#you couldn’t waterboard that information out of me
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Johnny, if you’re asking this question you are not only operating under a conflict of interest, you are woefully under-qualified.
#help#why does he need to make it so clear he’s never been near a championship fight#you couldn’t waterboard this information out of me#stop telling on yourself 😭#you don’t know how racing works like at all huh?#max verstappen#formula 1#f1
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11 and 20 for the sexy ask game!! -@chickenstriptease
mac :o now what do you wanna know outta me…
11: What does your favourite sexy underwear look like?
scandalous! …mmm okay i own a few lowkey but my favorite one is this pretty lavender baby doll :) it’s not see through or anything, it’s satin! n it’s got these little makeup icons on it and it’s got spaghetti straps that you have to tie up. it’s really pretty n soft and makes me feel cute :3
20: If you could have sex with anyone right now, who would it be?
….mac i don’t like you anymore :( this is so mean i thought we were friends :( why would you do this to me :( i don’t even see anyone like that why would you—
okay like right now right now? @/kanonb @/kiryucutie @/seishuinc and/or @/kinghaitani and let me tell you why
kanon - he can probably match my freak like…it’ll take him a brick to unlock the freak but i think he could match it
kiryu - self explanatory but also i think? he’s like…more than meets the eye? i don’t know but sometimes when he looks at me something feels…off….and i wanna unlock it. idk :(
seishu - …😞 can u rlly blame me
ran - in reality like frfr if we’re being really real i really mean both…like…both…….but i’m to embarrassed and honestly like genuinely a little scared to admit that with my full chest so i’m only gonna say the older one because. yeah 😭
nobody perceive me if you perceive me i’m telling keisuke y’all are ovulating 😞
#🌺 ❝ 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙮𝙨 ❞ ; inbox#🌸 ❝ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙗𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙 ❞ ; macaroni#MAC YOU SET ME UP :(( MEANIE!#I DIDNTEVEN SEE NUMBER 20#😭#you’re lucky you’re cute. what if I bite u :(#I could’ve added more people to that list but like some i really will not admit like#you couldn’t waterboard the information out of me it’s that fr 😭
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is it weird that I want a non con scenario of my older sister? She was often feet tickled by my fat friend who had a foot fetish and liked her in my school days when me and him were 17 and she 27 but now I want my sister to have been missing for Abit after going to help as a teaching assistant to the weird pervert of my class and receive a video of him with her in his room tickle torturing her big soles
….
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Some of you watched one too many wouldnt it be nice destiel amvs and got it in your head that the beach boys are a band worth listening to
#go actually listen to their first album and tell me it doesnt suck ABSOLUTE ASS#theyre like a one note watered down version of the early beatles COME ONNNNN#fr if i listened to the beach boys you couldn’t waterboard that information out of me
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if it makes you feel any better the first time I truly looked at a man and went wow he's hot was when I was like 12/13 and rewatching the og jurassic park and we got to the scene where dr malcom had his shirt ripped open............
ok my jaw kind of real life dropped
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today I was sitting by myself in a seating area of my college and a guy from my history class sat across from me (it was a booth) and started talking about a fan fiction he was reading, I thought this was kinda weird but what ever, maybe he’s just enjoying it. He said he was about 200 chapters in and it was a reader insert Harry Potter fic. Then he told me his favourite fan fiction is Annabeth Chase x reader, that really freaked me out as she is a minor in most of the books and me and him are both adults.
#Idk why he felt comfortable telling me that#You couldn’t waterboard that kind of information out of me
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Reader getting kidnapped and tortured for information, when Simon and the team save the reader and take them back to base and Simon helps her recover mentally and physically, Simon swears to protect her at all costs? And they fall in love?! ❤️❤️
Thank you for waiting! 🤍
What a Time To Be Alive
Pairing: Ghost x POW!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Spite”)
Word Count: 13.7k, One-Shot
CW: strong language, angst, violence, scars, blood, wounds, killing, fluff, attraction, one-shot, reader POV and Ghost POV, minors DNI, EXPLICIT SMUT, P in V, passionate kisses, fingering, hickeys, mirror sex, passionate sex, gentleness, compliments, praise
Let me know if I missed any CWs.
Story Synopsis: You were caught by the enemy during a crucial mission. The 141 team had no choice but to leave you, thinking you were dead already. For a year and a half, you were held prisoner and tortured for information. When the 141 finally gets you back, Ghost volunteers to take care of you during your recovery, having felt responsible for your capture. Both of your feelings blossom into something more as you both realize how much you care about one another.
You were dead. At least, that’s what everyone thought when they watched you get shot in the head. You didn’t blame them for leaving. You would have probably thought the same thing if it was one of them.
No, you were still alive. The metal plate that doctors put in your head after a bad car accident as a teenager saved your life. You were knocked out cold upon bullet impact, but still very much alive. Not that you were doing well, though.
With a headache and tired eyes, you looked at your cold, stone wall marked with tally marks for the passing days. 547 days were marked, give or take. There were days where you didn’t wake up so you forgot to mark them. You didn’t wake up until some time after you were captured too. Those days weren’t marked.
Your stomach grumbled, making your body’s ache amplify all over. You couldn’t remember the last time your body didn’t hurt. What was once lean military muscle was now skin and bones. You were constantly hungry for food, a combination of you refusing to eat out of spite and being underserved overcooked rice to the point that it was just mush.
They kept you weak. Underfed and dehydrated. It was probably a good thing they did because otherwise you would rip your warden apart with your bare hands.
When you first came to after being captured, you had the honor to meet your warden right away. A man that was on the hit list for the 141, Bill Porakov. but made a surprise appearance at the mission. He was the one that lifted his gun just as everyone was boarding the helicopter to go home.
It was one of the memories you still remembered so vividly. The dirt kicking up from the ground, the blades whipping around the wind, the look back you happened to give by chance before the gun went off. You saw the aim. You traced it back. And before the bullet could hit him, you had pushed Ghost hard. The last sight you saw of them was Ghost falling forward towards the chopper, the rest of the team that was already grabbing his arms to pull him in.
You saw the brief expressions he gave you when he looked back. At first, he was annoyed, but it didn’t take long for his annoyance to morph into pure horror as the bullet meant for him hit your skull.
When you awoke, you were strapped to a chair. Your head pounded, you were in your underwear, and you were meeting your warden.
No matter what he did, you never talked. Even when he cut your skin with knives. Even when he dislocated your jaw with a hammer. Even when he took your pinkie finger and a few of your teeth, you never talked. All you did was give a human snarl, angry firecrackers in your eyes.
It wasn’t until the third month when he realized that nothing was going to make you talk that he switched tactics to solitary confinement. He came by every now and then to try physical torture again. Waterboarding, electric shock.
It felt like he did it more so for fun than to fish information out of you after a certain point.
You snapped to attention when you heard whispers down the hall. A few guards were whispering to each other. Trying to ignore the pain of your body, you attempted to eavesdrop.
“-said to be extra careful today. Maintenance work will have the cameras down for a little bit.”
“Like anything is gonna happen. Her brain is too scrambled to do anything. You know what she did last week?”
“What?”
“She threw her food out. Managed to sling the bowl through the bars and shattered the thing. Then, she just sat in the corner. Didn’t even realize that the food she got was actually good that day. The bitch is paranoid and out of it. One too many things to that thick skull of hers.”
“Damn, really? When do think the warden is gonna let her go now that she’s fucked in the head?”
“Probably never. After that incident was reported, he just shrugged. Said she was still a prize, even starving.”
As the guards approached your cell, you pretended that you were asleep. It wasn’t hard to do since you often found yourself pretending to be asleep to avoid guard confrontation. When you heard the sound of your cell door unlocking and opening, you stirred as if just becoming awake.
“Dinner. Don’t make me clean your mess like last week.”
You slowly got up and limped towards the silver tray, your porcelain dishware exchanged for silver since last week.
You threw the food against the wall last week because it looked good. Too good. You did get paranoid and thought it was poisoned. A last meal. You didn’t care if it made you look crazy. In fact, you liked how they thought you went crazy. They would underestimate you, especially now that the time was right for your plan.
On your tray was the usual mush of rice mixed together with cut deli meat. The smallest amount of protein and carbs that would make the grumbling stop, but your body still weak.
Slowly, you ate, trying to ignore the fact that you had to eat with your fingers that were covered in sweat and dirt. They only let you take a cold shower once a month. One that only lasted thirty seconds.
God, you hoped that today really would be the day you could start your plans of escape.
“Prison Fight in Cell Block D! Personnel in Cell Block E and F report to Cell Block D immediately!” a strong voice announced over the speakers just as one of the guards was relocking your cell. They both sighed, but then hurried out to see what the commotion was.
Except, they forgot to lock your door properly. You’ve gotten used to all the sounds of the prison like a pattern. The sound of your cell door locking was a familiar that never missed, until today. Waiting a few minutes, you made sure that the guards were gone and busy. If this was going to work, you had to be careful. Play your cards right.
You were lucky that you were Cell Block F’s only prisoner.
Slowly, you pushed the door to avoid the whining creak it always gave. Slipping through, you could feel your hands shake and your head spin. Jesus, you were in bad shape. This was the most amount of moving you had done in a while.
Carefully, you headed down the hall toward the front desk of the block. Luck really was on your side today. As you peeked through the door window, you noticed that there was no one manning the desk. All that was left was a radio, a cell phone, a transmitter, a computer, and walkie talkies on chargers. You pushed the door open, the task taking more effort than it should have, and you picked up the phone.
Dialing the secret number you knew by heart, you prayed that it would go through. It rang several times before you reached a voicemail prompt. You nearly wept when you heard Kate’s voice asking you to leave a message. You missed her.
Your voice cracked as you tried to summon it. It’s been a long time since you’ve used it for talking. Nowadays you’ve only used it for screaming. It was hoarse and broken. It hurt to speak. “Th-This is Spite. 5286. I’ve been a prisoner all this time. I-I don’t know where. I haven’t seen the light of day. . .”
“Please, bring me home. If that can’t happen. . .”
You swallowed hard and thought about your next words carefully. “I will hold out for two weeks. If no one comes for me, then I will take my own life by taking Bill Porakov’s life. I won’t go to the other side empty handed.”
Leaving the message at that, you hung up, erased the call history, and cautiously retreated back to your cell. Crawling into your concrete slab of a bed, you curled up and closed your eyes. You felt your cheeks become wet as you now waited for someone or no one to help you.
Just before you began to drift off. You heard sounds coming down your hallway again. Heavy footsteps that identified your visitor. The warden.
You felt his eyes on you, sizing you up in the corner of your cell. When he attempted to unlock the door, he noticed that it was unlocked already. Instead of becoming angry at his employees, he simply began to laugh. The other guards nervously began to join in. “Unlocked door and still a stationary prisoner. Have you lost hope finally? Good. It’ll make taming you a lot easier.”
~
The 141 team was getting out of a meeting. A boring one. One that went over statistics and facts about their own work that nearly put them to sleep. They never really cared about their accomplishments or results from a numbers perspective. Besides that, all the accomplishments they made nowadays felt tasteless. Ever since you died, all of their success never felt as good as before.
The team was quiet, walking through base together under a bright afternoon sun. Soap was the first to speak in that thick Scottish accent of his. “How about the bar tonight, lads? I could go for a drink.”
There was no answer for a moment, everyone hesitant to accept the offer. The last time they went out to the usual bar, they did have a good time. Until Ghost glanced over at what used to be your chair. He always did that when he went out to the bar. When he noticed the absence, everybody else did too.
Ghost took your death the hardest. You gave your life to save his. It was a debt that he could never repay. Besides that, you were one of the best of them. The wittiest sense of humor, the most encouraging and supportive in and outside the battlefield. The best cook too when you were sick of the base’s cafeteria food.
Drinking only made him forget about you for a short while, but it was always an offer he took up when he was invited out to the bar. “Sure, Johnny.”
“Count me in then too.” Gaz chimed in. Price nodded as well, the both of them having had formulated a plan for the next bar outing. Something that would hopefully bring all of them a little more closure, especially Ghost.
They were going to propose a memorial. They held one a week after you died, yet it didn’t feel quite right. It was too formal. Too stiff. It was organized by the military. Ghost didn’t even go. They needed to organize one themselves. One that you would approve of better.
They just had to make sure Ghost would attend. A discussion that would be saved for the bar tonight.
Just before Soap could open his mouth to say something, Price spotted Kate running full speed towards them, tears streaming down her face. She was shaking and breathing so hard that it looked like she was close to a panic attack.
“Kate?! What’s wrong? What happened?” Price already began to ask, the team ready to spring into action.
She took a few deep breaths, working up the courage to reveal the truth that almost had her faint when she first heard it. “S-Spite. . . She’s alive. . . She’s alive!”
Ghost felt his heart drop. His blood ran contradictory temperatures. Hot and cold. His breath was stuck in his lungs. He lost color under his mask. Then, he clenched his teeth. No, this couldn’t be true. You got shot in the head. There was no way you could have survived that.
“Are you sure Kate? How do you know?” Price calmly tried to reason, not wanting to hold out for false hope either.
Laswell just nodded and opened her phone. In a single tap, your voice came out broken but alive.
The team was frozen as they listened to your cry for help followed by your fearless determination. If they had any doubts before that it was really you, those doubts no longer existed as you said something only you would say. That you wouldn’t die empty handed.
“Spite. . . you spiteful bastard. . .” Soap choked, not afraid to shed a tear.
Kate put her phone back in her pocket and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’ll have my people trace the call back to the location.”
Price nodded before turning to his men. “Gear up! We got a soldier to save!”
As soon as the order was given, Ghost left the group to go to his room in the barracks. He had to pack. His mind was racing as he began taking a few extra socks from his dresser. He could hardly believe it. You were alive. You, the person always on his mind even after all this time had passed, was still living.
He couldn’t imagine the shit you were going through. And he felt like it was his fault.
No matter what, he promised himself, he would bring you back home. Even if it cost him his life this time.
~
You didn’t know how many days had passed. Porakov took you out of your solitary cell to keep in a new prison located in his office. It was a beautiful office with fresh flowers, polished furniture, and a white carpet. In your new cell, a modern door that needed keycard access locked you in the room. The room was all white except for one wall made out of bullet-proof glass for Porakov’s viewing pleasure.
Somehow, you missed your old cell.
As you sat in the corner of your new room, you watched Porakov through the glass. He was chatting with someone new. Someone that looked out of place with their white coat and round glasses. A doctor perhaps?
Your captor finally looked at you, making your skin crawl. He gave a malicious grin like a wolf that trapped its prey. The stranger looked at you too, a curious quirk in his brow.
They approached your door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. You kept to the corner, shrinking yourself as much as you could. “Well? What do you think? Can you do it?”
The doctor examined you further, adjusting his glasses on his face. “I think so. It’s going to take some time, though. Can you have this room ready for me within two hours with everything I need?”
“We actually have everything ready to roll out.” The warden smirked before leaning into his walkie talkie and summoning workers to bring out rolling tables of medical equipment into the room.
You watched with steel eyes as they set the room up with all the medical equipment. A metal slab as if it came from a vet’s room took up the center. Microchips, a bonesaw, scalpels, and tweezers decorated the various trays. It took nearly no time at all to get whatever torture method Porakov planned set up.
The doctor began to sanitize his hands. “Such diligence isn’t even demonstrated in regular hospitals.”
“This is a special day.” Your captor responded before leaving the room only to watch behind the glass. As the doctor approached, you braced yourself like a cornered wild animal.
The doctor eased back, treating you as such. “It’s alright. I’m going to fix you up. Make you feel better. You want that, don’t you? I know you’ve been in pain for a long time.”
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You simply warned, refusing to believe a single word he said. If he was working for Porakov, that was enough of a reason not to trust him. No self-respecting doctor would even entertain the idea of working for a vile man like him.
The doctor frowned at your disobedience. “If you fight this, it’s going to hurt way more.”
As his hand inched closer to you, you sprung forward and attempted to bite. He pulled back just in time before you could bite a finger off. He cursed and turned to the glass. “You said she was broken!”
“Seems like she still has a little fight left in her. Apologies, doctor. It’s okay if you have to be rough with her. Teach her who’s boss.” The warden simply encouraged.
With a sigh, he revealed a small gun strapped to his belt. It wasn’t a regular gun. It was a tranquilizer gun. Realizing what was about to happen, you tried to get to your feet as quickly as you could, but it was too late. Your lack of proper body care made you lose your balance. A sharp pain hit your shoulder, a dart sticking out of you. Your vision already began to haze over, your body feeling heavier than ever before. Whatever was in the tranquilizer was enough to make you ragdoll, but not enough to put you to sleep.
They wanted you awake for this.
Your limp body was lifted onto the table, giving Porakov a clear view of the show that was about to begin.
It felt like you were beginning to disassociate. Tears escaped as you wished that you were dead instead of being here. Being treated like a rabid animal and a personal show made you sick. Dying alone in your cell would be better than this.
Something caught Porakov’s attention for a moment. He seemed to be yelling at someone. It looked urgent. Before he left to handle business, he told the doctor to continue his work.
The doctor simply shrugged and focused back on you. He took a scalpel and began to make an incision along the palm of your hand. You felt the chill of the blade meet your hot blood, nerves going off as if you were touching a hot stove. You hissed and groaned at the pain, refusing to give him anymore than this if you could help it.
But then, he began to dig around under your skin using the tweezers, shredding nerves and muscles like pulling apart thread. As he pinched your nerves directly, you screamed. A bloodcurdling scream that ripped apart your vocal chords.
Ignoring your cries, he took a microchip and settled it between your flesh. It suddenly clicked for you. He was rewiring you. Finding your nerves like hidden wires to connect to microchips that were programmed to do god knows what to your body.
Your mind went berserk, screaming at you to get out of there. To fight back. Adrenaline fought tranquilizer for control as your hand was being ripped apart from the inside. Your heart beated within your ears as you find the energy to grab a spare scalpel from the tray and swipe it along the doctor’s neck, letting gravity and momentum carry out your attack.
You heard the sound of him choking on blood, his tools clattering to the floor as he struggled to get his bleeding under control. Rolling off the table, you hit the ground hard with your hip. The breath that was knocked out of you made your head spin. You used to take most pain like a champ. Now, everything felt like your were getting hit by a truck.
It didn’t stop you from trying to reorientate yourself, your bleeding, open hand clutching your head. When you finally managed to stand back up, the doctor was staggering to get out of the room. Taking advantage of his state of weakness, you took the bonesaw and prepared to ruin his hand like he tried to do to yours.
The doctor stumbled onto the pristine carpet of Porakov, staining it with his blood. As you got closer with the saw, his gurgles became more strained. Begging for mercy. Adrenaline was kicking in full swing now as you became engulfed in rageful flames. You took a flower vase to your left and threw it, hitting him square in the knees. While he was knocked down, you stepped on one of his wrists.
He had no choice but to take it unless he wanted to bleed out, his other hand still holding the wound. Without remorse, you began sawing off his left hand. Within a few seconds, you didn’t even hear the strained mixture of gurgles and screams anymore. You didn’t hear anything anymore as you just sawed away, taking out your time of suffering out on someone you thought deserved to die.
By the time the hand was detached, the doctor was already long gone. Your hands were shaking and you were exhausted. Everything was still mute, the sound of your heavy breath taking over your ears.
It was the smell of gunpowder that snapped your attention to the exit. It was an undeniable scent. Something big was going on. Perhaps you were finally getting rescued.
You took a step towards the door before stopping altogether, the door suddenly slammed open to reveal a bloody, panicked Porakov. He clutched his side that was staining his uniform in blood. The strap he usually carried was missing.
Adrenaline came rushing back as you were presented with your chance for revenge. Your step forward brought his attention to you. His eyes widened in fear. The animal was out of her cage.
Behind him, heavy footsteps approached. The door slammed open again, this time revealing a face that you never thought you’d get to see again. Blue eyes behind a dark skull. Your heart almost collapsed in on itself as you took him in. Even with the black paint around his eyes, you could tell that he was tired despite the rage.
Most of his anger melted away as Ghost saw you. Dehydrated and malnourished beyond belief. Bloody and sunken in. Eyes full of a mix of emotions that he wished he could ask about.
You looked back at your warden, shaking in his boots like a coward. This pathetic man that tortured you to the point of such weakness was now silently praying for mercy.
“Hold him down for me.” You ordered Ghost, your voice darker than the depths of the ocean.
He didn’t think you should be exerting yourself over anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny your order. You needed this. He wanted to give it to you.
A bullet hit Porakov’s knee, making sure he wouldn’t struggle too much for what you were about to do. As he screamed, Ghost settled himself in his office chair, tying him down with some spare duct tape he always kept on him.
You approached the desk, steadying yourself with your hands. Your left hand was beginning to feel numb by the second, nerves shredded like old newspaper after using both hands to work the saw. Your right hand was missing your pinkie finger.
“I’m going to make you wish you’ve never been born.” You simply stated, taking back up the bonesaw. Ghost silently watched you bring the serrated blades down on Porakov’s fingers, amazed that your desire for revenge was enough to give your body energy. He supposed that that was one of the things he missed about you. Your unwavering determination to see something through.
For this, you made sure to tune in in order to hear all the cries your warden had as you took all of his fingers. It was a sound you dreamed of hearing. This moment was what you’ve been waiting for.
Yet, your heart seemed to remain empty as you watched his fingers fall to the rug. You didn’t stop until all of his fingers were gone, but it all still felt so hollow. You thought if you could get your revenge, you would get your closure. So why wasn’t this as enjoyable as you thought it would be?
Sobs filled the space when you were done. The man you resented shriveled in his seat as he wept for his lost body parts. You clenched your jaw, feeling yourself fill with a cold, angry flame. “Lock him in the cell over there.”
“Wh-What?! Y-You can’t! What about food and water?!” He began to shout, squirming in his chair as Ghost rolled him into the cell. You were lucky that he couldn’t care less about doing the military-right thing. To both of you, this was the right thing to do.
“You are going to die cold, sad, and alone in that cell. I’ll guarantee it.” You promised, watching Ghost situate him in the far corner. He noticed the medical tools scattered around along with the metal medical table. The thought of you strapped down, screaming and losing pieces of your life with each cut made him want to beat the shit out of Porakov. But, it wasn’t what you wanted for him.
He left and closed the room before giving you space to lock it. As the both of you looked through the glass, taking one last sight of Porkav, you said your final goodbye. “Fuck you, Warden.”
Ghost followed behind as you began to leave, your adrenaline dying back down much faster than you expected. You were downright lethargic when you closed the door to the office, locking it behind you. “Break that shit. Make sure it will be locked for good.”
“Spi-”
“Now, Simon!” You snapped, not meaning to take your pain out on him. In response, he bit his tongue and followed your order. He just wished he could hear you call his name without so much hurt behind it.
As you heard him break the locking mechanism, you leaned against the wall, your vision swirling. Everything began to get hazy and dark, something pulling you into either death or sleep. You couldn’t fight it this time, your body exhausted from all the fighting you’ve spent months doing.
Ghost turned around as soon as he heard your body hit the floor, out cold. “Spite? Y/n?!”
He took you up in his arms and felt your pulse. Slow, but alive. He didn’t know where your blood began and enemy blood ended. You were so much lighter than what he remembered too.
It should’ve been him to get caught.
Carrying you in his arms, he radioed for evac. This time, you would get on that helicopter and be taken home, safe and sound. He would make sure of it.
~
You didn’t wake up for a while. A long while. By the time you did, you were a fraction into recovering from surgeries already. They fixed up your hand as best the doctors could, they got you on IVs and nourishment. They even had a dentist come in to replace any missing teeth.
The only thing they couldn’t fix or replace was your pinkie finger. That was something you had to live with for the rest of your life now. A constant reminder of what happened. At least you could wear certain clothes to cover up your numerous scars. It was impossible to comfortably hide a missing finger.
Ghost never left your room. Everyone took turns visiting you, even in your unconscious state. He stayed, though, the entire time.
He did everything for you that the nurses couldn’t. Making sure you were comfortable with blankets and pillow changes, making sure you had fresh flowers in your hospital room. He even played music he knew you liked, just in case you could somehow hear the world around you.
Anything to make up for being the one to take his bullet, he would do.
It was a sight for sore eyes when you finally opened them and saw him. Your throat was parched and sore, but you still spoke out to get his attention from a book he was reading. “Ghost?”
“Spite.” He immediately looked up. Jesus, you could cry. In fact, you did start to cry.
Tears began to travel down your cheeks. “I. . . I thought I’d never see you again. . .”
He took your right hand in his, a gesture that he has never done before, but not unwelcome. His hand was large, warm, and. . . perfect. “Me too, dove. We thought we lost you.”
“I did get shot in the head.” You justified, already trying to bring some easiness back with some dark humor.
Ghost missed your humor so much. It was easy to match. “You’ll have to show me how to do that party trick.”
You gave a short snicker. “You just gotta get a metal plate installed in your head. Wouldn’t recommend it, though. Hurts like hell.”
He finally gave a laugh, the first time since he lost you. Squeezing your hand tighter, he prepared the words that he actually wanted to say for when you woke up. “You took that bullet for me. It should have been me, but you took it. I-”
You interrupted him, already knowing where this was going. “Stop. You would’ve done the same for any of us. That’s what it means to trust each other with our lives. You don’t owe me shit for it, okay?”
Before Ghost could reply, the door to your hospital room opened. Your nurse stepped in with some new IV bags and blankets. She was taken aback as she noticed that you were awake. It didn’t take long for the doctor to rush in and for Ghost to get kicked out.
While he waited, he contacted the team to let them know that you were finally awake. They wasted no time in rushing over to see how you were doing, eager to see who they thought was dead. As soon as the doctor gave them the all clear, you were bombarded with the affection of your team.
For a moment, it made you forget about the horrors of your capture.
The fun was spoiled when the doctor came back into the room. The immediate question on everyone’s mind was regarding your stay.
“How long until I can get discharged?” You asked, eager to go back home without thinking too much about it. After the words left your mouth though, you realized that you probably didn’t have a home to go back to. Shit, all of your stuff was probably gone since you were declared dead. . .
“If everything goes smoothly, we can send you out tomorrow. However, you’ll need a lot of time to recover. We’re going to recommend physical therapy, some new medications, and a therapy recommendation. What you went through is something you should process with time. Do you have anyone that could help take care of you at home?”
You became silent and bit your lip. Before you were assumed to be dead, you didn’t really get along with your family. Knowing your family, they probably rejoiced over your death before immediately going over your will. You would’ve loved to be a fly on that wall.
And now that you were apparently still alive, you wondered how they would respond to asking for your stuff back. That was going to be something.
With no family, no home, and a list of things to do now that you were back, you began to get a headache. Just as you were about to explain the situation, though, Ghost chimed up.
“I’ll take care of her.”
Your eyes widened at the idea of Ghost being by your side for essentially twenty-four hours a day. “I already told you that you don’t owe me shit.”
He shook his head. “I’m not volunteering because of guilt.”
Now Price was the one to speak up. “It won’t have to be all on Ghost. We can take turns visiting and keeping an eye on you. Hell, we’ll take care of the hard tasks too while you recover.”
Feeling your headache become stronger triggered by new stress, you give up quickly. You were too tired to argue. “Fine.”
“Great! We’ll continue to monitor you and ensure you’ll be ready for discharge soon.”
~
You awkwardly waited in Ghost’s car as he prepared your wheelchair. Your legs were weak, but not unusable. For a brief moment, you argued with him about using a cane to help you walk. He was pretty insistent that you still took it very easy to the point that it was hard to say no.
Once he opened your car door, you got into the chair and looked up at the tall apartment complex. You wondered which floor was Ghost’s as he wheeled you in.
“You’ll be using my room while I sleep on the pullout couch. If you need help getting around anywhere, just ask. Price and Kate will visit later to discuss some options.” He explained as if he was going through a checklist.
“Options?”
He shrugged. “Job options. Living options.”
As he pushed you into the elevator, you began to panic. Job options? Did they intend on letting you go? Yeah, you were pretty fucked at the moment, but you just needed some time to get back in shape. You really don’t want to lose your job. Despite everything that happened, you still wanted to be part of the team.
With each ding of the elevator indicating a passing floor, you got more and more nervous. Ghost looked down at you, noticing how hard you were gripping your seat. His eyes couldn’t help but notice your missing finger on one hand and limp strength for the other. A sting in his chest had him look away.
He wasn’t letting you live with him out of guilt, but he was still sorry that this happened to you.
The elevator doors finally opened on the highest floor, revealing a long hallway leading to only a few doors. At the farthest end of the corridor, Ghost reached the apartment. A blast of refreshing A/C hit your senses first. The further he wheeled you in, the more you began to notice more.
His whole place was tidy and organized, a fact that contradicted what you remember about him. From what you remember, the guy was a mess. His desk at work was always crowded with paperwork, empty mugs of tea, and sticky notes meant to remind him on what to do next.
The sweet smell of pipe tobacco and vanilla spread across the environment, a few plug-in air fresheners scattered around. It made your anxiety melt as you became more familiar with the scent you used to smell everyday on Ghost.
He parked you near his polished dining table and placed a laptop in front of you. Your old laptop. “I’m gonna get some lunch started. I figure that you want some time to see what you missed?”
You nodded and booted up the laptop with your better hand. Your hand with damaged nerves needed some therapy focus before it could be fully functional again. “Thanks, Ghost. I appreciate this.”
“Of course.” He responded as he wandered off into his kitchen. A little window viewing the dining room allowed him to monitor you while he cooked. As we figured out what to make, he stared at you from a distance.
Color was returning back to your face. You were still light, but he would put some meat back on those bones soon. There was a shine back in your eyes that brought him back to those fun nights at the bar with you. He remembered your smile, your laugh, your gaze.
He remembered how you used to talk about cooking, one of your favorite things to do, whenever he had a moment alone with you. It was one of the things that made you light up. Ghost would sit there for hours, listening to you talk about what you’ve made, what you want to make, a new technique you want to try, how you should be in charge of the mess hall.
Deciding lunch, he shifted his focus on cooking, already predicting that it wasn’t going to be half as good as your cooking.
While you heard the sound of pots and pans clanging together, your hands ached. There was a phantom knife in your hand, waiting to start chopping vegetables that didn’t exist. For a moment, you willed your hands to move like you were entering prep-mode.
Your wrist quickly gave out within a few motions of pretend chopping. Not to mention that your left hand refused to curl your fingers in right.
When will you be able to cook like you did again?
When will everything feel normal again?
The knock on the door snapped you out of your pity party. Ghost answered it and directed Price and Kate to you, as promised. Kate gave you a pearly smile and Price gave you a warm pat on the shoulder.
They took their seats and then immediately dived into the grit. Ghost eavesdropped from the kitchen. “We don’t want to bullshit you, Spite. There are a lot of things that need to happen before you can return to your job. We can’t even give you desk duty until you do a few things first.”
You crossed your arms over her chest, not liking where this was going. “Like what?”
Kate passed over a manilla folder containing various paperwork sheets and tests. “First, we would need to interview you. Ask you about what happened while you were imprisoned.”
A scoff escaped your lips. “You wanna know if I opened my mouth about anything.”
“We know you didn’t and you never would. A team sent with us when we came to rescue you collected whatever evidence and intel they could get their hands on. They found recordings of your interrogations. We’re going through them now to make sure you kept certain things confidential.” Price reassured, already sensing that you were beginning to stress out.
You understood why it had to be done. It just made you sick to your stomach that your torture was being looked at solely for the purpose of checking to see if you were a good soldier. “Who’s reviewing the recordings?”
“Professionals. But they want your testimony too.” Kate vaguely elaborated, trying to move past this already.
You didn’t let up, though. Instead, you asked for something that shocked the both of them. Even Ghost who was chopping onions paused mid-cut. “Can I choose someone from the team to review them instead?”
“Why would you want that?”
“I don’t want a couple of strangers viewing something as intimate as my torture. I would rather have someone I know I can trust see those recordings.” You justified, not thinking much about the weight of that request.
Kate and Price looked between each other, silently debating on if they should honor your request. There was a concern of conflict of interest, but then again, the 141 got a few special privileges. Price cleared his throat. “Who would you want to see the recordings?”
The obvious answer should have been Kate, but it wasn’t. In fact, you really didn’t want Kate to look at any part of your torture. You didn’t even think she could stomach it. She was capable and tough like the rest of you, but she worked more from the shadows to save her from horrendous bloodshed.
There were only three people that you felt like could handle it. Price, Ghost, and yourself. Like hell they were going to let you see your own footage though. “Would you and Ghost mind?”
Price gave it some deep thought before nodding. “I can do it if that’s what you want. Ghost?”
Ghost wasn’t surprised that Price knew he was eavesdropping. “I’ll do it.”
Kate immediately closed that part of the conversation. “Well that’s that. Next, we have to retest you in multiple areas. Physical, mental, shooting range, the whole works. Some of the intelligence based tests can be done sooner, but the rest will have to wait until you are physically fit again.”
“That could take weeks.” You grumbled, already getting impatient with your recovery process.
“We have time. Outside of work tasks, anything that should take priority in your personal life. Besides the basics, of course.” Price switched topics, hoping that will brighten your mood a little.
You did like bossing them around when you had the chance. With a smirk, you began rattling off all the things you needed them to do for you. “Contact my lawyer and family. Gotta get that sorted out and hopefully get some stuff back if my folks haven’t tossed anything out yet. And if I don’t have to be the one to do it, the better. That’s probably the first major errand. Most of the other things will have to wait until the basics are done.”
“I do want my favorite brand of coffee here. Sorry, Ghost, but your coffee is shit.” You spoke a little louder, making sure that Ghost could hear you. Doing so made your throat already feel sore, but it was worth it when you got to here a chuckle back.
“Tell me how you really feel.” He smiled beneath the mask as he pushed the diced veggies into a large pot filled with chicken stock. The aroma of chicken soup was making you salivate.
Kate and Price eased up from your humor too as they added your coffee request to their list. After a few more minutes of chatter, they said goodbye so you could enjoy lunch. It was a good thing too because you were hungry and your voice was getting sore.
Ghost finished up the simple chicken noodle soup. Carrots, onions, celery, leftover shredded chicken melded together in a stock that was sure to be nutritious yet easy on your recovering stomach. When he served you a bowl, you nearly cried at how good it looked.
With a shaky hand, you lifted your spoon and took a taste. Before you knew it, you began to silently cry. Ghost, who returned to the table with his own bowl, began to panic at your tears. “It doesn’t taste good?”
“This is the best meal I’ve ever had.” You sobbed, recalling all of the shitty, bland food and starvation you had to deal with. To you, this simple chicken soup was heaven on earth.
Ghost didn’t know what to say, think, or feel for a moment. He didn’t expect such high praise, even if your reasoning was something he could guess. He settled for a proud, simple response. “Thanks. Take your time.”
Silently, you ate, savoring every ounce of flavor that graced your tastebuds. The egg noodles were perfectly al dente, the carrots were tender, and the chicken pieces were easy to swallow. Miraculously, it sparked a deep hunger for more food. But, you still needed to take it easy. If you ate the portion size you did before capture now, you would lose such a delicious lunch.
“Why did you choose me to review your footage?” Ghost suddenly asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was content with watching you eat so gratefully, yet the memories of the conversation before lunch still haunted him.
Your hand stopped moving the spoon within the bowl. You didn’t expect him to ask something like that. Normally, he just followed orders. “I think you would handle seeing it better than others. Not gonna lie, there is probably some gnarly stuff on those tapes.”
His stomach twisted into knots at the mention. He would still do this for you, of course, but he probably wasn’t going to be as strong as you thought he was about it.
It was your torture after all.
~
Adjustment was going smoothly. There were some hiccups here and there, but you soon got used to Ghost taking care of you. He got used to relinquishing more control over to you as well. You quickly graduated to only needing a walking cane occasionally thanks to your dedication to physical therapy. Your hands needed more work, but at least you could get around the apartment with ease.
When you earned your achievement of free walking, you got more bossy and impatient. It was something Ghost was able to handle it since you delivered it with humor and hard work, but he soon began to notice dips in your mood here and there.
He has been adamant about sleeping on the couch while you took his room. Since you began walking, you have tried to change that sleeping arrangement to no avail. Everytime you looked at the couch, a brief flash of guilt went over your face.
He would catch you looking at your hands a lot, willing them to do more than just twitch and shake. Your brow would furrow in frustration when you practiced holding different movements and weights. Occasionally, you would hiss from pain as you tried to force progress. It became routine for him to end up holding your hands to make sure you gave yourself a break.
The other issue that was hard to resolve was your night terrors. Ghost thought his nightmares were bad, but they seemed like nothing compared to how you would scream in the middle of the night. It would always startle him awake. He would always rush to the door to calm you down. You would always tremble and cry in his arms.
You couldn’t go back to sleep unless Ghost was with you, his arms tight around your body and holding you close to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat became a lullaby that always made you regain your breathing.
The more he took care of you, the more he began to notice things about you. He was getting closer to you than ever before as he spent time with you every day. Sure, he was looking out for you, but it didn’t feel like a chore. Having you live with him became such a natural sight to him. It was like you always belonged there.
So it really unnerved him when he was finally called to review your footage.
You said goodbye to him when he left for base. For the first time, you were alone. Ghost gave you strict instructions to take it easy, forbidding you from certain activities while he was gone. However, you paid no mind to his warning, eager to normalize your life even more.
The feeling of the chef’s knife in your palm was a familiar weight that brought back so many memories. You had been wanting to get back into cooking earlier, but Ghost always scolded you and said you weren’t ready yet.
You planned on proving him wrong by cooking dinner for tonight. Something simple and comforting. Pasta with a homemade sauce.
Your dreams felt like they were shattering as you struggled to open the tomato can with the opener though. The strength it took made your hands ache almost immediately. Having the strength to push the weight of the blade down into the garlic was agony too. Even with a sharp knife, you were having such a hard time doing what was meant to be easy.
Only thirty minutes had passed after Ghost left when you ended up lying on the kitchen floor, crying for your hands to work again and for a life you lost.
Meanwhile, Ghost was just arriving on base. He wondered if you were doing alright. He hoped you weren’t pushing yourself while he was gone. Damn, he should’ve asked Gaz or Soap to watch you. He didn’t want to treat you like a child, but he knew you well enough that you were probably doing something you weren’t supposed to.
That’s how you got your call sign in the first place.
“Lieutenant Ghost, you ready?” Price ushered him into a secured, private room. Soundproof, dark, and void of any windows. Various tapes sat on a table next to a small TV. Ghost grabbed a chair and settled in, trying to relax as much as he can.
“Pay attention, try to stay unbiased, and keep this confidential. We can only talk about this with each other, Spite, and the investigation leaders.” Price ordered like a captain. Resolute and sharp. Despite the confidence in his voice, your captain was afraid. He didn’t want to see one of his best sergeants get tortured.
Ghost was trying to steel himself for it too. “Yes, Captain.”
With that, Price hit play and took the small seat next to Ghost. The footage began with the first day you were captured. You were stirring unconscious, strapped to a chair, and bleeding out of the side of your head where you got shot. The scene already had Ghost simmering with rage and sorrow.
He watched as you woke up, met your warden, and then immediately took a molar from you with swift punches to the jaw. He watched you spit the blood back in his face, growl threats he could never repeat, and then have your knees shattered with a sledgehammer.
It was clear that it hurt. That it was agony. The way your lungs gasped for air. The way you bit back your screams only to echo within your throat. The way you lost consciousness for a moment only to wake up from immense pain as they cut you.
And yet, you didn’t say a word. You never mentioned your name. Never revealed who you were with and why. You didn’t let anything get past your locked lips.
Porakov punished your resilience with more torture. Ten minutes in and it was already getting too much for Ghost to handle. How could anyone survive this? How did you?
His stomach turned as he watched the day you lost your pinkie finger. You were getting noticeably weaker and skinnier with each new day on the tape. Your knee was still healing. Porakov only took advantage of this as he pushed you around.
None of his questions got answers. Not a single one. Not even when the gardening shears pinched around your delicate finger.
Ghost almost threw up when he witnessed the final cut. You screamed, but you didn’t cry. You never did. At least, not in front of Porakov. It wasn’t until everyone left you in the cell that you let your pain turn into tears. And it absolutely broke his heart.
Feeling lightheaded, Ghost began to reach for the pause button on the TV. Price beat him to it, though. “I think that’s enough for today. Thought I could sit through what I allotted for this, but this is hard to watch. Even for me. Sorry, Lieutenant.”
After scheduling the next time to watch more footage, Ghost rushed back to his car to drive home. How could he have left you home by yourself after everything that’s been done to you?! You stayed optimistic and humorous most of the time, but there was no way you were really okay. No one would be okay if they went through what you went through.
There was still months of footage left to sift through.
Not caring about the risks of getting pulled over, Ghost sped along the highway leading back home. He began trying to call you, hoping that your new phone that the team got you was working fine.
When you didn’t answer, he tried again, the pit in his soul becoming darker and bigger. He shouldn’t have left you home alone.
He stopped trying after the tenth calling attempt. Instead, he focused on speeding faster. He got back to the apartment within record time. When he slammed the door open, he began looking for you.
His terror amplified as he found you on the kitchen floor, knife laying next to you and dinner prep unfinished. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were staring off into the distance. The light in your eyes was gone. Just like the day you ordered for your warden to be killed.
You didn’t remember when the panic attack started. Somewhere in the middle of your grief perhaps. It completely crippled you. Plunged you into such a horrible memory that you were desperately trying to forget. Your breath was stolen and your heart ached as if you pushed a knife into it.
Afterwards, you dissociated. You couldn’t register the cold tiles beneath you. You couldn’t remember what you were doing in the first place. You didn’t even hear your phone go off or Ghost rushing into the house.
Warmth stirred you back to the land of the living, Ghost’s arms wrapping tight around you. An unfamiliar sensation buried into the crook of your neck. The feeling of light stubble and shaky breaths. It was then that you realized that he had taken off his mask to bury his face into you.
Slowly, you wrapped your sore arms around his broad shoulders. The natural, sweet scent of you just made him feel the need to hold you tighter. Closer.
He never wanted to leave your side again.
“Is this hug for me? Or for you?” You half-joked, returning to your usual self with a sore voice.
His shoulders relaxed as he heard your question. Relief soon morphed into anger as he realized that you tried to do without him there. It was hard for him to keep his voice from rising. “I told you to take it easy. I thought something happened to you.”
You flinched back, not expecting to be scolded so soon. “I just thought-”
“The only thoughts you should be having is about recovering.” He pulled back from the hug, allowing you to really see his face up close.
You had only seen his face a couple of times before your capture. You had served with the 141 for under a year, so it made sense why you didn’t get to see it often. But now that you could really get a good look, your heart skipped a beat and a blush slowly crept along your cheeks.
His eyes were much brighter without the mask already. Flecks of black warpaint revealed blond lashes that matched his light locks. His jaw looked like it was carved from quartz and a few scars only gave character to his strong features.
Fuck, your old, childish crush on him was beginning to resurface at the worst possible moment.
You swallowed hard and averted your gaze. The hammering of your heart made it hard to figure out what to say next. “Sorry. . .”
Ghost gave a deep sigh, raking a large hand through his hair. Seeing the guilt in your eyes made him feel like he fucked up. He shouldn’t be making you feel like this. “No, Spite. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Not only that, but seeing your tapes followed by you not answering the phone and then looking dead on the floor had him think the worst. Though, he wasn’t ready to saddle you with that burden. You needed comfort and stability.
Gently, he cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze back up to his. Your breath hitched as he did, his touch now feeling like electricity. “What were you trying to make?”
“Pasta. . .”
“You really want to get back into cooking?”
At that, you gave a firm nod. It would be something that would make you feel better. Normal. Even if it was just for a moment. You really needed to create something with your hands.
Ghost couldn’t deny you. Not when you made such a beautifully, determined expression.
Carefully, he stood up and helped you get back on your feet. The knife on the floor was put into the sink. A new chef’s knife was placed in your hand. Before you could ask what he was doing, he positioned you in front of the cutting board, stood close behind you to the point where your back was touching his chest, and he held his hands over yours. “Let me know if you start to hurt. You can lean back on me if you need it too.”
Now your heart was really racing. The whirlwind shift of emotions made you lightheaded. How could you switch from a panic attack to feeling lovesick? How could you still have a crush on him after all this time?
It took you a moment to relax under his touch and allow him to use your hands to cut the garlic. The heat of his chest seeped into your back as he cautiously guided the cooking process with you in the middle. When he spoke up, his voice so close to your ear, you nearly fainted. “You feeling alright?”
“Y-Yeah. . . I’m fine. Thanks, Ghost.” You stuttered out, feeling embarrassed by the proximity.
“You know, you can call me Simon when it’s just me and you, dove.” He allowed, feeling the heat of your own body rise against his chest. He couldn’t see your face clearly, but he could tell that your ears were turning red.
It stirred something deep within himself.
Your brain short-circuited when he gave you permission to use his real name. You had only used it when you needed him to understand your serious intentions. It wasn’t something you took lightly. Now, he wanted you to call him that more intimately.
At first, you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t until you realized that all of the cloves of garlic were minced perfectly, your hands still able to take a little more cooking. “Seriously. Thank you, Simon.”
His heart leapt when you used his name like he wanted. “Of course, dove. Anything for you.”
Simon didn’t move an inch away from you until everything was ready to get tossed onto the stove. When the prep work was done, you had excused yourself to go rest, allowing him to finish dinner.
He let you go, but he really didn’t want to. He could never let you go now. Especially not when you were definitely blushing over him.
It wasn’t that you needed rest from cooking. You needed rest from Simon. A minute to get your heartbeat under control. This wasn’t like you. You were confident, resilient, strong, spiteful. Not gooey and bashful.
Only Ghost could make you feel this way.
You had a crush on him when you first met the team. It was the air of mystery that drew you to him first. His sense of humor, confidence, and intelligence that matched yours drew you in deeper. He had said that he was actually quite handsome under the mask, and you believed him during that time.
That’s all you tried to leave it at, though. A silly little crush. Being in the presence of a strong, muscular, and confident man would make anyone feel weak in the knees. That’s what you told yourself when you were stomping out your feelings for the sake of professionalism.
It worked too. After snuffing out that crush, you grew to be a friend to him. He trusted you more and you trusted him. There was nothing in the world that would make you trade over the friendship you had with him. With anyone on your team. It was the right thing to do at the time and it still was.
So why the hell were you falling in love with him all over again?
~
You chalked it up to being locked up for too long. Of course your heart would begin to sway towards Ghost. He’s been taking care of you and you’ve been living with him and he’s the first man you’ve been spending time with. Now that you realize this, snuffing out your feelings again shouldn’t be so hard.
Keyword: Shouldn’t.
Ghost made it really difficult for you to maintain some space from him. You have been adamant about healing through cooking. He’s been adamant about being with you every step of the way. Holding you between his arms in case you feel faint, guiding your hands when you don't have the strength, speaking directly into your ear when he wants to talk to you.
Everytime he came back from base, his clinginess increased tenfold. You knew that he was coming back from watching your footage. But you didn’t want to be pitied or the center of any guilt he may have.
“How are you feeling? Are you ready for your interview, dove?” Simon hovered near his bedroom door, watching you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You have been looking a lot better after these couple of months. You gained a wealthy weight, you were getting around much better, and some of your strength returned to your muscles.
It was still a ways to go before you could go out onto the field again, but it was a good start. Besides the night terrors that still haunted you, you were beginning to look like your old self.
At least, that’s what it looked like to him. You, on the other hand, were beginning to stress about how you looked. It felt good for your body to be getting back on the right track, yet you found imperfections. Things you had to be patient about such as your hair.
The doctors had to cut it in order to put a new metal plate back in your head. Your hair was growing back decently fast, but not fast enough to your liking. Besides the hair, you were covered in scars that weren’t fading anytime soon. Probably never with how deep they went.
“Dove?”
Simon snapped you out of your stupor. “H-Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m ready to go.”
“That’s not what I asked. You can talk to me about anything, you know?” Simon stepped forward, hoping to cure your sudden anxiety.
“Sorry, just a little distracted I guess.” You brushed off. It would be embarrassing to tell him how you felt ugly right now. The last thing you wanted to do was fish for compliments too.
Simon knew you were lying, but he dropped it. Instead, he followed you out of the apartment and drove you to the interview. On the way there, you let the radio fill the silence between the two of you.
He gripped the steering wheel tight, wondering why the hell you were so distant from him all of a sudden. The two of you were getting along great when you first arrived. Now, you were locking yourself up in his bedroom a lot more, speaking to him less, and had your head in the clouds when he was trying to talk to you.
Did he do something wrong? Make you feel bad about something? He thought you liked him.
The car pulled up onto the base, a place you haven’t seen for a long time. Everything looked like how you remembered. Military grays, greens, and browns. Recruits jogging around. The smell of cigarette smoke in the air. It almost seemed like nothing had changed.
Price greeted you halfway to the interview and then escorted you to it. It was the same room they used to examine your footage, the tapes finally over. You sat in a seat across from a woman in a business suit.
Price and Simon were ordered to stay out in the hall and wait. As they waited for you, Simon thought about getting back in your good graces.
“She alright? She seemed more quiet than usual on the walk.” Price suddenly spoke up, also curious about the trouble in paradise.
“Don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything about what’s been bothering her.” He confessed, an annoyed tone lacing with his words.
The captain hummed in thought. “Has she taken that offer to see a therapist?”
“Nope. Only the physical therapist. You think she needs it?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. I think it would be good for her to really unpackage everything that went down before we put a gun back in her hands. Someone that’s a professional.”
Simon gave it some thought. As much as he wanted to be the one you turned to to talk about your feelings, he agreed that you would most likely feel better talking to a professional. He wasn’t necessarily equipped to provide both comfort and trauma solving.
Hell, he probably needs therapy too.
He figured that he would suggest the idea when the two of you return home. Let you sleep on it.
You exited the room after about an hour. The interview took much longer than you expected, but they were thorough. No detail was to be left unspoken. It was a wonder how you managed to talk about everything that happened without breaking down. Perhaps it was because you did really want your job back. The more capable you seemed, the more likely they would give it to you.
After a quick stop visiting Gaz and Soap, Simon took you back to the apartment. You entered the space so naturally that it felt like it was your home. Simon even let you buy some decor to make the place more comfortable for you that you could take to your new apartment, whenever that would be available.
Before Simon could invite you to sit on the couch with him for a moment to talk, you had already closed the door to the bedroom. The interview left you tired. It was still taking a while to get your voice used to talking again.
As you crossed the space, you noticed your reflection in the mirror. You looked the same from when you left. Maybe a little bit more exhausted, but still the same, unflattering body you wished was completely back to normal already.
There was a soft knock on the door. You didn’t register it as you just sat on the floor, looking at your reflection and wondering what you could do to make yourself feel pretty again. Since you didn’t answer, Simon slowly opened the door.
“Dove? What’s wrong?” He cautiously asked, not wanting to startle you.
You gave a deep sigh that even he felt in his soul. “Just. . . missing the me from before.”
His shoulders felt lighter in relief. He was so glad that you were talking to him again. However, It was souring quickly now that your words were settling in. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. . . I guess. . . I thought that I was decently pretty before. I was happy with how I looked. . . I don’t really see that anymore.” You tried to explain, feeling your throat begin to choke on each word. God, you felt stupid.
Simon could hardly believe it. To him, you were still the prettiest lady he’s ever met. Your smile made his day brighter. Your hands felt warm and perfect in his. Your eyes were works of art he could stare into all day.
He was in love with you.
“W-What?” Your face grew red, not understanding why he was staring so intensely at you. So seriously. It’s been a while since you’ve faced him this close. Did he think you were being dumb too?
He took a seat behind you on the floor and pulled you into his lap. An arm snaked across your stomach before you could escape. His other hand guided your chin to look back into the mirror. “Take a good look at yourself again, dove. Don’t tell me that you’re not pretty anymore because it’s not true.”
Your heart was going to burst from your chest. If you stay like this with him for much longer, it would be impossible to destroy your feelings for him. “Si-”
“Your cheeks are turning pink. Are you getting embarrassed?” He tightened his hold and deepened his voice. He would do anything to make you feel attractive again. Including revealing that he was attracted to you.
As he pointed out your blush, you only reddened deeper. “T-This is because you surprised me!”
“Oh? It’s not because you like me?” He teased, not being able to help himself. Before everything, you were so confident and enthusiastic at work. He never got to see your bashful side. It was incredibly cute.
You froze in his lap as he revealed your secret. How long has he known?! Was he just toying with you right now?! This was not how you imagined a confession going at all, not that you ever really planned on confessing.
Turning your head to face him directly, you attempted to dig out of the hole you were in. “Simon-”
“You’re too cute.” He suddenly admitted before pressing his lips firmly against yours. He lost control as soon as he saw your expression up close within his lap. The way your brows furrowed, how your ears turned more pink by the second, how you called him by his name.
There was no way in hell he was going to make you feel unattractive right now.
Startled by the kiss, it took you a moment to realize what was happening. When your brain did kick back into gear, you could hardly believe it. Simon was kissing you. Not just that, but he was kissing you so deeply that it made you melt.
You couldn’t possibly fight back your feelings for him now.
Eventually, you began kissing him back. When he felt your effort, he took that as a good sign to keep going. Your lips were so soft and warm against his. Your weight in his embrace felt perfect. His tongue swiped at your lips and then plunged into your mouth to taste even more of you.
You softly moaned into his mouth, electricity firing all along your nerves. His muscular, strong chest against your back made you feel hot all over. His tongue that aimed to taste every inch of you did just that. A sensation you haven’t felt for what felt like decades began to spread throughout your pelvis.
His hand guided your gaze back to the mirror in front of you, your own expression making your breath hitch. Cheeks pink, lips swollen, chest rising and falling rapidly. The bottom of your shirt was a little hiked up, exposing just an inch of waist that drove Simon wild. “See, dove? You’re perfect.”
He held your chin in place, forcing you to watch as he trailed kisses along the side of your neck. His free hand slipped under your shirt, feeling skin that now matched his. You gasped and shivered as he felt you up, feeling his hand travel further up until he reached the bottom wire of your bra. The kisses mixed with tongue and teeth against your neck made you whimper in excitement.
“You’re still soft to the touch. Still warm and living. How I see you hasn’t changed. You are still the same pretty woman I grew to like so much.” He sweetly confessed into your ear as he stripped off your shirt.
Simon liked you too? Since when? Mental questions faded away as you noticed him unsnap your bra to reveal your breasts. Your hands instinctively went to cover them up, but he caught your wrists in his hand.
“No, dove. I gotta show you just how attractive you are. Keep looking at your pretty little face in the mirror.” He playfully smirked, loving this new side of you more than he imagined. His cock was already pressing against the fabric of his pants, getting bigger by the second.
With your wrists still held together, he began to massage your breasts. The other side of your neck was shown some love through feverish kisses, making you squirm in his lap. You could feel his growing erection pressed behind you, making your pussy tingle with need. When he pinched a nipple tight, you let a moan slip.
As he dragged his tongue along your neck, he watched the pleasure on your face through the mirror. His pants felt tighter by the second, eager to really show you just how attractive you were to him.
Limbs felt like jelly as he continued to tease you. When your wrists felt more slack in his grip, he let go to use both hands. You sat in his lap, melted and shivering as he played with both of your nipples. “You’re so sensitive. It’s really turning me on, dove.”
You pressed your legs tighter together, feeling your wetness slowly stain your panties. Simon’s strong chest rose with his labored breath, cock now aching with pain from the restriction of his clothes. He wanted more. He wanted to see every inch of you.
He guided your legs to spread for him, making sure that your pussy would be clear as day through the mirror. You debated fighting back before things went too far, but his hands on you felt incredible. You were so turned on too, despite feeling embarrassed about how weak and bashful you looked.
In one move, your pants and panties were gone, revealing your slick cunt for both you and Simon to see. Instinctively, you tried to close your legs. However, Simon made sure that you didn’t. He made sure you looked at the mirror too. “Take a good look, dove. So wet for me. . . So pretty. Pink. Soft. Never seen something so delicious before.”
His large fingers began to rub through your folds, spreading your wetness around easily. His eyes grew feverish as he spread you open, feeling the pulse that traveled through you.
You gasped as he started rubbing your clip in slow, deep circles. Almost two years of abstinence made you sensitive beyond comprehension. “Ah~! Simon~!”
“That’s right, dove. Don’t stop looking at yourself.” He instructed, his voice so deep that it echoed in your head. Lightning zipped through you as he continued to tease your clit, another hand going back to your hard nipples.
God, Simon was so good at this. He was reading you like a book, noticing every flinch, every scrunch, every tremble that flashed across your face. He was getting to know all your sweet spots. Every piece of you that begged for more.
Your hips bucked as his finger on your cunt slid down close to your entrance. Through the mirror, you saw him smirk, making your heart leap. “Patience. I’ll give my dove what she wants as long as she keeps looking at herself. Promise.”
Gently, he worked his fingers inside of you, feeling just how hot you really were getting for him. He suppressed his own shiver as he felt you tighten up, sucking his fingers in deeper. You clung on to his arms and moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder in pure bliss.
Grabbing your chin, he made you watch yourself get fingered. “Don’t look away.”
You had no choice but to follow your instructions. Kisses peppered your neck, making sure you didn’t have the space to turn your head away again. You watched his fingers pump in and out of you, more of your natural honey drooling out of you.
“Ahh! Mnn~!” A loud moan escaped you as you felt his fingers curl to hit that perfect, spongy spot that drove you crazy. Your reaction was instant, your pussy tightening further and tremors traveling through every nerve. Simon could feel and see it. You were getting close to an orgasm. And he really wanted you to reach it.
“That’s it. Watch yourself cum for me, dove.” He praised, moving his fingers more powerfully to make sure you wouldn’t lose that pleasurable high.
It was beautiful watching you moan and drool and shutter in his lap. It was so sexy how you looked at the mirror with feverish eyes like you wanted more than just his fingers. He wanted to use more too. But not before you came.
Simon put more pressure on your g-spot, not caring that you were making such a huge mess all over his hand. All he wanted to do was go deeper, so deep that his palm was pressing into your throbbing clit.
That is what made you see stars. With a scream, you were plunged into an orgasm that made you stupid. Simon smirked with pride as he held you during your climax, feeling just how tightly you clung to his fingers. He loved that blissful expression on your face while you came. Corners of your eyes brimming with tears, blush swept across your cheeks, body glowing with excitement.
“Didn’t I tell you? Absolutely gorgeous.” He complimented, giving you soft kisses on the side of your head as you calmed down. It was still hard to breathe, your heart beating erratically from the climax and from Simon’s husky praises. When he pulled his fingers away, you whimpered from the sensitivity.
Carefully, you were removed from his lap and laid down in front of him. While you took a moment to rest, Simon grabbed a few pillows from his bed, tossed them to the floor, and then stripped. At the sight of his strong build, you swallowed some drool.
It was strength made to be used. Muscular and soft in all the right places. His own body was covered in old scars, something that made him alluring rather than flawed. And then when your eyes traveled down to his huge, throbbing cock, you felt that familiar tingle take over again.
“Like what you see?” He teased, situating the pillows under you so you could be more comfortable. The head of his dick prodded at your folds, lubing itself up. As he slid along your folds, rubbing your sensitive, red bud, you lost your breath again.
“Simon. . .” You called out in what you hoped sounded like a warning rather than begging. God, you wanted him inside you already. You wanted to feel every inch of him fuck you like you were the most sexy woman on the planet.
He chuckled a little, your tone a mixture of scolding and impatience. A perfect tone that made him want to fuck you hard already. But, he held back. For now at least. Instead, he turned your head to make you look at your reflection again. Slowly, he entered you, feeling your hot pussy cling to him like it was made for him.
Your expression immediately morphed as he slid his cock inside you deeper. Eyebrows scrunched, vision hazy, plump lips bitten. He was thick. Incredibly thick. You’ve never been so filled up before. It hurt a little, but pain was quickly replaced with pleasure as you got used to it.
Simon gave a satisfied sigh when finally reached the base. It was a sight to behold, your tight pussy stretched to accommodate him. It felt so good inside you. Hot. Slick. His thrusts were slow and deep, watching every reaction you had as you felt every inch of him. It only turned him on even more as he made you watch.
His hands clutching your hips to control the pace had you tremble. You loved how he was careful, yet still wanted to manhandle you. There were moments where you could see him lose his cool for a second. A shuddered breath here, a swallowed groan there. His own expressions as he fucked you deep is what really turned you on the most.
“Fuck, dove. You’re so tight~” He exhaled, picking up the pace with his thrusts. Your toes curled and your back arched as his cock hit every pleasure point within you. It was perfect how he was large and skilled enough to reach every spot you liked. And it was all thanks to how closely he paid attention to you.
His body pressed against yours as he felt the need to be closer to you. He wanted to see your pretty face up close when you cum next. He wanted to feel those beautiful tits pressed flush against his own skin. When he felt you tighten, he knew you were getting close.
You hung onto him tight, wrapping his arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back. It was incredible feeling his muscles flex with each thrust under your hands. Everything felt so good with him. You never thought you would feel pleasure like this again.
Simon hissed as you clawed his back, a blissful sensation that only left him wanting more. He pistoned harder, hoping that your nails would leave new scars on him. “I can feel you getting close. Look into my eyes when you do.”
Moans gradually turned into screams as he fucked you as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing hard with his own desire to climax. Hearing you scream his name was turning him on more than he thought. So much so that he began calling out yours.
Hearing your own name from his lips with such a desperate tone made the wave crash down. Looking deep into his eyes, you came around him. Every part of you trembled, electricity taking over. It felt like every cell within you was screaming for him. His breath hitched as you tightened and soaked him. And god, the way you looked while cumming. . .
He held you tight as he felt himself climax too, hot ropes adding to the heat. Your back arched as he gave a few final pumps, milking himself out in you as much as he could. It was hard to control your shutters when he enjoyed the final moments of having you. When he did pull out, it left you feeling empty, yet satisfied.
Knowing that you were feeling weak, Simon carried you to his bed and laid you down. You were surprised when he crawled into the spot next to you and pulled you into his chest like he was holding a lover. Was that what you two were now? Lovers?
“Like I said before, you’re perfect.” Simon praised and kissed the top of your head.
You two were definitely lovers. All the doubt cleared as you listened to his heartbeat.
#cod fanfic#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x f!reader#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2
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Something something you’re talking to a friend who says something cringe/embarrassing/etc and say “Kate Laswell herself couldn’t waterboard that information out of me” and lo and behold who is behind you but none other than the woman the myth the legend herself
#au shes not married yet because you’re the girl#she then drowns you in that pussy AYO#*ba dum tiss*#kate laswell#kate laswell x reader#one of these days Ill finish one of my 12 projects and post something that’s not a fever induced thought experiment#i think im ovulating#ive been losing my god damn mind this week
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idk if relatable is the word for it but my stomach hurts from laughing 😭😭
:)
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A Glimpse of Us pt. 2 || Xavier Thorpe x reader
A/n: Here is part 2!!! You guys are just too adorable for me to deprive you of this any longer!
What to expect: Gender neutral, enemies to lover vibes, hidden feelings, Xavier making the reader hella flustered, confessions!, make out, no spoilers here babes
The two of you shared fencing class yet again and Xavier’s plan set in motion. Usually, when the coach announced for the class to pair up for practice, the two of you just assumed you’d be up against each other as it was the only class your rivalry was welcomed. However, as you were about to walk up to Xavier he had already started a match with Wednesday who was clad in black as usual. She was beating him terribly, having already scored 2 points before he had the chance to even score 1. In any other situation you would have laughed at his predicament, although you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of hurt as he chose her opposed to you. Sensing your loneliness, Enid made her way over to you. She gave you a bright smile as she asked to partner up, an offer you didn’t refuse. The bubbly girl wasn’t half bad at fencing but that didn’t mean you’d let her win. Dodging her blade you lunged forward striking her square in the chest as you scored the final point. The two of you took your fencing masks off and each fixed your hair before she gave you a nod of respect to which you returned.
You looked over at Xavier who was seemingly immersed in his conversation with Wednesday, this of course didn’t go unnoticed by Enid. She gestured towards the tall boy, “So…what’s going on between you and Xavier? The two of you are always together.” You huffed, “Nothing Enid, nothing.” Although, deep down you wished there was more. She reluctantly dropped the subject raising her brow, “If you say so Y/n.” Xavier continued to ignore you the rest of the fencing session much to your dismay. However, you simply brushed it off as you were sure it was only for this session. As rare as it was, you were wrong. He continued on like this the rest of the day, no sarcastic remarks, no challenging you in class, and no teasing. You were extremely confused by his sudden absence in your life, and you genuinely started to miss him. Watching you from afar, Xavier noticed this. He’d look away just before you’d seek him out, hiding his grin as he’d let you stare at him. It got to the point where he’d go out of his way to find different ways to class, he would always walk with you to class.
You were practically devastated when you noticed this, but nobody could waterboard this information out of you even if they tried. It was the end of the day, and all of your shared classes were finally over. You caught a glimpse of his long hair in the hall way ahead of you, your legs speeding up without realising. Xavier realised you were behind him when he finally looked down and gave you a curt nod before continuing on his way. You frowned at the quick interaction, tilting your head in confusion, “Thorpe!” The tall boy paused, quickly hiding his grin before facing you, “You called?” Your brows furrowed, “That’s all you’re going to say?” He tilted his head looking down at you, “What do you mean?” You scoffed, “What do I mean? What do you mean by ‘What do you mean?’” Xavier shrugged biting back a laugh at your flustered state. You huffed, your ears red from frustration, “You- You’ve been ignoring me. Did I do something wrong? Xavier?” He was so close to giving into you, your doe eyes peering up at him were enough to make him weak in the knees. But, you still hadn’t cracked.
Indifferent, he raised his brows at you, “What’s it to you?” You paused at a sudden loss for words. Xavier turned and began to slowly walk away before you blurted out, “I missed you!” He immediately went still, his back still towards you. You were absolutely mortified at what you had just confessed. You had said so little but so much at the same time. The long haired boy turned around to face you, his smirk growing even wider as you refused to look at his face, instead becoming oddly fixated on the loose thread on your blazer. Slowly looking up due to the silence you finally looked at Xavier. Noticing his wide grin, a deep crimson flooded your cheeks, “Are you- Are you laughing at me?!” Much to your dismay, the tall boy cupped your face, stroking your flaming cheeks, “Huh. I think this might be my new favourite colour.” You had finally cracked, unable to form a coherent sentence as the boy held your face in his large hands.
Xavier cut off your rambling, “I really like you Y/n.” Your rambling came to a halt as you gasped slightly, whispering, “You like me?” The brunette chuckled at your reaction confirming, “Yes, Y/n. I like you if it weren’t obvious enough.” You paused unsure how to respond without being a blabbering mess. He sensed your troubles speaking for you, “You don’t need to say anything. I know you feel the same.” Your face was still slightly pink as a playful grin made its way through. You decided to get him back for flustering you so much, “And if I don’t?” Now it was his turn to start stammering, a pink hue overcoming his pale face as he hadn’t anticipated the possibility of you rejecting him. You took his hand in yours, your thumb brushing over his, “Relax dummy, I like you too.” Xavier let out a sigh of relief at your statement before a cocky smirk spread across his face, “Oh really now?”
You rolled your eyes at the boy’s antics, “Really.” A pause of silence fell over the two of you before his lanky arms pulled you closer as he leaned in planning on kissing you. You lightly smacked his arm, speaking in a harsh whisper, “Not in the hallway!” The brunette chuckled at your worries before dragging you to his dorm which was thankfully nearby. Your eyes twinkled with amazement as you looked at the many drawings littering his walls before Xavier pinned you against his door. You gulped at the intimate gesture, Xavier’s eyes staring at your plump lips, “Now…where were we?” Pulling him closer by the collar of his blazer you whispered leaning closer, your breath fanning over his face, “I believe you were about to kiss me.” Eager, the Thorpe boy obliged to your requests, leaning down to press his lips against yours.
You let out a whine at the way he pulled you flush against his body, your hands finding refuge in his long hair. You find yourself tugging lightly on his hair to which he would groan in response. He gripped on to your waist tighter than before, leaving you to gasp slightly. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, mingling with yours. Xavier pulls away, and you pout whilst chasing his lips but he refuses your kiss. Your brows begin to furrow in confusion which quickly dissolves when he decides to start kissing your neck. He studies your reaction as he trails across different parts of your neck until he has you panting in need when he reaches the spot below your ear. Sucking harshly on the chosen spot you involuntarily let out a moan. You tense realising what you just did. “Sorry.” You whisper. His signature smirk appears on his face, his green eyes staring into yours, “Don’t be. Hopefully I’ll be hearing more of those.” He doesn’t give any time for your response, capturing your lips in another searing kiss.
The two of you finally pull away catching your breath. You tilted your head as you remembered today’s earlier events, your brows furrowing in confusion, “Wait so, why were you ignoring me the entire day then?” Xavier could only smile at you, “I had to get you to crack somehow.” You gasped at the boy, “Oh my god, so does that mean you knew I like you?” Xavier chuckled at your realisation, poking his tongue in his cheek as he smiled, “Let’s just say it was a lucky guess.”
Me when people comment and reblog after liking:
Seriously though, it means the world. 😌
#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#wednesday#wednesday netflix#wednesday fanfic#fanfiction#kermitkrqb
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Good morning or Good evening ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ , can I request a Moira O'Deorain x Fem!Reader? , where the reader is kidnapped and violent things happen but she comes to our rescue so brave and concerned? thank yoooooouuuu ♡♡♡♡♡
"I'm Here Now, Coinín"
Fandom: Overwatch / Overwatch 2
Pairing: Moira O'Deorain x Gender Neutral! Reader
Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)
Warnings/Mention Ofs: Established Relationship, Female x Gender Neutral! Reader, They/Them Pronouns For Reader, "Lost Puppy/Blind Follower"! Reader If You Squint, Kidnapping, Mention of Interrogation, Mention of Pharmacological Interrogation/Torture/Methods, Forced Drug Usage, Mentions Of Broken Bones, Mention Of Deprivation Of Senses, Mentions Of Waterboarding, Caring/Gentle! Moira, Slight Praise.
Word Count: 951 Words
If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!
Whether it would be traversing throughout the nine layers of Hell itself or going on what is hoped to be a simplistic shopping trip to the local farmer’s market, they could be found directly by her side. It could be labeled as a suicide mission with a ninety-nine percent chance of not making it back alive or sitting next to each other on the couch in the laboratory office, they could still be found directly by her side. It was quite obvious that it didn't matter the location or the situation, (Y/N) could always be found directly by Moira’s side. Therefore, when Moira had left the disappointment that she called Overwatch, (Y/N) uprooted themselves and followed her into the hands of Talon without any questions or hesitations.
Yet, being a part of Talon’s inner council meant that there were some things that had to be discussed or dealt with where only Moira could attend, having to leave (Y/N) alone for the night to entertain themselves until Moira was to get back. “The less people that are aware of the situation, the less danger that you will be in, my Coinín,” Moira would respond when having been asked by (Y/N) why they couldn’t attend as well. Typically that would mean that they would have to entertain themselves within the comforts of one of the many safehouses that Talon occupied, but (Y/N) was feeling more adventurous, deciding to spend the night exploring the city. Unfortunately, the night didn’t end as (Y/N) would’ve expected, and ended up getting captured by some former Overwatch operators to be interrogated for information about Talon and their next plans of operation.
How long has it been since that night? How long has it been since (Y/N) had been snatched away from their late night stroll around the city to pass the time until Moira was to come back home? These Overwatch operators, some of them being former coworkers and former companions, refused to tell (Y/N). It didn’t help that the interrogation and the increasingly violent methods that they were using in an attempt to extract information was making it seem as if time was going by ever so slowly, but that was also a part of the methods as well. Each different person brought in to interrogate (Y/N) had various methods to use, some more dangerous and risky than the others, but they all knew that they couldn’t just outright kill (Y/N) as a final tactic.
Using pharmacological torture upon them and trying to pry information while (Y/N)’s in a drugged out haze, breaking bones varying from fingers and toes to an arm and a leg, trying to deprive them of their senses to where they could only focus on the darkness and the pain but forcing (Y/N) to stay awake to endure it all. Now they are attempting to force (Y/N) to submit and give them the information that they’re seeking through waterboarding, listening as the former member coughs out and gasps for air through the drenched cloth on their face. While there’s an expectation of that extremely cold water to attempt to suffocate them once again, that expectation never comes. There’s some slight confusion, a slight jolt from (Y/N) as there’s fingers frantically brushing across their skin, beginning to pull at the binds that hold them down to the chair and the items that were used to deprive (Y/N) of their senses.
It takes some moments for some stability to come to (Y/N) from being disoriented by the sudden rush of their senses coming back to them, grunting slightly while scrunching their eyes closed at the blinding light that surrounds them. There’s a voice, a voice that’s recognizable but between the blaring alarms, the undeniable sounds of fighting taking place within the background, it’s hard to make out what exactly is being said. “..M-Moira..?” Moia’s name slips past (Y/N)’s lips in a soft whisper while lifting their head in order to look at the person, and being confirmed that’s exactly who it was. “Don’t you worry, little Coinín. I’ll be taking you back home, making sure that you get the best treatment.” Typically being calm outwardly, it doesn’t take much for (Y/N) to know that internally Moira’s panicking, concerned about the amount of damage that’s been done, but she continues to hold her head up high and deal with the occasional enemy that crosses her path as she proceeds to carry (Y/N) to the dropship for evacuation.
“..Are you absolutely sure that you’re not in need of anything to eat or drink? Maybe even just a couple more pain killers to dull the pain some more?” Moira questions her injured partner within her arms once they make it into the dropship and settle into some seats. Despite that there’s the fabrication of giving life and taking life at Moira’s hands, their gentle as they caress (Y/N)’s cheeks, gentle brushing across their skin to access damages, Moira healing what she can of (Y/N)’s body at that moment. There’s a smile upon (Y/N)’s lips as they shake their head in response to Moira’s question, struggling to keep their eyes open due to the physical and mental exhaustion they were dealing with. “You’re doing well, you know that? Doing so well, I’m so proud of you for holding out as long as you did despite what they’ve done to you.” There’s a smile that graces Moira’s lips, a rare occurrence, before she leans down and places a gentle kiss upon (Y/N)’s forehead, running her fingers through their hair. “ Now, rest.”
#overwatch#overwatch 2#overwatch moira#moira overwatch#moira o'deorain#moira x reader#x reader#far cry 5#lime rating#requests?! thank you<3
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So question. I’ve seen bits and pieces of the team redline stream and it’s basically gotten to the point where they said they’re going to have to reconsider whether or not they stream at all because of how people behave and someone said it was because Lando fans are coming at them for the hate Landos received ? So are they not doing the exact same thing?
Also Lando fans told Max fans just to get over the simply lovely, huh in zandvort, that it was just a bit of banter but team redline using a meme of think differently is apparently hating Lando? Wouldn’t that also be banter between friends?
Im still at a loss of these “fans” because it’s not ALL of them who are SO protective of Lando that they’ll go and hate on Max and everyone around him and not see how they’re doing the exact same thing they’re complaining about.
Anyway - I hope you’re enjoying the F1 break!
I’d be surprised if they stopped streaming, I wouldn’t be surprised if Max streamed less. If people are going to get that stupid about it.
I would be genuinely shocked if Lando received hate over that meme. It’s a meme of a thing he actually did, mind you, but there’s not anything to hate on. He went off track in the wet omg call the pope? The people bringing hate are probably the people who make him look so petty as to be offended by that when he probably isn’t. (And even if he is…so what? The world is not your safe space, sometimes people say things that upset you. Either work it out with them or cry harder.)
I straight up said I thought Lando’s simply lovely was nasty, and I stand by it. But I’m not sitting there offended on Max’s behalf like Ooh Lando is now responsible for what crazy people do with that clip or Ooh how sad for Max that his friend did that. I thought it was a dick move because I thought that, that’s the end of it. You can think the livery is a dick move but sitting there acting like you’re offended because of Lando’s mental health struggles is both brain dead and performative. Just say you can’t take the joke because you’re fragile about a stranger’s job performance and leave Lando alone he has nothing to do with your feelings.
Imagine being protective of someone you don’t even know, you couldn’t waterboard that information out of me 😂
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“You couldn’t have waterboarded that information out of me” is my favorite type of other people’s information
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Five minutes of sex is actually quite a long time 😭 on average men don’t usually last that long, and like, not to put down my own man… but he lasts like 2-3minutes 😅 and other guys I’ve had sex with, literally come within minutes, so for with JK doing 5 min with Lisa is actually quite a while 🥲
Why would you say that about your man😭 this made me think about the you couldn’t waterboard this information out of me meme😂
😭😭😭 like I hate to break it to you but like.. 5 minutes is extremely short it’s barely just the kissing and foreplay😅
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On today’s episode of “why did a customer tell me this, you couldn’t waterboard that information out of me”: Had a customer whose card didn’t go through, explained what was up. Her response was “Oh, well, you know what, over the weekend I tried buying something that was like, Trump 2024, and my bank immediately shut off my card and told me to call the number on the back of it because they thought it was a scam.” Girl.
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Even if they won’t admit it to each other they are each others. I’m talking about Tink and 404 Harry. I can fully see a situation where these two are out together (not because they wanted to go together, NO! That’s not it. It’s because they both wanted to go to the place and the other just followed them, fan behavior🙄) and maybe some other dude has been checking tink out and has been flirting in a casual way so she doesn’t pick up on it but Harry certainly does. So when she goes to the bathroom Harry lets his jealousy show because if she doesn’t see it, it didn’t happen right? He tells the guy “to stop hitting on his girl and if he even catches this dude look at her too long he’s done for” in that calm scary way. But on the other hand Tink only didn’t notice this dude flirting because she can’t stop thinking about the girl who’s been eyeing Harry since five minutes after they arrived and has been slowly getting closer. The girl just walked over to the restroom so of course Tink excuses herself to do the same “I’m going to the restroom try to be less annoying by the time I get back, yeah?” She doesn’t look at Harry and he doesn’t look at her when he responds “put some deodorant on while in your their stinky and maybe wash the attitude while your at it or of course I can do it for you.” No, instead both are looking at their targets too busy to notice the other’s gaze. When Tink reaches the bathroom she does something that surprises herself but this is something she’s taking to the grave, not even waterboarding will get this information out of her. She goes up to the stunning girl and says “I know my man is good looking, but he’s still MY man. Plus honestly you can do so much better, he quite literally is the worst, feel free to quote me on that” before she’s back out and meeting Harry who appears to have just gotten back to their spot as well. Now both their attention is solely on the other and as Tink approaches she goes “what? Were you perving at me through the stall? I know I’m a dime piece Harry but put those binoculars away” and Harry doesn’t miss a beat when he responds “back so soon? Couldn’t be without me too long? But I’m the dime piece here and I certainly don’t need to be a perv to see you, isn’t that right tink” her scowl increasing and his smirk ever present
OH OH OH!!!!!! THIS!!! No notes, no comments, just tears!!! This is so funny and so cute and I can absolutely see something like this playing out!!! BYE SO TRUE YOU COULD NOT WATERBOARD SOMETHING LIKE THAT OUT OF HER, SHE WOULD NEVER ADMIT TO BEING JEALOUS! But I love the idea of her being forced to see him with someone else because she would lose her mind, poor thing!! And maybe would be forced into acting on it hehe LOVE THIS!! AND YOU!
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