent him. Engrossed in conversation, you both talked about the ending of the book, and you learned that Simon’s favorite character was Joel Miller.

As you returned to work, Simon found moments to share jokes with you while you were behind the register. The sound of your laughter made his heart swell, and in those moments, he felt a lightness he hadn't known before.

As the familiar beep of his watch signaled the end of his time with you, you turned toward him, "Heading out?"

Simon looked at the time on his watch before meeting your gaze. He stood up and replied, "No, I think I'll stay for a bit longer."

"No plans tonight?" you asked with a warm smile as you wiped down the counter. "Don't ever really have plans, I stay home most of the day," You hummed in understanding, your gaze meeting his.

"Want to try something else off the menu?" Simon's gaze lingered on you for a few seconds before he looked up at the menu displayed above you.

"Do you make coffee as good as tea?" Simon asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the counter. You reciprocated with a confident grin.

"Of course, I do."

"Could I get a latte and a croissant?"

"Yeah, that will be 6.50."

After Simon paid, you prepared his order and set it on a tray in front of him. As he took a sip of his latte, he couldn't help but relish in how good it tasted. Despite not being much of a coffee guy, he could certainly become one if every cup tasted like this.

However, his enjoyment was interrupted when he noticed a car parking across the street. After five minutes of no one exiting the vehicle, he subtly glanced over. A sigh escaped him when he realized it was the man's car from earlier.

Questions raced through his mind. Why hadn't the man come inside? Was he waiting for him to leave to approach you? Or perhaps, was he waiting for you to finish work?

All these possibilities raced through Simon's mind, but one thing was certain. He wouldn't leave until he knew you were safe. Glancing at his watch, he noted that he had been there for around two hours already. He then looked at you, handing the next customer their order before they took a seat at the back of the cafe with their child.

"When do you get off of work, love?" Simon’s eyes glanced at the clock before returning to you.

"In about thirty minutes," Simon hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip of his drink. He turned his head to check if his car was still parked across the street, confirming that it was. The looming possibility that the man from earlier might try something when you got off work lingered in his mind.

As you wiped down the counter, the older woman who works the shift after you walked through the door. You engaged in a brief conversation with her before walking over to Simon.

"Are my lattes any good?" he was finishing the last bit of his croissant when you asked.

"Ten out of ten, love. You know your way around a good cup," you smiled proudly at him and Simon leaned foward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table.

"Don't look now, but the man from earlier, he's parked across the street," Your eyes grew a little wide, and you pulled out a chair, taking a seat across from him.

"How long has he been there?" you asked, a hint of worry in your voice.

Simon glanced at his clock and then back at you. "Ten, fifteen minutes." Your gaze went down to your hands, taking a deep breath before checking the clock.

"My shift ends in ten minutes," you muttered, glancing out through the window, noticing the car and the sun setting. "It's getting dark out too."

"Do you have a safe way home?" Simon sipped the last bit of coffee in his mug. You sighed and shook your head.

"I usually walk to work and back home." You pulled out your phone and opened the Uber app.

"I can just Uber home."

Simon almost let you do it, but the thought of the man possibly following the Uber car and attacking you at your door made him speak without thinking.

"I could walk you home." You looked up from your phone, eyebrows raised, and smiled, shaking your head.

"No, it's okay. I don't want to burden you with something like that."

"I don't mind, love. Wouldn't feel right if I didn't make sure you got home safe. Him coming back could be my fault; I did rough him up."

"You really think he’d try something?" Simon stood up from his chair.

"Wouldn't doubt it from a man like him. Probably should have punched him a few more times," he said, smiling down at you. You smiled back, shaking your head, appreciating the protective concern in Simon's eyes.

"The walk is about ten minutes, is that okay?" you asked, getting up from the chair and heading towards the door, with Simon following behind you.

"What direction?" as you both stepped out of the cafe you pointed towards the direction where Simon lives.

"Works out; I live in this direction too," You wrapped your coat around you tighter, feeling a chilly breeze against you.

"I'm glad," you quietly muttered out.

Simon smiled, looking down at you. "Glad it works out, or glad I live in this direction?"

You awkwardly looked away, berating yourself for not watching how you worded things. "Glad that it works out. I would feel bad if I made you walk far,"

"Good exercise," he remarked.

"Optimistic."

"Rarely."

You smiled, a subtle warmth in your gaze, and looked up at Simon for a few seconds before glancing away.

"Something on my face?" he asked.

"No," your smile lingering.

"Hm,"

He looked to his side, his face no longer in your view, and a small smile played on his lips. An unfamiliar sensation stirred deep in his stomach. It almost felt like his stomach was lifting. Was this what people meant when they say they have butterflies?

As you both walked, every few steps, your arms would occasionally brush against each other, and Simon found himself instinctively gravitating toward you.

“So, how was your day?” you quietly asked, genuine curiosity in your eyes.

“Same old, you know.”

“Oh, really? Mine was, um, pretty good. I found this cute dog on the internet. Almost wanted to adopt him.”

“Why didn't you?”

You shrugged, a thoughtful expression on your face. “I have a cat, and I don't know how she would respond to a dog in the house.” Simon hummed, nodding his head in understanding.

“Do you like dogs?”

Simon had been thinking about adopting a dog to put into the K-9 training unit so he could start taking them on missions with him. However he never really got around to the adoption process.

"Yeah, dogs are alright. Been thinking about getting one."

Excitement lit up your eyes, "Oh! Maybe I could write down the adoption website for you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I could check it out."

Simon glanced to his side as they passed by his house. Should he tell you where he lived? Since a man was potentially stalking you, it would probably be good if you knew where he lived for safety reasons, right?

“This is where I live,” Simon motioned to his house as you walked by. Your response was a casual hum, “When I overbake, I know who I'll give my extras to.”

A genuine smile adorned Simon's face as he looked down at you, and you continued your walk in a serene, comfortable silence. Despite the outward calm, Simon's thoughts churned in turmoil. The encounter with the man lingered in his mind, prompting questions about your well-being.

As the quiet street stretched before you, Simon's mind played out scenarios of the man taking more intrusive actions. What if he decided to break into your house? What if he caught you during your walk to work tomorrow? He glanced at his watch to check the day, and he internally sighed, realizing tomorrow was Saturday, and you don't work weekends.

It would still be good to have your number for safety reasons and safety reasons only. It's not like Simon wanted to talk about books with you or hear from you on the days you didn't work. Of course not, safety only.

Before he knew it, you slowed down and turned to him, pointing towards your house, "This is where I live." Simon's eyes roved over the vibrant array of colorful flowers in your front yard and the well-tended plants near your front door.

"Green thumb?" he asked with a teasing smile.

You laughed and nodded, "The greenest."

"Thank you for walking me home; I really appreciate you doing this,"

Now or never Simon.

Seizing the moment, Simon steeled himself. "No need to thank me, love… I did want to ask... if-"

Despite being a seasoned killer, a special ops soldier, and a lieutenant for Task Force 141, Simon found himself unexpectedly grappling with nerves as he attempted to ask for your number.

"Just... wondering if, you know, for safety reasons, I could have your number." he finally managed to articulate, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability.

A playful grin played on your face. "Safety reasons, huh?"

Simon scratched the back of his head, avoiding direct eye contact. "Well, you never know what that man will try. I only live a few houses down; I'd get to you quicker than if you called the police."

Your heart warmed, and you couldn't help but smile, finding Simon's awkwardness endearing. "Alright, for safety reasons then,"

Simon retrieved his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. As you navigated through his contacts app, a momentary surprise flashed across your face when you noticed he only had three contacts. Undeterred, you swiftly added your number to his phone and handed it back to him.

“I'll text you a link for that adoption website,” Simon nodded, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket.

You started walking up the little path to your front door, turning towards him with a genuine smile. “Thank you again for walking me home, Simon.”

“Of course,” his tone warm and reassuring.

When you unlocked your door, you turned back to him and waved, “Walk home safe.” Simon nodded, reciprocating the gesture, and you walked into your house, locking the door behind you. A smile that was almost too wide for your face lingered as Simon retraced his steps home. Pulling his phone out, he smiled when he saw your name now in his contacts.

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pancake404 · 1 month ago

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Smiling and Nightmare Critters Test Art

After a while, I decided to make art of the Nightmare Critters finally and what I headcanon as their relationship with the Smiling Critters would be.

In my headcanon: I agree that the Nightmare Critters as a group is supposed to be the opposing and villainous side in the cartoon going against and causing trouble with the Smiling Critters, maybe one in particular in each episode that the Smiling Critters have to deal with.

But I also think there could be some duos or small groups that could be a little more than just villain and hero but rather a bit more complex and sometimes, a few of them are friends.

Here are some ideas presented:

Crafty and Simon know each other and have a past together before they go their own ways. This is coming from the fact that both are more mythical than the others who are regular animals(Crafty the unicorn and Simon the dragon). Also, in some degrees, they can be shown as opposites. Simon is more stuck up and focuses on being the best compared to everyone else as any little achievement is going to be slapped across everyone's face by Simon as he constantly boasts while Crafty might literally die if she had to present her art and start showering herself with compliments in front of anyone. In that portion, I labeled that Crafty left Simon as they began having frequent disagreements and arguments Crafty ended up joining the Smiling Critters which she felt more comfortable with. Simon isn't going to let it go though and they have a rivalry/frienemy/strange relationship.

I think Hoppy and Rabie would get along specifically being gossip gals. They can't keep anything to themselves and from each other as Hoppy would be the one that would accidentally overhear secrets from her friends and Rabie would learn about it and start spreading the rumors around. Yeah...the other critters don't like them being together as chaos tends to unfold afterward.

Bubba and Allister don't have much of a friendship though out of a random thought I had, I imagined Bubba silently reading to himself while using Allister as a platform to stay above water. Allister doesn't care as this means he doesn't need to move at all and just lets him.

Dogday and Poe would be funny to see because Dogday is pretty much everything Poe doesn't like. Dogday is upbeat, very social, and represents the sun which are all things I imagine Poe hating(he does not like the sun and that's confirmed). Dogday doesn't realize this so he tries to be the same positive leader he is when talking with Poe, who, at this point, is begging Dogday to leave...but by some random chance there is a loud noise and Dogday does not get the hint.

Lastly, Catnap and Baba. I think they would be great with each other as both eventually are tired of socializing for the day and just want some time to relax alone. Catnap is the only critter that doesn't bother Baba even when near as Catnap doesn't speak so he is this silent, comforting presence. While opposites attract(Dogday and Catnap), Catnap and Baba understand each other well. They both may be a bit psychopathic which they share with concerning interest.

Hope you enjoyed the art and my explanations of how they would interact.

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anandrettisimp · 6 months ago

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Okay, so I need to do a bit of a ramble about one of the biggest couple goals in recent motorsport.

I am, of course talking about Will and Liz Power

Now you’ve gotta understand that they basically started at Team Australia/Walker Racing within a couple of months of each other with Will doing the last two races of the ‘05 Champ Car season and Liz joining as part of the PR team in February ‘06. They had met and interacted but it wasn’t an easy start for Liz.

You see, between Long Beach and Houston, which was to be the first race she would attend in person, her Dad, Bo, had a stroke and required quadruple bypass surgery. It was only at the last minute that she felt she could do the race only just making it in time for the team bus leaving for the airport.

Will sat beside her, making sure she was okay (apparently all he really wanted to do was hug her).

Eventually Liz was asked by team boss Derrick to befriend Will for two reasons:

He basically knew nobody

Australian media wasn’t happy that Australian driver at Australian back team wasn’t dominating series he had only just started in.

Part of the way Derrick sold this to her was by describing Will as a lost puppy but, at the same time, she wasn’t to date Will or she’d be at risk of losing her job.

Well within a couple of months they were dating because what do you expect when you take two people in emotional vulnerable situations and tell one of them to get close to the other.

It should be noted that around the same time Will had already asked mutual friends if Liz was seeing anyone.

Simon Pagenaud knew from the start and was even Will’s wingman from time to time and helped them hide the relationship while Liz’s family became part of Will’s rock in America. Liz’s mum Kathy is Will’s PA lady and basically the only person he trusts to buy and choose his outfits (cause left to his own devices you will know he is colourblind).

Of course it got found out but between how well Will was doing by the end of the season and how professional Liz had been in her role all was good.

Over time their careers would split, Will moving to KV Racing then Penske (with Liz being heavily involved in helping him prep for the interview) while Liz had stayed with Walker Racing until the end the going on to Dreyer & Reinbold Racing before calling time as she found it was too much to do PR at one team while your husband races at another.

And, honestly, if I was a racing driver’s partner I’d probably be in a similar state to Liz, murdering all the bottles.

Their son Beau, named in honour of Liz’s dad who had sadly passed away in 2007, was born in 2016 but after the birth there were complications which resulted in Liz having to go back into hospital in Christmas Eve, luckily she was able to recover.

Towards the end of 2022, as Will won the championship for a second time, Liz again was starting to get ill. Come January 2023 she had a fever of 106 and Will had to call an ambulance.

It turned out that she had a staph infection that had settled in her spinal column and the only way to save her was to do an operation.

She almost didn’t make it.

Will pulled out of the Daytona 24 but he almost retired full stop.

He had to be there for his family.

She got better though she was back in the hospital just before St Pete.

I think you had to be an idiot to not see that Will was off balance last year. This was a man who was doing everything he could to take care of his wife and then going to races by himself.

The support system that he has depended on since his first full season racing in America was gone.

For the first time since 2007 he failed to win a race.

It wasn’t until the final races last year, with Liz finally back that he relaxed. He even said he was just happy the season was done.

This year everything is back to normal or as normal as it could be after going through something like that.

But, most importantly, Liz is back.

There’s already been a couple of weekends, be it after practice, qualifying or the race where you can see Will come out of the car hot and all it takes is Liz being there a couple of words and he calms, ready to speak to the team and media.

We already know if Liz hadn’t gotten better when she had then we don’t have Will leading the championship right now because he would have chosen her and Beau over another season.

Heck, if he wins the championship this year I wouldn’t be shocked if he decides to end his career on that high so he can spend more time with the one who stood by him through it all.

#indycar #will power #I just have a lot of feels about these two #I can’t help it #and I need more to know their story #like there was so much more I could of brought up

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cactusisconfused · 2 months ago

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I’m having ✨thoughts✨

Aroace(?) Soap

Soap doesn’t understand why he feels this way for Ghost- he’s never felt this way before. Not for anyone. No woman, no man- no one.

Yet when Soap is around Simon, his mind swarms with thoughts he’s never had before. Thoughts of wanting to hold the man close. To listen to his deep, gravely, stupidly handsome British accent.

He’s so scared that it’s love- romantic love.

Soap isn’t emotionless, he loves with his whole mind and heart to the point it’s fucked him over in more ways than one- but never has he felt this.

He’s dated of course, because that’s what you’re supposed to be doing growing up. He’d dated a few girls. They were pretty, but that idea only rendered as a fact, with no emotion behind it. Like how a sunset can be beautiful but you wouldn’t take a sunset out on a date.

His relationship started when he was fourteen. A girl confessed her love, and Soap thought that’s all it took to be in love, for someone to say a ‘magic’ word. He didn’t understand that he was supposed to feel something.

She would try to kiss him, hug him, and he would give it back but it was never honest. Kissing felt wrong, felt nothing like how it seemed in the movies. They only lasted a few weeks.

He dated another girl a year later, his older sister Leah, had put them on a blind date. The girl was sweet, and again objectively pretty, but he felt…nothing.

He’s heard people talk about love, about the butterflies in one’s stomach, how everything would seem to zero in on one person. But as he looked at her from across the table, he felt nothing. He tried again, thinking that he just needed to wait for something to click.

She tried to advance things, Soap couldn’t get past taking his shirt off before making a piss poor excuse to leave. He doesn’t know why he felt like he needed to leave- why his skin was crawling at the thought of being intimate. But he did, and when he got an earful the next day from her, he had no good argument.

The girl had looked at Soap for a long moment before gently asking if Soap was gay. If that’s why his kisses never felt true, why there was no love- romantic love.

Soap at the time agreed with her, one for an out and two as it felt like a solid explanation for the way he was acting. He’d never felt anything towards guys, but maybe that’s because he’s never tried, he had never thought about it.

Soap had just turned seventeen when a guy friend of his admitted his attraction to Soap. Again, Soap looked at the man, dark brown hair, decent build, a kind man. Soap agreed regardless, already hating himself for going through with it. But maybe- maybe he is into guys and just…needs to get to know him more.

The two go on many dates and they last for almost a year. Soap could almost convince himself that he was truly in love.

Looking back, he wonders if he only felt that way because this man was the only one who saw Soap for who he was, and not the face he puts on for everyone else.

But Soap knows he was pushing his luck, knows he was leading the man on. The guilt had eaten him whole.

Three good people, all gave their undying love to Soap, and he gave nothing in return.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel how they felt- doesn’t know whats wrong with him. Why he can’t feel romance, why he’s never wanted sex.

He joins the military the next year, and he forgets about those feelings. Relationships aren’t meant to happen between soldiers and the one night stands are easy enough to dodge- both from men and women.

He had completely forgotten about all of it.

He had.

He really had.

Until Simon fucking Riley.

Until he saw that beast of a man dressed as the fucking grim reaper.

It wasn’t in an instant that he felt these new emotions. It was well after Las Almas and well after they catch Makarov.

Throughout that time, Soap and Simon got close, closer than either had truly expected. They flirted, though it was all banter of course.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Soap realized as he watched Ghost move through a warehouse through a sniper optic, that he found he meant it.

Then he started thinking and thinking. He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop himself from getting jealous when anyone else looked at Simon with a suggestive glance. How he couldn’t stop thinking about holding him close, closer than Soap had let anyone before. How he had thought about pulling Simon close and have his lips meet the other’s.

It scares him.

Even if this is love- romantic love- he doesn’t feel like it’s enough. That he wouldn’t be a good enough partner, like how he was with the others in the past. What if these thoughts are the same as the last guy’s, he’s just going through some mental hoops to make him think it’s romantic?

Not to mention, Simon is his fucking superior- and his closest friend.

If he admitted his ‘love’ and for some reason Simon agreed, what if it goes away? What if he can’t recuperate once more? He’ll ruin their friendship and Soap can’t bare the thought of seeing Ghost take place of Simon.

He’s in turmoil and has no idea what to do with it.

He can’t tell gaz, he wouldn’t understand why Soap feels like he’s going crazy for feeling romantic for the first time. And like hell can he tell price, for the same reasons, plus insubordination. Price is a chill man, Soap knows that, but why stir a pot that’s already way past boiling.

So he’s stuck, with nothing but his journal and swarming feelings that make no sense.

Lmao, imagine identifying as aro ace for years and then boom, nada. Hahhahahahha. Definitely not projecting on him.

Definitely.

Anyway.

Have a good day (●’◡’●)ﾉ

#ghoap #john soap mactavish #cod mw3 #simon ghost riley #soapghost #cod mwii #johnny mactavish #this will probably be the most personally open I’ll be on here #maybe #idk #I too am in turmoil #:)#might delete this later #we’ll see

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neoarchipelago · 2 years ago

Text

And they were Roommates (part 7)

A/N; Alright, fristly, thank you all so much for the love you're giving this fic. Seriously it warms my heart. This tag list is huge and it makes me want to cry. Also, i couldn't tag on the post cuz i had reached the word limit TT0TT I hope it works anyway

I'm getting more and more anxious to fail you guys, i just hope i'm not gonna fuck this up...

Again thank you for all your ideas and headcanons you guys are amazing!

Warnings: cursing?

The first month. You were in denial. You spent it overworking yourself, avoiding anything that could remind you of him. You had even put his stupid plush in his room, closing the door and keeping it closed. Laswell kept a close eye on you, you knew that.

You'd spend most of your time on base, only going home to sleep. And then. You were put on time off. Forcefully.

Laswell asked you to take a week off and to stay home. You had strongly fought over it but to no avail. So around the first week to the second month, your time off began. You thought you might go insane. But you received visits from your new neighbor who you learnt was named Peter. Peter was a nice guy, a bit shy. He'd pass by sometimes to drop one of your packages. You'd have small talk or conversations.

It made you feel less alone. Because not only did you miss… Simon. You also missed the rest of the squad. The house felt dead..during that week, your mind had started going downhill. By Thursday you had gone back to his room to fetch the little reaper. Now you'd spend your days on your couch, cuddling the damn thing.

Laswell had ordered you to work from home for the rest of the month. She passed by often. To check on you. She'd get in, not bothering to knock because you couldn't care anymore.

Once she walked in on you, sitting on the bathroom floor in front of the washing machine, eating chips, watching the plush inside spin around.

"What are you doing?"

"Reaper is taking a bath." You had answered with very little emotion.

During that month, Peter had spent a bit more time with you. He'd pass by to share some food, or to watch a movie. He seemed to have taken pity on you. Even though he picked up Reaper once and you had thrown him a murderous glare.

And then Laswell had passed by. A serious look on her face.

"The mission isn't going as planned. They're not coming home yet."

You had felt yourself break a bit more.

"Are they ok?"

"From our intel, they're ok."

You had sighed with relief. This was the third month they'd been gone. You didn't think you'd ever feel this type of sadness in your life. There was no point denying it. In such little time, Simon had managed to get his way through your heart and nest there.

Your recent coping mechanism was putting on his hoodie, and sleeping in his bed with Reaper. He'd be so pissed if he knew. You were hoping he'd come back so he could be pissed with you. At least he'd be here.

You'd spend your days at the base, this time your schedule was closely being watched by Laswell, and then you'd go home, absolutely hating it, trying not to cry.

A heart wrenching thought kept stammering your brain. What if he never came back… the last things you would have said to each other would have been said in anger. You didn't think you could live through that.

When the 4th month started, you had become unbearable for Laswell. You wanted to know everything about the mission. She kept refusing, reminding you it was a highly classified mission, as you replied you couldn't give a shit about classified or not.

You wanted squad 141 back. Or as you had almost screamed once 'your team'. You had seen Laswell wanting to correct you that it wasn't your team but she refrained, understanding how you were feeling.

She couldn't tell you about the mission but she made sure to keep you updated. They're fine. They've managed to get to the location. They've been ambushed but made it out.

You were torn in between hating her updates and feeling relieved. To keep you busy and from having a nervous breakdown she put you up on a mission. Some drug lord that used the dark web to sell and buy his merchandise. You were definitely not into it. But if you could pass your anger on that asshole you would.

You had easily infiltrated his little circle, managed to dismantle various locations, though he kept slipping through your fingers.

You had gone back home that night, around the middle of the fourth month, absolutely frustrated from everything.

"It's so fucking frustrating you know? It's like he's always a tiny step away."

You explained as you were unpacking your food order.

"He seems to know there's someone after his ass and I can't fucking get to him." You continued. "And Laswell is not letting me get onto the file for the mission the boys are on. GOD I could just … throw something on fire!"

You groaned looking straight in the eyes of your friend. The plush looked at you without moving.

You sighed. "I've been talking to an inanimate object." You said, putting your face in your hands. You dropped them on the table again.

"No offense Reaper." You apologized, turning your attention back to the food, the TV in the background filling up the silence a bit.

You kept munching on your food.

After you were done, you grabbed Reaper and sat on the couch, a blanket over you. You squished the fluffy death spawn in your hands. You missed him. You FUCKING missed him.

You didn't even know how you'd react when he'd be back. You were still furious at him. Deeply hurt. But you were also so worried, and so sad.

You groaned. You wanted him to be back. Even if it was to yell at him that he was an asshole.

A knock at the door was heard. You rolled your eyes. You got up, Reaper still in your arms as you went to open the door.

"Hey!"

You stared at Peter.

"Hi Peter." You replied without a single emotion on your face.

"Ah… bad day?"

"Bad existence."

He laughed. You walked inside, knowing he'd follow you.

"I came to check to see if you wanted to watch a movie."

You let yourself fall back down on the couch.

"Not really into it tonight. Sorry."

"Nah no problem I get it." He said sitting at the other end of the couch. "Is there something I can do to cheer you up?" .

You looked at him for a little minute. You shook your head. "Alright. Want a beer?"

"I hate beer."

"Fine. A shot of vodka?" He proposed.

You nodded.

That guy was a lightweight. 5 shots of vodka and he couldn't properly form a sentence. You had walked him back to his apartment, making sure he was in bed and locking his door. You were a bit drunk too but not enough to erase your thoughts.

You sighed. Walking into the hallway you stopped, looking right and left. You wanted to sleep in his bed again… you shouldn't. But you wanted to. You walked into the room looking at the bed. You remembered waking up in it, his body warm against yours. His morning voice was deeper. You liked it. You closed your eyes for a second before turning around and walking into your room.

The alcohol helped as you closed your eyes, you fell fast asleep.

The day after had been the same. And the day after as well. But the next was a bit different. You were concerned by something during your work. It seemed that the drug lord had also a hacker in his ranks. And not a bad one. You could probably outsmart him or her but you had been neglectful. Your mind had been more worried about another mission that wasn't yours.

You headed home after the day. You were exhausted. The fourth month was coming to an end. You didn't feel like eating. You didn't feel like anything. As you got home, you showered, drying your hair afterwards, slipping into one of Simon's black hoodies. You took Reaper with you, slipping under the covers of your bed. This time, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You hugged the round fluffy thing against you, wishing he was there instead.

And it was with the tears that the Sandman took you away.

Around 6 am, your phone rang. You blinked your eyes open. Without checking, which had become a habit, you answered.

"Hello..?" You answered.

"Y/N."

"Laswell ? Kate… it's 6 am."

"We have news from squad 141."

You sat up in your bed.

"What is it…"

"They've completed their mission. The extraction was successful."

You closed your eyes, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

"They'll be back in a little over 24h."

"Thank you… really."

"No problem. Go back to sleep."

You chuckled. She hung up. You let yourself fall back into bed. They were ok. He was ok… you looked up at the ceiling. Now that you knew he was coming back, that he was safe. The worry, the anxiety had vanished. Pain and anger taking their place. How was he going to react? Will you be strangers? How will you react? One thing was for sure. You wouldn't be the one to give in. You wanted to… god you wanted to. You wanted to feel him near you. To hug him. But the way he left was printed in your memory. The way you felt when you got home, in an empty house. With not a single word from him.

Pushed by a rise of determination, you got out of bed, grabbing each hoodie you could find that was his. You took off the one you were wearing, and walked to the bathroom, throwing them all in the washing machine. You put it to wash. He wants his hoodies back? Fine. He'll have them. Brand New. Without any trace that you wore them.

And with that thought in mind you climbed back into bed.

You had flung yourself back into work the next day, trying to suppress the new anxiety that grew in you. You were still trying to figure out who the hacker working for the drug lord was. He seemed to be good at cleaning any trace of himself. You didn't want to go home. You glanced at your phone. 2 am. You were still at the base. You were surprised Laswell hadn't come to drag you home herself as she sat not too far from you.

You had been sitting here for the entire day, trying to figure out your little con's next move. It was infuriating. Driving you insane. You blinked.

Hi birdie.

You froze. What? No. It was a coincidence. You checked that your location or anything that could be used to track you down was locked away and secure.

You kept browsing the website deep in the dark web, shaking the odd feeling away. But this time, it was a whole sentence that made you frown.

On a little branch was a little bird. The little sparrow, unaware of the cat lurking by, sang its heart away.

You were sure. It was meant for you. That Goddamn hacker was taunting you.

"Laswell." You called.

"Yes?" She answered, stepping towards you.

You pointed at the screen, highlighting the little text with your mouse.

"Shit." She cursed. "what does it mean?"

You shrugged.

"It can mean various things. Obviously they know it's the Sparrow they are facing. But I've made sure my real identity was safe so I don't think they have that. My location is safe too, there was no hack attempt. These are just little messages scattered around the websites we're checking for their little trades." You explained.

"So what? They're threatening you?"

"I don't think so. It seems like they're trying to get on my nerves. Probably to distract me from something. Just got to find out what." You said with a sigh.

"Alright. If you have anything new, call me. Now go home." She said a little tap on your back.

You eyed the screen in front of you. This was interesting. If they truly were trying to distract you, it was a bit silly. You took a mental note to be more careful from now on.

You had scanned all the little messages around the web sites, trying to find something that would link them. Clearly, they were all aimed at you. Whoever it was kept calling you birdie. And it was highly annoying. You were growing tired yet you felt so giddy. You felt nervous. You closed your eyes, sighing. It was time to head home.

The night had been short. You were exhausted. You rolled around in bed. You closed your eyes. Silence.

Silence… and a laugh? You frowned.

You got up, taking Reaper in your arms. You slowly opened the door, peeking out. There were definitely voices whispering. You opened the door wider, stepping out and tip-toeing your way to the end of the hallway.

You looked around the corner and froze.

"God fucking damn it!" You cursed out loud.

You fully came into view now taking in the sight before you.

"Sparrow!!"

The man jumped, running to you and swaying you in his arms.

"God soap! You're squishing me and Reaper!" You complained.

"Who?" Gaz asked.

After putting you down you looked at soap, extending your arms to his face so he could be eye to eye with the plush.

"Oh. Alright. Sorry Reaper." He said with a wide smile.

You smiled jumping on him this time. They were back. They were safe!

"Hahaha!" He laughed.

He put you down again. Stepping aside to let you greet the rest of the team.

You hugged gaz. Then Price took you in his arms, staying like that for a little moment.

"Missed you dad" you whispered jokingly.

"Missed you sweety." He whispered in the same tone.

And then came his turn. Standing in front of each other, eye to eye. You wanted to run and hug him. Fuck you wanted to touch him to make sure this was real. Unfortunately for the both of you, the pain was deeper than anything else. He didn't move, no expression. Did he regret? Did he care? Had he already put aside anything feeling or affection you had towards each other? With a lump in your throat you spoke first.

"Lieutenant." You greeted.

He frowned.

"Sparrow." He answered.

Nothing else was said. It broke your heart. You could feel it. You turned around looking at the guys again, clearly sensing their discomfort.

"You were supposed to arrive a bit later, what happened?" You asked sitting down on the couch, the boys mimicking you. Ghost remained up, glancing at you from afar.

"We managed to wrap it up and we jumped on the plane back. We've been told someone has been worried about us." Gaz answered, sending you a knowing look.

"Really? Wonder who could it be…" you feigned innocence.

"Yes, it's odd, Laswell said she was pestered for weeks. " Price added.

"Truly curious." You added an innocent look and batted your lashes, making the men laugh.

"What about you? How's it going?" Soap asked.

"I'm fine." You lied.

"You look tired." Price noted.

Suddenly you felt watched.. Everyone was staring at you. Ghost looked more tense than the others.

"I've been working on a mission and it's been a bit complicated. I stayed at the base until pretty late- with Laswell." You looked at Price.

He smirked.

"What's complicated about it?" Gaz asked.

"It's… it was easy at first. But it seems that I'm facing someone like me…" you tried to explain without giving any details as the mission was confidential. "And he, or she, seems to always be a step ahead. And… mostly. It's been acting weird."

You frowned, losing yourself a bit in your own mind.

"Hey, Sparrow" soap called.

You looked at him.

"You got this."

You smiled at him. Nodding off.

"We brought breakfast. Ghost said you like muffins!" Price chimed.

You glanced at the man again, still glancing at you. If he thought it'd be that easy he was wrong.

You ate breakfast with the team, so thrilled to have them back. You felt as if life had been brought back into the apartment. The only thing that took away some of that happiness was the tension between you and Ghost.

After helping you clean out they offered to take you to base, and you accepted. You excused yourself to go get dressed quickly. Once you were ready, you opened your door falling face to face with a skull mask.

You stared at each other. You did your best to show an emotionless facade.

"You washed the hoodies."

"Yes."

"And you put them in my room."

"Correct."

Silence.

"Are you giving them back?"

"Affirmative."

"Fuck…" he cursed frowning. "Y/N-"

"Sparrow." You corrected.

He looked hurt for a second.

"Why?" He asked.

"A beg your pardon?" You asked frowning too.

"Why are you doing this?" He questioned. You could feel the frustration.

"Doing what? Isn't this what you wanted, Lieutenant? You wanted to erase everything and you wanted your hoodies back."

"Stop…"

"Stop what?"

He didn't answer. Your heart was beating so fast. It was torture not giving in. But this time you wouldn't let him get away with it. He couldn't just play with your feelings like this. He sighed, straightening up. He looked… embarrassed? For a second.

"Did… did you have to wash them?" He asked.

First you were confused. And then you remembered what he had said once.

"Everytime I take back one of my hoodies there's your scent on it…"

"What? I smell bad?" You laughed.

"Quite the opposite…"

You smirked. Walking out of your room slowly and closing your door behind you. You looked up at him.

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure of leaving my scent on it. You've lost that privilege." You finished with an innocent smile before turning away and walking away from him.

You very distinctly heard him curse. You smirked. If he wanted you back, he'd have to fight for it. And if he didn't… then you'd be settled on his feelings.

You had driven to the base with the squad. After getting out of the cars, you had all gathered.

"It feels good to be back! See Sparrow? We're all good! We can come back to annoy you in your apartment!" Soap joked.

"Don't you dare." Ghost had growled.

"It will be my pleasure." You countered, sending a side glance to Ghost as he frowned again. Soap was thrilled.

It was on a light note that you separated, the boys going their way to meet and start on the mission report, as you went back to your drug dealer.

Walking in the big room, you sat down at one of the tables facing an enormous screen. Various setups with their own screens were scattered around the room, where people worked. You greeted everyone. You received smiles and little good mornings.

You opened your laptop freezing on the spot. You blinked and gasped at the black screen. 'encrypted'.

"No..nonononoo…"

Laswell had immediately come to you.

"What's wrong?"

"My laptop is encrypted. Fuck!" You checked your phone. Also encrypted.

"What does it mean?"

"It means. Someone tried to get in. As a defense mechanism it encrypts itself, and the rest of the devices linked to it. It blocks anything or anyone from touching the data."

You tried to explain, already trying to decrypt your device.

"When did it happen?"

"I don't know, recently. My phone was fine 20 mins ago." You explained.

"Guys!" You called, gaining everyone's attention. "Any attack? Anything?"

"No ma'am. We did find three other sentences on websites that were not on our radar. We managed to find 3 domains where the trades were active." The boy explained.

"What…?" You were confused now.

"He flagged these websites? He literally showed them to us?" Laswell interrogated.

You looked at your screen as it slowly booted back into your home screen.

"Sparrow. What's going on."

You were still in shock. The words written in a small window opened on the home's screen seemed to laugh at you.

"Sparrow?" Laswell called again.

You turned the screen to her. She frowned.

"He served us these tips on a silver platter. And it wasn't to make a diversion on something big. Because he's not working with the drug lord. Not anymore."

You couldn't believe you were once again in this situation. Laswell sighed.

"It's official. You're his target."

You turned back to the screen, taking a deep breath rereading the words one last time.

You're mine birdie.

Laswell had driven you home that evening. She had walked you to your door and walked you inside. There she was again. The mama bear.

You sighed, dropping your bag on the floor, not even shocked to see the whole squad in the living room. You glared at soap.

"Put down Reaper." You ordered.

He immediately put it back on the couch, noticing your awful mood. Price had noted too, and had mostly noticed how Laswell was tense.

"What's going on?" He asked, turning to Laswell.

Before she could answer you chimed in, as you walked to grab a glass of water.

"A mission going south. Nothing unusual in our field." You said, throwing a knowing look at Laswell.

She looked pissed for a moment but brushed it off.

"Y/N." She said seriously. You choked on the water. She had just spoken your real name in front of everyone. Everyone went silent looking at you and Kate.

"You are not allowed to leave the base." She started.

"I'm already not allowed to leave the base." You protested.

"You are to be accompanied by someone each time you leave your apartment."

You opened your mouth in shock, wait. This was going too far. The boys had turned serious.

"You'll be closely watched by squad 141."

"Oh come on! They've just come back from a mission!" You debated again.

"No arguing." She ordered.

"You are overreacting Kate." You answered in the same tone.

"Hey hey. Intel." Price interupted, standing up.

"No! No. Absolutely not." You snapped. "You are overreacting Kate. It wasn't even a threat. I'll get to him before he can even guess the continent I'm in." You started.

"This isn't the first time Y/N! I'm not taking any chances." She tried to explain.

"There's no need to take a chance. I'm literally at the base. I go nowhere else. I haven't gone into a civilian zone since… I don't even remember!" You debated.

She crossed her arms.

"Kate. Do you think I'm unsafe here, at the base?" You asked.

"No." She was forced to admit.

"Then no problem. No close security, no babysitters." You asked.

She seemed to ponder. Then she sighed, relaxing a bit.

"I still want to know." Price asked again.

You rolled your eyes. You felt like you were being scolded by your parents. And God knows it hadn't happened in a very very long while.

"I'm working on a mission. I had a target and it was being helped by a skillful fucker. Turns out, that fucker betrayed the target and seems a lot more interested in me."

"Did he threaten you?" Soap asked. You had never seen him this serious.

"No-"

"Yes." Laswell interrupted. You rolled your eyes.

"Not. Really." You added. Glancing at Laswell. "It was some cryptic message. But he did try to hack me personally." You finally said sitting down at the counter. You sighed. You had to make sure to find him before Laswell and now, by the looks of it, Price, had a nervous breakdown.

"No need for the squad."

A shiver ran down your spine. You slowly turned to look at Simon.

"I'm not going anywhere."

You wanted to throw something at his face.

This bitch. You had looked at him in utter shock and disapproval. You were pacing around in your room. This was all too much. Your mind was a mix of so many things, emotions, thoughts. A soup. Your mind was soup. Wait. What?

You closed your eyes. You were going to go insane.

A knock on the door was heard. You rolled your eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time today.

"Yes?"

You had that funny feeling again as you saw him walk into your room, closing the door behind him.

Does he have any idea the hold he had on you? You glanced at his hand. You wanted to smile but bit your lip to avoid it. He had one of his hoodies in his hand.

"Do you want it?"

"You want me to wear it now? " You ask.

"Never said you couldn't. Just want them back."

"No thank you." You answered with a fake forced smile because clearly he was so cute.

He looked away with what seemed to be a smirk under his mask.

"Are you going to be mad forever?"

He asked.

The question made your blood boil, turning your mood back to something very sour.

"Why? This what you wanted no? Didn't think about the consequences when you'd be back?" You asked, stepping closer to him. "You put a single thought into what would happen if you'd be back? Or maybe you just thought I'd jump into your arms as if you hadn't broke me and stepped all over my FUCKING heart?" You finished, a few inches from him.

You blushed slightly. Your lips had moved faster than your brain. But you had been honest with him. He looked hurt for a second. Like he had the right to.

"Y/N. I'm sorry…" he said.

You bit your lip. No. Not so easily.

"Simon. Sorry isn't going to fix this…" you answered.

"What is then? Tell me." His voice lowered.

"You're going to have to make up your mind Simon. Do you want me in your life or not? I can't keep being hurt each time you feel like pushing me away." You said honestly.

He frowned. His fingers lifting up to your waist. The touch gave you goosebumps. You hadn't felt his touch since he arrived. And you craved it. For some reason, while looking into his eyes, you knew he did too. He just seemed afraid to scare you away. He leant down letting his forehead touch yours. The mask felt cold against your skin. His other hand joined your waist this time, more confidently. He wrapped his arms more tightly around you pulling you flushed against him. Your breath had quickened.

"Simon…" you whispered.

"I've been wanting to hold you since I arrived…" he growled.

"S-simon…" you tried, softly pushing on his chest with your hands.

"To touch you … fuck… you smell so good…"

"Is this what you really wanted… to hold me so your shirt smells like me…" you smirked.

He chuckled.

"Are you going to wear my hoodies…?"

"No…" you whispered.

He held you tighter.

You felt so warm, god you had missed him. There was still something in the back of your mind just repeating to you that he hurt you.

"You're not going to make it that easily Simon… you need to make up your mind.." you broke.

He stared into your eyes, so God damn close to you.

Knock knock knock.

"Hey guys! We're leaving, come say bye bye!"

You laughed at Soap's voice.

You separated with a curse.

"God damn it johnny…" Ghost said.

You cleared your throat.

"Seems like we have places to be." You said.

He grabbed your wrist, marking you look into his eyes.

"I'll apologize properly. I promise."

"Try to figure out what you want first..." you said, a heavy weight on your heart.

Once in the living room you hugged everyone goodbye. Laswell and Price were the first to leave. A bit later you and Ghost walked gaz and soap to the door.

"See you tomorrow then!" Soap cheered.

"Absolutely not." Ghost answered.

"It'll be lovely Soap." You countered. "Get home safely."

"Lose yourself on the way." Ghost added.

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

Behind Soap, a silhouette appeared.

"Hey Sparrow! Got you some-"

The squad turned to stare at the new arrival. You smirked, feeling Ghost lean closer to you.

"Hey Peter." You greeted.

"Hum…hi… so… you want the muffins?"

"We have muffins." You heard Ghost next to you.

"It will be lovely Peter, thank you." You smiled as you walked to him, grabbing the bag. He smiled at you sheepishly.

"Let me present to you the squad" you said, turning back to them.

"Ah… i-its not necessary… squad 141 is famous… especially… Humm.."

"Me." Ghost said. His voice had gotten darker.

You noticed how Peter seemed to be scared of Ghost.

"So… hum, which one is your roommate?" He asked, turning to you with a smile.

You smiled apologetically to him.

"Me." Ghost said again, this time grabbing the back of your pants and pulling you back closer to him. You gasped. What the…? (t

Soap and Gaz were trying not to laugh and Peter… had changed expression.

"Oh, Nice. Hum, I'm gonna go guys. Nice seeing you, Sparrow." He smiled at you.

Then he glanced up. If it wasn't for a tiny second you would have missed it. The cold and dark gaze Ghost and Peter sent each other.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #john price #price cod #captain price #fanfics #fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare

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oval3000 · 1 year ago

Text

Oneshot!

Yandere Simon Riley x reader (Soap's younger sister)

(Pretend that you guys are adopted or something idk. Also the Canon story with Makarov will be different - he's dead)

Warning: Toxic behavior, light (Forced) Smut, Assault, Curse, very toxic. Yandere, Violence. Slight yandere platonic Soap.

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

When Johnny's parents told him that he's going to have a baby sister at the age of 13, he was shocked and didn't expect it. At first, he wasn't really thrilled since the age gap was really big. His father will tell him that he'll have to protect you and love you like an older brother should do.

When they brought you home, he immediately realized the things his father had said. The feeling of not caring for you changed. He loves you. He would drop you off and pick you from school whenever he had the chance. He would take care off you when his parents go out on their date.

He would help you with your homework, even if he didn't understand it well. He would show up to all of your school events. He would give you pep talks whenever you needed it.

He got full custody of you, when his parents passed away.

When he joined the military, you were worried about him, but he assured you that everything was going to be okay. You would send him letters and he would reply, which caught Simon's attention.

He was able to get a safe house, after his encounter with Makarov to keep you safe. The only one that knows about it is Price, Gaz, and...Simon.

When they were stranded and needed to get shelter, Soap brought them to you. You met them...you met Simon. Simon couldn't help but to stare at you. You could feel his eyes on you and it didn't feel good. It felt like you were about to get eaten alive.

You never really had good luck with boys since Johnny would scare them away. So the feeling of a men staring you, made you feel a little uncomfortable.

Afterwards, Johnny told you that everything was going to be fine since they took down Makarov, you were happy that Johnny was no longer in danger.

He was happy that he can come home to you. He wouldn't know what to do if something bad happened to you.

So you can imagine his rage when he comes home and you're gone.

He didn't waste anytime to call Price and everyone, telling them that you are gone. They went to check the house and saw broken vases and picture frames on the floor. It wasn't rocket science to know that you have been kidnapped.

Johnny expressed his anger and concern to Simon, who he reassured Johnny that everything is going to be okay. They all tried to track you down. Visiting possible locations where you could be only to storm inside empty, abandoned, places.

Johnny couldn't sleep or think of anything else except to get you back. Each night when he tried to get some rest, all he can think is the moment his father told him to take care of you and failed.

The team told him to take it easy or else he would hit the breaking point of his own health. Price ordered him to take time off while they worked on finding you.

Simon would come and visit Johnny to check how he's doing. "What if she's gone forever, Simon? What would I do with myself if I never get to see her again?"

Simon looked at him with pity, "don't worry, Johnny. We'll find her."

After checking on Johnny and helping the team on finding you, he would go home to his safehouse. He would place his bag on the couch and take off his mask and jacket.

He would walk to kitchen and open the door, turning on the lights. He would walk down on the creaky, woodfloor, staircase. He would stand there, Infront of the twin bed centered on the back wall of the basement.

He would stare at you.

Chained up that is hooked to the bed headboard. You sat up seeing him there. The man that took you from your home and locked you down in his basement. "Please don't hurt me."

"Love, I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you." He took off his shirt, showing his toned muscles. He climbed on the bed, having you to back away as much as the bed headboard allows you to. "Be a good girl and spread those beautiful legs of yours."

He gripped on your waist, thrusting his hip into you. You felt his cock drilling you so hard and deep you held on to the chain links that is connected to the metal cuffs on your wrist.

You hated it. He loved it. He loved the way you squirm under his tough body structure." Ah..Yes! Be a good girl for me, love!" His grunts and moans will take over your ears aswell as the sound the bed creaking and the sound of wet skin slapping eachother.

He would flip you over, pushing his your head down into the mattress and lift your ass in the air, thrusting even harder. "You're fucking mine." He pulled your hair back, forcing you to arch your back. "All mine."

He would cum deep into your womb. He would get up and leave you there, naked. You would bury your head into the bedsheets and sob quietly. He hated to hear you cry. He really hated it. "Shut up! I'm doing this because you don't listen to me!" He clasp your cheeks with his hand. "You're gonna learn, yeah," he pulled down his pants and shoved his cock in your mouth.

You were forced to swallow his cum.

You have no idea how long you've been in his basement. You don't know if Johnny is out there looking for you. When you tell Simon about it, he would take off his belt and fuck you till you pass out.

At first, you were his sex toy. He'll come home to you and drill you in till you could see the stars and leave you naked alone in the dark.

However, lately, he would lay in bed with you. He would caress your body as you lays on his bare chest.

He would unhook the metal cuffs from your wrist and carry you, bridal style, upstairs to bathe you. He would come home with flowers and teddy bears for you. On your birthday, he would bring a piece of cake with a lit candle on it.

You couldn't tell if you have lost your mind or just accepted your fate, but you wanted him. You want Simon. You want his attention, his love, his affection to you.

When he comes home to fuck you, you felt pleasure than pain. "Mhm...yes! Ah!ah! Harder Sir!"

"Love it when you call me that, love." He huffed, burying his head on the side of your neck, moving his hips back and forth. The sound of the bed creaking so uncontrollable. "You're so...ah!...s-so fucking beautiful."

Although, his demeanor never changed. "How many times do I have to tell you!? You're not leaving this room!"

"I want out of these chains, Simon!" You plead to him, holding out your chained wrist.

He lowered his head to you, "No! And if I were you, I would drop it."

That's how it was for who knows how long you've been tied up in his basement.

You weren't the only one loosing their minds. Johnny, running around trying to found you.

However, his focus came to Simon. How? Because he visited you.

Johnny went to visit Simon, to talk to him, about you. He thought he had some lead on to where you are. When Simon was looking as to where he thought you might be, Johnny wanted to get a drink.

Johnny is no stranger to Simon. He knows where Simon keeps the drinks. So when Johnny touched the basement door, it snapped Simon.

Johnny brushed it off. But not having you in his arms, he would honestly put the blame on a mail man that he met once. So it wasn't out of character for him to honestly question his own teammates. Afterall, they all knew where you were. They knew where the safehouse was. So how bizzare would it be to accuse his friend of possibly taking you.

He would spend weeks, just studying on his mates and all the possible scenarios lead up to Simon. It wasn't really that out of place, Simon became a bit sloppy. His energy of founding in the beginning, shifted. When Johnny would want to go to his house and go to the basement to get some drinks, Simon wouldn't allow him.

So when Simon opened his door and saw Johnny there, he felt the nerves rising. "Hey, Lt. Sorry to just drop by like this. I just wanted to take break and being in the house without her makes it hell."

"No problem, Johnny." He moved outside to let him in. He felt his throat to dry up a bit. Johnny has been visiting him a lot these past few weeks and it was unusual.

They both began to talk and drink. Simon excused himself to use the restroom. Johnny didn't waste time to go to that basement. He opened the door and slowly walked down to not create loud creaking. He reached the bottom floor and saw the bed and you on top.

You were laying down on your side. When you heard the sounds of steps, you thought it was, "Simon?" You peaked up and saw your brother standing there.

It's been so long that you've seen him, so him being there made you cry out. "Johnny!?"

He stood there frozen. He wished there was nothing here. He wished he wrong. He wished that it wasn't Simon. He wished that it wasn't someone he had trusted. "(Y/n)?"

You are so happy to see you. So happy that you couldn't see Simon creeping up on Johnny. "Simon! Please don't!" Simon knocked Johnny out cold.

You plead and plead Simon to let Johnny go. He tied him up. When Johnny woke up, he felt his arms on his back. He went on his knees and saw Simon standing near you. "You..you fucking bastard. I trusted you. You're supposed to be my friend."

"I only did what was the best for us." Simon went to Johnny. Crouched down infront of him. "You left me with no choice. You're overprotective of her, I knew this was the only option."

"The only option! You bastard! She's my sister and you took her away from me. I would never have someone like you to end up with her." His anger with his harsh down tone words made Simon take a deep breath.

"I know. So you kinda left me with no other choice." He pulled out a gun and pointed it to his head.

"NO! PLEASE! Please! Don't do this, Simon!" You cried for him to stop. "Please! I'll do anything you want! Just please don't kill him! Please.

"Sweetheart, you don't make the choice here." He held the gun tight, almost hesitant to pull the trigger.

"I love you, Simon! I love you. I'll be with you! Please don't kill him! We'll both forget about this, right Johnny!?" Johnny looked at you from the side and gave a small nod. "Let him live and I'll be with you. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll listen to you,I swear!"

"If I lower my gun, will you attack me?" Simon said to Johnny. You gave Johnny head shooks to tell him not to do something stupid. Johnny wanted to kill him, he does. But he knows the outcome if this. If he does die, then you'll be with Simon. If he does attack Simon, then he'll have to kill his friend.

How he wished he was wrong about this.

"I won't attack you. If you let me go, I won't tell anyone about this. As long as I get to see her still, I promise I won't interfere with anything else. Just let her go off those chains." His voice toned down a bit in a more calming manner.

Simon lowered his gun and turned his head towards you. "You love me?"

Your eyes widen with fear as to what Simon is going to do. "Yes. Yes, I love you!"

He ran to you, cupping your face with his hands, "You love me, sweetheart? I love you too. We'll get married and gave kids together yeah."

"Yes. But don't hurt Johnny. Ou-our kids will want their uncle." You smiled at him trying to hide your fear.

"I won't. I love you so much."

The words stick through. Johnny told Price that you were found and that some punks kidnapped for you 'their fun' it took a couple of months for people to find out about you and Simon.

The wedding was beautiful to him. The honeymoon was magical to him. And the announcement of your pregnancy was amazing to him

Johnny watched you, his little sister. Being trapped in a marriage with Simon.

As for you, you couldn't quite think of anything. It was all Simon. He knows what's best for you.

So you should trust him and love him.

Right?

#yandere simon riley #ghost x reader #fanfic #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon ghost x reader

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aki-anikk · 6 months ago

Text

Hello! I didn't expect people to enjoy or even read the first part so the feeback was pretty suprising.

I hope this one will live up to the previous part :)

(and again if there is something wrong in it then please let me know!)

People who wanted a second part:

@im-a-killer-queen , @tabloid-junki3

Tw: angst, Simon is a depressed fella

_____________________________________________

Simon was always a quiet person, whenever it was his personality or defence mechanism against the world... He would never tell anyone.

As always, after school he prepared himself to see your face, again. To look at you and walk away, he didn't want you to keep hoping for something that would never happend. He wasn't cruel.

But... You never came again.

It passed one day, he thought that maybe you're mad at him. But you will come back.

It passed a week, maybe you got sick. But you will come back.

It passed a month, he didn't know what the hell could happend to keep you away for so long. But you will come-

"..."

It finally hit him. You're not coming back.

That's what he wanted, right? Well he finally got it.

"..."

For some reason there was a heavy lump in his throat, but he pushed that feeling away. Just like he always does it. He didn't know how, and neither wanted to deal with those emotions.

Even if one day he would break. He didn't care.

_____________________________________________

How much time has passed? He didn't know, maybe 5 years, maybe 10, maybe even more. Not like he counted. And not like the reason for him not counting time was that whenever he thought about it, he felt like he would throw up.

He didn't realise it as a kid, he couldn't know what would happend to him in life.

He didn't expect his family to be gone forever, he didn't expect feeling so... Empty.

Sure, he joined the military. He had companions and even friends but... There was no one who looked at him the same way you did.

He caught himself many time going back to you in his mind. Whenever he felt like he didn't deserve to live, he remembered those soft, affectionate eyes. You wouldn't want him to end it all, right?

And then he would frown involuntary. He had no right to be so selfish. He pushed you away, hurt you and finally made you leave. Maybe you really hated him? That thought made his stomach turn again.

But again, he pushed it aside like every emotion. Even if he called himself selfish and tried to not think of you, he silently begged that he would never forget your face. He couldn't lose another person.

The work went like always, days blurred into one and he just complied to every order. It was easier to deal with all that pain when he didn't have to face it. When he got his mind busy with work.

One day he got hurt, not a big deal. He was never the one to go to hospitals as the wounds would 'heal on their own' while leaving a nasty scar. But he didn't care about it. He stopped caring about his looks a long time ago, because who would want to be with a bloody monster?

He had to be practicaly dragged by Soap to the nearest hospital. He said something along the lines-

"It's gonna be a quick job LT"

Or at least that's what he took out of it, it was sometimes hard to understand his damn accent. But he just finally agreed.

He sat on the bed as some nurse told him to, he didn't even look at her. He could feel the weird look she gave him when he didn't take off the mask. Not like he cared... Or felt like he had the right to care.

There were few people walking through, and he just waited, unmoving, like a statue. For a moment he thought about leaving, but then someone came up to him. Great.

The person seemed to be a doctor, as they sounded pretty professional, but he didn't look up. He only did when there was one sentence repeated over and over again like a broken radio.

"Are you okay sir?"

He finally looked up and just froze.

Was his mind playing tricks on him? Has he finally lost it? He saw a face, a too familiar one. One that always looked at him with adoration but now was filled with worry.

It was you.

It was... You.

At the realisation who it was, he felt every little mistake crash on him, every fiber of his body screamed and every piece of his broken heart was begging to speak. Anything.

But he didn't, of course he didn't.

He just let out a confirming huff, like if he was annoyed.

He hated it, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to apologize, do anything and everything.

But he just watched you in silence as you checked his pulse and talked to him. Oh that voice, it got a bit deeper but it still had that softness to it. He listened every word hoping that it would never leave his memory. That something-

But then you nodded at the nurse and walked to another patient.

Right.

You didn't recognize him. He had a mask.

How stupid.

Just a moment ago you looked at him with care, just like all of those years ago. But then those gentle eyes left him. They now were turned onto another patient. Your smile wasn't only for him to see.

He realised that.. he was no one special to you anymore.

It hurted. Why? He pushed you away. That's what he wanted.

But once you finally left, he missed you.

He missed the way you followed him like a pup, he missed how you tried to make him smile, even if as a kid he didn't appriciate it.

And even worse, he missed those loving eyes.

He needed them.

_____________________________________________

He didn't know why, maybe he knew but also didn't want to admit.

But he kept searching anything about you. He searched where you worked before, to what university you went to. He checked everything, but it still didn't feel enough.

He hated those feeling, you were right there just an arm away but still out of his reach. No matter how much he tried to lift his hand towards you, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So he just let you live your comfortable life that you created for yourself, sometimes watching you work, but nothing more. There was no place for him in your life anymore.

It was until he was injurned, heavly. There wasn't much he could complain about as he was barely concious as he was rushed to the surgery room. The white hospital lights flashed into his eyes like if someone was making a cruel joke on him.

A lamp, light.

No lamp, no light

A lamp, light.

And again and again and again.

As if he already saw the light that everyone talked about when they were near death. The white light to heveanly gates that each lack of the lamp were taken away from him.

He neither did deserve heaven or even death.

He felt a cold table under him, he struggled to move, he struggled to fight when he felt someone's hand on his mask.

His eyes opened wide open, trying to push it away. But he stopped once he saw you. You, who were desperately trying to take off his mask, for what would come next.

He let go, his fate was already sealed.

Nothing he could do.

Once he felt the air hit his face, he saw your expression. He didn't blink even once, just to see every flashing emotion that was going through your face.

There was shock, worry and then so much despair. You couldn't help it, couldn't help how your face almost grimaced in pain, like if someone was stabbing your heart over and over again.

That hurt, but not only your heart.

He finally closed his eyes as he felt like he had died. Again.

He thought he had found something to make him want to live, it wouldn't matter that you didn't know. He would watch you in silence, but now you knew the truth, knew who he was. And you hated him.

He wished he didn't wouldn't make through this surgery.

After many hours they were slowly finishing the surgery, but Simon didn't feel alive. He was mouring the death of his heart.

You hated him, there was nothing he could do.

These words spinned in his head like vultures that waited to dig into his skin.

They hate me.

They hate me-

"I'm sorry."

"..."

What?

Simon once again opened his eyes, you were still there, but didn't look at him. Maybe you couldn't bear to look at his face. Maybe he overheard it.

But your eyes were glossy, hurt.

He didn't know, of course he couldn't know. Through all those years you wondered if he understood your sign of love, that you so desperately tried to kept alive.

You didn't hate him, you never could. You felt so much pain because you felt like you betrayed him. He didn't want to see you, and there you were. You felt like you broke some sacred secret, and all you could do was to apologize.

He understood that... You don't hate him.

How can you not hate him? He caused you so much pain, said so many hurtful words. But you stood there like if you were about to cry because you intupted the way he told you to love him. Like if you were the one who did something wrong.

He should have never said it. He never thought you would really do it.

He wanted to speak up, explain himself, but he couldn't speak. Maybe because of the injuries or maybe out of fear.

Soon he watched you walk out. Again leaving his life. He again let you leave.

No. He couldn't allow it.

Not this time.

_____________________________________________

It passed two weeks- no. Maybe a month? You didn't know. You couldn't really focus on anything as the days started to blur behind your tears, tears that threathened to flood the world.

You felt just like the day when Simon stomped on the boquet you gave him. It hurt so much. You thought you healed, yet every little scar was opening again and felt even deeper than before.

You were so lost that you didn't hear the doorbell rang. The person was persistent, ringing and then knocking loudly which caused you to jump slightly.

A sigh left your lips, right. Your landlord? He was probably annoyed that you didn't pay yet.

You got up and went to the door, everything felt heavy, the dark room overwhelmed any light of hope.

And you opened the door.

"..."

There was Simon. The Man was looking at you as suprised as you were, as if he didn't try to get your attention for good five minutes.

His lips opened few times and immidietly closed again, he wanted to say so much, but also couldn't say anything. He had planned what he would tell you, what words he would use. But everything crubled when he saw you and your shocked face.

He cleared his throat and just pulled a boquet from behind his back.

It was just like the ones you always tried to give him. It was carefully picked, with smiliar colors to the ones from the past.

He was nervous, he didn't remember the last time he was so nervous. He felt his hands become wet and he subconciously fixed his collar as if trying to get more air. He even forgot to breath as he glanced into your eyes, not brave enough to fully look into yours.

And what did you do?

What else could you do, but to finally hug the man that you wanted to love for years?

For a moment Simon stood there sttuned as he quickly extended his hand that held the flowers so you wouldn't crush them, and then without any hesitation hugged you thightly with his other arm.

A loud, relieved and a slightly shaky breath left his lips. You really didn't hate him, something he was afraid of, to the last second.

You accepted the flowers that he carefully picked, the total opposite to what happend when you two were kids.

You didn't crush them, you accepted them as you both finally grew up to care for the feelings between you.

"Stay with me."

These were Simon's words, he gave you another way to show your love for him, so what else could you do but to accept and stay with him?

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gender neutral reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x female reader #cod

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