#compare moving company prices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretmellowblog · 11 months

Text

On the subject of the Titanic ‘submersible’ that was lost in the deep with all its wealthy tourists— it’s so insane/eerie in hindsight to read this article from the Smithsonian that interviews the CEO Stockton Rush long before the disaster.

Despite the Smithsonian supposedly being an organization that cares about science and truth, and the fact that there were SO MANY obvious red flags from the beginning and so many people criticizing the company…..the article is a puff piece uncritically glorifying the CEO’s obviously terrible submersible project. It compares him in glowing terms to Elon Musk. It is an article about how private ventures like those of Stockton Rush and Elon Musk can and should be the future of the world.

We’ve obviously learned now that there were whistleblowers at the company who were warning for a long time that Stockton Rush’s submersible was unsafe— only to be fired and then sued. It makes sense the submersible was so unsafe, because the CEO in this interview is open about how he has no background in underwater engineering and is annoyed by quote “regulations that needlessly prioritize passenger safety.”

Soon after, the private [submersible] market died too, Rush found, for two reasons that were “understandable but illogical.” First, subs gained a reputation for danger. Working on offshore rigs in harsh locations like the North Sea, saturation divers, who breathe gas mixtures to avoid diving sicknesses, would be taken in subs to work at great depths. It was the world’s most perilous job, with frequent fatalities. (“It wasn’t the sub’s fault,” says Rush.) To save lives, the industries moved toward using underwater robots to perform the same work.

Second, tourist subs, which could once be skippered by anyone with a U.S. Coast Guard captain’s license, were regulated by the Passenger Vessel Safety Act of 1993, which imposed rigorous new manufacturing and inspection requirements and prohibited dives below 150 feet. The law was well-meaning, Rush says, but he believes it needlessly prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation (a position a less adventurous submariner might find open to debate). “There hasn’t been an injury in the commercial sub industry in over 35 years. It’s obscenely safe, because they have all these regulations. But it also hasn’t innovated or grown—because they have all these regulations.”

The fact that Stockton Rush (who was piloting the submarine when the disaster happened) is on record complaining about the evils of regulations that prioritize people’s safety, and the Smithsonian uncritically regurgitated that rhetoric in their glowing puff piece about how rich tycoons like Elon Musk and Stockton Rush are going to save the world is just…..in hindsight of how everything ended it’s just so much horrible black comedy? It’s like a satire about the dangers of uncritically worshipping the rich.

It is mentioned in the article that Rush chose to make his submersible in a different shape, and with a different (cheaper) material than is usually used for submersibles. The article frames this as a result of daring innovation, and not of negligence/ignorance. This passage in particular, which in context is supposed to portray Rush’s critics as joyless naysayers who were proven wrong by the noble tycoon, is pretty foreboding in hindsight:

Rush planned to pilot the sub himself, which critics said was an unnecessary risk: Under pressure, the experimental carbon fiber hull might, in the jargon of the sub world, “collapse catastrophically.”

And then!!

The exact problem that happened to Titan this weekend, happened on Titan’s very first test voyage to the Titanic! The experimental carbon fiber hull had an issue and it caused communications to break down!

The dive was going according to plan until about 10,000 feet, when the descent unexpectedly halted, possibly, Rush says, because the density of the salt water added extra buoyancy to the carbon fiber hull. He now used thrusters to drive Titan deeper, which interfered with the communications system, and he lost contact with the support crew. He recalls the next hour in hallucinogenic terms. “It was like being on the Starship Enterprise,” he says. “There were these particles going by, like stars. Every so often a jellyfish would go whipping by. It was the childhood dream.”

Both Rush and the article writer treat this as a fun quirky story, instead of a serious safety failure and red flag with his experimental macgyvered regulation-flaunting submersible.

Other highlights from the article include:

Stockton rush saying that if 3/4 of the planet is water, why haven’t we monetized it?

Stockton saying we will “colonize the ocean long before we colonize space”

Lots of weird pro colonialism stuff in general??? This article loves colonialism and thinks it’s cool

Rush saying he plans for this to eventually help find more underwater resources for the US to exploit and profit from

Elon musk comparisons. The article writer does not mention that Elon Musk’s rockets explode and therefore it would be a bad idea to get in one of them, because that would imply it’s a bad idea to get into the submersible

Stockton rush seeing himself as Captain Kirk

The article writer comparing the tourists who plan to join Rush to Englishmen who went on colonialist journeys to Africa as if that’s like, a good thing. So much pro colonialism stuff in this article

So many sentences about Stockton Rush being handsome when he literally just looks like some guy

The article beginning with an editor’s note from years later disclaiming that the extraordinary submersible they’re advertising in this article is uh. It’s now uhhhh

But yeah it really does just bring home how so many organizations that supposedly care about scientific truth or journalistic integrity are willing to uncritically platform propaganda for wealthy CEOS. It’s frustrating how easily people fall for the fake myths that careless wealthy people invent for themselves, and even more frustrating that supposedly respectable institutions will platform irresponsible lies that end up getting people killed.

Rush is such an obvious and simple example of this, and his negligence is “only” killing five people including himself. But to me it feels like a cautionary tale to bear in mind when it comes to uncritical puff piece media coverage of similar “daring tycoon innovations” by people like Bezos or Musk.

#titanic #oceangate #titanic submersible #sorry this is just so fascinating to me #it’s like a parody or piece of satire #if it were in a novel it would feel like the symbolism was too obvious and on the nose

6K notes · View notes

bunnyreaper · 7 months

Text

merrier the more

pairing - john price x f!reader x john mactavish

wc - 3.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, double vaginal penetration, wife sharing, unprotected sex

notes - after a million years i've finally gotten this out of my brain and written out! underrated threesome imo, lets goooo!! proofread but definitely not enough ♥

Thursdays were date nights, almost every week without fail, unless John was on a mission. Even when paperwork keeps him tied to his desk into the dark of the night, you join him in his office with takeout and a good book, content to enjoy his company in silence.

It was one of the keys to your marriage being as successful as it is, and both you and John agreed—quality time was a must.

This Thursday was a break in routine—John's energy has been decidedly different since you stepped foot in his office. He's always a little on edge when you see him at work, his jaw and shoulders tight, but tonight there's a hint of determination in his eyes.

Captain Price is present, rather than your husband, John.

The second difference comes in the form of a knock on the door, usually, the two of you go undisturbed as your standing date is known among the 141, and none of the men dare interrupt and draw their captain's ire. On the rare occasion that a knock would come, words would be exchanged quickly before being dismissed.

Tonight, John invites the guest inside.

"Sit, Soap." John commands, his voice low and dripping with authority in a way that draws your attention.

The younger man complies, seemingly not on edge—his usual cocky confidence is still in full swing, in defiance of your expectations of the situation. Whatever Johnny is here for, he's not to be reprimanded or to report something grim.

Both men's eyes are firmly fixed on you, gazes roaming over the way you lounge in your pretty dress on John's shitty office couch, your legs exposed to both of them.

"C'mere love," John speaks, rolling back his office chair and patting his thigh temptingly. "Need your help with something."

You rise uncertainty, leaving your book behind as you make your way over to your husband, your eyes darting between him and his subordinate. Neither man says a word, just continuing to watch you as you move closer to them.

Your mind starts to race, thinking of just what John could possibly need your help with. Occasionally, he asks you to read one of his men's imperceptible handwriting or gets into a debate with you about whether his own reports make grammatical sense.

Something tells you neither is the case this time.

When you make your way around the desk, you fall into John's lap obediently, facing away from him and watching Johnny watch you.

The look in his eyes is not something you're blind to, not now, not ever. John MacTavish has always wanted you. John Price has never let you forget it—he's teased you multiple times about his soldier's crush, and made you admit while being fucked mindless to being attracted to the younger man too.

Your husband got off on knowing his power, knowing that you belong to him regardless of Johnny or any other man's wishes, and knowing that while your eyes can still appreciate other men, they'll never be enough compared to Price himself.

You sit patiently and wait, deferring to John and his air of authority as you wait for him to speak whenever he is good and ready. The silence is thick, John's paw trailing across your thigh, up to your waist where he holds you still, his grip insistent.

"Sergeant MacTavish here is about to become a Lieutenant." He begins again, graveled voice now right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "If Soap is getting a promotion, I need to know he can get the job done."

John snaps his fingers at the Sergeant, beckoning him around the desk as John spins you both to face where Johnny is now standing. His hands move back down your body to your thighs, parting your legs slightly by opening his own so that you sit spread.

You know exactly where this is headed. Johnny's azure eyes burn into you as they spectate every single one of John's slow, luxurious movements—touches that slowly begin to undo you. The air in the room thickens, and your skin burns under John's fingers.

Johnny's eyes flicker away, and you can tell the captain is holding his gaze.

"Need to know I can depend on him, and that he can do what he needs." He purrs, his tone filled with intent. "That he'll take what he wants, yeah?"

John pulls up the hem of your dress, exposing your now-soaked panties to his sergeant and delighting in the way you both shiver in response—you from being exposed, Johnny from finally getting to lay eyes on intimate parts he'd only dreamed of.

You stay obediently frozen as John teases you further—the whiskers of his beard tickling at your neck as he smirks, his fingers stroking so softly up your inner thighs.

When you look back and catch Johnny looking you right in the eye, you swear you can feel yourself gush—he looks like he wants to devour you whole.

"He's always wanted you, love. Isn't that right, sergeant?"

"Yes, sir." Johnny agrees so eagerly, but the look he sends your way is anything but submissive. His grin is almost predatory, his anticipation and arousal clear after years of lusting after you from afar.

Johnny finally comes closer, his hands settling on the arms of John's chair as his face stops inches away from your face—hot breath sweeping over your features. One hand moves to clutch at your jaw, demanding your attention as if it wasn't already entirely focused on him. "Tonight, you're mine."

He growls the words before diving in for a searing kiss, his actions rough and hungry, bordering on violently enthusiastic. His stubble is so different from John's softer brush, nipping at your sensitive skin.

"Only for tonight, MacTavish." Your husband growls from behind you, pulling your hips back into his hard cock as a reminder. He might be sharing you, but it's just this once. You'll always be his.

As Johnny kisses you fervently, his hands begin to wander too, groping at your tits as John continues to hold you steady as he works his erection into your ass. While the sergeant occupies your mouth, John sucks kisses into your neck, humming at the feel of you falling apart under both men's touches.

You gather just enough strength to surface for breath—panting and shaken under their joint attention. Neither of them shows signs of stopping. While your husband was offering you to another man, he wasn't going to sit back and watch either.

"Both of you?" You gasp, words unsteady and breathless. Handling John under normal circumstances was hard enough, throwing Johnny into the mix might just break you.

You shiver with need as the men share a laugh, and John's hand slips up to embrace the column of your neck. "Someone has to show him how to do it, love."

The two men dive back into making you fall apart, a flurry of lips and hands tearing you apart at the seams and driving you mindless with each touch.

"Fuuuck." Johnny practically whines, his hands falling to grope at your tits and pull them free out of the top of your dress.

His hands are calloused and warm in a familiar way, but his movements are quick and rough and make you squirm under his touch. The two sets of hands on you are almost too much already, as well as John's erection rubbing against your core.

A quick flicker of your gaze to the sergeant's jeans shows he's similarly affected, and the sight of his hard cock straining against the denim has you wanting.

It's hard to think straight with every sensation you feel, every thought consumed by the two men ravaging you—yet your mind flickers back to the conversation you and John had months ago now, the one where he mentioned sharing you.

You turn your head to the side, snuggling into your husband's cheek as you whisper to him. "I always thought it'd be—"

He interrupts you with a greedy kiss, before freeing you to continue speaking. "—Simon, if you ever actually went through with this..."

You sigh through your words, Johnny almost biting at you when he hears the other man's name fall from your lips.

The truth is, you had thought it'd be Simon that John invited into the bedroom first, as his trusted right hand and someone he knew would be discreet. Clearly, though, your husband had been paying more attention to your soft spot for the sergeant than you thought.

How long had he been concocting this plan? Waiting for the opportunity to have you at Johnny's mercy too.

Said man's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back to the smirk on his face and the sparkle in his eyes. "Don't tell me yer disappointed, bonnie."

You can tell from the way his voice drips with amusement that he knows you're anything but. The easy confidence has always been part of his charm, but as he toys with your breasts and stares down at you expectantly, knowing exactly what he's doing to you—that confidence feels like lightning down your spine.

"Far from it, Johnny." You whisper, finally taking an action of your own and pulling the man in for another kiss. It's sloppy and messy, more teeth and tongue than lips, but Johnny's mouth tastes so good, and his need is evident in every single brush of him against you.

His hands climb to cup your jaw, holding you exactly as he wants you as his tongue explores your mouth and dances with yours—it's dirty the way he kisses, the way he groans into your mouth as you thread your fingers into his mohawk, the way he swallows your own moans as John bucks up from below you.

Johnny pulls away, his chest heaving as he presses his forehead against yours and holds you in a tender moment. "Ye must have a thing for blue eyes, aye?" He smirks once more, and you wish you could protest, but the sparkling blues had been what captured your attention first about both men.

One set belonging to the man that you married, one set belonging to the man you'll now get to fuck.

The blue eyes before you flicker down, breaking the connection as his hands wander lower—down past your breasts, brushing past your husband's on their way to your thighs. He grasps greedily at your softness, kneading his touch into your skin as he parts your thighs, exposing your soaked panties to his burning gaze.

"'m gonna touch that little kitty of yours now." He purrs, his curled finger brushing across your sensitive inner thighs in a way that makes your legs squirm—even more so when he traces up the hem of your panties.

"Didn't say you could, MacTavish." Your husband all but growls, his usual authority bursting through him.

Johnny ignores his captain entirely, his fingers pushing your panties aside to plunge deep into your weeping cunt—he curls them against your walls, a wolfish smirk directed at you, watching you flail as he continues to disregard John's words in favour of driving you crazy.

"Don't remember asking, captain." He snarls in response, taking control.

The sound of your cunt getting ravished by Johnny's fingers fills the room, drawing sweet whines out of you. One hand works to find the best angle to scrape against your spongy walls, his other coming to replace John's as he holds your neck and stares you down.

You feel a shift, a moment where Johnny's attitude changes from cocky confidence to earned authority, him taking encouragement from the way you fall apart under his touch and writhe in the lap of your husband who isn't currently the cause of your pleasure. It has Johnny soaring, and you can tell he's falling into the new headspace with ease.

"He's a quick study, John." You whisper.

"Clothes off, yeah, lass?" Johnny tugs you to your feet, holding you steady in his arms for a moment before he eagerly strips you off your clothes.

Your dress comes off first, revealing your tits hanging out of the cups of your bra, and the way your panties settle on your hips, digging into your skin. Johnny's hands move to roam over each piece of your exposed body, kneading and admiring, his eyes ablaze like the hottest part of a flame.

Then he works to rip off your underwear, leaving you bare before both men. "Fuckin' hell don't know how you tear yerself away from her."

"Feels impossible some days." John purrs as he stands from his chair, paws falling to your waist once more.

Both men grope at you—Soap pulling you in for another kiss, John nibbling at your neck. Your legs almost give out from beneath you, and you know you'd be so unsteady were it not for being pinned between the two men's bodies.

It's overwhelming. John on his own is enough to bring you to your knees, but him and Johnny, with his blessing? Each touch, each kiss has you whining—high-pitched and almost brainless as your mind fizzles with pleasure.

Johnny holds you close, pressing his solid body against yours—rough fabric and a hard cock against soft skin. He watches your expression as his fingers dip back into your soaked folds, as your husband's fingers roam over your ass and into your hole. The two men work in tandem to reduce you to a quivering mess, vicious fingers making you drip down their hands and your own thighs.

Johnny flicks your clit absentmindedly as his other hand moves to work on freeing himself from his jeans, pushing his boxers aside to reveal a long, slender, leaking cock.

"Wow, bonnie girl. Yer that excited for me? Or dae ye just really like yer husband sharing ye?" He purrs as he strokes his length languidly, teasing you with the sight of his pre-cum leaking down the head, as well as the way he squeezes his member.

You laugh breathlessly, unable to summon a real response until the men's fingers still inside you. "We'll see... how you fuck first, sergeant. Don't let me down."

Both men share a chuckle, but Johnny is the first to act, with strong hands wrapping around your thighs and hoisting you into the air.

Johnny gives you a devilish smirk as he hovers you inches away from his cock. "I never back down from a challenge, lass."

He eases into you slowly, lowering you down and stretching you on his length, each delicious inch pushing its way inside in an almost torturous way. He’s not as thick as your husband, but he might just be longer, as he finally seats himself inside and the tip of his cock bullies your cervix.

"Fuck, fuck." The sigh that releases from you is beyond shaky, betraying the deep effect Johnny’s cock has on you. "So deep."

"He feel good, love?" John asks, stepping up behind you, his voice close to your ear and his hands guiding you up and down the other man’s cock.

"Y-yeah."

He clicks his tongue in approval, speaking again with honeyed words that make you keen. "Good girl, keep taking him for me."

John mostly watches, his hands remaining on you, yet passive, as Johnny starts to move. The younger man thrusts with fervour, bouncing you onto his dick over and over and over again, not satisfied until he has you crying out for more and babbling.

Johnny certainly knows how to move his hips, knows how to fuck—he eases off the second you show any discomfort, and is quick to learn the exact pace and motion that makes you moan the loudest. If you could think straight, you’d wonder if John had already given him strict instructions on exactly how to fuck you. Of course, he’d have planned this to a T.

Your nails scrape up Johnny’s muscled back, clinging to him desperately as he continues to shove his cock into your wet hole, as John’s hand snakes around your waist to toy with your clit. Both men are clearly intent on ruining you. Your insides twist, your head falling back into your husband's chest as you just feel.

Johnny’s hips abruptly stop, buried deep inside you in a way that blanks out all your thoughts. "Need your help, captain." He grumbles over your shoulder.

"What with?"

"Think she needs her husband's cock inside her too. Stuff tha' pretty cunt completely full, yeah, bonnie?" Johnny raises a brow at his captain, waiting for the man to make a move.

Each second drags as your husband considers the situation and you're left needy and waiting, Johnny's hips entirely still—John's hands on you inactive too.

The idea of being stretched by both of them at the same time sends you wild, two gorgeous cocks stuffing your hole full.

"Please, John." You start to babble, unable to control your own pleas. "Need you both, need you both, need—"

John's cock slides between your ass, nudging forward until he knocks against where Johnny is buried inside you. The sensation on its own has both you and Johnny bucking.

"That kind of thinking'll take you far, sergeant," John whispers before his fingers crawl down your skin to where you and Johnny are connected, and he starts to guide the head of his cock into your hole. "Shhh, nice and slow, gotta stretch you out for both of us, love."

“Gonna be a tight squeeze, bonnie.” Johnny mutters, his voice showing signs of further strain as his captain’s cock rubs against him.

The stretch is painful, John’s girthy cock bullying its way inside and forcing you to accommodate him alongside the sergeant—you know you won’t be sitting right anytime soon, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your hole burns with each inch your husband slides in, pleasure only beginning to come when his head brushes against your g-spot—after that, he slips right in, your cunt reshaping itself in acceptance and swallowing his cock.

"Fuck.” You pant, barely able to catch your breath, and no one has even moved yet. You can’t think straight, can’t breathe right, can’t even really contemplate the way your body is being overwhelmed by the two men. All you can do is whine and moan and cry out. "It's too much!"

John holds your hips steady as he presses kisses to your shoulder, and Johnny runs a hand through your hair—both men cooing reassurances at you.

"Ye can take it, fer me and the captain. I know ya can."

“You can do the work, sergeant, make her feel good, yeah?”

Johnny nods once before springing into action, his cock gliding out of your pussy before forcing its way back in, squelching against John’s length as it goes and drawing groans from both men.

It doesn’t take long Johnny's pace to escalate, as he shoves in repeatedly and thrusts both his own and John’s cock deeper inside you. You feel your brain slip into a haze of pleasure, all thoughts becoming incoherent as moan after moan makes its way from your throat.

"There we go, love. Stuffed full of two cocks, how'd you like it?" Your husband asks before turning your head to face him, and then devouring your lips in a passionate, loving kiss.

"Love it, love it so much." You whisper against him. "Fuck me, John, Johnny, please."

The two men thrust together momentarily, forcing you to the limit of what you can take from both of them—smirks dance across their faces, both beyond pleased to have you pinned between them.

"Cannae wait until we're both filling ye with our cum." Johnny purrs as he buries himself deep.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you, gorgeous girl?"

#soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader x john mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #price x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #captain john price #john price #bunny writes #god i want them both SO bad

1K notes · View notes

whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 1 year

Text

The Mouse and The Bear (König x Reader)

(A/N: I'm too drunk to proofread this rn, I tried to keep this GN but it might've ended up being a fem! Reader. I'll come back and fix this later lol

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of injury, slightly angsty but not really, lots of fluff)

"Don't look now, but I think someone has their eye on you." Soap says with a smirk as he walks up next to you in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes in response, knowing that meant any moment now you were going to have some annoying asshole approaching you.

"Spare me." You say under your breath, Soap just laughs in response as he finishes pouring his coffee and heads off. You picked up your lunch, going to find somewhere to sit where hopefully whoever decided you were their new love interest would leave you alone. You were met with a sight you didn't expect. Instead of the usual bombardment of unwanted flirting you caught the almost nervous gaze of KorTac's gentle giant. The second he realized you caught him looking, his eyes snapped down to the mug in front of him. You hadn't had a lot of interaction with König but the few you had he had been nothing but pleasant. A soft smile finds its way to your lips as you start heading in his direction. "Hey König." You greet him pleasantly, "is this seat taken?" He shakes his head, a look of pure disbelief in his eyes over the fact you were standing in front of him. You slide into the chair opposite him. Normally if there was someone at base checking you out you wouldn't bother indulging their infatuation but König made you curious.

"I'm sorry for staring." He admits immediately, acting like a child getting caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"König I'm not mad." You reassure him.

"It's still rude… I know how much I hate it when people stare at me." He seemed to relax slightly now that he knew you weren't upset with him. Before you could ask him why he was looking at you he answered the question on his own. "I've never seen you without your gear on… I never realized how small you are- not that it's a bad thing of course! I know you're more than capable of handling yourself-"

"König," you cut him off before his rambling got him too flustered "it's okay." You smile at him and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. This was the first time you really allowed yourself to look at him. Bright blue eyes looking anywhere besides at you, he hunched over the table in an attempt to make himself look smaller and less threatening. "Du brauchst keine Angst vor mir zu haben." (You don't need to be afraid of me.) You joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You speak German?" He sounded shocked.

"A little, I used to live in Berlin when I was younger." You explain. He nods, leaning forward slightly to give you his undivided attention as you speak. You sat and talked with him for a while, you definitely couldn't complain about the company. He was very attentive, asking you questions that prompted you to keep talking. He had a loud, boisterous laugh that made your heart soar everytime you coaxed it out of him

"Mick, we got takedown training, let's go." Your time with him was cut short by Price informing you to head down to the base's gym.

"I'll be right there." You call back. You turn your attention back to König, who was fidgeting with his mug again. "This was nice, thank you for the company." You smile at him, nervous eyes moving down to the table.

"Maybe… maybe we could do this again sometime?" He asks softly.

"Are you asking me on a date?" You retort immediately. His eyes snap up to you, already trying to stammer out a response in his flustered state. You giggle, reaching out and placing one of your hands on top of his, which looked child sized compared to his. "If we ever have downtime together I would love to." He nods, giving you a quiet goodbye as you cleaned up the table and prepared to head to training. You were unable to keep the dumb grin off your face for the rest of the day.

A few days later you found yourself in the kitchen again. You groaned internally as a high pitch whistle met your ears. "You come around here often sweetheart?" You recognized him, some obnoxious Private that often got in trouble for disrespecting the chain of command. He wasn't worth the energy, you just kept going about what you were doing prior to his interruption. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he tries to sound threatening. He steps uncomfortably close to you, "I asked you a question."

"You really shouldn't be speaking to a Sergeant that way." The Private turned, ready to cuss out whoever had interrupted his terrible attempt at picking you up. You saw all the color drain from his face at the sight before him. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing out a laugh. The Private slowly starts to back up with every heavy footstep that echoed through the kitchen. König steps in front of you, blocking off your pursuer. "Are you alright?" He glances back over his shoulder at you. You nod and his attention immediately turns back to the Private. "I suggest you get out of here kotzbrocken (lump of puke) before I tell your superior officer that you were getting aggressive with a Sergeant." As if on cue his Captain entered the kitchen. König very calmly explained the situation to him, the Captain grabbing his subordinate by the collar and pulling him off.

"Do you want to fucking die? Because messing with her is a good way to get there." You hear him angrily mutter to the Private as he pulls him out of the room.

"You're sure you're alright?" He asks in a much gentler tone than he was using before.

"I'm fine König, thank you." You smile at him, turning back to what you were doing before you were interrupted. You groaned as you looked through the cabinet. "He always does this to me, he knows I can't reach that shelf." You stood on your toes, struggling to reach your favorite mug that you knew Ghost put on the top shelf on purpose. König reached over you, grabbing the mug with ease before lowering it into your hands. You turned to thank him only to be startled slightly by his close proximity. You knew he was a big man, being 6'10, there wasn't anything about him that was small. But you had never witnessed your height difference with him this close up. You stood about his stomach height, the nearly 2 foot difference causing you to have to look straight up to see his mask covered face. Seeing your flustered appearance he quickly stepped back.

"Sorry, I just figured I'd have an easier time reaching it." He says bashfully.

You swallowed thickly, the mug in your hands becoming the most interesting thing in the room at the moment. "It's alright, I appreciate the help." You start making the tea you had originally come in here for, both of you sitting in silence. You didn't have to look up at him to know that König had his eyes on you. He was leaning up against the counter a couple feet away from you, just studying your movements as you flit around the kitchen. You hear König chuckle, your eyes drifting over to him. "What's so funny?" You ask him with a smile

"Don't take this as an insult, but you remind me of a mouse. You're so small and fast." You both laugh at his joke, he wasn't wrong.

"I mean, I don't have the codename Mickey for nothing." He studies you for a moment, you could tell he was thinking about whether or not he should say something.

"Would it be okay if I called you Maus?" He asks quietly. Normally you would object to someone calling you that. But hearing it from König, his deep voice that paired so wonderfully with his accent, you loved the way it sounded coming from him.

"I wouldn't be opposed… but only you get to call me that." You see the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile.

"Deal." You searched through the fridge, finding a container of leftovers you had cooked the other night.

"Would you like to join me for lunch?" You ask, holding up the container.

"I would love to." It became a ritual for the two of you to have lunch together. You enjoyed the fact that he was company outside of your team and the usual annoying flirts around the base. Even though you hated to admit it, you had found yourself rather smitten with the Austrian giant. König was kind, but never in a way that made you think he was only being nice to you because you were cute. He was always making you laugh, cracking small jokes and telling you stories. He loved to see you smile, it was one of his favorite parts of his day.

"Good morning Maus." You smile as you hear König enter the kitchen behind you. You pull down a secondary mug from the cabinet.

"Good morning Bärchen." You greet him softly as you pour him a cup of coffee alongside yours. You hear him chuckle as he approaches you.

"Bärchen, huh? Mouse and Bear, that seems pretty fitting." He nods his thanks as you handed him his coffee. "Ready for the debriefing today?" Price had informed you yesterday that Task Force 141 and KorTac were going to be teaming up together for a mission. You were more than happy to work alongside them, the whole team was incredible. But you were still worried.

"As ready as I'll ever be." You sigh, taking a long sip of your drink. "Just… promise me, wherever we end up tomorrow, that you'll be careful." You couldn't look at him. The fear you were feeling in your chest, it was too real of an emotion for you. You weren't going to say that you were never scared to go on a mission, that would be a lie. This however was new, you had another person besides yourself to be worried about.

König smiles down at you, carefully reaching out to tuck some stray hair behind your ear. "Maus, you have my word." The threat of tears welled up thick in your throat. "I'm not going anywhere, liebling." Someone calls from down the hall that it was time for your meeting. You feel König place a hand on your lower back, keeping you close while ushering you further. You came out of your debriefing feeling even worse than when you went in, this wasn't going to be your run of the mill mission you were used to. This was going to be dangerous for even the most skilled soldier. The second everyone had broken off to try and enjoy the rest of their day König pulled you aside. "Look at me, it's going to be okay." He could tell you were on the verge of panicking, despite knowing that would only make the situation worse.

"König do you know the statistics of how many people get hurt going on missions like these. Do you know how many people die?" You said it, the one word that was forbidden in your line of work. He drops down on one knee, gently taking your face in his hands.

"I know, and I know it's scary, but I don't want you to be thinking about that." He sighs, stroking your cheek. He wanted to make you feel better, he hated seeing you so anxious. "Let me take you on a date… it will give us something to do instead of sitting around worrying." You froze, your mind going blank. He wanted to take you on a date?

"I…I don't have anything to wear. If we're going on a date I want to look nice." You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. König was right about one thing, it would be a welcomed distraction.

"You already look beautiful Maus." You blushed at his compliment. He held out his hand to you and you took it without hesitation. His skin was warm and calloused, his hand completely engulfing your own as he let his fingers completely close around it. The two of you got permission to head into the city for the evening. König had been stationed in this area before so he knew exactly where he wanted to take you. Before you left he changed out of his sniper hood and into a cloth mask that covered the lower half of his face. You finally got a chance to get an idea of what he looked like underneath. You were shocked to find out that König had dark blonde hair that he kept relatively long compared to usual military standards. He had freckles that peaked just above where his mask. You could also more clearly make out the wrinkles by his eyes that shows how much he genuinely smiles. When the two of you headed into town you were honestly a bit surprised when you ended up at a food truck that served some local specialty. He ordered for you and paid for your meal, the entire time keeping his hand on the small of your back so he could ensure that you were still there next to him. You wandered into a park to look for a place to sit and made it just in time to catch the sunset. You let your head fall to rest on König's arm, he sat next to you completely rigid.

"Thank you for taking me out, I needed to keep my mind off of tomorrow." He glances down at you, bright blue eyes trained on your face.

"I'm hoping you'll let me take you on another date after this mission is over." You picked up on the nervousness in his voice immediately.

"König, I don't know if you've noticed, but I kind of like you a lot… of course I'll go on another date with you." The hand that was situated in his lap began to reach out for yours, slowly moving his finger over so it would bump into the side of your hand.

"I'm really happy I met you (Y/N)." He says softly.

You smile, eyes never leaving the horizon. "I am too."

The next morning everyone was on edge. You all sat silently in the back of the truck, the usual attempt to lighten the mood vacant. As you neared your destination Ghost finally spoke up. "Team A, we're going to sweep their safe house, any hostages I want brought to me directly. Team B, you're in charge of sweeping the rest of their compound. This is a capture or kill mission, our number one priority is getting us and the hostages out safely. You glanced across the isle at König. He tried to give you a reassuring nod but you could tell how nervous he was really feeling. The truck came to a rough stop, jolting your body forward in the process. Everyone piled out and began separating into their teams. A giant gloved hand came to rest on the top of your head as König gave you a gentle pat. "Be careful out there, Bärchen." You say softly, unable to look at him knowing it would probably make you cry.

"You too Maus." He runs off to join his team.

"Come on Mickey, we got a house to clean." Soap says as he approaches you. He could tell how stressed you were feeling. Even if he didn't know the extent of your relationship with König he knew how much you cared about him. "He's gonna be alright, man's a fuckin' tank, there's no stopping him." You nodded heading off with him to handle your half of the mission. Team A consisted of you, Ghost, Johnny, Gaz, and a couple of privates from the base. Team B consisted of KorTac, Price and a few other soldiers.

"Mick, I need to know you're here with me sweetheart, you're looking a little spacey." Ghost says quietly as you wait for the perfect moment to storm the safe house.

"I'm with you lieutenant, just another day at the office." You tried your best to sound confident. To give your team the Mickey they needed right now. Soap was right, König would be fine. All of this would be over in less than an hour.

"Move in." You got your cue. You looked at Soap, the two of you exchanging an affirming nod before you made your way up to the safe house. He taps your shoulder, motioning that he'll start his sweep to the right you start to your left. You found nothing but a couple low grade officers guarding the hostages, which meant everyone incredibly dangerous was either not here or in the same building as Team B. You quickly and quietly escorted the hostages outside so you could get them some medical attention "Team A has successfully completed their sweep. Team B what's your status?" Ghost's voice booms over the comms. It was silent for a while… too long.

"Ghost, we've been hit." Price's panicked voice was the only thing you could hear. "They found out we're here."

"Do you need medical? We're heading to your location now." You readied yours as fast as you possibly could.

"Ghost, I need you to listen to me. I don't know how many men I've already lost, if you come over here your whole team could be taken out." You could hear gunfire in the background. You were going to attempt to make a run for it. You needed to help them, you needed to get out who you could. The second you tried to bolt Ghost latched onto your collar, pulling you to the ground.

"Let me go, I need to help them." You say through gritted teeth, fighting back tears.

"Mick, you know that's only going to make things worse." Ghost jumps back on comms. "Price, do you have a casualty count?"

"At least four." Any drive you had to stand back up left your body. That was half of their team, just gone.

"Anyone from KorTac?" Ghost remained motionless by your side, prepared to drag you out of there if needed.

"I don't know, I lost them in the fire fight." You were shaking. Throughout all your years in the military you had never felt like this during a mission.

"We'll rendezvous back at base, I need to get these hostages medical attention." Price confirmed and the comms went silent again. Ghost hauled you to your feet, attempting to steady you by the shoulders when you almost fell over. "Hold it together Mickey, come on." His gruff voice shocks you back to reality. You felt like you were in a fog, you were going through the motions of securing the hostages but you weren't really there. The second you were back to base you made your way to the common room, sat down, and waited. Your teammates tried everything they could think of to comfort you but it wasn't any use. All you wanted was König, or at the very least to know he was okay. After about an hour of waiting, Price finally found you. You stood, hurrying over to him. He looked a little worse for wear but overall he seemed fine.

"Price, is König okay?" Ghost was the first one to speak up. You couldn't bring yourself to say it knowing that there was a very high chance he didn't make it back at all.

"He was hit, but he's okay. He actually asked if I could send you down to him." You thanked Price, telling him how happy you were that he was safe but you had to go see him. You ran down to the infirmary, ignoring the calls from the nurses that you had to check in before you could enter as you pushed through the doors. You just needed to see what state he was in. You were met with the sight of König sitting up in bed, pleasantly chatting with the doctor that was going over what he would have to do for his wound care. The top half of his body was wrapped in a bandage that showed he was shot in the shoulder, sniper hood still on. His eyes landed on you and you saw his whole body relax. You waited for the doctor to leave before you approached him.

"Maus." You saw the corners of his eyes crinkle up. It was hard to be mad with the shirtless mass of muscle in front of you. You had a whole speech planned about how worried you were how he could've been seriously hurt. But now that you saw him sitting in front of you none of that really mattered. You sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, tears pricking at your eyes.

"You said you were going to be careful." Your voice cracked as you spoke. He grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." You felt the first year slip into your cheek and that was enough to open the floodgates. Your body wracked with sobs, König pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around you.

"I thought I lost you." He quietly hushed you, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for a while, both of you remaining silent until König.

"I think after my contract's up I'm going to call it." You shot up, in pure disbelief at what you were hearing. "I got hit today because I got careless. I was trying so hard to get this over with quickly to get back to you that I let my guard down. I don't want something to happen to me out in the field or have you worried like this all the time. (Y/N), I'm in love with you, I don't want to miss the opportunity to explore what we have before it even starts." Hearing him say that made you start crying all over again. Once you had finally calmed down you sat up, wiping your eyes.

"I think this might be my final tour too." You smile at him. He grabs the top of his hood, fully pulling it off his head. You gently caress his face, "you're so handsome under there." You hiccup a laugh through your remaining tears.

"I'm glad you think so." He chuckles. He holds you close, lips gently finding yours for what was the softest first kiss you had ever had. König gently cradled you in his arms, taking his time to fully memorize every single aspect of what kissing you felt like.

"I love you Bärchen." You say softly. He gazed down at you with the most loved filled expression of adoration.

"I love you too, mein mouse." He whispers, pulling you in for one more short, sweet kiss.

3K notes · View notes

noodlesarecheese · 1 month

Text

So Watcher is launching a Dropout (it's not called Dropout but they're clearly using the same template format platform thing idk what it's called, and the same pricing structure), and the reaction so far has been wildly different than what I remember from Dropout's launch. I was curious about why that was or if I was just misremembering the Dropout launch, so I went back to the Dropout launch video to compare them and I think I can see where some of the difference is coming from.

If you want to make the comparison yourself: Watcher's Video, Dropout's Video.

I wanna clarify first though that this isn't a knock against Watcher or the fans who are reacting one way or another or anything like that, I genuinely am just fascinated with how different the reactions are to what seems to be the same business decision. This also isn't a 'wow watcher sucks and dropout is so much better' I'm just using them for comparison because they did the same thing with different results. ALSO this isn't about the business decision itself, just the presentation! Disclaimers out of the way, here's the analysis.

Title and Thumbnail So the Watcher.tv announcement video is titled "Goodbye Youtube" and the thumbnail is Ryan, Shane, and Steven sitting on a couch looking serious, with a dark background. That really makes it seem like they're quitting (which, ok, they are quitting youtube but not quitting quitting). Viewers are already primed to be upset, and it's easier to go from upset to angry than upset to excited, curious, or neutral.

Compare to the dropout announcement video: "How the Internet is Ruining Comedy" - inline with other collegehumor video titles, might make you curious. Thumbnail - Big News! with Sam smiling and a bright background. We know its big news, but he looks happy, and the exclamation point let's us know they want us to be excited. Viewers are primed to be curious and excited.

Tone The Watcher announcement has 2 main tones. The first half is very sentimental, almost sad or wistful at times, and while there are parts that veer into pride at achievements, it's mostly bittersweet and sentimental. The second half is a bit more uplifting, but still quite serious. It reminded me of a tech announcement, like when they introduce the new iphone or something like that. Very professional, sleek, and serious, which isn't automatically a bad thing! But I do think that's not the vibe a decently-sized chunk of the audience expected or wanted. Many people watch Watcher for the cast's dynamic with each other, humor, and the more relaxed/conversational/friendly feel that most of the series have.

Compare to dropout - excited and comedic tone. Still professional, but also fits the expectations of the viewers. People watch collegehumor for the humor (it was in the name, after all). They also poke a bit of fun at themselves, which lightens the mood, shows self-awareness, and alleviates some of the bad feelings about paywalling.

Focus The Watcher announcement focuses a lot on the creative journey of the cast and company, as well as how this move will benefit them. Which isn't a bad thing, that's actually quite interesting! The problem here, I think, is actually more about what isn't here - a solid explanation of how this will also benefit the viewers and why the viewers should be excited. There's a brief description of one new show, and the promise that existing shows will get an upgrade, but we weren't given many specific details about how they'll be improved, and there's only one new show to tempt us into subscribing. Some people will be excited for that, some people won't, and some people will be excited but not enough to subscribe. Having 2 or 3 series (even if it's 1 fleshed out plus a few teasers of what's in production or what is being planned) plus some more details about how existing shows will be improved would've helped. Without that, it really does seem like it'll just be the same stuff viewers were getting for free, but now paywalled, rather than new and exciting stuff. That makes a big difference. I think with the fans not getting as much focus, this also led to some (accidental, I hope) hurt feelings. Based on what I've seen from fan reactions, all the talk about hitting the peak of what they can do on youtube and wanting more, translated for many people to 'youtube isn't enough' which became 'you (the current viewers) aren't enough.' Which I don't think was their intent! But I also don't think fans are wrong for feeling hurt by that.

Compare to dropout: They clearly explain how the move will benefit fans, and reassure viewers that existing content will stay where it is, and only new content will be behind the paywall. (Watcher clarified this too, but in a comment. It's not in the video itself, which is a huge problem.) They include clips of several new (at the time) series that would be premiering on dropout, including things that specifically could not be made on youtube (due to weed, violence, and sexual humor), so the reason for the shift is clear to the audience.

Advertisers Both videos contain the sentiment that being monetarily successful on youtube means working to appease the advertisers, and that over time what the advertisers want and what the creators want drifts further and further apart, putting strain on the creators.

However, I think the message gets lost a bit in the Watcher vid. Instead, it leaves viewers with the idea that the main problem is just ads are annoying instead of advertisers putting constraints on content. I'm not even sure what the specific constraints are for watcher, because they didn't give any examples. And the focus on ads being annoying leaves viewers frustrated because people typically either don't mind ads or they already have an ad blocker.

Timing and Size Okay, this isn't exactly about presentation, but it is still a factor that impacts perception so I'm tackling it. And I'm actually going to do dropout first. CollegeHumor launched dropout in September 2018. Pre-pandemic, but also pre-Sam Reich as CEO. The company was still owned by IAC. It was a Company, and while it wasn't huge it wasn't tiny either. So launching dropout was a Company Decision, a Business Strategy. Some people were upset about, but it wasn't a personal betrayal (generally, anyways). If I remember correctly, this was also not a high point for the company. They kinda needed dropout to do well to keep things running smoothly (which is why they shut it down and sold it to Sam just 1 1/2ish years later), so the sudden shift made sense.

Watcher Entertainment is a company, but it doesn't feel like one. Ryan, Shane, and Steven own and operate things, but they're also the faces, and they're youtubers. Which makes every business decision they make feel more personal to viewers, especially those who have been watching for a long time. They've also seemingly been doing well on youtube, which makes it more difficult for viewers to understand why the sudden change is happening now. They do talk a bit about it, about the company expanding and wanting to do things that advertisers don't like (which I've already covered). However, mostly the choice to start a streaming platform is framed as 'the next big step' without much clarification on why it's the next big step. Plus, it's post-pandemic, and a lot of people are still struggling financially with the ripple effects of that. Yes, $6 isn't a wild amount of money, but there have been some months where $5 absolutely meant the difference between paying all my bills or not, and I know I'm not the only one. This, coupled with a lack of clarity about why exactly they're doing this, leads to fans feeling hurt, betrayed, bitter, and frustrated.

Now, presentation and framing isn't everything. No matter how perfect your announcement is, some people are still going to be upset. It's a big change, of course people will be upset! But I do think a more careful presentation would've alleviated some of the hurt and anger that fans are feeling. While I do think a lot of the reaction we're seeing is due to the decision, I think (based on what I've seen) that some of it is also based on the poor communication in the video itself, and that could've been avoided!

So I'm gonna get a little speculative and describe what I would've done. In this hypothetical, they've decided to launch the streaming service and brought me on just for the announcement.

Firstly, switch the title out. If they're married to Goodbye Youtube then add a (and hello...?) after so it's at least obvious they aren't fully quitting. The dark color scheme of the thumbnail fits their regular vibe, but they want everyone to be excited so they should look excited. Next, let's lighten the tone up. Being proud of what they've done so far is great, but we don't need the sentimental music and bittersweetness. Remember, the goal is to get viewers excited about what come's next - so let's focus on what actually comes next! Talk about specific show plans and mention why they wouldn't work on youtube. Then, take some time to reassure the fans. Predict a few likely worries and address them in the video. Acknowledge that it's a big change, that it will take time to get used to, and that not everyone will be onboard, and let the fans know that it's ok if they aren't onboard.

Like I said, this wouldn't fix everything. There are a few differences in between dropout and watcher that don't have anything to do with presentation. Dropout launched with primarily new shows rather than new seasons of existing shows, and they continued uploading to youtube relatively regularly in addition to the content behind the paywall, which I do think went a long way to keeping fans happy. At this point it's unclear if watcher will do either of those or not. But, while I don't think it would fix everything, I do think improved communication in the announcement would've helped.

#watcher #feel free to share your own thoughts but please be nice #I just like communication ok! And I really enjoyed the 1 marketing class I took in college #and it's pretty rare that you get such a clear comparison between 2 unrelated companies!

329 notes · View notes

soapsbaby · 8 months

Text

Friends with Benefits

Kinktober IV

Summary: How a friends with benefits relationship would go with them. Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price, König, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Vargas, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: NSFW (mdni) Word Count: 1200ish

Ghost

In the beginning it was a lot more “benefits” than it was “friends”. He had a lot of issues to let you in any further than just sleeping with you.

You were an outlet for frustration and he was entirely honest about that and made sure you didn't feel used or led on.

It took a while but eventually you were able to spend the night, he started calling you when he needed company and eventually he even opened up to you a little and you finally got to understand why he acts the way he does.

He’s a very attentive lover and now that he has a closer bond with you, also an incredible friend. He is always there to listen, even if he often doesn’t know what advice to give you.

Often calls you over late at night or right after returning from missions, just needing a way to blow off steam. He tends to be a little rough with you, but only with your consent.

He isn’t interested in any relationship or attachments so he is quite happy with your arrangement.

Soap

You and Johnny had been friends for super long before you eventually got closer to him. It was just supposed to be a sleepover so you could binge some horror movies together, but at some point his hand had ended up on your thighs, then you had ended up in his lap and the moment you started kissing you both knew it was over.

Except for having sex not much has changed between the two of you, most of your hookups still happen during movie nights or other friendship hangouts that you would have had before starting to sleep together.

It’s becoming a problem when people start asking questions since neither of you pay any attention to the movies you’re supposed to be watching. “Oh, you watched (...) on the weekend, right?? How was it?” “Uh… Good… I think.”

You are so casual and comfortable with each other that there was never really a phase of awkwardness between you two, it just felt natural.

He honestly doesn't care if anyone finds out, is the type to pull you into a supply closet for a quickie.

Price

You are both very happy with the arrangement, even though except for missing full commitment you are basically in a relationship.

He will always make sure you know you are taken care of and that you know how much he appreciates you, take you out for dinner or cook for you, get you gifts.

Compared to the others, your relationship is a little more mature and less impulsive, you had been friends for a long while, tried to date but didn’t quite work out. Still, you both had to admit you enjoyed having sex with one another, so you just decided to go back to that part.

He’ll check in with you often to make sure you are still happy with the situation and it is understood that if either of you ever find a serious relationship you’ll have to stop.

He likes to make sure he has his time with you, whenever you have a "date" he wants to have the whole day off.

Gaz

It was supposed to be just a friends with benefits situation but failed almost immediately. You both tried so hard to keep it casual but it was a lost cause from the first time.

Gaz used to have hookups quite often when off duty, but now that he has you, he doesn’t really want or need that anymore. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, but he’s kind of obsessed with you.

At this point you are spending so much time at each other’s places that you might as well move in, but both of you are afraid to suggest taking the next step because that is not what we agreed on.

He is so sweet, always taking his time with you, making sure you are the priority and that you feel well taken care of.

So good at giving oral.

König

You’re one of the few people from his past that he is still in contact with and though you don’t get to see him often, it’s a good time whenever you do.

It’s good for him to have someone from his childhood that can give him a reality check and make sure he doesn’t forget where he came from when he needs it.

He isn’t the best at communicating, which your situation requires a lot of, so you run into problems at times. You don’t see each other often, most of the time there is a lot of distance dividing you, plus the time zones, so there is a lot to be navigated.

He likes and appreciates you a lot though, so you make it work somehow.

Most of the time he is super gentle with you and will do whatever it takes to make sure you finish first, however there have been situations where he just needed to use you to get some negative emotions out of his system after a failed mission.

Alejandro

He always said he wasn’t one for casual sex, that he was made for relationships, but he had to learn that that just isn’t fully true. Once you and him started sleeping together he had to realize how convenient it was to have someone to help him have his needs met without the responsibilities that come with actual relationships.

He’s a great lover, extremely attentive, very loving, and skillful at what he does. He’d never be selfish and only get himself off.

Rudy

You have been friends with benefits for as long as you can remember, so the communication between the two of you is great since you just know each other so well.

It started when you were joking around with him after a bad date how dating around wasn't worth it just to have mediocre sex with people you barey liked and he got competetive about it.

"Bet I could do better." (He in fact could and did do better)

You don’t sleep with each other that often, just once every few months when you both feel like it. Most of the time when you hang out, things stay strictly platonic, that is just the way things work out for you.

Valeria

She doesn’t have many friends that she can actually trust, so she was terrified to push your relationship any further than a friendship. She didn’t want to risk losing you, one of the few people who knew her before the army, before the cartel.

Still, one thing led to another and she’d never want to go back to before. She knows you might not fully support her work in the cartel, but that you still feel nothing but loyalty for her.

She doesn’t have time for an actual relationship and also wouldn’t want to put someone in danger of getting caught up in the crossfire of cartel dealings, so you being fairly low-commitment for her is ideal.

She can be a bit of a selfish lover, but you adore pleasuring her, so it all works out in the end.

663 notes · View notes

h0rnyauth0r · 10 months

Text

being stuck in a power outage with ghost, who you don’t get along with <3

i'm sorry to take months between content :( i hope everyone's doing well! i missed writing so much!

word count: 2.8k

warnings: reaader w/ vagina, use of good girl, cumming inside, unprotected sex, and other smut-typical moments

you can admit when you’re wrong to basically anybody, really. like right now, you know it’s a bad idea to sneak off during a briefing about the mission you’re going to be going on, but listening to ghost for any longer will have you ripping your hair out and screaming.

you hate that man with a passion, with the utmost sincerity of your being. he pushes you more than the others, he constantly ridicules your movements, and he always compares you to everyone else. just the other day you were ordered to run two extra miles for ‘misbehaving’ by talking with soap about holiday plans.

you’d say he has plans to get you to the point of dropping 141 and moving on, but you know that won’t happen. you’ve grown to love the team, even if he may ruin things. his targeting of you hasn’t reached a point where it’s putting you or others into danger, so as far as you’re concerned you’ll be staying.

it’s a rainy day today, clouds shifting across the sky slowly with a dark and gloomy grey making the world around you seem so sad. you love the rain. the distant thunder cracking down as it begins approaching the base. you’re not sure if the storm might interrupt the plans for later, seeing as it may impact flying out.

you shrug the thought off as you enter one of the side rooms, often used for private meetings and for you, reading. the doors here often use a pin code or a keycard to get into for security reasons, which makes things easier despite the dependence on technology.

you want to read a new book that gaz gifted you, saying that he highly recommended it to you after reading it himself. you never thought he’d be into romance novels, but here you are reading a book thats cover displays a withering rose and mentions a scandalous plotline between a ceo of a company and his newest intern.

you take a seat on one of the many chairs and finally open the cover, reading the first few notes and getting started on the first chapter. the writing is decent, and you find yourself enjoying this tacky plotline more than you anticipated.

time passes, and it’s probably been around ten minutes before you hear the sound of the door unlocking followed by heavy footsteps. you know you’ve just fucked yourself over when you hear a deep sigh. it’s ghost.

“figured you’d be here. why did you skip my briefing? it’s important information.” his voice is stern, angry.

you roll your eyes at his reaction and tone. “i can easily just get the info from price, he has the folders. besides, i already know what we’re doing and i’m already packed for leaving.”

the footsteps get closer and his arms reach around your front, snatching the book from your hands and slamming it shut. “if you had actually come to the meeting like any sensible person, you’d know our mission is postponed due to the storms.” he snaps, watching the way you angrily turn around and face him.

you glare at him, “just because it’s been canceled doesn’t mean you can interrupt my reading, lieutenant.”

now he’s rolling his eyes at you, arms crossing with your book still in his hand. “i don’t give a shit about your reading. you can’t disregard the rules here and think you’ll just get away with things because you’re close with price. at this point, i’m not letting you go on the mission. you can stay here since you like it so much.” his voice sounds like a father scolding his child, and you grow angry at the mention of not being allowed to go on the mission anymore.

“you know i can just talk to price and get this settled myself, simon. i will go where i want. now get out and leave me alone if you’re done treating me like a child.”

he slams the book down onto the table in the room and clenches his fists, turning to the door and getting a keycard out to unlock it.

that’s when the whooshing sound loudly interrupts any movements, lights going out and power ultimately failing. you almost immediately groan out, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. the only bit of light is from the crease of the door, and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of ghost.

“uh, the gen should kick on right?” your voice breaks the silence, feeling awkward about even speaking to the man right now.

“it would’ve already. must not have petrol left.” he says, and you can barely make out him taking a seat in one of the chairs in the room.

it’s nearly impossible to see, and the odds of this happening were so slim that you’re now regretting going into this room in the first place. you should’ve gone back to your bunk, but now you’re trapped here with the lieutenant and you don’t know when things will be back.

a loud pounding on the door startles you, and you hear soap’s voice scream at the door. “gaz is getting some petrol now! we were out of supply, the shipment was running late!” he screams, and you wince at how loud he’s being.

“thanks, soap! hopefully he’s back soon.” you say loudly, sinking onto the floor and sitting with your back against the door.

“should be a half hour.” ghost grumbles, and you nod at his words before flushing when you realize he can’t see you nod.

for a few minutes, neither of you say anything. you want to say something, maybe even apologize for your behavior. you know it was wrong of you to skip out on the briefing, and he’s never going to be nice to you if you continue acting out.

“hey, i’m sorry.” you say quietly.

“huh?”

“i’m sorry. for missing the briefing. it was a bad idea. i know it’s not a good look to skip out on those, so i just wanted to apologize. just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean i can fuck with our team’s organization.”

you hear him breathe in deeply, probably contemplating the words to say in the moment. you feel a little nervous with his silence, almost finding yourself feeling worried about him.

he speaks up though, “i understand why you did it. i’m hard on you, more than the others. it’s because you’re stronger and i know you can handle yourself.”

his words make you feel happy, and you actually find yourself smiling because of something he said for the first time ever. you never would’ve thought that this man sees your strength and resilience.

“thank you. can i ask you something?”

“shoot.”

“why do you punish me for talking with soap, or any others for that matter, but not them too?”

he doesn’t reply, and you don’t exactly expect him to. the quiet is mildly overwhelming and has you worried that the small step forward with the older man may have already regressed.

you hear him stand up, though, and take a seat beside you in front of the electric door. the proximity makes you anxious, but his voice is what makes it less intense.

“admittedly, i don’t like seeing others talk with you like that.” his words hold weight in your head, your neck cranking downwards to process. you’re stuck taking in what he said, contemplating what exactly it means.

jealousy? you want it to be true, in the most selfish way. maybe he sees others as a obstacle to you. but you’re certain it’s actually because they may be distracting you from your potential.

“do you think they’re distracting me or something? because they aren’t.”

he lets out a puff of air, which you could assume is the closest you’ll get to hearing his laugh. curiosity, and more importantly, embarrassment, have you growing flustered with that reaction.

“what?” you ask.

he sighs. “i know they’re not distracting you, love.”

your face grows hot, a state of deep embarrassment combining with confusion. his hand reaches out and touches your arm, and you look in his direction with anticipation at what he’s up to.

“i was jealous, since i wanted you to talk to me instead.”

you unintentionally gulp, swallowing harshly and nodding even though you’re in the dark with him. his hand slowly moves up your arm and ends up caressing your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as you suck in a breath.

“w-why?” you ask.

“can’t you tell why? i thought you were observant.” his voice is closer, right in your ear and you find yourself shivering. a pool of desire is bubbling up in your abdomen, thighs instinctively rubbing together for any tension.

you never would’ve thought that ghost had any interest in you with the way he’s treated you, but you can very much tell now. his very touch is sending sparks through your body and you can’t help but hope he’s willing to fuck you into these cold floors right now.

“i-”

“shh.” he puts his hand over your mouth and your eyes roll back pathetically. if he can have such an impact on you with just words, you can only imagine how good he would be in other areas.

your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip when his other hand begins reaching for your thigh, kneading into the skin as it moves up and closer to your clothed pussy. he begins massaging the skin there and you whimper desperately.

your panties grow more and more soaked with every passing second and you find yourself staring deeply into his eyes through the darkness. you can see the look in them and it speaks volumes. he knows that you’re completely turned on by him and he’s smug about that fact.

his hand digs into your face and it kind of hurts, but you’re more overcome with the feeling of his other hand pushing at your pants to care about anything else. “you want me?” he asks, voice gruff and lustful.

his hand moves from your face.

“yes.” you whisper breathlessly, willing to do anything at the moment for him.

“good.”

both of his hands tug at your pants, fiddling with the belt and eventually lifting your body up to take them off. your panties stay on, but he fingers at the fabric to rub at your folds.

“do me a favor, yeah? lean against the table for me.” he says, slapping down on your ass as you jump and do what he says. you lean against it like he said, purposefully sticking your ass out so he has more room to work with.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, hand pushing your panties aside as his index and middle fingers start circling your clit. you whimper out at the feeling, craving more but allowing him to help prep you for whatever might come.

his fingers are ruthless with their movements, circling and then diving into your wet hole. they curl over and over again before going back out to tease you more. and it isn’t long before you feel your panties soak and you’re practically panting from the amount of pleasure he’s given you.

you can feel yourself getting closer to cumming on his fingers, thrusting your hips back to feel more. “please, more.” you whimper out, and he actually chuckles at your begging.

“more of this?” he asks, pushing three fingers into your hole and curling them to hit that soft spongy spot inside. you cry out when he does that, thighs shaking and knees nearly giving out.

“yes!” you say, feeling like you’re about to teeter off of the edge and absolutely falling apart when his other hand starts to play with your clit again.

you don’t even know what words or sounds come out of your mouth with the force it hits you, his hands coaxing you through it with several chants of ‘good girl’ being whispered into your ear.

his fingers pull out once you’ve come down from your high, a wet sound making you particularly embarrassed with how soaked you are for him. you can hear him taking his belt off behind you and you’re more than eager to feel his dick in you now than you were before.

“you ready?” he asks, and you can hear him using your wetness to coat his cock before he’s lining it up against you and rubbing the tip against your folds.

“fuck, yes.” you mumble to him, eyes rolling back and nails digging into the table harshly as he pushes into you. the tip is so thick that it hurts at first, but once you’re used to it you think you might cum again just from the sensation of him filling your cunt.

“holy shit.” you moan out the words once he’s balls deep, the pressure against your insides feeling so fucking good. you lean down more into the table, and his hands grip your hips tightly as he prepares to move.

and when he does move, you’re breathless. you’ve never been with someone so big who actually knows what they’re doing, and the feeling alone sends you absolutely reeling and wanting this to never end.

“please, go harder.” you say softly, moaning when he listens to your words earnestly.

the table creaks loudly as his pace picks up more, hips hitting your ass hard as he fucks into you with more and more force. he decides to grab around the front of you and pull your back into him, an angle that has you moaning louder than you want to admit.

you can only hope that nobody hears you, but with the slapping sounds of his hips crashing into you and your noises it’s obvious that something is happening in this room right now.

“need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” he asks you, and you shake your head while whimpering out a ‘no’.

his hand grabs your face again, covering your lips and leaving your nose out so you can breathe. he decides to really start pushing it after this, thrusting harder and faster than you thought he could go.

you feel like you’re going to cum again soon. “‘m close.” you whimper against his hand, feeling his free hand reach down and start working your clit like it’s nothing.

you throw your head back when his hand is practically vibrating against you, cumming on his cock and moaning so loudly that the hand over your mouth clamps down harder to muffle your noises.

you can hear his breathing picking up too, small grunts and groans coming out as his own orgasm starts to approach. you’re still clenching on him from cumming so hard, and it sends him into a spiral.

the table you’re against starts moving from the force of his thrusts as he groans out and cums in you, fingers digging into your skin as his hips stutter and slow down.

you feel so very full- from his dick and his cum at the same time, the feeling of cum dripping out and down your thighs making you shiver a little bit. he pulls out of you and you collapse against the table, breathing heavily.

“thank you.” you whisper, catching your breath as you fix your panties, pull your pants up, and allow your panties to become drenched in both of your fluids.

“it’s nothing.” is all he says, fixing himself accordingly.

you can hear a whirring before the lights slowly turn on, flickering for a moment before powering on completely. you look at him as soon as the lights are on, seeing his usual balaclava covering his face.

he’s looking right back at you, and no words need to be spoken when you get a good look at him. you start walking towards him and right as your hands are getting ready to lift his balaclava up, the door whirs open and soap is standing there.

you know you’re very close to him and immediately feel hot, backing away and looking to soap. “oh, hey.”

he looks between the two of you, a small smirk forming on his face. “it’s about time!” he exclaims.

“soap, don’t.” ghost says, shaking his head and looking to you. his hand reaches out and grabs onto yours and you find yourself gaping at the sight.

he leads you out of that room and down the halls towards the living quarters, eyes never losing that glimmer of lust towards you as you get down to his room.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet or soap will complain, the walls are thin over here.” is all he says before you enter the room together.

neither of you get much sleep that night, and both receive an earful from soap and a few others come morning.

taglist: @wwwurmomdotcom @kovieky @chibijusstuff @clove-shitposts

send me a dm or ask if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!! tysm for reading <3

#call of duty smut #cod #female reader #x reader #call of duty #cod smut #smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost

1K notes · View notes

syoddeye · 2 months

Text

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old.

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess.

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you.

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that.

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out.

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying.

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic.

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit.

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years."

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #smug lieutenant john price is so important to me #i'm also obviously not british and i'll admit i did maybe 10% of the research i usually do.....apologies #lightly edited i was too excited

249 notes · View notes

devsgames · 9 months

Text

Venting About Unity's Pricing Plan Nonsense

Venting here, but this morning Unity announced changes to their pricing plan including charging a "Unity Runtime Fee" to a developer any time a user installs the product on their PC above a certain threshold ($200k revenue and 200k downloads on personal plan, less for paid plans). Oh it's also retroactive to all existing products made with the engine.

They're trying to justify it by claiming "the Unity Runtime costs money to maintain" - which is unhinged because I'm no software expert but I'm fairly certain Unity Runtime has existed for about as long as Unity has been capable of making builds. So uhhhh.......it's a thing that has existed for like a decade now, at least. This isn't some expensive new thing, and it almost certainly hasn't gotten that much more expensive that it's suddenly costing them millions more to maintain.

If this seems like a raw deal for the developer don't worry - if they pull up their work and simply transition to using Unity's in-house ad service instead of external ones they won't be forced to pay as much. :) And what's more is if you buy the really expensive Unity plans you won't have to pay as much in Runtime fees! I'd sort of compare this deal to forcing a developer to move into their ecosystem at gunpoint.

I'm sure this is also related to them recently merging with ironSource - a mobile ad distribution software company - for a staggering 4.4 BILLION dollars. It's another string of stupid moves and gross exploitation by the company that in the last year has laid off 600 of its workers (8% of its global staff).

With their trajectory over the last few years, at this point I've generally just got zero faith in the suits to not plummet this software into the dirt..

#HI please check my reblogs for more info #sorry im super annoyed #wanted to get it off my chest #gamedev #game development #game dev #indie games #indie game #gamedevelopment #indiegames #thoughts #unity #made with unity

682 notes · View notes

adaelines · 1 year

Note

omggg umm is ok to ask for Price x F!Reader where they have a big age gap? (sum like civvie collage!girl reader?) I'm the biggest slut for John and i believe he has the biggest daddy, breeding and size kink not to mention tummy bulging 😵‍💫

sorry this doesn't include the kinks, I'll try and do a part 2 with those!!! heats killing me and I wanted to get Something out bc age difference price destroys me every time

afab reader but gender neutral, price is described to be double your age but specific age not mentioned!! Obviously at least 18. sorry this isn't very long I just wanted to get something out!

John Price always knew how to treat you well.

It never mattered how much older he was than you, never mattered that he was almost double your age, not when simply being with him lit up your world like he was a beacon in an otherwise dark world.

He always made you so happy, always put your happiness and pleasure first, above all else. Even when he was away on duty, leaving you alone at his house that was easily big enough for an entire family, you were always at the forefront of his thoughts.

You mattered most to him, more than anything else, and he always showed it in everything he did

Giving you money for new clothes or something you saw whilst out shopping, always treating you to the absolute best dates perfectly suited to what you most wanted, giving you a break from your college workz always fucking you hard and deep like he wanted to absolutely destroy you.

It came out most when he'd just returned from his duty, when he'd been away from you too long and spent every moment dreaming of being back home with you, being back in your bed and able to simply bask in each others company, not having to worry about anything and being able to touch, to hold without even thinking about the outside world. Nothing else mattered when he'd just come home from work, nothing else compared to being home with you.

The desperation of finally being home together, finally being able to touch each other as much as you wanted, is what led to here. You in John's lap on the sofa, leaning back with your legs spread over his knees, three of his fingers as deep inside you as he could manage. He couldn't wait till you were in the bedroom, not when he finally had you alone, finally had you in his arms. He'd been waiting for this from the moment he left, and he refused to wait any longer.

"Sweet thing," He mutters in your ear, pressing a kiss to the skin below it, "Missed you so much, missed this so much… You're always so good for me, such a pretty thing…"

His fingers, thick and calloused from his guns, were so deep inside you it was almost too much. You were a whiny mess on his lap, arching against him and holding onto his arm so tight you were sure he'd have bruises and nail marks afterwards, but it felt so good. You hadn't touched yourself whilst he was away, one of your rules, so having him pleasuring you like this was overwhelming.

He had killed men with these hands, snapped their necks and broken their spines, now he was knuckle deep in your cunt like this was where he truly belonged. Not any of the bloodshed, not any of the violence, he belonged here, inside of you, making you feel good. Nothing else mattered now, you were the only thing he could think of, you took over his brain like a parasite he wanted. He would happily live the rest of his life only thinking of you, if that was what made you happy. No matter how many missions he went on, how many men he killed or how long he was away, you were most important to him. Always.

Crooking his fingers inside of you, he moved his thumb to rub circles on your clit, pressing another soft kiss to the skin of your neck below your ear. He loved having you like this, whining on his lap, one hand cupping your chest whilst the other played with you.

The hand on your chest squeezed as he gently grazed his teeth on your neck, along the pulse.

"C'mon, pretty little thing… Cum on my hand, and maybe i'll give you my cock."

Right now, he was your lover. He wasn't a man double your age, with so much experience you worried he would want more, he was the person you loved, doing absolutely everything he could to make you coat his fingers and stain his pants in your cum.

Leave a permanent mark of your pleasure on him, remind him that only he can make you feel this good.

#spicy #call of duty #cod #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #john price #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut

727 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

Scratches in the Surface

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Investigating Shepherd was a mistake, but the betrayal of John Price hurt more than anything Shadow Company could do to you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Talks of gore, torture, violence, swearing, blood, angst

A/N: Not really sure if I like this or not, but the idea was good so I kept it. Your codename in this is ‘Key.’ Part 2

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The buzzing lights above you were going to drive you insane faster than the damn clicking of the man’s pen, but you endured the overstimulation of your brain with an expression of boredom.

Click, click-clack, click,

God, You clench your teeth together, either stop that, or I’m going to–

When you go to move your hands over the metal table, the cuffs around your wrists shriek as they slide. The man in front of you pauses, looking up from his file, the manila folder sitting tantalizingly close; your fingers curl over the paper cup to your right, grabbing it and dragging it to your lips.

As you sip the stale water, your eyes bore into the CIA Agent over the rim, unblinking and dead. Feeling the liquid travel down your throat and hit hard into your empty stomach, you watch the man tense in his seat, his eyes averting from your own quickly like you were a blazing fire. Suppressing a smirk, the man clears his throat.

You place the cup down delicately, leaving a small amount of water behind, right as the door behind the man opens loudly, creaking on its hinges and making you cringe.

Your gaze snaps to the familiar head of blonde hair that belongs to Kate Laswell, her stone-cold face more wrinkled since the last time you had seen her. The woman walks through the door, and the Agent gets to his feet quickly, leaving the file on the table.

“Ma’am,” He says, holding onto the back of the chair as he turns to face Laswell, “She hasn’t said anything since she arrived.”

“Thank you, Moore. I’ll take it from here,” Kate sighs deeply, her white dress shirt and black pants swishing as the air conditioning comes on. The lanyard around her neck makes a slight clinking noise as her name card jumps with her steps.

You tilt your head as far as the bandages around your neck allow, feeling the stitches on your throat pull painfully; you hoped your former friend could see the blood already staining the gauze.

The man leaves with clacking shoes, taking the godforsaken pen with him, and Laswell takes his seat. You couldn’t help but compare the scene to a transaction – you being the package thrown between unwilling participants. Not that you cared. The aches and pains in your body demanded retribution; you were more scar tissue now than skin.

The silence between the two of you is thick, eyes clashing in a mute battle of wills you know you’ll win. You’d had four years to squelch every ounce of weakness from your body – waiting, praying, for this moment.

Just as you imagined, Laswell breaks first.

“I never knew that Shepherd was capable of doing what he did,” Her hair collects in a bun at the base of her neck, and her bangs caress her forehead. The Agent’s style hadn’t changed, at least, “When you told me that I should–”

Kate stops mid-sentence.

You watch her gaze fall to your arms on the table and your fingers twitch.

Frowning, you suppose the widening of her eyes was about all the reaction you would get out of her; the one second of horror that sweeps Laswell’s eyes before the practiced calm resettles like mud in the water. But the satisfaction you garner is unparalleled.

“You ever been thrown into a tub full of glass, Kate,” Laswell flinches at the gravel in your throat, vocal cords ripping with every word, “It’s not that bad if you don’t move so much,” You smirk, letting the dry skin on your lips break open, “Kinda hard, though, when you have a million little knives digging into your flesh.”

“I didn’t…” Kate closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, looking away from the mangled remains of the skin of your arms, the more significant cuts starting at your elbow that jaggedly run down your forearm. Those ones weren't made by glass, but you didn’t tell the woman that.

Let her squirm, You pick up your paper cup, grasping the rim and the hard wire hidden in the fold, It’s been a long time since I had that effect on anyone. I want to get my edge back. I need my edge back.

Kate continues her previous sentence, placing her hands on top of the folder on the table and clenching them together. You bring the cup to your lips, sipping down the last few drops before letting your bound hands fall once more. You rest them on your lap and fiddle with the cup, shifting your shoulders to relieve the tension that sits there.

“I didn’t believe you at the time about Shepherd, Key, and that was my biggest mistake. I led an investigation the second you went missing but as far as everyone was concerned you had disappeared off the face of the earth. We had no leads, no information, and no trace,” She sighs, “You have to believe me when I say we did everything that we could too–”

“We?” You scoff, “We? You’re saying you had Price working on this?” You spit out the name as venom leaks from your tone; leaning forward you see shadows move from the corner of your eye.

You had nearly forgotten the glass window to your right, no doubt the multiple shadows barely seen behind the one-way were faces you had prayed to come and save you for all that time in the facility. You knew Price’s outline when you saw it – bulkier than the rest, large shoulders, and the bulge around his head because of that damn black beanie. The fidgeting was a new tick, though. Then again, it had been years. Maybe you had never really known him at all.

You blink, stuffing away that fact with a pounding heart.

Calm down, you growl to yourself, You’re in control. You…You are fucking in control. Don’t think about John Price.

“...That’s really cute. Do you want a medal? A pat on the back?” You grunt and shut down the conversation, noticing you’ve been crushing the cup in your grip under the table, the object shaking from the force of your fingers. Leaning back, you take in a slow breath, “It never really added to much, did it?”

To anyone besides Kate Laswell and John Price, no one would have noticed your sanity fraying at the seams inside your pounding brain. Licking your tongue over your teeth your eyes stay locked with Laswell’s as you feel panic build.

It’s a long time before the woman speaks again. She utters your real name under her breath.

“We tried everything to find you. But as I got sucked more and more into Shepherd’s world, allegations started to gain validity, and the news of your death–”

“And all it took was him losing three American missiles and his little Shadow Company friends killing more than half a city in Mexico?” You force out a chuckle, your white hospital t-shirt uncomfortable over the mass amounts of bandages digging into your skin. Kate brings a hand to her temple, rubbing it with shaking hands, “Yeah,” You deadpan, “They told me about that.”

“Do…Do you know anything about where he might be?”

“Shepherd?” You sputter out a harsh laugh that leaves Laswell swallowing, “what, do you think I’m the center of the gossip ring? They kept me in a fucking dark room for days at a time. The only thing I heard was the rats eating the corpses in the corner and the sound of my blood hitting the drain basin.”

You rose your right hand as far as the cuffs would allow and pointed your thump at the one-way glass, “Until your Toy Soldiers broke me out, that is.”

“Key,” Kate shakes her head and you know what bullshit she’s about to spill, “I can’t imagine what you went through for all those years. If we knew you were still alive I know Price and I would have–”

You tune out whatever Laswell says, fingers fidgeting under the table as you turn your head and itch the thin bandage over your chin with your shoulder, feeling stitches break open. The Ac unit was so damn loud, and that stupid buzzing of the lights.

Fuck, everything’s just too loud, You begin to bite on the skin of your bottom lip, peeling back the flesh until you feel blood dribble down.

Laswell calls your name, and you narrowly suppress a flinch, your eyes flickering closed before snapping back to the woman. You release your lip silently and live with the pain that breeds.

“What?” You numbly question, foot shaking under the table.

“How about I get you something to eat?” Kate draws out and you don’t like the concerned glance she sends to the glass as she shuffles forward in her chair, “They have those mini sandwiches in the cafeteria that you love.” The woman licks her lips, her blue eyes running over the noticeable bulges of bandages and gauze that span your chest and abdomen, down your thighs and legs. The bottoms of your feet, under your socks and shoes, even have wraps. All stained red.

“Not hungry,” You clear your throat through the lie.

“Key,” Kate whispers, “you’re skin and bones.”

“You think I don’t know that, Laswell?” The words set you off, snapping from your lips as your eyes flash and your face twists. The Agent tenses, shoulders locking tight, “I’ve looked like this ever since you and Price sold me off like a fucking dog with a rope around its neck!” Your wild eyes revel in the fear that sweeps Kate’s face. She doesn’t know you anymore, “That was you two wasn’t it? Or are my memories more fucked up than I know…? Huh?! Did the electrocution finally fry my brain?!”

Laswell’s eyes fall to the table.

“I trusted you!” You’re screaming now, guttural and savage; every so often your voice would break, and the shadows behind the glass were all straight as a rod except one, one who slightly hunches as if in guilt, “You both left me to die! I gave you evidence, I showed you facts and you turned me over like I meant nothing to you! Like I meant nothing to Price!” The words hurt you when you spit them out, and the stitches over your throat feel like they’re on fire.

Oh, God, John I wanted more than anything for you to find me – t-to stop it. Stop the pain, stop the torture. I need you. Where did you go, John?

��We couldn’t act on–”

“You trusted Shepherd more than you trusted me! That’s what you acted on. That’s the truth.” You turn your head to the ceiling, trying to stop the vile tears that coat your eyes as you suck in ragged breaths. Your ribs ache awfully.

A minute passes, then two.

The next words come out muffled with numbness, whispered from your bloody lips, “Their deaths are on you. I pass off my guilt of it.”

You could hear a pin drop. Hell, did they even know?

“The bodies in the corner…” Laswell whispers, and you hear her throat get clogged.

“What,” You snicker, “Your forensic team not identify them yet? The ones with their faces still on, that is?”

“Who are they, Key?” Kate whispers but you know she knows the answer already. So does Price.

You turn your head to the glass, finding that familiar shadow and boring your eyes into it blankly. Feeling your tears dribble down your cheeks, you smirk when the black on the other end turns its head away. The others shift nervously before you look back at Kate.

“Shane, Jax, Alice, and Sam.”

Laswell’s eyes snap downward to her clenched hands.

You lean closer, “Look at me,” You growl lowly, “Kate, look at me.”

Her eyes are red when they meet yours and you stifle a deep-chested laugh at the sight. A vicious smile blooms over your cheeks, teeth and all.

“He killed my fucking family, Laswell. My squad. My brothers and sisters that I never even involved in this because I knew how it could end if it went south. And they ripped them to fucking pieces while they were still alive,” You lift a free hand and throw your unlocked cuffs on the table, the small, thin, metal wire from your paper cup visibly stuck in the key slot. It rams onto the surface with a bang. Laswell flinches back, head snapping to the object in surprise, “That’s on you and Price. And I want it to haunt you just as it haunts me.” You tilt your head to the side, nodding towards the cuffs, “Good to see my nickname held up, at least. As you can imagine my tricks don’t work so well on rope or barbed wire.”

A ruckus sounds from the other room, loud shouting, and the rushing of feet. You lean back in your chair, slouching, and not soon after the door to the room slams open; John Price stands in the doorway with a stupid look on his face you can’t help but huff at.

“There he is,” You mutter, staring his blue eyes down as his large frame nearly hits the sides of the wall. You spread your arm out, elbows on the armrests sarcastically, “The other person I’m so eager to see.”

Laswell stands on shaky feet and exits the room, shoving past John as he stares at you. For a moment you see what you could on describe as guilt on his face before it's wiped away the next instant.

Not bothering to speak anymore – you’ve said your piece – you bring your hands up and caress the red skin where the cuffs had been. The area was more sensitive now that the flesh had been torn away time after time while you were held by Shadow Company in some godforsaken facility in the wilderness. You throw the remnants of the ripped-up cup onto the table.

The door closes nearly silently, and heavy feet pad forward. You could lie to yourself and say you don’t feel your heart pounding, but what use would it be?

John sits in Laswell’s chair before palming the once more left-behind file. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, as he slowly flips through the pictures. Pictures of you, of your once perfect body full of scars and burns and bruises over every inch. You swore you saw his fingers begin to shake as he turns another page.

John Price used to be something important to you. A friend, a mentor, and if time had permitted, perhaps he would have been something more. You don’t choose to dwell on these thoughts, but they haunt you still; how he would always prioritize your safety on missions, and give you a rare real smile when you impressed him. His laugh when you slipped out crappy jokes on missions together. The imprint of his calloused hand seemed to forever live on the back of your head, dragging you into a tight hug as you remember an OP in Romania.

On the mission, when a bullet had lodged itself between your third and fourth rib, the outcome had seemed grim – hopeless – but all John did was grab your cheeks and force your eyes on him as the Medic worked hastily, grunting and uttering calmly.

“Eyes open, Sweetheart. Keep them on me, eh…? There you go, atta girl. I’m right here,” It was safe to say you had chosen to stare at those unusually soft baby blues the entire time you were getting Evac. and John had dragged you into the ramshackle head-to-chest-hug the second you were stable, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Talking so sweetly you had wanted nothing more than him.

He had been so much more than a Captain to you.

But that was all so long ago, and the memories were rotted like tree trunks. He was just another face, a handsome one, yes – he still hadn't shaved his beard and the circles under his eyes looked darker than you could ever remember seeing them – but still that rugged charm that was John.

I trusted you, You want to scream at him, hit him, tear his throat out. But in the end, you did nothing, but you didn’t trust me.

The wrinkles around his eyes tighten as he sees the extensive claw shreds over your back on one of the printed sheets, the impression of dog teeth over your left shoulder blade and right thigh.

You feel a tightening in your throat.

“They liked their dogs,” You mutter, “That’s for sure.”

Price’s throat bobs.

“German Shepherd?” He asks, accented voice thick, picking up the picture and grasping it so tightly the corner creases.

“Nah, Doberman.”

“Hm,” He grunts, finally looking up from the picture to stare into your broken eyes. Against your better judgment, you look away first, not able to stand the unwavering blue with that specific emotion staining the iris. John was different from Laswell. He…He had meant more.

That’s why it hurt so much to be near him because he would always mean more.

Under the table, your feet shook. John cleared his throat, placing the image down and closing the file before he, in the buzzing of the lights and the whishing of the Ac, whispers your name under his lips.

You’re ashamed of the way it makes you feel like you could cry, your body freezing. Only he could utter it in that way. You had waited to hear him say your name every single day you were stuck with the Shadows.

“Save it,” You nod your head his way once, not looking up from your lap, “I don’t want your apology, Price. It’s done.”

The Captain’s head nods firmly, ever the gentleman, chin jerking as he clenches his jaw. John’s fingers close your file and he taps it with the back of his knuckles, prompting you to raise your gaze to follow the motion.

“I want every name you can remember, yeah?” You pause, for a moment you thought you hadn’t heard him correctly. Under the table, you can feel your knee spasm with nerves.

Picking your gaze up, you travel the length of Price’s tight gray shirt; looking over his combat vest and all the tiny pouches holding only he knows what. You settle on the man’s eyes with a small hitch in your breath. He looked furious, downright lethal.

John’s shoulders were tense, muscles vibrating with badly concealed anger. At his neck, he had a visible tendon from how hard he was clenching his jaw. Had he not read the file before now? Seen the pictures? Or was that not even the point? You frown, shifting in your chair with nervousness. Your head was all messed up.

Logically you knew his anger wasn't directed at you, but you could never be too cautious when it came to someone you haven’t seen in a while. Men had been the source of your problems for four years, and even if you knew John the thought remained that if you had changed so drastically, so could he.

At your silence, Price pauses, blinking a few times before he realizes his hand is clenched on the table, nails biting into his skin. He leans back into the chair with a heavy inhalation, bringing a hand up to rub over his face. John holds a hand over his mouth for a moment, eyes closed, and you watch him and his unsteady breaths that echo through the interrogation room. His chest sputters.

So now he cares, You ask bitterly, blinking away the anxiety in your bones with false calm, now he wants to help.

“Where was that anger when I asked you to help me investigate Shepherd?” You whisper, saliva stuck under your tongue.

John never answers and not a second later he’s standing and stalking out the door with measured steps, but manages to close the door softly behind him before his form disappears.

Come back, You want to plead the second the lock latches, your hands shaking violently in your lap, don’t leave me alone here, John. Don’t leave me alone. I-I can’t be alone again.

But you say nothing.

Outwardly no one can analyze your body language the way that the Captain or Laswell could. All they see is a blank slate waiting to be filled sitting stone-still in an interrogation room. Left alone, all you can do is force back the tears and listen to the loud buzzing and the whining of the Ac, trying with all of your might to forget Captain John Price and the damning comfort his presence still brings you after years of hell.

But how could you forget him? All of the good memories you have left are of him; the only ones untainted by blood or a dark room with no light. The shrieking of rats is like a symphony of death that plays on repeat in your head, digging into the small spaces in your ribs and intestines. But you welcome it because anything is better than thinking about John. Of the times you shared with him.

The betrayal itself is less painful than the memories.

#john price #john price x reader #John price x you #modern warfare #MW2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod x you #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #mw2 2022

1K notes · View notes

ghostofthemost141 · 7 months

Text

Pretty

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,488

Themes: Angst, Self Loathing

About: After the end of the zombie apocalypse, the world may be back to normal, but your life is at a standstill as Task Force 141 works to try and find a reverse cure for your boyfriend Ghost.

Notes: This was inspired by a little drabble someone wrote here on Tumblr and when I went to try and find it, I couldn't find it so if someone finds it please let me know so I can give credit to them since this short is based off of that post. I also decided not to use (Y/N) for this one and instead everyone calls you Dolly, which means a gift of God that Simon gave you. Hope you enjoy!

How long does this have to go on for? I feel as if this is torture to keep him in here. I just want to reach in there and hold his hand, but it wouldn’t do me any good. It would hurt more, much, more.

“‘Ou in here, Dolly?” A thick, accented voice came through, calling me by my nickname.

“Hm.” I respond back, not taking my eyes off of him.

It was Johnny, coming to check on me for the millionth time. It’s going to be the same old, same old so I don’t know why he even bothers at this point. Johnny stopped next to me, him standing and me sitting on the ground, as he stared into the incubator containment thing that was across the room. Every once in a while, he will make a groaning or growling noise at me, but that was it.

“Dinner is ready. Price sent me to fetch ya.” Johnny told me.

“Just do it without me.” I mumbled, not moving my eye contact.

Johnny sighed in slight annoyance, but I ignored it.

“You gotta come eat with us, Dolly. He wouldn’t want you to do that to yourself.”

I tightly shut my eyes together, hearing what he used to sound like in my head, as if he was scolding me. But that voice would never come, for his husky, deep voice was replaced by deep gutter growls that don’t mean nothing but the fact that I am his next meal.

You need to eat, love. S’not good for you to not eat.

I could almost hear him saying it, but it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

“I just want to be alone, McTavish.” I strongly said.

Johnny sighed, but remained where he was at. I wanted to yell at him, but I didn’t have the strength nor energy to do it.

“We are still lookin’ and tryin’, you know that righ’?”

I nodded in response, knowing what he was going to say. He says it every time he catches me in here.

“I’ll save ya a plate.”

Johnny finally turned and exited the room. It’s not that I didn’t mind the company, it’s just that I am tired of hearing the same old shit.

“We are still lookin’ and tryin’, you know that righ’?”

“It’s hard to find a cure, kid.”

“We are doing our best.”

“He will be cured soon.”

Soon. Soon. I feel like they are just lying to me at this point. I know they are just trying to keep my spirits afloat, but how can you when the person you love the most is kept in solitude in order to prevent him from turning you? His eyes were a cloudy white instead of his normal bright, blue azure eyes. They’ve managed to keep his organs and body alive so when we do, or if we find a cure his body will be normal, as if he was never turned in the first place. It wasn’t the fact that he turned that scared me the most, it was the fact that as soon as Simon realized he was bitten, he tried to break his own jaw to prevent him from hurting us. In retrospect, he was doing it to protect us, but he only stopped when I was basically wrestling him to not do it, in case we found a cure. That was the last time his beautiful, piercing eyes looked into mine with so much emotion. Simon is stubborn and always wants to do things his way, but for once in his life, he listened to me. It wasn’t long after that he turned. I watched him turn and before he did, Simon made me promise that if he tried to hurt me, that I would stop him, by any means necessary. Ironically enough, and kind of funny, but Simon as a zombie is nothing compared to how slick and quick he is in real life. The rest of the task force was able to apprehend him before he could even come close to me and stick him in the incubator, where he has been staying in for the past month. I miss him so much. I never thought I would miss our miserable times out in the field or us sitting outside in the miserable freezing cold because it was the only time we could get some alone time together or even us sparring together. I just want Simon back. A deep grumble in my stomach brought me back to reality. Johnny is right. For once he is right. I stretched my arms and legs out, stood up on my feet, and began to walk out of the room.

“Rrrrrrr..”

A deep growl came from the incubator. I turned to find Simon leaning onto the glass, those clouded eyes piercing through my soul.

“I’ll be back, Simon, I promise.”

A deep hiss came from his throat, his arm reaching out as if he was trying to reach for me. I can’t watch this, it hurts me so much. I immediately walked out of the room, and shut the door behind me, hearing his growls grow louder. I don’t know if that is his way of trying to communicate with us or he is truly… I shook my thoughts away and made my way to the dining hall.

I almost envy the guys. They can just pretend that everything is normal and there’s nothing going on, meanwhile my partner, the love of my life, is stuck in his own hell prison. They always try to uplift my spirits and sometimes it works, but on days like today, I’d rather be left alone than try and pretend that everything is okay. As soon as I was done eating, I just went into my room to go to sleep. I didn’t have the heart to go back into the incubator room. Whether or not he was still conscious in his mind, it still hurt me to see him like that. I like to think he is, but that honestly makes me feel worse knowing he is trapped in his own mind and body, while we aren’t even close to finding a cure.

“Oh Si..” I grumbled, trying to contain my tears, “I’m so sorry.”

The tears escaped my eyes, running rapidly down my face, as the memories of him and I came flooding back, from when he was human, before this apocalypse happened. I came to the task force two years ago and it is kind of embarrassing to say but I was head over heels for Simon as soon as I saw him. The more missions we did together, the harder I fell for him. Maybe it was his attitude, or the mask, or his accent, but I was falling hard. It wasn’t until one night were the entire task force had been drinking more than they should and Simon ended up following me back to my room that night. It was as if we had been together for years prior to that, we just clicked so much. We started dating in secret and it wasn’t until right before the apocalypse happened, that we were busted by Price. Of course he wasn’t happy about it, but by the time everything went down, he didn’t care at that point. Simon was protecting me when he got bit and it was my own damn fault. I wasn’t paying attention and Simon took the bite for me. He shouldn’t have. I should be dead right now and he should be alive. Not me, no, not me. I deserve it after all because Simon is the reason why he is trapped in his own body. We are never going to find a cure. And it is all because of-

*KnockKnock*

“Hey Doll?”

Price.

“Come in..” I mumbled.

The door swung open, emitting the hallway light into my pitch black room.

“Oh, blimey. You’re gonna ruin your eyesight in ‘ere.” Price commented.

I just shrugged my shoulders in response.

“Just came to check in on ya. I managed to get a hold of a base that's a bit of a drive, but it could be our chance.”

“Are you for real this time?” I ask urgently.

“As real as shiet, Dolly.” Price confirmed, earning a chuckle out of me.

I sighed, with some relief in mind.

“We will get ‘im back. I promised yous that a long time ago and I damn well intend to keep that promise. You hear?”

“I hear ya, Captain.” I said.

“Alright, goodnight, Dolly.”

“Goodnight.” I softly said as Price shut my door, and walked off.

There is some good in this life. I will soon have my Simon back and we will be back in each other's arms, cuddling, fucking, drinking tea, watching shitty rom-com movies, and much more. He will be back. He will be..

…

..rrrrr

What? What the fuck was that?

.rrrrrrrr.

I wanted to move but for some reason that noise paralyzed me into being still. It sounded familiar and that is what scared me the most.

Rrrrrrrrrrr.

It was louder and closer this time. Please don’t tell me-

Rahhhhhhhhh

I jolted out of bed, grabbing the hidden knife I have in my mattress and cornered it into my room.

Rah..rah..

What the hell was this? Or who the hell was it? Keeping my eye on what it was, I slowly tip-toed backwards to my room light and flicked it on, my heart dropping.

“What?”

“How?”

I mumbled out loud, seeing Simon standing there, staring at me with those hideous clouded eyes.

“How did you get out?” I tearfully pleaded, knowing he can’t respond.

Simon just stared, slowly stepping towards me, groaning in the process. I kept my knife in front of me, just in case.

“Listen to me love. If I try to bite you, you end me no matter what? Do ‘ou understand?”

Simon’s words echoed in my head, remembering what he told me. I didn’t want to do this, no, please don’t make me do this.

“S-Stay away, please.” I croaked.

Simon kept sauntering towards me, slowly and surely, his growls and moans getting louder the closer he got to me. Everytime he stepped forward, I stepped back. I needed to obey his words, but I couldn't. I can’t do it.

“Simon. Please.”

“Dahhhhh….”

I could feel my whole body start to shake as I realized Simon pinned me into a corner. The closer he got, the more my heart raced. This is it. This was it. I am going to die. But I’d rather die than kill the love of my life.

“Si..”

I sunk down, dropped the knife, and held my face as he got up as close as he humanely could.

“D-Don’t..p-please.”

I sobbed, holding myself.

“Doll..”

What? Did he just.. No he didn’t, it’s all in my head. I am dead now, I just haven’t felt the pain yet of his teeth sinking into my-

“Dolllllyyyyy…”

That time I heard it. That was real. Getting some kind of courage, I stopped hiding my face and looked up at him. Simon was leaning down, looking at me, but his face was different. The same clouded eyes were there, but it was as if he was marveling at me.

“Simon?”

“Dooolllllyyyyyy…”

Dolly. He was calling me Dolly. My nickname he had given me when we first started seeing each other. I never knew Simon Riley would be expected to give someone a nickname but he did. His voice was deep and guttural, but I could hear his accent peeking out.

“Simon, are you there?” I asked, standing up on my feet.

“Rrrrrr….preeetttyyyy Dolllllyyyyy.”

“Oh Si..” I leaned in, holding his cheeks.

He still had most of his gear on, except he had his balenciaga mask on instead of his skull mask. I wanted to take it off so bad to really see his beautiful face, but it scared me to do so. Even though he was consciously still there, there was no telling what he would do out of his control. Tears ran rapid down my face, knowing that this confirmed my worst fear, that he was trapped within his own mind.

“Dolllyyyyyyy..cryyyinnngggggg…” Simon growled out.

I quickly wiped away my tears to not worry him.

“No, no I am fine, Simon, I promise.” I reassured him.

*BANG*

“GET HIM!!”

“RAAHHHHHHHHH”

“NO DON’T-”

In two seconds flat, Price and them busted in, angered Simon, and subdued him. The growls that came from Simon were so animalistic, as if he was no longer Simon.

“He could’ve bit you!!” Soap shouted at me.

“No, he recognized me! He called me Dolly!” I swore as Price, Gaz, and Soap were struggling to keep Simon contained.

“This’ll do.” Price mumbled as he took out a serum that would knock his ass out.

Simon saw it and cried out in animalistic rage, but the three of them managed to keep him on the ground.

“Wait, wait, please!!” I screamed.

The three men turned to me, waiting for what I was going to do next, but kept their arms and body weight on top of Simon. I got on my knees and approached Simon, who was thrashing around and growling at the three of them.

“Si.” I call him, his cloudy eyes immediately locking with me.

“We need to travel to get a cure, but we are almost there. I promise you.” I croaked, feeling the same tears and sadness returning.

“Rr..rrr. Dolllyyyyy.”

“Yes, I am Dolly. Your Dolly, Simon.” I comforted him, holding his cheek and running my thumb over the free skin that was on his face.

The tears fell down my face, as Simon relaxed into my touch.

“Pretttyyyyy..Dolllllyyyyyy.”

Before I could even react, Price injected the serum into Simon, who didn’t even react and only kept his focus on me.

“Dolll…yyyyy.”

Simon’s cloudy eyes then shut and remained still. I could feel the three men look at me.

“Fuck..” Gaz mumbled as he, Soap, and Price got off of the almost lifeless Simon.

I had cried out all of the tears that were left in me.

“Sweetie..” Price approached me.

I raised my head up and looked at him, in which he had a very genuine smile on his face.

“We gotta pack up now so we can head up ‘Orth and save your hubby.” Price told me.

I chuckled hearing him call Simon my hubby, despite us not being married.

“Yes, Captain.” I said, getting my composure together.

Price grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. I stared at the still Simon, who was breathing normally as if he was not what he was right now. But the thought of it being so close to him being back to normal, makes me so happy. We are nearly there, Simon, we are nearly there.

“Alright, let’s load up gang.”

END

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod x reader #cod ghost #cod modern warfare #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare x reader

180 notes · View notes

azsazz · 1 year

Text

Lips of an Angel (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Lips of an Angel per the request of many. The OG request came from @eddiesbixch696 : This randomly came to me because the song came on the radio but an absolute angst fest of an Azriel fic based on the song Lips of Angel by Hinder. The whole “my girl is in the next room but sometimes I wish she was you” lyric as he watches Elain. Ugh I love breaking my own heart sometimes 😭

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,512

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

This winter is one of the most bitter he’s experienced in Velaris. Or maybe it’s just him, his feelings as of late, the cold and empty cavern that is his heart without you, his thoughts wandering towards the female he’d left behind for the one who he’d thought would be his end all be all.

He turned out to be so fucking wrong about Elain.

She’s at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle but Azriel had chosen not to go. She’d begged him, tugged on his arm and gave him that doe-eyed look that normally would have him giving in to any of her demands. Now it just makes him grimace.

He could hardly think about eating with the guilty thoughts swirling through his mind, consuming him completely.

What is wrong with him? He wanted Elain, and he had got it, at the price of hurting you. Azriel hadn’t seen a glimpse of you or heard a whisper about you in years. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were even still in town, how you’re doing now.

He’s been distancing himself as of late, and if the middle Archeron sister has any worries about it, she didn’t voice them to him. It’s hard to be around her when all he does is compare everything she does to you. They way she hugs him with her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes when you would wrap your arms around his middle and burrow your head into the crook of his neck. The way that she goes on and on, needing to fill any and all silence with stories and anecdotes, whereas with you, the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company, no words needed.

He’d hardly been coming to bed, unable to sleep because of the constant running thoughts of his ex. The drink he usually had was more like a bottle, but did nothing to aid his insomnia. Flying didn’t seem to help either, nor sparring. It’s like all his favorite things had been tainted with the thought of you, in his arms gliding over the city or the smile on your face when you’d landed your first strike on him with the practice sword after six months of giving it your all.

Azriel doubted you’d kept up on your training after he’d ended things.

When he was able to get a few minutes of shut eye it was when he was away and could hold the necklace you’d left behind in his hand. His only reminder that you were ever really his to begin with.

It was the only thing he’d had left of you. You must’ve dropped it behind the dresser some time before you’d cleared the home of your things and he’d found it when Elain had wanted to move the furniture around in his room. Something about a more peaceful mind, if the bed was slid to the wall that didn’t face the door. He’d caught sight of the gleaming metal and tucked it away before she noticed.

He’d tried to regift it. First to Gwyn, because he still wanted to see it, gleaming, wrapped around another pretty neck. He’d gone so far as to give it to Clotho before promptly asking for it back thirty minutes later with crimson cheeks and a heavy heart.

He’d even thought about giving it to Elain for a special occasion. Surely she wouldn’t even know that it used to be yours. He’d imagined mouthing at the pendant hanging between your breasts every time you wore it. He hadn’t had the gall to give it to Elain.

So Azriel had hid it in a secret drawer of his desk after that, promptly forgetting about it because he’d been so enthralled with the breath of fresh air that was Elain.

He doesn't know what he’s doing in the city. Usually he opts for a long flight or time off in a different court, hoping that the warm sun of Summer would burn his feelings away or the fresh breezes of Autumn would clear his head.

But he’s here, shrunk down into his coat because he hadn’t thought to put a hat on, the bitter winds kissing his cheeks and neck annoyingly, and it reminds him of you. Of course it does, because he can’t seem to stop thinking about you, the way you’d always press your freezing fingers up under his shirt for warmth on a cold day.

Azriel’s hair keeps getting blown into his eyes and as much as he tries to shove it back it only slaps right back. He needs to get it cut but doesn’t even have the energy to do that, with everything going on in his mind lately.

He blinks harshly at the tendrils poking his eyes. He stumbles slightly, a strand stuck, and he’s trying to claw at it while grumbling, not quite watching where he’s going because he assumes that everyone will give him a wide berth like they always do–

He runs straight into someone, stumbling back as he frees the piece of hair from his eye. He blinks, an apology already rolling off the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who stands before him–

He’d forgotten how perfect you were.

An angel in the flesh.

“Azriel,” you breathe, stunned, and it makes his heart fracture in his chest.

You’re not alone like he wished you would be when he’d thought about all of the times this could happen, should he be so lucky. There’s a child with you, immediately tucking behind your leg at his appearance.

“(Y/N)...It’s really good to hear your voice,” he forces around the thickness in his throat. Saying my name goes unsaid.

Azriel can’t stop looking down at the little boy, hiding behind his mother’s leg. You’ve got a protective hand curled around his thick knit hat, the other clasping a to-go mug of what he scents as hot cocoa from the best bakery in Velaris. The one they used to frequent together, though he always remembered that you were more of a warm cider kind of female. Oh how you’ve changed.

It’s clear the babe is nervous, by the way he keeps tugging on the bottom of your coat. You don’t hesitate, hauling the little boy into your arms even with a hand full.

Azriel’s breath catches and his heart hammers in his chest because there’s tiny wings poking out of the child's fluffy coat.

“This is Wren,” you introduce awkwardly, shifting on your feet anxiously.

He looks closer now, noting how he’s around three or four, from what he can tell, and his heart aches because surely there is only one explanation for this. There's a burning in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’d moved on even quicker.

Those eyes…

Azriel’s brows furrow, his mouth parting but no words come out. His mind is whirling because Wren’s eyes are a mirror of his own and the longer he looks the more he can see himself in the child. The natural downturn of his mouth, almost apathetic in appearance, his wide eyes, lids lowered a touch over his perfectly round irises - the most stoic child he’s ever seen.

His eyes are glued to the small boy. He has your nose, your ruddy cheeks that nearly give every emotion you’re feeling away. Your cheeks are red right now, in fact. He’s sure that if he tugged the hat off of the child’s head all he’d see is inky black hair.

“Is he–”

There’s no way he’s not.

You’re quick to intervene, pressing your wrist over the boy's ear and leaning his head into your shoulder, blocking out your response from his tiny ears. “Yes, he is.”

Everything freezes. The snow fluttering down pauses its tracks, the wind is no longer a nuisance brushing the back of his neck with cold fingers, all of the sounds of the bustling city are drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

His hand twitches, lifting as if to touch the child, make sure he’s real, maybe pull that hat off after all. He knows that you’re telling the truth, you were never one to lie about anything, would rather suffer the consequences than talk your way out of it.

But this…

You turn, shifting away from the hand that’s reaching out.

Azriel flinches, arm falling back to his side. He physically cannot look anywhere else besides his son, who seems perfectly content in your arms, head shoved where your neck meets your shoulder. His gloved fingers clutch tightly to your jacket but his wide hazel eyes stay locked on male in front of him.

A punch in the gut is all he feels as he nearly collapses under the child’s gaze. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse that has his neck throbbing. There’s a dull ache inside of him, a numb feeling humming around his hollow chest where he wishes your mating bond would lie. Countless nights he’d prayed to the Mother to tether the two of you together - each night had without answer.

He never prays for Elain.

“He doesn’t know,” you admit, and it burns your throat like acid. You hadn’t had the guts to tell Wren that his father had broken your heart into a million pieces a few nights before you found out that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t had the heart to tell Azriel either.

Hadn’t thought it necessary, as he was perfectly happy with Elain while you were slowly putting yourself back together for the babe growing inside of you. You were determined not to let Azriel affect your life from then on, and it had been hard, but you’d finally gotten that feeling shoved so deep down inside of you you could pretend that you were okay, for Wren.

You hadn’t been expecting to run into Azriel ever again, and now that he’s standing in front of you, that part of your chest has been blown wide open.

He nearly looks the same as he did that night years ago. Hair disheveled from the winds, never thinking to bring a hat with him when his mind was awry, like he didn’t deserve to be warm. His eyes had dark rings around them much like they do now, the hazel color shroud by shadows, like the ones wrapped around his legs, the same way Wren had cuddled into yours before you’d picked him up.

His lips are chapped from the cold and even from beneath his thick coat you can tell that he hasn’t been eating well, sleeping either. Something awful must be going on.

He’d seemed so much happier with Elain that day he left.

You don’t have the heart to wonder what must have happened.

But as much as you want to ask, it’s no longer your place. You shouldn’t care about the male before you, eyes looking so painfully similar to your sons, it was hard not to think about Azriel every time you looked at Wren, even with the wings to match.

He nods once, finally breaking contact with the mini version of himself. He swallows and it hurts, there’s a lump of emotion caught in his throat because he hadn’t been prepared to run into you out and about in the city after years of not seeing you, but now he has a child. A child that doesn’t know him from the next male walking down the street.

He’s not sure what to say, what he can say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem good enough. I still love you won’t have an effect on the female who surely doesn’t believe that could be true.

He startles when a figure draws closer. He had been so caught up in what was going on before him that he hadn’t noticed the approaching male or heard his shadows repeating the information to him.

The male stops next to you, catching your attention with a hand on your lower back. He immediately senses something wrong when you look up at him with a forced smile. His mouth turns into a frown, emerald gaze taking in the shadowsinger standing across from you, immediately recognizing him.

“Azriel,” and there’s your fucking perfect mouth speaking his name. His heart still leaps in his chest when you do, and he wonders how he ever could’ve been so stupid as to choose Elain over you. “This is Malik.”

The man nods at him, eyes sparking with an emotion that’s gone before even Azriel can pick it up, so he responds the same, tilting his head but offering no words to the male who’s stepped up beside you.

He watches the male beside you with his spymaster’s eye. The one that’s kissed your cheek and has a hand caressing your back, when it should be him who’s doing that. It should be him who Wren is reaching out to.

“Daddy,” Wren smiles, and Azriel’s heart twists in his chest, splits down the center at the utter confidence in his son’s voice, claiming this male to be his father.

Malik is…handsome, Azriel supposes, in his own way.

Azriel studies him and finds that the male his son is calling his father looks quite similar to him. Dark hair shoved under a matching knit cap, thick lashes dusted with snow, fluttering over his piercing green eyes. Instead of lines around his mouth from centuries of frowning he has them by his eyes, like he’s the happiest male on the planet.

If he’s truly with (Y/N), he is.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Malik?” you request gently, passing the babe over. The male gives you a soft smile that makes the fire in Azriel’s stomach grow. He watches Malik lean down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, and Azriel doesn’t miss the way that you lean into it before flinching back, turning your guilty gaze on him like he’d just caught you cheating.

No, it had been the other way around, hadn’t it?

“Mommy?” Wren questions with a glance towards Azriel. He stretches his wings out behind him and Azriel’s eyes prick with emotion, seeing wings so little.

Wren is already so much like his father, with his dark hair and pouty frown, gleaming eyes and controlled temper. But those tiny wings hurt you that much more.

A not so subtle reminder to Azriel of all of the flaws he passed down to his son. Never a babe with Elain, though. The children he used to imagine all had your eyes and smile, your calming aura and beautiful laugh. He’d never thought his son would be a spitting image of him, with his hair, his eyes, his nose, his wings.

“I’ll be right there baby,” you reassure, passing your cup of cocoa to Malik. Azriel watches the brush of your fingers against his and his throat clogs with emotion. The skin of his hand is flawless, smooth and stretching across muscle and bone, nothing like his, marred with callouses and scars.

“It was nice to meet you, Azriel,” Malik says in that low voice, one that Azriel would feel like is completely genuine if he weren’t kissing his (Y/N) and holding his son.

“Likewise,” he answers stiffly because he doesn’t want to upset you. He’d done enough of that.

Wren doesn’t say anything as they depart, keeping his big hazel eyes on Azriels. They widen slightly when his gaze brushes over his wings but he’s not as impressed as Azriel would’ve thought, and he doesn’t know why the response doesn’t sit well with him.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” you begin when they’re out of earshot.

“I do.”

“And I know that,” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut for a breath while you twist your fingers together. You’re nervous. Hadn’t planned on telling him ever, and now that he’s seen Wren up close there’s no denying it now.

Of course you’d thought this day might come, but now, every scenario you’d thought thorough in your head disappears.

“He doesn’t know,” Azriel states again because all of this seems like a dream gone rogue. He wonders if he’s somehow slipped into an unconscious state, a lucid dream perhaps, which didn’t seem unlikely because he hasn’t been sleeping lately.

“No,” you agree, “And I don’t want him to.”

His head snaps up, mouth parted in disbelief. He’s ready to argue, slipping so easily back into the way he was right before he’d ended things, emotional and utterly a wreck.

You speak before any words can escape, “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t. You have no say in my son's life. You gave that up when you gave me up.”

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Azriel stays silent.

Your voice is thick when you respond and he hates that he’s made you feel like this again.

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t even know what to say. There are so many questions racing through his mind he doesn’t even know where to start so he just blurts out the first thought his tongue grabs onto.

“Who’s going to teach him to fly?”

“Rhys said that he would,” you answer, and the flicker of anger that cuts across his eyes tells you that he hadn’t been aware his brother knew he had a child. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his shadows sweep around his feet now, just like they always do when he’s upset. “He’s taking care of us.”

Azriel needs to calm down, he knows he does, but he feels completely blindsided by his own brother right now that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between winnowing right up to the River House to give Rhys a piece of his mind or jumping up into the air to release all of the rage and sadness that’s consumed him tenfold.

He’s taking care of us.

Azriel should be the one taking care of you.

“He knows?” His voice is deathly calm and it sends shivers up your spine.

It’s why Wren didn’t look impressed by his wings. Because he has seen Rhys’ before.

His shadows are whipping around erratically and Malik takes notice, questioning your safety with a single look.

You reassure you’re okay with a nod and he relaxes slightly, letting Wren to the ground when the little boy squirms in his grasp.

Azriel watches how the male places his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.

“I asked him not to tell you,” you admit wetly, “Begged him, really.”

He’s brewing.

“Don’t,” your voice is stern, not liking how he’s stewing. “Don’t you blame him. It was my choice.”

“And what about my choice?”

Your mouth goes slack, “Your choice in what?”

“This,” he roars because he can’t take it anymore. His shadows flare around him, a wall of darkness sweeping up from the ground to his shoulders.

Wren screams, pushing away from Malik and rushing over to where you’re facing off with Azriel.

“Mommy!”

The utter terror in the little boys voice makes Azriel’s spine straighten and his stomach churn.

Wren’s on him in an instant, little fists shoving and hitting his thighs. It shouldn’t have the slightest effect on him but it does. He’s defending his mother because some strange male has raised his voice at her.

Each point of contact is a stake to his heart. Azriel stands helplessly, watching the little boy go at him until you’re crouching down and pulling him away, Malik pressing behind you with his hands on your arms and a glare in Azriel’s direction.

You look up from where you’re hugging Wren tightly to your chest that’s throbbing painfully, heart racing from something akin to fear, something you’d never felt for Azriel before. There’s tears brimming in your eyes from the sight, from the conversation. He’d never raised his voice at you like this.

This male…you don’t even know who he is anymore.

Your voice shakes when you speak, “You don’t get a choice, Azriel. You lost that a long time ago and you know that.” Your eyes wash over him, up and down. He nearly melts, when venom laces your voice, despite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You made that choice.”

“(Y/N),” he reaches out to try and stop as you stand, lifting Wren into your arms again. You shrink away from him.

“I have to go,” you mutter, allowing Malik to usher you and your son away from the stewing Illyrian. You’d always been able to fight for yourself, even without the training. Malik surely knows that, but it still disgusts Azriel how he’s done nothing to defend you.

Azriel turns to look at the babe one last time. He’s stood frozen, head hung and snow falling into the back of his jacket like a fool, watching the love of his life walk away from him again, but this time, he’s the one who’s heartbroken.

#Azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #part 2 #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #dad!azriel #wren alternate timeline #dad!azriel au #daddyaz #azriel angst

1K notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Knock 'em dead kid- 141

This is based on a request:

F!Reader, assassin! reader, mentions of blood,

Backstory:

Before working with the team, you were working as a mercenary for a private military company. You dealt with hard missions, always succeeding though. You were one of the best highly trained soldiers your branch could ever seek for. Always completing the mission with no regrets, and no other questions asked. No one in your old team ever mess with you, they knew what you could be capable of if left with you alone for 30 seconds.

You are now a 28 year old soldier, a badass with snipes, automatic rifles, and your favorite an M-16. After Price visited his old friend he found you. You had just arrived from a mission with your team, you were well groomed for what you had just done. He sure thought you were just another young one. No experience under your belt. Now it was hard to judge you, all of your missions had been redacted, the only thing he could see was your name, alias, age and who you were currently working for, besides that everything else was cleared out.

"you are coming with me kid." he said, handing you your assignment. You grabbed your bags and off you went.

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

It has been a year working with the Task Force. They all tried to take you seriously, but you looked so adorable, like a little kid. You were so small compared to them all. And the way you would look up at them with those kind innocent eyes of yours, how could they ever tell who you were when alone with the enemy.

And apparently tonight would be the night they met "grim" the alias you had earned over the years. As the team geared up, soap approached you. Cocky bastard behavior tonight, you thought. "if you feel like you are in danger you call out for me, I'll protect ya lass." he gave you a smug smile. "sure, I'll do that" you rolled your eyes when you turned from him.

By 0300, the team had touched ground, you all in night vision. "Ghost, soap, grim, take left, gaz, delta, you stay with me." Price commanded, the team splits up, you trail behind the men. "Stay close grim." soap said, you nod. At some point you reach your spot. But things turn left quickly. As you all ducked down, two rounds start flying towards you all. Ghost orders you both follow him. He finds a small trench. It was a gun fight for a while.

And after much fight, you guys can finally move forward. Soap always making sure you are behind him. ''Soap watch our backs, Grim, you stay with me." Ghost cold voice whispers. You two enter a building, ghost gets hit in the face by the butt of a gun. You duck down, "soap, come in!" you order at him. But you couldn't wait for him. So you grab your gun, push a few away from your commander and with a knife you stab on in the eye, you cold bloodlessly take the knife out. The man holds onto his face, kneeling down.

You look back at Ghost who happens to still be on the ground. You finish the man with a bullet through the back of his skull. The other men start bolting towards you. You kick one away as the other holds you by the throat. You wish you could make a joke, but you have to protect your team. It was the first time you worked with a full team. It was odd to be selfless.

Your elbow comes in contact with the mans stomach and as the other gets up, you quickly grab the mans arm, biting into it and then you flip him over. He falls to the ground. You hold your knife close, you start fighting with the other man, your knife cutting his skin. Blood splatters on your face, leaking down your shirt. The man slaps you to which you quickly punch him.

Meanwhile, Soap arrives. He was in shock watching you fight. He tried to approach you, "stay back, help Ghost up." you stabbed the man in his abdomen, you pull your gun out and shoot at his chest twice. You turn back to the man you had flipped around. He has a gun pointed at you, his hands trembling. "not so good are you." you grab his gun, throwing it away. You kick his balls, to which you earn a groan. Price walks in, thinking you and the other men had cleared the room. He was in shock, seeing how a woman of your size took down the big guys.

Gaz walks in, and immediately looks at soap. "yep." he nods, knowing the question gaz was about to ask.

You finish the man, shooting him in the head. More blood splashed onto you. You turn to find the team. They had once seen you as the new kid, a harmless little thing, and now you were here standing in front of them. You smile. "done!"

Your eyes meet there's, you start to laugh at their reactions. Even Ghost, although masked, can really be expressive with his eyes. "you should wash that look now. we have a mission to complete."

Price takes a closer look at the men you've killed. "those men were the mission."

"oh..sorry?"

He chuckled like a proud father and walked over to you, handing you an old handkerchief. "wipe your face and let's go home yeah?"

you nod, that sweet little girl look in your eyes. He was really terrified at that. How can you just switch up on them so easily, dont know, but they were impressed, scared and proud, all at once.

A/N: I honestly believe that was the day Ghost was afraid of something...

I really hope you did like it, also I know this is shorter than my usuals, sorry about that

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

502 notes · View notes

pancakeke · 1 year

Text

Looks like reddit is about to get a whole lot worse. AI companies have been scraping reddit's content to use in language learning models and reddit's owners have decided that they should start charging for API use so they can cash in.

Unfortunately this will fuck up a number of 3rd party moderation and accessibility tools. These tools were built by users out of necessity reddit refuses to implement desperately needed functions themselves. reddit claims they will allow free use of their API for developers who build things to improve reddit, and they also claimed they will create better moderation tools for the site. But they have a long history of making bullshit promises like that.

Mods are extremely concerned about the rollout for the API changes. They are unsure how the communication (if any) will be provided and how quickly their mod teams can react. Mods and the developers for their 3rd party tools contribute an unbelievable amount of unpaid labor toward keeping reddit usable, which in turn contributes to reddit's overall value. Moving forward with switching to a paid API makes user lives harder without providing any compensation just to make money that will not be shared and, let's be real, will not be invested back into the site.

3rd party reddit readers are also in trouble with this change, which is bad news for every mobile reddit user. Reddit's official app sucks shit both in terms of features and stability. The developer of the free reddit app Apollo has obtained reddit's API pricing and it would cost him $20 million USD per year to obtain access for Apollo. This is more money than the app generates with paid subscriptions.

There are a lot of rumors that reddit wants to take its stock public which would explain why they are making money first, users last decisions such as this.

NYT article about this via archive.org (no paywall).

mod post from r/historians discussing the API access issue as well as reddit's history of failure to support its moderators.

Verge article discussing the API restriction impacting accessibility (note: no one from r/blind was not contacted to comment and the sub has a years long history of pushing reddit for better accessibility with reddit never once making any real commitment).

mod post from r/blind.

Additional mod post from r/blind with letter template for users to email reddit in protest of the API changes, as well as additional info about the changes.

mod post from r/apolloapp with info about API pricing (which is ridiculously expensive compared to other sites using a paid API model).

edit: btw if you make some kind of dumbass "this is good because I don't like reddit" comment you're a piece of shit.

#reddit #current events #long post #social media

355 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 5 months

Note

Hey! I appreciate your perspective on computer-based things. I think I need to get a laptop and would love your opinion on decent brands. If you don't have an opinion or want to answer please disregard the q.

Context: I'm often on the move and really want something small, light, and that will last a long time. I'm bad about buying new things or taking things to be fixed so ideally it's not something that dies quickly or needs frequent repairs. For a while I used an iPad for this but I need more of a keyboard than tablets have and the shelf life of an iPad is shorter than it should be for the cost. Mine is 7 years old and only works while plugged in... I liked my Macbook Pro I got for college but it's almost 15 years old and given I haven't needed a new one since I don't think spending all that on a Mac makes sense either. I use a gaming PC mostly but I'm going to need to travel a lot more in the upcoming year. I'm ok to spend up a bit since I want it to last.

I think you're going to have to adjust your expectations about the average functional lifespan of electronics. Seven years is a lot to get out of any tablet and fifteen years is way way way above average for a computer.

At work we estimate that the functional lifespan of a laptop will be around five years and the functional life of a desktop will be around seven years; we include upgrades in that lifespan, like adding RAM and storage.

It is not *unusual* to get more than five years out of a laptop or seven years out of a desktop, but if you are a heavy user of anything other than a browser and a word processor, that's about the time when you'll find that the computer feels slow enough to be frustrating. This isn't a hard limit, and it's not something that everyone experiences because people use computers differently, but if you're an artist and you use a drawing program that program will start to feel slow after a while because as updates and patches and drivers have been tweaked for newer devices they've slowly left your device in the dust.

This isn't planned obsolescence, by the way. Computer manufacturers try to "future proof" their devices to a certain extent, but you just can't anticipate certain kinds of changes. Maybe your laptop was manufactured before there were consumer SSDs available so its operating system doesn't take the advantages and limitations of SSDs into account. Maybe your desktop was built for DDR3 RAM and we're now on DDR5 and people aren't writing programs to the standard of the old technology, they're taking advantage of the standards of the new technology.

Since you were able to use your devices comfortably for such a long time, it sounds like you're not a very heavy user and don't need to worry too much about beefing up your specs. However it does sound like you want to keep your computer and use it as long as possible while paying a reasonable price for it (which is good! I think we should all try to extend the lives of our electronic devices as much as possible!).

I actually think you sound like a good match for a Framework laptop.

Framework is a company that makes laptops that are a lot more modular than what's on the market these days. They're mean to be easy to open up for upgrades and sturdy for heavy use. Most of the parts of the laptop are easily replaceable - including the screen - so you can use them for a long time and easily make upgrades that will help the computer feel fresher.

They're a bit more expensive than comparable PCs but much easier to repair if you aren't comfortable opening up your own computer (framework is intentionally built to be easy for people who are non-technical to work on their computers), and they are a LOT less expensive than comparable macs.

I still think you're probably looking at around 7 years of regular use out of a Framework and it won't *break* at that point, it will just. Probably be a bit slow and frustrating. You might not be able to get parts for it after a certain point. You eventually won't be able to upgrade the OS. But that's true of all computers.

I've still got my 2005 macbook. It still turns on, I can still use garage band on it. But it doesn't connect to the internet and uses such an old USB standard that it is extremely slow to transfer data on or off of and it cries and freezes if i try to use photoshop. It's not broken, it's just no longer useful as a daily computer.

What I'm defining as functional here is "Is able to run multiple programs (including at least one browser with 50+ tabs open and two office suites) at the same time for 8-10 hours a day without crashing, freezing, or losing data and restarting is not a major inconvenience."

In those terms, it does sound like you're probably in need of an upgrade (I can't imagine that your current machine is particularly quick) and I think that a framework laptop would suit your needs well.

If you're looking for something somewhat less expensive, you can generally find a decent thinkbook with a 12th or 13th gen i5 processor, 16GB RAM, and a 500GB SSD for around $700-ish, which is the low end of what I think you're going to pay for a decent laptop. I'm reccing lenovo here because I personally like them and have found them to be very easy to crack open for repairs and upgrades. Stick to the thinkbook over the thinkpad because that's the business line and is a bit sturdier and they are designed to be easier to upgrade over time.

Actually, here's a thinkbook with a 12th gen i5, 40GB RAM, and a 1tb SSD for under $700. That's a shockingly good price for that laptop; the reseller OEMGenuine is one I've purchased from many times before for work and I've found them to be reliable, though the reason those specs are so good is because they've added aftermarket parts, so your RAM and SSD won't be under warranty from Lenovo.

For Framework you're looking at at least $1000, but it's easy to plug and play with upgrades so you can start out with lower specs (except processor, don't cheap out on the processor) and upgrade later. The framework is a bit smaller and easier to travel with, but I have a laptop quite similar to the lenovo and it's not a huge pain to move around - it's very light but the 15" screen might be bigger than you're looking for.

If you're willing to spend a little bit more and you're very uninterested in doing your own upgrades and would prefer the most computer you can get for your money right out of the gate, this is a 12th gen i7 thinkpad with 40GB RAM and a 2TB SSD for $1150. (I've not ordered from this reseller before, so maybe check over their terms if you're considering purchasing from them.)

140 notes · View notes