#kate watches op

[thychesters]

luffy finds his unconscious body and immediately it’s “zoro, how could this happen when you were here?” that’s an awful lot of faith and trust and it’s a simple phrase that speaks volumes AND OH

most of the time, luffy has things handled. he’s the captain, he’s strong and he’s supposed to. if luffy’s not there, no worries! zoro’s got this. and if zoro doesn’t? if he doesn’t?

#two boys in a dinghy making promises and oaths; pledging fealty to one another #so what are you supposed to do when the one constant you always have to rely on is suddenly out of commission? #i have more thoughts but also i am tired. to be expanded on tomorrow. #this is ONE LINE #i’m on skypiea! zoro got knocked out by enel #luffy’s been out of the snake’s belly for 30 seconds and i’m calling it a night #zolu #kate watches op #one piece #skypiea

[walshies]

#kate walsh #I cannot stop thinking about kate (and her boobs) in fargo #(not that I ever watched it) #(SHE IS HOT AND I AM A HUGE LESBIAN OKAY) #op

[sea-owl]

it's featheruary and we have no wing aus. I must fix this, especially since we have the Featheringtons!

As a huge fuck you to his dad (and may have been unknowingly partially inspired by his best friend's huge flock) Simon took his falcon wings and went around traveling to create his own flock. Making a very well known point that they were all his wards and he was not going to mate any of the women of his flock. Some joined to escape their birth flocks, others to help ease financial burdens, others did it because why not? While this practice was unusual in today's age it was not unheard of especially when it was used during times of war or plague.

When Simon told his aunt Agatha of his plan to create his own flock of wards she immediately sent for his first new one in the form of young Gareth St. Clair and his too big for his body canary wings.

"If you are creating a flock then take your cousin." Lady Danbury ordered. "Lord knows he'll be better off with a presumed rake than with that man he calls father."

The next person to join was Kate Sharma with her peacock wings. With the recent passing of her father and the financial strain on her family Kate began looking for ways to help. She knew there was enough money left for Mary to comfortably take care of one daughter and provide her a dowery but not two. Hearing rumors of a duke's heir looking to create his own flock Kate went looking for Simon. Simon agreed to take Kate on as one of his wards, and unknown to Kate he adds to money she sends her birth flock.

Next to join was Sophie Beckett and her silvery wings. Gareth had found her when Simon went to do business with Earl Gunningworth at Gunningworth's country estate. Gareth had came running up to Simon whispering about a young lonely lady. When Simon inquired further with Earl Gunningworth he was only told that Sophie was the earl's ward. Simon immediately knew the earl was just hiding Sophie away and suspected a former mistress was involved. So Simon took a gamble and offered to take Sophie in as his own ward. Just as Simon suspected Earl Gunningworth was happy to get rid of his illegitimate daughter.

The fourth member to join his growing flock was raven winged Penelope. Featherington. Simon wasn't too proud of how she ended up joining but he knew it was leagues better than where she could have ended up. What kind of father bets his daughter over a game of cards? Simon took a quick trip to the club the night before he and his flock were to leave London again. He needed a drink to steel his nerves as he always did when in London. Simon hated being in the same city as his father. There he overheard Lord Featherington betting the hand of his third born daughter in an attempt to win back some money he had lost. Well Simon couldn't let that slide, he knows of several women who would have his head if he didn't do something. Simon took the bet and won, but instead of a future wife Simon took Penelope in as his ward.

Penelope was sent to join her new flock the very next day, and then they were off to Gloucestershire as Penelope made a suggestion for their next new member, Phillip Crane who had wings like a barn owl. Penelope informed Simon that she met Phillip while on a trip to visit her cousin in the country. Penelope liked the boy but hated how his father treated him. Simon saw what Penelope meant when all he didn't even get to finish his sentence about wanting to see Phillip before Sir Crane pushed Phillip towards Simon and claiming Simon could take him.

Michael was the next to join in all his golden ealgle winged glory. Simon still isn't sure how that happened. He just kinda showed up one day when the flock was in Scotland, and then never left. But Michael really helped bring Phillip and Penelope out of their shells. So despite Michael being a pain in Simon's ass sometimes he did like having him as a member of the flock.

Now Simon definitely remembers how they got Lucy whose dove wings still had baby feathers on them when they acquired her. Penelope had gone to visit her sister Felicity, who still resides in the Featherington flock, with Michael and Phillip. The trio left together and then had come back with a small child. They claimed Lucy's parents had passed and her uncle was evil. They couldn't just leave her there! After writing to Lady Danbury to confirm that the trio did not kidnap a child from a loving flock Simon found himself with his final ward.

Once satisfied Simon then proceeded to travel the world with his flock giving them the freedoms he has been so desperately craving for years. Once in a while different members of his flock will go off and visit their birth flocks. But they always make sure to send note of their safe arrivals and leavings.

In the beginning of season of 1814 Simon receives a letter from Lady Danbury that his father has died. He must return to London as the new Duke of Hastings.

You also have three eligible young ladies in your flock. Perhaps it is time to make their debut and for you to find a mate.

Simon debates this, it is true that Kate, Sophie, and Penelope are all of marriageable age, and as the leader of their flock he does have a duty to make sure they are married and matched well, as well as Lucy when she is of age.

He brings it up to his right hand Kate, who wrinkles her nose in confusion. "I suppose it would be right to make sure Sophie and Penelope find good husbands."

Simon doesn't mention how Kate doesn't include herself.

"Edwina wrote to me as well. It appears Lady Danbury is sponsoring her this season. I want to make sure she finds a good match as well."

So off to London the flock went, thankfully Lady Danbury always threw the first ball of the season. So at least the flock would be somewhat comfortable.

Or not.

Kate looked ready to punch someone. The plume on her wings clearly ruffled. Penelope looked plain miserable as she tried to hide herself in her wings. Thankfully Sophie just seemed fascinated with the environment around her, her wings relaxed.

Time for some intervention.

"Phillip go dance with Sophie, Michael dance with Kate." Simon ordered.

Phillip and Michael looked confused. Simon gets it. Usually they paired off by age, Simon and Kate, Michael and Sophie, and Phillip and Penelope. But Simon knows Kate needs Michael to make her laugh right now, and Penelope needs Simon's reassurance or she's gonna try to blend into the walls. Phillip's calmer personality will help in keeping Sophie calm.

Before either of them could say anything Simon pushes them off. "Go on, dance with your flock mates."

Simon offers his hand to Penelope who smiles as she takes it. Leading the red head to the dance floor they start the dance. Slowly Simon watched as Penelope looses the tension in her shoulders. Glancing around the room Simon saw Kate laughing and looking more cheerful at whatever Michael was telling her. Phillip and Sophie looked to be having fun too.

At one point dance partners join in a circle with another pair before they temporarily switch off and then repeat to switch back. The pair that joined Simon and Penelope looked to be brother and sister. Simon would put them about a year a part with the brother being older and the same age as Michael. Their blue jay wings immediately give away which flock they belong to.

"Hello sir," the girl greeted. Her voice was light and musical.

"Hello Miss Bridgerton," Simon greeted her.

"I do not believe we have formally been introduced," the girl said.

"No, we have not, but your wings easily give you away," Simon said.

Miss Bridgerton thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Yes I suppose they do. Well since you know my family name it is only right you know my given one as well. I am Daphne."

They twirl and Simon is glancing around for the rest of his flock mates. It was weird, so much blue around them. The only one who wasn't paired with a blue winged partner was Michael who somehow ended up dancing with Edwina.

"Simon Basset," Simon said.

They switched back to their original partners, and Simon raised an eyebrow at the slight blush on Penelope's cheeks.

"Did you have a lovely chat with Mr. Bridgerton?" Simon asked.

Penelope nodded. "Yes, he was quite kind."

The dance ended and Simon led Penelope back to the rest of their flock.

"Basset?"

Simon looked around at the calling of his name. No one here has called him Basset, they've all called him Hastings.

"Basset!"

Through the crowd appeared Anthony Bridgerton.

"Bridgerton!" Simon smiled.

"How are you old friend?" Anthony asked as the two men briefly hugged.

"Learning about how true all your whining was back at Oxford," Simon laughed. "I swear my little wards are giving me gray hair."

"Hey!" five voices shouted behind Simon.

Anthony peaked around Simon's shoulder at the mismatched flock. "When I heard the rumors all those years ago about you creating your own flock I thought surely they had it wrong."

"This isn't even all of them," Simon said. "The two fledglings are at home asleep."

"Trying to copy?" Anthony joked.

Simon played along. "Mine are clearly the superior version." Pointing to each one Simon introduced them. "This is Kate Sharma, Michael Stirling, Sophie Beckett, Phillip Crane, and Penelope Featherington. The fledglings at home are Gareth St Clair and Lucy Abernathy."

Simon turned to his flock. "This Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, some of you already became acquainted with his siblings on the dance floor."

Later on Kate had gone off with her sister saying she will be home tomorrow after spending some time with Edwina and Mary. Simon nodded and after making their farewells to Lady Danbury the flock returns to Hastings House.

"He's trying to fuck me!" Was the only thing the flock heard when Kate came home the next morning.

Several members chocked on their food.

"Kate what are you talking about?" Simon finally asked.

"Your buddy Viscount Bridgerton had the nerve to unfurl and show off his wings in public to me! Right in the middle of an argument too!" Kate exclaimed.

Simon felt his protective nature over his flock creep up, and had to slow his words so he doesn't start stuttering. Something wasn't adding up. Yes it was common that the unfurling of wings and showing the underside of them was part of the mating dance in many parts of the world. Also yes Anthony was one of the biggest rakes he has ever known. But Simon knew, that Anthony knew how to act in public especially with gently bred ladies.

"Kate, tell me what happened exactly," Simon said.

Best to figure this out before the others try to send Penelope out for retcon.

Meanwhile across town Anthony was trying to not strangle his brothers who were laughing at him after accidentally unfurling his wings in a threat display during his argument with Miss Kate Sharma.

#simon decides to heal his inner child au #jk it's a wings and spouses found family au #featheruary #if simon doesn't call for a duel first then anthony better watch out #simon's sisters are hella scarier #op is a fan of cultural differences and the hilarious misunderstandings that happen because of them #someone name this au I don't wanna #bridgerton #bridgerton spouses #simon basset #kate sharma #kate sheffield #michael stirling #sophie beckett #phillip crane #penelope featherington

[aminta]

Back to finishing bridgerton.... anthony is down SO bad it's hilarious

#op #i love messy af couple also kate is such a baddy #oli watches bridgerton

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 3) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘸𝘤 — 7.5𝘬

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 & 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵/𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 (𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳), 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨??

note: next part... i liked writing this one 🤭 also for all those wondering: yes the blonde mildly passive aggressive alpha woman is kate laswell <3 i love her with my everything

you rubbed at the temple of your forehead, trying and failing to keep it all together as you watched Simon sew a patch of fabric against a hole in a little pumpkin costume.

biting back a sigh, you fought the heavy frustration on your tongue as you reached over to him, numb to the sensation of your hands brushing against his gloved ones after the past hour of close proximity.

“like this,” you said in an even tone, demonstrating the stitch slowly, and he nodded, taking the needle, looking impossibly small between his fingers, and copied your movements.

leaning back again, you mulled over the day with a bitterness. 

when you pulled into the parking lot of the cafe on smith and wellerstation, you had already been having a shitty day, hands clutched tight around the leather grip of the steering wheel. you had spotted Simon, early as ever, by the front window of the cafe, hunched over and enveloped in black, scrolling through his phone.

for some reason, the sight of him only irked you more. and then it mixed in with that muddled feeling of guilt. or sympathy.

you had realized that you didn’t really know what you were feeling as you stepped into the cafe, a soft chime filling the half-vacant establishment. ordering a drink from a barista at the front counter, you glanced over your shoulder to find him staring back at you, ducking his head a little in greeting.

with a flush, you just snapped your head forward again to pay before picking up the steaming mug on the counter and carefully walking over to Simon, perched in a spacious booth that he easily filled.

you exchanged few words and a sorry excuse for a how are you that boiled down to you look tired and you do too. though it wasn’t unkind, you noted, a bit mournful of the fact that you had seen him three times within one week. two days in a row, no less.

pushing the thought away, you brushed your hair back and sat by him to dive into his first sewing lesson. he picked it up quickly, thankfully, and soon enough he was trying it on his own with a long, charged silence that simmered between you.

then, you had picked up your own supplies and a boy’s pirate costume, restitching the seam along the collar of the costume. 

all was well and silent until he suddenly broke the silence with a blunt remark. “where do you work?”

you glanced up at him with a stale feeling. all his attention was trained on the tiny costume in his big hands, a look of determination pinching his face. you almost laughed at the sight.

“at my dad’s auto shop.”

he nodded slowly. “you fix cars?”

“no,” you said, returning back to the pirate costume, “i do the finances for fixing the cars.”

you cleared your throat. “what about you? what do you do in the military?”

you could see him glance up at you in your peripheral. “it’s classified.”

brows flying up, and your head snapped up to look at him. “really?”

he made a strange noise between a huff and a snort. “no. i’m special ops. sas.”

“oh.”

you gazed into his face, which betrayed nothing, and shifted in your seat. did Simon Riley just joke with you?

for some reason, you felt one-upped in a strange way.

“does your occupation require you to wear…” you stared at his mask. “...masks?”

his brow furrowed for just a second, and he glared down at the pumpkin costume, but the pinched look smoothed away almost immediately. oops. you didn’t mean to piss him off.

“no. i can take it off if you want.”

“no, no,” you spluttered, feeling embarrassed, “whatever you’re comfortable with is fine with me.”

he just nodded slowly, and from the way his shoulders tightened, you could tell the short conversation had effectively ended. you wanted to smack yourself in the face, but instead you just took a sip of your hot drink with a quiet sigh, looking out the window of the cafe.

it was already getting dark in the late fall hours, the street lights twinkling in the night, brown and orange leaves swirling in the breeze across the sidewalk. you jumped when a familiar girl, clutching at her purse, and scot, hands shoved into his sweatpants, were walking side by side toward the cafe, locked in a riveting conversation.

you watched them enter with a half-dropped jaw, their conversation loud, chattery, and bubbly as it filled the now empty cafe. when Sarah spotted you in the booth beside Simon, she waved with an excitement that had your stomach curdling.

you sent her a weak smile back, looking at her, then to the man beside her. they both strode up and Johnny, like always, gave you a, “hey, lass! how you been doin’?”

you withered into your seat. “good.”

you looked to Sarah with narrowed eyes, expecting a good explanation for this… coincidence. Simon had stilled beside you, looking as equally peeved as you felt, staring up at the two of them.

Sarah must’ve sensed the terse energy in the room because she turned between you and Johnny nervously. “i was just looking for you at your apartment, but you weren’t there, but i happened to meet Johnny in the hallway, and he happened to be kind enough to show me the way to where you are, and—”

eyes flitting to Johnny, you tried to conceal the bitter boil in your stomach that spilled out into your face. snitch, you wanted to hiss at the innocent smile on his face, remembering how he had listened with an intensity to the conversation between you and Simon the other day.

then, Sarah dug around her bag and pulled out her phone, waving it around at you with a weak look. “you weren’t responding to my texts…”

you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the notifications, seeing that she had called you twice and sent about ten texts. oops.

you felt a bit more sympathetic for the guilt dripping off Sarah. 

“sorry,” you said, reaching across the table to pat her hand. “i was a bit busy teaching this guy how to sew.”

at that, Johnny’s brows rose slightly, but the look of shock on his face melted off his face as soon as it had been there. you just eyed him with suspicion.

Simon cut in, seeming like he wanted to change the topic of conversation, and said in that gruff, flat voice, “what do you need? is it an emergency?”

Sarah shook her head quickly. “no, no, i just wanted to tell you guys about last minute party plans for tomorrow night. since it’s going to be the weekend…?”

you cocked your head. “party plans for who?”

“for the group,” she said, then added, “but we can invite plus twos. it’s a little fall function at Iris’s place.”

then she gestured to Johnny in a friendly manner and a smile. “so i invited Johnny as well! since he’s your neighbor,” she said, gesturing to you, and then to Simon, “and Johnny’s your coworker! so i thought that’d be fun. right you guys?”

Johnny just grinned at Sarah. for a moment, there was a tense silence, before you exhaled out between gritted teeth. “why didn’t you just text me?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “i did. but i wanted to bring you these.”

she dug around her bag for a moment before sliding a tupperware box of frosted cookies that looked like mini-ghosts.

“a sample for the bake sale. i wanted you to be my taste tester,” she said with a wink, sharing a grin with Johnny, who looked perfectly content with the tense energy of the conversation.

“thanks,” you chewed out, staring down at the sugar cookies. you really were grateful. but with Simon’s presence flush by your side, and Johnny’s eyes darting around the cafe, and flitting over you, you just wanted to shrink away.

“i’ll see you tomorrow then?” she offered, and you nodded, feeling like you were chaining yourself to another death sentence when you said, “i’ll be there.”

Simon nodded beside you, and usually Sarah wouldn’t think it was enough to take that for a yes, but seeming that he barely seemed to talk at all, she gave you both a curt nod of satisfaction before bidding her goodbyes. Johnny gave you a quick farewell, slapping Simon on the back, then turned on his heel and followed Sarah out the cafe.

you both sat in a long unmoving silence, before Simon sighed out heavy and long by your side, taking up the pumpkin costume again. he embodied exactly how you felt, and in a silent truce for peace, you nudged over the tupperware of cookies to him.

he took one, flipping down his mask to eat it before pulling it back up again, and you just returned to your sewing, chewing on soft sugar cookies, a comfortable silence filling the space between you.

it was mid-evening—the setting sun filtering through the foggy clouds above and a teeth-chattering cold falling over the city as you pulled up along Iris’s block. 

all you knew about your fellow group therapy member was that she struck gold in college—married a rich guy and lived in a big suburban home. the kind that had a big pool in the back. the kind that you had always wanted as a kid, but ended up more often than not in your dad’s greasy auto repair shop for a good night’s sleep rather than your own home.

you turned off the ignition, sighing out, and lurched out of your car in slow and sluggish movements, making sure to grab the dish of food you made from the backseat. a childhood favorite that your mom used to make.

walking up the steps, you knocked on the big front door, rubbing at your hands, trying to build a friction between them as you shivered at the front door. when no one answered, you reached out to ring the doorbell when—

“cold?”

you jumped with a yelp, jerking around to see Simon standing a step behind you and his hands shoved into the pocket of his jeans. he still had that black surgical mask over the lower-half of his face, but he was wearing one of those leather jacket with a fur lining that looked military issued, dirty blonde hair strewn across his forehead.

he cleans up nicely, you realized with a dry swallow, immediately shaking the thought from yourself.

“Simon, you scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, clutching at the fast thud in your chest.

his eyes flashed, and you could tell he was smirking under that stupid mask of his. 

“sorry,” was all he offered, reaching around you to ring the doorbell. his chest brushed against your back and you flinched away from him with flushed cheeks.

you both waited in silence, the wind whistling through your ears, and you could feel him curling over to peer at the dish in your hands. stomach knotted, you twisted away to send him a contorted look.

“what?” you asked, eyes narrowed, suddenly defensive of the tupperware family recipe in your hands as you concealed it from view.

he blinked down at you before stepping back, staring sightlessly forward. “nothin’. smells good is all.”

your mouth dropped open to make a dry reply before the front door finally swung open.

“hey!” Iris greeted with a smile, donned in a fine cashmere sweater and leggings, holding a champagne flute. her husband poked his head out from behind her shoulder, wearing a freshly pressed button up and khaki pants.

you suddenly felt very underdressed in a cheap, thrifted dress.

“come on in,” he said with a sparkling smile, and you thought with a bitterness that he must be one of those guys who does stupid whitening strips or something, which was entirely ridiculous because you had tried them once before, but nonetheless…

“thank you for having us,” Simon said, filling in your silence. 

you glanced over at him, wishing you could say that you didn’t need him to speak for you. his eyes flitted over to you, offering nothing but a roll of his shoulders. a motion that you discerned as a dry, sardonic, whatever.

looking back at the party hosts, your brow quirked when you noticed Iris eyeing Simon’s mask warily. and for some reason that irked you.

so you said for Simon, “he’s not feeling too well. don’t want others catching a cold, right?”

she just laughed, airy and long and pinched with unease, waving you off and mumbling something that you couldn’t really hear before she motioned for you to step into the entrance hall. you shucked off your jacket, thanking her husband when he took it, and walked into the house—ginormous and very well-decorated. too well-decorated. like they didn’t even live in their own home.

you hugged your own chest, rubbing over your arms, and startled when you felt Simon at your back. looking back at him, he just slightly raised his brows, before gesturing a hand to step further in the house. you shuffled forward, feeling strangely embarrassed from the close proximity, and followed Iris into the open plan of the living room and kitchen.

there were a lot more people than you recognized in your group, you realized with unease, all chattering loudly as you moved over to the kitchen to put out your dish of family food, taking in the wide-array of charcuterie boards and cocktail shrimp and glasses of pricey alcohol.

a group of men you had never seen before stood in the kitchen, sipping on wine, teeth sparkling, looking trim in ralph lauren and very fit. one caught your eye, sending you a smirk, eyes roaming down your body, then up, before taking a sip of wine.

at that, you bit back a shiver and promptly disappeared into the rest of the people. 

you practically deflated when you looked around the room, immediately noting the absence of the big blonde brute at your back—it seemed that he had disappeared just as fast as you wanted to at the moment. 

instead, you moved from group to group, giving meek greetings to the girls you recognized who pulled you into hugs. most of the girls were flanked by a male that you had never met before, and you would scurry away just as soon as you would greet them, till you finally came across Sarah and Maya… talking with a man you knew.

“i finally found you,” you said with desperation, clinging to Maya and Sara’s sides. Johnny gave you an amused look, sipping at a beer.

you found yourself uncaring for his presence when you asked them, “why are there so many men here?”

Johnny just laughed and Maya patted at your head, sending you a sympathetic look.

“apparently Iris’s husband was in a frat. they’re ex-college friends,” Sarah explained, her face twisting between amusement and pity, before handing you a wine glass from a platter perched on a table in the hallway.  “i would’ve told you if i knew, darling.”

you sighed out. of course. ex-frat boys. your absolute least favorite kind. 

“i know you would have,” you mourned, wrapping yourself around Maya’s arm, then took a large gulp of wine.

“i heard you came in with Simon,” Maya said quietly, sending you a look out of her peripheral. 

you froze at that, hoping Johnny couldn’t hear you when you whispered, “don’t worry, he’s all yours, Maya.”

she flushed deeply at that, shaking you off of her. “that’s not what i meant.”

you made sure that Johnny and Sarah were still engrossed in their own conversation when you retorted, “that’s definitely what you meant. you think he’s cute?”

wholly enjoying it when she avoided your gaze, you wiggled your brow suggestively at her with a smirk. “or do you think he’s hot? you think he’s sexy, huh?”

you nudged her shoulder. “huh? huh?”

she swatted at you and you laughed, taking more mouthfuls of your wine as the strangest lump sunk from your throat to your stomach. sticking by Johnny, Maya, and Sarah, you felt shielded from the rest of the… males in the room. yet you still couldn’t help but wonder where Simon had disappeared to. you ended up finishing two more glasses of wine with a nervous sort of tick in your stomach.

dashing the outlandish murmurs of thoughts in your head, you let yourself get swept away with the events of the evening… drinking, talking. talking and more talking. drinking.

by the time your group moved closer to the kitchen, you were unbelievable bored as you searched around for the familiar blonde brute, satisfied when you saw him sitting on a barstool at the island in the kitchen, a glass of bourbon in his hand and a couple girls you had never seen before chatting with him at his shoulder.

they were obviously curious, you noticed, rolling your eyes, a bit worried for Maya when she eyed the scene carefully.

as you neared the food spread out over the island, you could hear those same ex-frat boys, speaking obnoxiously loud, and that one who had ogled you earlier was poking around at the food—specifically, your food.

he was prodding at it with a fork, exchanging looks with his friends, choking back on laughter when he said, “who brought the granny food?”

you stilled at that, staring at them laughing at the meal you had cooked. 

“isn’t that yours?” Maya asked softly, wide eyes trained on the tense situation at the other side of the room.

when you didn’t answer, Sarah’s face twisted as she stepped forward, her jaw falling open with a pinched look of intent on her face, but you waved a hand at her before she could say anything.

“just don’t,” you said through gritted teeth, embarrassed that Johnny was witnessing the spectacle in silence.

you felt even more embarrassed that Simon, down and across the kitchen island, was staring at them too.

but then he suddenly stood, cutting through the conversation of the invasive girls at his shoulder, and put down his glass of bourbon. “i did.”

the boys down the table fell silent, and the one that ogled you earlier let out a soft oh. Simon snatched a plate from the island and prowled over, towering over the rest of them and loaded up his plate with your food. then, his eyes flit up to yours, dark and murky as he took a bite.

you just closed your eyes and turned on your heel, walked back down the hallway with a mechanic stiffness despite Sarah’s protest. from behind you, you could hear Iris chiding David for being so rude.

you didn’t know who David was, and you didn’t care, till you reached a place in the house where no one else was. a study or office of sorts with big windows and a desk strewn with materials, darker here where there weren’t as many lights, night falling fast.

rubbing at your temples, you tried to slow your breath, pacing around the spacious room. you were seething. Kate would tell you that you were living in a reactionary moment—prolonging a feeling of shock or anger. what really lied underneath that was grief.

or, what you deciphered from the bullshit was that you were being overdramatic. overreacting.

you felt stupid when tears welled up in your eyes. 

there were footsteps nearing the office and you quickly wiped at them, expecting to find Sarah or Maya or maybe even Simon but—

it was Iris’s husband.

“hey,” he said softly, clearing his throat, “i’m so sorry about that earlier. my friends can be…”

a sheepish look crossed his face as he scratched at the back of his neck. “...really stupid sometimes. i’m Leo by the way.”

you just gave him a curt nod, sending him a weak it’s fine, but even knew that you sounded entirely unconvincing.

his eyes darted around the room before he added, “i tried your food earlier. i thought it was fantastic. i’m sick of charcuterie boards and cocktail shrimp anyway.”

you laughed at that, thought it came out flat and dead.

when a silence ensued, he asked you, “is that a family recipe or something?”

you nodded, clearing your throat weakly. “my mom made it as a kid. a family favorite.”

he clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels like he didn’t know what to do with the awkward tension of the room. “oh, nice. my mom used to make tuna casserole all the time. i hated it back then, but i love it now, but i can never seem to get it right. and you seem to be great at cooking and all—”

he waved at hand at you and you flushed, thanking him, before another silence followed. 

then, there was a new flint of curiosity in his eyes as he stepped towards you. immediately, you edged backwards, a new taste of apprehension coating your tongue.

“remind me of your name again?”

you gave it to him, slowly, and clutched at the hem of your dress, tugging it down further over your thighs.

“your name. it’s pretty.”

you practically squeaked, “thanks.”

he shifted a bit closer to you, so you were just an arm’s length from him now, and you shuffled backwards, panicked when the back of your thighs hit the desk.

“and your dress…” he said, staring down at your body for a long moment, before his eyes flit up over your chest and to your face. “it’s pretty on you.”

your voice was much more strained now. “thank you.”

he tilted his head, almost in a predatory manner. “why doesn’t Iris invite you over more? you seem like such a lovely girl.”

lovely girl. your skin was crawling, eyes darting around the room, terrified that the only exit meant walking straight through him.

“mhmm,” was all you offered, skirting to the side, but he stepped forward again, almost closing the distance between you.

his hand came up like he was going to play with the end of your dress, but it stopped just short, hovering over the skin of your thigh.

“i’m going to go back to the party now,” you whispered, a fear eating you inside and out that sent a dizzy, hazy spiral through your mind. you wanted distance from him. now. forever.

he leaned forward so that he towered over you, much bigger and broader when he was this close—

“so soon?”

his fingertips just barely brushed over the skin of your thigh when a thick, rough voice cut through the room. 

“Leo.”

Leo scrambled backwards, clearing his throat as he turned to the person who had just stepped into the room. you almost melted in relief at the sight of Simon by the door.

“your wife is asking for you,” he said slowly, voice low and rough. his eyes were darker now, brows furrowed, and he looked terrifyingly big in the doorway.

Leo just nodded, hands clasped at his back again as he hesitated, head flicking from you to the brute’s gaze that bores into him. “right.”

he strode out the room, not even sending you a glance as he squeezed around Simon who didn’t move an inch, stock still as he stared after Leo.

you almost crumpled to the floor, shrinking as you clutched at the desk for support, legs shaking with effort.

“are you alright?” Simon asked, though he didn’t move any closer to you. the relief in that was like cold water splashing over the panicked heat of your body.

“no,” you admitted, turning your head away when tears spilled down your cheeks.

screwing them shut, you felt a deluge of shame and embarrassment rush over you.

“i wasn’t trying anything with Leo,” you said between sniffles, “i swear i—”

“i know,” he said, cutting you off.

you crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing at your arms as you shook. you tried to stop the shaking, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t stop it.

“you’re shaking,” he observed, voice cracked open with a sort of awe that you had never heard before. maybe shock was a better word.

your breath came labored now, and the room went dizzy, so you slowly skirted around the desk, clutching the wall for support as the floor fell out from under you.

Simon called your name, but it sounded distant and muffled.

“i’m fine,” you said, not able to make out his words that only sounded like mumbles in your ears.

slowly, you slid down the wall, crumpling yourself into a ball and digging your nose into the valley between your knees, a wetness sliding over them from your eyes. you just cried as you rocked, unsure what to do with yourself, feeling like you were going to pass out from the rough breaths that ripped from your lungs.

another body slid down the wall beside you, still far, but their warm fingers hooking on your wrist gently. picking up your head, you shifted out of Simon’s touch, his stoney gaze a marginal distance from your own.

“look,” he said, voice soft, as he put his hand into a loose fist and rubbed in circles over his chest. “like this. calms you down.”

between labored breaths, your arms felt leaden and dead when you contracted your hand into a weak fist, drawing small circles over your chest with great effort.

“it’s okay,” he said, sliding his hand between you across the floor in an offering. you curled your fingers around his hand, your own dwarfed by the sheer size of him, and picked it up to press it to your cheek, feeling cool against the uncomfortable heat on your skin.

in your haze, you realized you had never seen him gloveless before, and his skin against yours felt… right.

you slid his hand over your shoulder and to your waist, feeling his fingers curl around the flesh there, gently tugging your forward, and you let him haul you into his lap, his other arm hooking beneath your knees as he nestled you right into his arms.

he buried you in a tight hold, your cheek pressed to his chest as you continued to rub circles into your chest, trying and failing to slow your breath. you clung to him, a hand curling into the material of his shirt. 

you should’ve felt scared, immobilized by a man like this, but you felt impossibly safe, like his arms were the one thing between you and every other dangerous thing in the world.

“listen to me breathe, love.”

his slow breath was grounding, and you tried to match it, forcing the stutter of your lungs to slow. soon enough, you breath was normal once more, and you pulled away from him, crawling off his lap to lean against the wall.

you wiped at the tears that stained your cheeks.

“better?” he asked, and you couldn’t look at him, nodding slowly.

your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, but your body was light and airy, like it was floating off the ground. like you were living in a different world from your own, mind far, far away from your own body. like you could say anything and it wouldn’t matter in the moment.

“it was one of my dad’s friends,” you rasped, voice raw and sore.

when he was silent, you pushed on, “my mom blamed me for it, but i was just a kid. i didn’t know what was happening.”

“my dad didn’t care.” you took a shaky inhale. “he sucked.”

Simon’s hands twitched by his side. “i had a shitty fuckin’ father too.”

you almost smiled at that, thudding your head back against the wall.

“i don’t think i’ll ever recover,” you admitted softly, your heart dropping into your stomach. “i’ll just hate men forever.”

“do you still hate me?” he asked, and you, without hesitation, said, “no.”

he shrugged. “seems like you’ll recover then.”

you stared into the side of face, for the first time, wishing you could look at the other half of his face under the mask properly. it was like you were actually seeing him now, and just how gentle the warmth of his brown eyes could be. 

“what are we gonna do?” you said with a mirthless laugh, trained on the softness in his eyes, “we’re so fucked up we can’t even function properly.”

you could tell he was smiling under that mask.

“maybe a support group could help.”

you snorted at that, knowing full well in the two years that you had been in the group, almost nothing had changed for you. at least, not until Simon.

he stood, offering a hand that you took, and pulled you up gently. you practically clutched at his side, glued to him as he led you back to the party that had swelled into full swing now—loud, spooky music from the surround sound in the living room burst forth, and into the late hours of the night, even more strangers filled the space. it was loud and rowdy and you resisted clutching at your ears, fingers wrapping around the cuff of Simon’s sleeve tightly as you squeezed between different people.

Sarah and Maya were still hanging out near the island, Johnny nowhere to be seen, and talking to some other girls in the group. when they noticed you, Sarah launched herself at you and wrapped you up in a tight, squeezing hug that knocked the air from your lungs. Maya regarded Simon shyly, edging around him before hugging you, too.

she whispered quickly into your ear, “we wanted to check on you, but Iris sent Leo to apologize to you. did everything end up being alright? did he apologize? he wasn’t an asshole, was he?”

you just grimaced in her arms, patting her back softly. “don’t worry, everything’s fine,” you reassured her, and the relief on her face was shattering, concern melting from her features.

looking to Simon, you half-expected him to slink away and disappear into the crowd, but he stayed flush to your side, hands in his pockets as he watched you.

you made steady eye contact with him, slightly rising your brows in question, glancing in the direction of the front door, and he just gave you a curt nod.

“we’re going home,” you shouted over the loud music, and Sarah was quick to take your hand.

“with…” her eyes darted over to Simon, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “him?”

ah. you had forgotten that the girls in your group thought that you hated him. or beyond that, just all men in general.

“i’ll be fine,” you promised them, believing yourself for once. “you stay and have fun.”

“if you’re going, we’re going too then,” she said, determined, Maya’s head bobbing beside her in agreement, but you just shook your head.

“really,” you shouted, glancing over to the tall man beside you, who looked as though he wasn’t listening, eyes trained somewhere distantly into the throes of the party, but you knew he was. “i’ll be fine.”

they looked unconvinced but didn’t push you nonetheless. Simon gave them curt goodbyes that boiled down to a nod and a low grunt, and you waved at the other girls from the support group, grateful for their concern as you packed up your food with a wince, avoiding a pair of eyes from across the room—David or whatever his name was. he lifted his glass of wine to you before tipping his head back, downing the contents in a couple quick gulps.

you resisted cursing him out, avoiding making another scene at all costs, as you quickly strode out the house and shoved yourself into your jacket on the way, Simon just steps behind you.

you stepped out into the night, shivering immediately from the biting air against your thighs, and without a word, Simon strung his huge, heavy jacket over your shoulders.

“hey—” you began in protest, but he just casually walked past you and down the steps, sending a look of question over his shoulder.

are you coming or not?

the words went unsaid but you followed him anyway, digging around your bag for your keys and fumbling with them between your fingers once you located them.

once you neared your car, you stopped by the driver’s seat. he waited by the sidewalk, stock still as he watched you.

“i drank a lot,” you said with a grimace, and he just tilted his head.

“i just had a glass. i can drive.”

“no,” you snapped, immediately regretting the force in your tone when his brows just raised slightly. softer, you finished, “i can drive myself.”

he gave you a long look. “right. i’m a woman, and i just had one glass. i can drive, yeah?”

the words were so bizarre coming from him that you couldn’t resist the choke of laughter that escaped your throat, and you tossed your car keys over to him that he caught with ease.

“you fooled me, Simon,” you said with a deadpan, enjoying the way his eyes flickered with a playful gleam in the darkness as you switched places with him, sliding into the passenger seat of your car.

“does that mean i get the aux too?” he asked, voice even and blunt as ever, and you rolled your eyes.

“now you’re pushing your luck.”

you handed the cord to him anyways, and he just glanced at you from his peripheral, and something in your gut told you it was a look of victory. 

you ignored it with a smile you tried to smother. he was always one-upping you.

“fancy smashing pumpkins?” he asked, and you nodded weakly, feeling bashful for some reason.

he scrolled down the playlist on his phone and tonight, tonight came blaring through the speakers. you rolled down your window, reaching over to turn it up the volume more.

“feel like a teenager yet?” you shouted over the music, and he pulled down his mask with an amused look, shifting the gear and pulled onto the road. your eyes swept over the curves of his face with a greediness, taking in the strength of his jaw and tall nose because you were actually paying attention to the details of him for once.

“something like that,” he mumbled back, but his words were lost in the music, falling deaf on your ears because all your attention was trained on the small smile that twisted his lips.

by the time you reached your apartment, you had fallen asleep in the car, despite the blaring music. by the time he woke you with a gentle touch to your shoulder, the stereo was turned off, and you stretched up in your seat, shaking the blurriness from your head and blinking through the sleepiness.

you lurched from the car, stepping up onto the sidewalk in front of the townhouse with a yawn, Simon just behind you.

you turned to him with a weak smile. “thank you for driving.”

he nodded. “‘course.”

your eyes darted around, looking back to the entrance, then to him again, and you fumbled with your words.

“do you want to come inside?” then, you flushed deeply. “i know it’s late but—”

he cut you off, sounding almost uninterested. “sure.”

biting down on your lip, you nodded, turning on your heel and shouldering through the heavy entrance with a twist of your keys, making your way up the stairs and down the hallway by his side.

it was surreal that the same experience had occurred only two days prior, and yet a completely new feeling enveloped it. you weren’t scared. you weren’t anxious. you were just…

you looked back at him from over your shoulder, his bare face on display, and glimmering with a few scars you hadn’t noticed before. there was a silvery one slashing through his upper lip. 

he must’ve noticed your stare because he cleared his throat, looking away, and you pushed through the entrance to your apartment flushed with embarrassment.

flicking on the lights, you were eternally grateful you had decided to clean up a bit in the early hours of the weekend and moved into the kitchen, putting all your things down on the kitchen table. including Simon’s jacket, you remembered, getting embarrassed all over again as you laid it carefully out, careful not to crease the high-quality leather.

“make yourself at home,” you called out, poking your head through the entrance of the kitchen momentarily to see him standing with an awkward stiffness by the front door. you looked down to his leather boots. “and shoes off please.”

you turned to the fridge to card through its contents, hearing a shuffling behind you, before silence. in a last minute decision, you grabbed two beers and a packet of salted pistachios from the pantry.

“want a beer?” you offered, finding him splayed across your small couch, arm braced against the back.

warily, you sat beside him, curling up into the corner of the couch and pulling your dress further down over your thighs as you handed him a can of beer.

flipping the tab of your can open with a pop, the contents sizzling inside, you took a generous mouthful.

“thanks,” he said, blunt, as he popped open the can with just one hand, tipping his head back to down half of it in a few massive gulps, throat bobbing with each mouthful.

your eyes darted away from the sight, the proximity between you suddenly feeling unbearable, but not a bad unbearable, just…

hot unbearable.

heart thudding, you reached for the remote on the coffee table instead, and flicked on the television. it pulled up your tab on netflix and that most recent k-drama you were watching.

with a squeak, you flipped through the program quickly to get away from it, but Simon was too quick.

“k-drama?”

you eyed him from your peripheral.

“yes.” to take off the edge of your embarrassment, you teased, “why? are you a k-drama kind of guy, Simon?”

he shook his head. “i don’t like ‘em.”

your jaw dropped, spluttering, “you don’t like them? why?”

his eyes flitted to you from his peripheral. “they’re unrealistic.”

you rolled your eyes. “and that’s exactly why i like them.”

“have you never dated before?”

you almost choked on your drink, glaring at the side of his face, willing him to look at you, but he kept his eyes trained forward on the tv.

“yes, i have, actually,” you said, indignant. “have you?”

he turned his head to look at you, head tilting as his eyes flitted up and down your body. you suppressed a shiver, confused by the mixed sensations of your body.

“what do you think, love?”

when you were only silent, his lips twitched, eyes flashing with amusement. 

then he mumbled quietly, “i never like the male leads.”

you smothered a laugh, trying and failing to imagine Simon hunkered over in his free time, watching k-dramas on his phone.

“‘cause they’re not you?” you deadpanned, amused just at the thought of it. blonde, tall, and corded with thick muscle. he wasn’t much like any male k-drama lead you knew.

“no,” he said, leaning forward to set his empty can of beer on the coffee table, “‘cause they’re immature.”

your mind reeled at that, recounting the current k-drama you were watching, and finding him not half-wrong. 

“you into immature men?” he asked, voice dry with sarcasm.

mocking the deep timbre of his voice, you shot back, “what do you think, love?”

he huffed a laugh of dismay, and you just suppressed a smile, avoiding his eyes.

“you want to know what i think?”

the question had a dripping burn in it that made your skin prickle, insides sliding around with a foreign heat you weren’t accustomed to. when you just shrugged, feigning indifference, you knew Simon’s attentive stare sliced straight through the act.

“i think you just need a mature man who can take care of your needs properly.”

your whole body shuddered, thighs pressing together and stomach twisting with heat. you should’ve been irked by the proposition, angry with him even, but you just clutched tighter at the can in your hand, voice careful and poised. “and you think i can’t take care of my own needs?”

“no,” he said, without a second of hesitation, “but i think that you want to be taken care of.”

you bit down on your lip. “what makes you think that you know what i want?”

“doesn’t everyone want to be taken care of?” he relaxed further into the cushions, head falling onto the back of the couch, gaze lazy as it traced over you.

“do you want to be taken care of?” you asked, setting down your can of beer, uncaring that the hem of your dress had ridden up from the movement. but he didn’t even look down, half-lidded eyes on your face.

“sometimes.”

“do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, voice a whisper as you leaned forward onto your palm, and he was silent for a long moment.

“do you know how to take care of someone?”

your lips pressed together, jaw clenching. “i know enough.”

he gave you a lazy, lopsided smile. “do you even know how to kiss someone?”

at that, you reeled back a bit. was he making fun of you?

a resolute aching pang shot through your chest, and he blinked, sitting up straighter, like you were both just been pulled out of a heady haze that you weren’t supposed to be in. suddenly, this whole situation felt wrong, and not because you didn’t like it, but because it didn’t feel allowed.

“i should go,” he said, face stoney and voice void of anything perceptible. 

you quickly nodded, squeaking out, “yeah, you should.”

the words should’ve been sharp and cutting but they only came out strained and confused as you watched Simon stand from the couch. 

he strode over to the kitchen, snatching his jacket from the table and throwing it on while shoving into his boots once more. you pushed yourself up from the cushions, hands twitching by your sides.

he sent you a strange look from over his shoulder and jerked the door open with a roughness you didn’t know he could carry.

“bye,” you said weakly, and he hesitated in the entrance.

“thanks for…” he glanced towards the living room, and you sent him a confused look, looking back at the cans of beer and nuts on the coffee table.

“oh,” you said, turning back to him, “no problem—”

but the entrance was empty, and you stuck your head out into the hallway to see him already a marginal distance down the hall. cursing, you grabbed a random shoe from the rack by the doorway and shoved it into the crack of the door, rushing after him.

“wait!” you called, and he turned, slowing as you approached him.

your stomach a fit of nerves, you fisted the material of his nice jacket, uncaring if you crinkled the leather as you pulled him down, and stood on your tiptoes to press a brief kiss to his cheek.

when you slowly lowered back down to the floor, Simon only stared at you with that same stoney, blank look.

“thank you,” you said softly, and he just kept staring at you.

with a deep blush, you released him, and his footsteps were uneven when he turned and almost stumbled down the stairs. you yelped, heart clenched with worry, but he steadied himself against the rail and shot down the stairs with a speed that you didn’t know was possible, blonde head disappearing from view.

you stood there in the hallway for a long moment, fiddling with your dress. what the hell was that?

you gripped at the roots of your hair, suppressing a scream. what the hell was that?

turning and marching back down the hall, you kicked the shoe from the crack, slipping inside. but before the door shut, you poked your head out once more to see if Simon would reappear from the top of the stairs.

when he didn’t, you let out a strangled noise of frustration, and slammed the door shut, promising yourself you’d never let yourself slip like that again. promising yourself you’d never let yourself get that close in proximity to a man ever again. promising yourself you wouldn’t even look in the direction of another one of those things. not ever again. not even for Simon.

your honor... they’re flirting in their idk-how-to-interact-with-opposite-gender-way-bc-of-trauama 🌚 also i feel like soap is such a flat character in this series rn he's just kinda there 😭 but dw he gets more interesting later on (hopefully?)

taglist: @kenma-izhu @actuallyhiswife @froggielottiee @neenieweenie @delaynew @ilovehyperfixating @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @tomorrowseverything @moonlqths @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley @keiva1000 @arminarlertssword @crowbird @jasonloveclub @karurururu

@embers-of-alluring @newsies-pape-girl @suhmie @amberpanda99@mystsee @cosmoscoffee @hunterofhonor @wawuwe @kunikku @corvusmorte @hearts4sky @aloudplace @justletmelivethanks @shadowdaddysposts @leclercdreams @ayanokomu @thedevillovesflowers @thisuserloveshalloween @soundsfunbutno @enfppixie @tired-bi-ass@http-paprika @xaestheticalien

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 3: Let's Have a Baby

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence and death (ofc), implied child loss Note: The much-awaited part 3 of The Captain! Thank you so much for all of your support! And don't y'all, Part 4 is brewing ;) Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“Mohawk’s gettin’ particularly long, Johnny boy. When’s the last time you took any off the top?” Freyja asked, tugging at the end of a long strand at the back of his head.

“Dinnae dae that!” Soap whipped his head around and gave her a look of playful irritation. “If it weren’t for that wee barra in your belly I’d knock ya one, lass.”

“You wish, tough guy.”

“Just you wait, soon as y’return to full duty, we’ll have a square go, ye fuckin’ weapon.”

“I’ll block off my calendar.”

She and Soap had grown rather close since they all returned to England following the mission. As promised, Ghost spoke with Price, who convinced Kate to transfer her to the 141 permanently. While she was on desk duty for now, being on the same team would be tremendously helpful in keeping their schedules in sync. The couple could carpool to and from the base together, and John would do his best to keep them from being deployed at the same time.

Plus, she got to spend all her day with her friends and husband, which was a phenomenal change of pace from their previous setup. It was far less lonely being surrounded by the bustle of the busy base and having other friends to talk to besides Price.

They had a standing ‘play date’, as Price called it, every Friday night, where they watched movies, played board games, and ordered takeout. Board games usually ended in a heated exchange between her and whichever unlucky soul had crossed her (usually during Catan), her normally fiery temper heightened with each month of pregnancy that passed. There had been several instances of Ghost scooping her up in his arms and hauling her away to cool off before (any other) objects were lobbed at someone’s head.

One time, Freyja was in rare form when Gaz refused to trade for a material she desperately needed, and whipped a pointed dinner knife in his direction.

“What is with you guys and throwing bloody knives at me?!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air as Ghost dragged her off, screaming obscenities in various angry-sounding languages.

Soap jerked the blade out of the wall. “Dunno if I should be turned on or terrified,” he had said thoughtfully, turning it over in his hand. 

“BOTH, YOU SLIMY, CHEATING MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Catan was banned for a few weeks after that incident, and Freyja gave Kyle the following day off as an apology, though he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Freyja lowered herself into a chair on the other side of Soap’s desk and leaned her head on her fist, watching him do his paperwork. She’d already finished for the day but was waiting for her husband to fetch her and bring her home to prepare for another Friday with the boys.

“So, Captain, any big plans for this weekend?” Soap asked, still scribbling away at the stack of forms in front of him.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Nah. It’s our anniversary on Sunday. Have a routine visit tomorrow to see how the baby’s growing. Nothing crazy.”

“Anniversary?! You didn’t tell me that was comin’ up!”

Her eyes rolled with a chuckle. “Soap, we aren’t showy people. Never have been,” she started, adjusting to sit straighter after having slid down in the chair a bit. Her round belly had started to weigh down her body a few weeks back, and she was starting to feel the effects of back and neck pain. “We weren’t together for very long when we got engaged, if you’d even call it that. We got married a few days later, as soon as we got back to the UK. Didn’t want to waste time, given our line of work.”

Johnny laughed at this, tossing his pen into a mug he fashioned as a stationary holder. “Oh, I’d bet he just loved slappin’ his name after ‘Captain’, too,” he joked with a raised brow.

The image of a spinning circle on a computer came to mind because that was exactly what she was doing. Buffering, her mouth open slightly while she processed his comment. Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but nothing came out as she stared at the Sergeant.

He clearly picked up on her inner turmoil, because he asked, “What? What’d I say?”

Goddamn pregnancy brain. “Ah…Nothing. He didn’t like me taking his name, actually,” she mostly muttered, unable to find a way out of the conversation at this point. “He asked me not to change my name and I did it anyway.”

“I don’t get it, why wouldn’t Ghost want ya to change yer name?”

Freyja sighed as she rubbed a hand over the top of her bump, a recent habit for comfort. The baby hadn’t been particularly active that day, only offering a bit of shifting. “You’d have to ask him, John.”

She rarely called him John, so he knew the conversation was over on her part. “How’s your back?” Best to change the subject and move on. 

She was grateful for it. “Terrible. Even sitting here is bothering me.”

Soap lit up and he practically jumped to his feet. “I can do that thing I saw Ghost doin’ last week!” He was already in front of her before she could even answer.

He had been relentless ever since he caught their cute little private moment in the kitchen when she was supposed to be getting herself some fruit to snack on. Simon followed shortly after, offering to get her fruit bowl together for her so she could sit down again. Craving some semblance of independence, she instead offered to cut up her snack while her husband took some of the weight off her back.

“Walked myself right into that one. You just want an excuse to grope my belly.”

“Me? Never! M’offended that y’would say such a thing, Bonnie,” he feigned hurt feelings, pouting with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, fine! Come’ere, I’ll show you,” she laughed, high up in her chest. Freyja pulled herself up with his hands and moved them to the more open space in his office. “Alright, so I’m gonna stand here—“ She turned to press her back against his chest and took his wrist in her hands. “—then you just wanna put your hands flat like this—“ She flattened his palms just under the swell of her stomach, by each point of her pelvis. “—and now you carefully pull up. Emphasis on carefully.”

She groaned at the sudden relief, her head falling back against Soap’s shoulder as he just barely lifted her stomach. 

“There w’are. Steamin’ Jesus, how’s such a wee thing so bloody heavy?”

“Yeah, now imagine carrying that around with your back twenty-four-seven.”

They stood silently for a minute, soaking in the relief from the lack of pressure on her disks. A small hand dragged across the underside of her stomach, pressing against Soap’s hand. His chest rumbled against her back, but he held steady.

“Will anyone be coming for a visit? When she’s born?” It was bold of him to bring up such a sensitive subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“No.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“I have everyone I need right here, Johnny. Who else outside my husband would give my back a break and hold my giant belly?” She reached back to jokingly slap his cheek a few times.

“Where’s that husband o’ yours at? It’s gettin’ late.”

A soft knock on the open door had her turning her head. “I’m comin’, Jesus,” Ghost said, approaching with his hands in his pockets, t-shirt tight as ever. He took in her smiling form, intrigued by the scene in front of him. He smiled beneath his mask, eyes crinkling slightly. “How are my girls?”

Freyja flinched, a hand flying to her belly at the sharp kick. She sported an angry pout. “Ow! That hurt, you little–”

“Be nice. She can’t help that I’m her favorite.”

She pulled out of Soap’s hold, sad to lose the help on one hand, but thrilled to see Simon on the other. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m literally creating her organs and limbs, making sure she has ten fingers and toes, and I don’t get so much as a single hand or kick. But the second she hears your stupid voice, she’s suddenly an MMA fighter,” she complained, shoving at his shoulder. “Un-fucking-believable. I hate you.”

“Mmm, sure you do. How will I ever get back in your good graces?”

“I want Chinese tonight.”

“I think I can manage that.” Ghost bent down to gently, but briefly, touch his forehead to hers, one of their familiar gestures to refrain from more overt displays of affection on base. She would occasionally give him a peck over his skull mask, and they often shared passing touches, but neither partner was a huge fan of PDA. In the comfort of their own home, they were much more obvious, even around the other members of the team. Just not on base (save for a quick romp. Or two. Or– y’know what, never mind).

“Aw, lookit ya wee sook,” Soap cooed, nudging Ghost with his elbow as he walked past, gathering his things to head home.

She giggled and patted Simon’s pec. “He really is!”

Simon grumbled but guided Freyja to the door with a hand on her lower back. “If you lot keep talkin’ nonsense around me, I’ll pop a gasket.”

“It’s not nonsense, Simon. It’s a beautiful language. One that your people just so happened to smother into near extinction,” she sang, pursing her lips in a challenge as she looked up at him walking next to her.

“OOO, sick burn, lass!” Soap smacked their hands together, laughing heartily.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

~*~

Simon checked the time on his phone again with a deep sigh, shaking his head. He detested getting to work anything past ten minutes early, and it was currently five past six. Freyja had told him to go ahead and toss their baby bag in the car, which he had done ten minutes ago. He insisted they keep their ‘go-bag’ (her word, not his) with them, either in the car on errands or on base during the work week.

The area around their front door was littered with broken-down cardboard boxes from various toys and furniture from the nursery. The Task Force had turned out to be extremely generous uncles, to the point where the Rileys hardly had to buy anything. Johnny and Gaz were by far the worst listeners, continuing to purchase mountains of clothes long after Freyja and Ghost begged them to stop. Enough clothes that she would never have to wear the same outfit twice for the first year of her life.

Not even born yet and already spoiled rotten.

Her boots weren’t in the tray by the door, so she must have gotten to that part of her routine, at least. He pushed off the door frame in their entryway, making his way toward the living room. “Frey, what are you doin’? We’re already five minutes late–”

He cut himself off when he laid eyes on the sight in front of him – his wife, now 39 weeks pregnant, attempting to contort her body around her bump to lace up her boots. Simon allowed himself a moment to watch in amusement before clearing his throat and grabbing her attention. “Do you need help?” he asked, about to kneel in front of her.

She grunted and shook her head, then tried to smooth the mussed-up fly-aways that had started to poke up at the edges of her tied-back hair. “No, I can do this. I just did it on Friday.”

“Darling, that was three days ago. There’s no shame in askin’ for help–” He stopped again at the icy glare thrown his way, crossed his arms over his chest, and sat in the armchair across from her. “A’right, if you insist.” He had long noticed that she sometimes struggled to accept help with tasks she could normally complete on her own, if not for a protruding bump being in the way. He knew if she really needed help, she would ask.

This time, she propped the heel of her boot on the coffee table and attempted to stretch over her belly. She was proud of the strength and flexibility she had been able to maintain throughout her entire pregnancy, up until now. Not many people could say they could even see their feet this far into their pregnancy, let alone tie their shoes. After another minute of huffing and puffing, fingers just barely unable to graze the laces, she held her foot out to her watchful husband and sighed. “Fine,” she mumbled, crossed arms mimicking his.

He smiled softly under his mask, blue eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he slid to his knees at her feet, pressing the sole into his chest. “Thank you,” he praised, taking his time to focus on doing her shoes up at the tightness she liked to support her ankles, but allow breathing room at her calves. As he finished up the second foot, he heard a quiet sniffle and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

Bloody hell, not the waterworks again…

He gently pushed her legs apart and settled between them, his gloved hands covering and rubbing her knees. “What’s wrong, love?”

Freyja wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then used the neckline of her t-shirt to swipe at her wet cheeks. “Nothing, I’m just annoyed. Feels like I can barely function on my own.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who insisted on working until she’s born.”

“Fuck you.”

“Promise?”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes as she scoffed. 

Ghost pulled his mask up to his nose, just enough to steal a long, soft kiss from her, fingers still gripping her thighs. When they broke apart, he swooped down to press wet kisses on her belly. Freyja put the fabric back in place with deft fingers. “A’right, we sorted?” He smacked her thigh twice when she nodded and offered her hands to help her stand. “Good, you know how I am about bein’ late.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be an early bird like her daddy.”

“Better than always being late like her mum.”

“Low blow, baby. Low blow.”

They made jabs at each other back and forth the entire ride to base (lovingly, of course) and during their walk to their offices, only pausing for the occasional passerby.

~*~

Kyle handed off a steaming mug of tea to Ghost, taking a small sip of his own as they watched the recruits spar with Soap. Most days, the three of them worked with the privates for a few hours, varying from marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, etcetera. Ghost tugged his mask up enough to enjoy his caffeine, the steam dampening the wrinkled fabric.

“How was your weekend, Ghost?”

He hid his subtle smirk behind the cup, the memory of their anniversary evening at the forefront of his mind. Ghost met Gaz’s gaze with a side eye, to which the Sergeant snorted with a throaty chuckle. Gaz fixed the brim of his hat lower to shade his eyes from the sun better. “Shouldn’t have asked,” he said, a bright, cheeky grin on his face. “Change the subject.”

Ghost thought back to that morning, snickering himself and cradling the mug with both hands. “Frey couldn’t tie her boots this morning.” He tried to hide his amusement, he really did. But both men burst into deep laughter, Gaz shamefully covering his eyes with his free hand as he imagined the Captain working around her stomach.

“Bloody hell, poor thing.” When they finally composed themselves, Kyle took a deep breath and wiped a stray tear from his eye. He sighed and placed his now empty mug on the ground, his hands now hanging onto the lip of his tactical vest. The Brit observed the training session, occasionally glancing over at Ghost to gauge his mood. Maybe he should mind his business, but Gaz also wanted to be a good friend to the Rileys. In the end, he decided to take the plunge. “I see it, y’know,” he said, choosing a careful tone.

Simon turned his head fully to shoot him a probing look, urging him to continue.

Gaz sighed to himself. In too deep, now. “Just something I’ve noticed. Seems like she’s done this before, s’all.”

Damn Kyle Garrick and his perceptiveness. How long had the Sergeant been sitting on that thought, watching and observing her mannerisms? Simon stood staring blankly at his companion, unblinking for too long. His heart clenched painfully, twisting and beating violently against his ribs. When his eyes did finally come back into focus, he covered his face again. “As you were, Sergeant,” he commanded, his tone stern and unyielding. Neither of them noticed the Scot break away from the recruits, reading a text from his phone.

“I don’t mean to pry, sir–”

“Lt?” Soap held the device up, brows knotted together. He didn’t make much of an effort to hide his emotions and was concerned. “Price needs ya, sir. Said he’s pretty sure yer wife’s been in labor for the last hour.”

The trio quickly appeared in her office, where she sat behind her desk, beads of sweat on her forehead as she typed away at her computer. John shrugged helplessly and then scratched at the stubble under his chin. About an hour into their daily morning meeting, where he brought her peppermint tea while they worked over files and potential recruits. They were mid-discussing her scheduled c-section when he noticed her breaths sporadically shake, or the muscles in her arms tightening for seemingly no reason. Price asked her if she was okay and was brushed off every time he prodded at her; when he finally had enough, he decided to call for reinforcements.

Freyja glared at the men, mainly aiming it at Price. “Traitor,” she growled, continuing to work through another contraction.

Simon tossed the keys to their car to Price, who swiftly snagged them out of the air and slipped behind them. In the meantime, he tucked his mask into the back pocket of his jeans, his slightly overgrown blonde hair and the top of his head sticking up. He sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at her as she attempted to ignore his presence. His foot slipped a little on the floor, and he found a small puddle trickling across the floor from the space under her chair. “Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, impossibly soft and gentle for a usually deep, gruff military man.

“No.” She was an accomplished sniper and a skilled linguist and had been deployed on hundreds of special missions, interrogations, and rescues during her military tenure. She, however, wasn’t very convincing when it came to lying to her husband, especially when another sharp pain rippled through her body, forcing her to flinch.

“Wanna try that again?”

Her eyes watered uncontrollably, her lip trembling as she tried to keep herself together. The notion didn’t last long, and her head shook from side to side.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Hm.” Simon turned her chair with his shin until she faced him. As he suspected, dark wetness was creeping up the fabric of her jeans. “We should get going then, yeah?” He tilted his head to the side, watching as she grabbed his hand in a fierce grip.

“Simon–” The woman choked on her tears, panic starting to claw its way up her stomach and wrenching her tight throat. “The OB’s out of the country,” she whimpered, barely a whisper.

“I know. Seems that she’s taken after her old man, like y’said,” he offered in an attempt to give her some comedic relief in her state. Simon could see the panic attack set in, and while he knew he couldn’t stop it, he could at least lessen its effects some.

“I was kidding.”

He smiled softly at her and squeezed her palm, drawing soothing circles with his thumb. “Don’t think she’s quite old enough for sarcasm, there, sweetheart.” He got down to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels, just under eye level now instead of towering over her. A familiar position for them as of late. “Looks like we’re doin’ this the old-fashioned way.”

She started crying hysterically now, nearly crushing his hand and cradling her belly. “Simon…I–”

“I know.”

It was as if their audience had completely disappeared, leaving just the two of them for what should be a private moment. But Soap and Gaz were still pressed to the wall by the door. In the months they had become close friends with Simon’s wife, she was almost always composed, her moments of hormonal rage the only outlier they witnessed. They’d never seen her such a panicked, blubbering mess, but Gaz had an idea he knew what it was about, even without specifics. For that reason, he chose to keep his distance and advised Soap to do the same with a tap to the shoulder.

“This–This isn’t the plan. I wanted…they’re supposed to take her out. I don’t want to push again.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to.”

“Can’t we just–” A gasp cut her off, her features pinching together in pain while she rode out yet another contraction.

“No. We can’t.”

“I can’t do this again, Simon! I can’t!” Her chest heaved and she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Panic attacks had become more frequent during her pregnancy. There had been about five or six instances where an odd feeling or uncomfortable pain had anxiety washing over her, sending her into a spiral until they could get to an emergency room or OB, snapping at them to ‘just fucking check, for fuck’s sake’. This was definitely one of the worst. All of her meticulous planning, down to every nitty-gritty detail to ensure she didn’t have an episode went right out the window because a certain impatient Riley was eager to make her exit and simultaneous entrance to the world.

The world was collapsing around her, dark and suffocating. The cold pit dragged her back to what seemed like another life, where she lay curled up in a hospital bed, sick and hot and in the worst agony she would ever experience. Her bones burned and ached, struggling to sit still yet unable to move at the same time. Price’s phantom touch ghosted up and down her bare back in that place, brushed her sticky hair off her forehead, pressed a cold towel to her neck as violent sobs and forced, unnatural contractions tore through her—

She blinked when different, gloved hands slipped under her hair, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the material as he cradled her face. Her fingers slipped down to dig into his tattooed wrist. “You can, and you will. Take a breath,” he took a deep breath, guiding her through the exercise. He held the air in his chest before letting it out in a slow exhale, which she mimicked. Ghost summoned Gaz over and rose, pulling her up with him. “Good girl. Can you walk?”

When she nodded, Kyle slipped into the space beside her, offering his forearm for support. She knew Simon could have handled her himself, but it warmed her heart to see him leaning on their friends. John had been a great support system when Simon deployed on his own, but having so many hands to hold made her feel loved and understood.

“A’right then, let’s have a baby, yeah?”

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#simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x sniper!reader #husband simon riley #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x pregnant!reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap cod #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw #cod mwii #fanfic #cod mw ghost #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #pregnant reader #angst #fluff #call of duty #task force 141/reader #ghost 👻 #ghost x y/n #modern warfare 2 #modern warefare reboot #ghost mwii

[python333]

Hey author. I loved your father's day card post. But how would L.V. , Konig and Alex react to getting father's day cards too or how would Kate and Farah react to getting mothers day cards. Anyways you don't have to write it but enjoy your day.

alejandro, könig, alex, and kate reacting to receiving father's/mother's day cards from [reader] — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says, some more people receiving father's/mother's day cards! you can see the first part with task force 141 here!

relationships platonic!alejandro & gn!reader, platonic!könig & gn!reader, platonic!alex & gn!reader, platonic!kate & gn!reader.

characters alejandro, könig, alex, kate.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], reader intended to be 16/17-20/21 but can be interpreted as older as long as they're still below 24 [just so that the hcs make more sense!], might be ooc :{

note hi anon!! tysm for the request, like ive said before ive never actually played cod (yet i write ff of them, i know) instead i watch playthroughs so im not as familiar with some of these characters, so i really hope theyre not too ooc!! i also didn't write in rodolfo or farah because i didnt know what to write for them :{ so sorry! again, this is all just straight fluff, so enjoy :3

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

➥ honestly finds it very endearing.

➥ obviously it catches him a little off guard, and he has to actually process that you gave him a father’s day card, but right after he finds it very endearing.

➥ he’s surprised but not surprised at the same time that you gave him the card.

➥ like he knows and is aware that he has a tendency of acting more paternal towards you than others, but really? you gave him a card?

➥ he won’t cry or anything but his voice will definitely waver a bit while he thanks you for the card.

➥ he’ll give you a nice hug and everything too.

➥ maybe a small kiss on the forehead if you’re lucky. maybe.

➥ he doesn’t know where to put the card at first, because obviously he’s not gonna throw it out, so he just ends up putting it in a folder and tucking that folder with the rest of the important folders he has in his office.

➥ he starts calling you things like ’cielite’ and ’pollito’ more than your actual call sign.

➥ which, the others notice, but he couldn’t care less.

➥ he’ll have the same reaction every time you give him a father’s day card, if you ever give him more than one.

➥ maybe after the tenth or twelfth one, he’ll get used to it. but otherwise he’ll have that same ‘wait, they gave me a father’s day card?’ reaction every time.

—

You stared at the card in your hand nervously, your eyes darting from Alejandro, who sat in his office unaware of your presence right outside of the door, and back to the card. It shouldn’t be that hard to give it to him—he probably wouldn’t even be that shocked. It’s not like it’s a huge deal or anything, giving the card to him, right? It’s just a card. It’s just a card.

After a few more moments of hyping yourself up to give him the card, you’d finally sighed and knocked on the door to his office. Almost immediately, Alejandro called out, “¡Entra!”

You took another deep breath and opened the door, hiding the card behind your back as you walked in and closed the door behind you. Alejandro looked up from his desk and upon seeing you, a small grin split across his face.

“Well, hello, [c/n],” He greeted you, noticing your arm that went behind your back, but not commenting on it, “Did you need something?”

“Uh…” It was like all your words had left you, but refusing to back out of this now, you simply nodded and pulled your hand out from behind your back and held the card out to him, face down so that he couldn’t read the words on the front. Alejandro looked at the card curiously and gently grabbed it, turning it around to read the front.

He mouthed the words as he read them, ’¡Feliz Día del Padre!’, and took a moment to actually process the words before his grin grew and he opened the card. He read the few, short words written on the inside, and closed the card, looking at the front once again. He stared at it for a few seconds, leaving you to just stand there and watch as he read the same sentence over and over again, before he stopped and set the card down on his desk.

Before you could question him, he stood up and hugged you tightly, making you freeze for a second before hugging him back. His chin came down to rest on your head as he hugged you, and he kept you like that for a while before pressing a small kiss to the top of your head and pulling away from the hug. He kept his hands on the sides of your upper arms, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your skin as he looked down at you and murmured, “Thank you, mi cielite, that meant a lot to me.”

“I could kind of tell,” You muttered, making Alejandro chuckle softly and look back at the card on his desk. He turned back to you and squeezed your arms gently before letting go completely.

“When did you get it?” Alejandro asked curiously, nodding to the card, “The card.”

“About a week ago.”

His eyes widened, “And you waited this long to give it to me?”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”

Alejandro scoffed, “Wasn’t sure if I’d— [c/n], I love it, it’s perfect, and I’m going to keep it forever.”

“Well I know that now.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you might not like it,” You clarified.

“Eso es lo mismo—” Alejandro started to argue, before letting out a huff and shaking his head, “Don’t hesitate to get me something like that ever again. I adore it.”

“Noted.”

—

KÖNIG

➥ he might actually melt into a puddle of goop.

➥ he’s usually not soft for anyone, much less paternal, but it was a completely different story with you.

➥ so when you give him that card he just straight up goes completely soft.

➥ it’s not the usual kind of soft he is with you, which is typically just him being less hard on you and calling you things like ’mäuschen’ or ’liebling’, no, this is him just straight up malfunctioning.

➥ he finds it very sweet and will protect that card forever (trust me he told me himself).

➥ if anyone dares even touch the card he’ll slap their hand away immediately and will tell them to fuck off.

➥ the only acception is maybe horangi.

➥ he’ll tear up a little bit, not enough for it to be noticeable to you but it’s definitely noticeable to him.

➥ he’s very surprised that you got him the card, doesn’t see it coming at all.

➥ he’ll definitely hug you.

➥ while he hugs you, he’ll be muttering little things like ’you’re such a sweetheart, just the sweetest thing, i definitely didn’t deserve that card, thank you so much, you’re too sweet.’ all in german on loop so all you can hear is just straight word vomit and you can barely make out the words he’s saying but you can still understand it, not from the words but from the way he tightly hugs you and the way his voice wavers and softens when he talks.

➥ he keeps the card in his office, in a locked drawer in his desk, just so that nobody can touch it.

➥ similar to alejandro, starts calling you little terms of endearment in german more than your actual call sign.

➥ it never really shocks anyone when he starts almost exclusively calling you ’mäuschen’ and ’liebling’, so if he just refers to you as one of the two, they know who he’s talking about.

—

You waited in the hall outside of the recovery room, knowing König was in there, just resting there for a few hours until he had to get to his next assignment. You looked down at the card in your hand, reading the ’Alles Gute zum Vatertag!’ on the front, and reading it again, and again, and—you need to stop stalling.

You sighed quietly and took a deep breath before opening the door to the recovery room, spotting König on one of the couches, reading a book that practically looked like a pamphlet in his hands. His eyes snapped up and over to the door where you stood awkwardly in the doorway and eventually stepped completely into the room, making your way over to the silent colonel.

He watched silently as you walked over to the couch, holding a card in one of your hands, the blank side facing him so that he couldn’t see what it said on the front. You didn’t know what to say so you just sort of stood there, awkwardly. Did I mention how awkward it was? I’ll say it again. God, it was so awkward.

Eventually, König cleared his throat and nodded to the card, looking up at you as if asking ‘what is that?’. You silently held out the card to him, hoping he would just take it so that you could run off and die in a hole so that you never had to see him again. Right as he took it, you started to do just that, slowly walking away before his hand caught your wrist and looked at you pointedly, daring you to leave.

“Don’t go yet,” He said quietly, not looking at the card yet, “Explain what you just handed to me.”

“Read it,” You replied simply, not giving him an explanation just yet. He raised an eyebrow at you and glanced back at the card in his hand before letting go of your wrist and opening the card with both hands, not bothering to read the front. His eyebrows furrow and draw together in confusion as he reads the inside, before he realizes he should probably read the front and closes the card to read the front and— oh God.

He blinked down at the words on the front for a moment, and his eyes softened almost immediately, as well as his posture. He might as well have just melted right there, like a goopy idiot, but all you could see was him softening up a bit while reading the card silently.

You waited anxiously for him to say something, anything, but instead he silently got up and set the card down onto the couch. You could barely get a word out of your mouth before he pulled you into a tight, almost suffocating bear hug, burying his face into the top of your head. Hesitantly, you hugged him back, which only really served to make him hug you tighter. You arms barely went above his waist, while he had to bend down a bit to hug you properly, and the size difference made his mind race even faster because all he could think about was how small you were compared to him.

He pulled his face up from your head and instead lifted you up, making you gasp quietly at the sudden movement and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He tightly wrapped his arms around your much smaller frame and tucked your head under his chin, muttering small, incomplete sentences under his breath.

“Du bist einfach das Süßeste, mein Gott, du bist so ein Herzchen, viel zu lieb, um in der Armee zu kämpfen—" He murmured, his words practically inaudible to you, but you could still understand a few of the words and could piece together what he was saying from that.

“Why?” He asked softly after he was done with his muttering, making you wonder what he was asking, until a second later when you realized he was asked why you gave him the card.

You shrugged, mumbling, “Just felt like it.”

“Well…” König looked over at the card on the couch before saying, “Thank you, mäuschen. I love it.”

“I’m glad you do.”

—

ALEX “ECHO 3-1” KELLER

➥ he audibly lets out an ‘awwww’.

➥ he finds it so sweet and will cherish it forever.

➥ he’ll give you a nice, firm hug and tells you how much he appreciates it.

➥ be sure to give him one of those super cheesy father’s day cards.

➥ like one with a pun on it or a dad joke.

➥ he starts calling you his kid. like straight up refers to you as either his kid or just ‘the kid’.

➥ he probably starts acting the most like an actual dad out of everyone in this post tbh.

➥ he starts jokingly saying language after you swear, only to start cussing like a second later.

➥ oh god the dad jokes he starts telling you too.

➥ the dad jokes.

➥ he doesn’t tear up at all, but he does have a smile on his face for the rest of the day. maybe even the rest of the week.

➥ he’ll keep the card in his back pocket and just carry it around wherever he goes.

—

You looked around the corner, looking at Alex, who was sitting on the couch just scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t noticed you, despite the twenty-something times you’d looked around the corner, trying to build up your confidence to give him the card. You looked down at the card, the simple ‘happy father’s day!’ and pun on the front staring right back at you.

You looked over at Alex again before sighing and turning the corner completely, walking into the small recreational room, trying to take deep breaths while you walked over to the couch. Alex noticed you walking over to him and looked up from his phone, giving you a friendly smile and greeting you with a simple, “Hey, [c/n].”

You nodded in return and he tilted his head curiously at your silent greeting, before he looked down at your hands and noticed the card in one of them. Before he could ask anything further, you held the card out to him, looking away from him as you did, making him raise an eyebrow at your very odd behavior.

“Okay, then,” He muttered, gingerly taking the card, flipping it over to read the front. He reads the three bold words on the front quickly, and once he’s processed them, a bright grin takes over his face. You looked back over at him, just to make sure he’s not disappointed or anything, only to see him looking back up at you and getting up to hug you.

He pulled you into a tight bear hug, making you let out an audible ’oof’, but you still hugged him back.

“Thank you for the card,” He said graciously, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” Alex scoffed, before pulling away from the hug and putting both of his hands on your shoulders, “It means a lot to me that you thought to give me a card, kiddo.”

“... You’re welcome, then.”

Alex simply smiled and gave you one last tight hug before picking the card up and off of the couch, instead putting it into his back pocket. He looked back at you and said, “I’m gonna go show it off to Farah now, and make her all jealous.”

You huffed out a small laugh and responded, “You do that, then.”

—

KATE LASWELL

➥ she’s honestly not that surprised.

➥ she’s definitely aware that you think of her as a sort of mother figure, and before you give her the card, she’s kind of neutral about that.

➥ like she doesn’t mind it, but she also won’t feed into it that much.

➥ that is, until you give her the card.

➥ she’ll be dead silent at first when you hand it to her and you almost want to take the card back and just run away so that you never have to see her again.

➥ but then she gives you a warm smile and says ‘thank you, i appreciate this’.

➥ she won’t tear up or anything, but she’ll still give you a nice hug.

➥ she shows her wife the card and pretends like it’s not a big deal to her but it definitely is.

➥ she keeps the card back at her house, right on top of her bedside table (like a normal fucking person, she doesn’t keep it in her office or stuffs it into a jacket).

➥ her wife demands to meet you after kate shows her the card, by the way.

—

”Come in!” Kate called out, just a second after you knocked on the door to her office. You let out a shaky breath and hid the ‘happy mother’s day!’ card you had brought with you behind your back, opening the door to her office and tentatively walking in. Kate didn’t look up from her computer just yet, and instead motioned for you to sit in the chair across from hers.

You nodded even though she wasn’t looking at you and closed the door behind you, quickly walking over to the chair in front of her desk and sitting down. Only then did she look up from her computer and over at you.

“Hi, [c/n],” She took off her rectangle frame glasses and set them down, “What’d you come in here for?”

“Just, uh…” You started, before trailing off and just opting to set the card on her desk in front of her, face down. She raised an eyebrow at you, questioning what the card was before touching it. You simply gestured for her to read it and she sighed, putting her glasses back on and flipping the card over to reveal the words on the front.

Her eyebrows raised at the text but she didn’t say anything just yet, instead opening the card to read the few short written words on the inside. She closed the card back up again and instead stared at the front, reading the ‘happy mother’s day!’ text over and over again.

“... I can take it back if you don’t like it—” You began to offer, only for Kate to hold up a finger to cut you off, effectively silencing you. She doesn’t look up until a few moments later, when she sets the card down and looks over at you with a small smile gracing her lips. The smile makes you relax a bit in your seat.

That relaxation was thrown out the window just a second later when Kate said, “Get up,” and stood up from her seat.

You quickly followed her orders and stood up from your seat, prepared to leave if she asked you to, when you were suddenly being embraced by her. You took a moment to hug her back but you do eventually, hesitantly wrapping your arms around Kate.

She kept you in the hug and even tightened her hold on you whilst she whispered, “Thank you for the card. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

#explodes #cod #cod hcs #hcs #los vaqueros #alejandro vargas #konig #alex keller #kate laswell #platonic cod #is that it #idk actually #gn reader #i think thats it #fucking thank god

[thychesters]

BREAKING NEWS!!

a baby

#chopper is just 🥹 #to think there are at least 6 people who would burn the world down for him #7 if you count the old witch back home! #kate watches op #long ring long land #one piece

[walshies]

#kate walsh #what..what if I do watch the episodes with her after all for like science... and research #I'll be passing away now #op

[cock-holliday]

There is both a wonderful sense of comfort and an enormous amount of frustration in reading theory and historical accounts and going, “oh you dealt with that too?” Bi folks from the 80s talking about being othered by their community. Trans folks in the 90s talking about being othered. S. Bear Bergman wrote “I Know What Butch Is” to clear up (or not) the question of okay what exactly makes someone butch and what is a butch allowed to be in 2006. An argument we still must have apparently in 2024. Leslie Feinberg walked the streets of Boston that I used to, tearing down nazi fliers in the 70s, mentioning locations I tore down fliers in 40+ years later.

In My Granny Made Me An Anarchist, a book written 20+ years ago, Stuart Christie detailed antifash work in trying to disrupt neo-nazi recruitment in the 50s and 60s identical to work I labored over in the 20teens. Members of the Jewish Labour Bund in various countries talked about their isolation for their anti-zionism nearly 100 years ago. Kate Bornstein wrote books almost as old as I am about gender that feel like they were taken from my personal diary.

Alexander Berkman was introduced to liberatory politics through communist theory and then had to reckon with what aspects of the theory were salvageable and what was necessary to be wary of—something I’d explore in my path to anarchism too. Berkman, regardless of his stance on the USSR, was lumped in with “communist spies” and committed to fighting American anti-communism. Watching dissenting Americans be labeled “Russian ops” in the 2020s chills my spine.

Time is a flat circle. I am all the people who came before me, and can find comfort in the shared struggle, and also be immensely pissed to watch history repeat over and over. Still, better to thrash against consensus like my predecessors, because their resistance saved me—maybe my actions can be a hopeful light for those after me.

#LJsm

[mommymidwife99]

Kate & Jack ( from Lost)

Kate and Jack 

The last thing they ever expected was to have another baby on the island. 

Jack absolutely would never have agreed to anything other than a hospital birth, but on the island their options were, beach, jungle or cave. 

At this point, Kate was opting for cave, at least it was a bit more private and quiet than the other locations. She’d been having contractions for nearly two days but her progress was painfully slow. She was only 4 centimeters yet her contractions were coming every 5 minutes. 

Kate anxiously paced the cave, stopping to lean on a wall or curl around Jack with each contraction that furiously gripped her body. 

Jack was growing more and more restless with each contraction that wracked Kate’s body. He held her close, applying strong counter pressure to her hips as she groaned. “ Kate.. I  think we should break your water..” he suggested a bit shyly 

“ are you sure?” Kate asked surprised by the idea 

“ I’m sure” Jack answered more confidently “ you and the baby can’t keep this up for too much longer” 

Jack helps Kate lay down on the bed they’d set up a few days earlier. She pulls her knees up as Jack moves her sundress up over her rounded belly. He slowly slips one hand inside her and grips her bag of waters. 

She gasps and her face twists in discomfort as his large hand stretches her tight hole a bit. 

“ nnngh” Kate grunts as her water pops and susequebtky soaks a large area under her. Jack removes his hand, wipes it off and helps Kate sit up. As she rises she’s immeasurably greeted by the strongest contraction she’s felt yet “ ooooh fuuuuuck “ she moans loudly, squeezing Jacks hands tightly.. she shifts her weight side to side moaning until the contraction ends. Then she returns to standing , using Jack for support. Her contractions quicken and she can’t help but moan loudly through each one. Jack does his best to ease some of the tension in her body, but it’s becoming more and more difficult. 

Not long after sunset Kate starts to grunt as yet another wave wracks her body. “ fuuuuuck there’s sooo much pressure!” She cries digging her fingers into jacks shoulders. He grimaces and bites his lip 

“ I need to push” Kate yells as the contraction peaks. 

“ no! No, Kate just breathe!@ Jack says frantically “ we need to make sure you’re fully dilated first” 

“ nnnngh!” Kate grunts but resists until the contraction ends. Jack kneels down in front of her, letting her keep her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. He rubs the underside of her firm belly with one hand as he inserts two fingers of the other. He doesn’t have to go far before he feels a hard wet mass. His eyes bulge and Jate catches his look of terror @ what?@ she asks anxiously. 

“ I feel the head” Jack chokes out 

Not a minute later Kate opens her legs apart wider and bends her knees into a slight squat as she bares down hard. She groans and shakes as she feels the baby descend deeper into her birth canal. Jack stays kneeling in front of her, one hand between her legs waiting to feel the head. 

“ oooh my gooooood!! “ Kate yells as the babies head slowkybstarts to part her pulsing lips. 

“ that’s it Kate! Just like that!” Jack yells excitedly as he watches the slightest bit of the baby emerge. As Kate grunts, her face turning red and dripping with sweat, Jack grows a bit frantic, noticing that the baby appears to be bald. 

“ Kate ? Stop pushing!” 

“ what? Why?” Kate growls in frustration “ pressure!!” She grunts. 

Jack slips his fingers between the baby and Kate’s pulsing skin and confirms his fear 

“ the baby is breech” he says, locking Kate’s gaze 

Kate yells and pushes as hard as she can. Her legs shake an sweat 

pours off her face. But the baby doesn’t move much. 

Kate pushes for over an hour with no progress. Jack calls for Sawyer and Locke. Jack helps Kate to sit down on the cot. He sits behind her, wrapping his arms tight around her tired, sweat soaked body.he wraps his hands under her thighs and pulls her legs open wide. Locke sits at the foot of the cot watching to see if the baby moves as Kate pushes again.

Kate’s hands twist tightly around jacks  muscular forearms land he winces as her nails slice his skin. 

Jack looks answer and tell him to push on Kate’s stomach when she gets another contraction. 

Kate groans and turns her face into Jacks chest. Sawyer puts his hands on her hard round belly and pushes downwards. Kate screams and tries to slam her legs closed as Locke slips his hands inside her pulsing hole. The baby moves down a bit, finally starting to stretch Kate’s tight skin open more. 

“ come on Kate! You can do this!” Jack encourages anxiously. He can’t stand to see Kate in this kind of agony. “ OOOOWWW!!” Kate screams as she pushes, and the two men help the baby move some more.twenty torturous minutes later Kate’s vagina is stretched so wide she keeps screaming that she’s tearing. She thrashes around and yells at Jack for having done this to her. She wails as she bares down hard, fighting every signal in her body that tells her to turn away, and with Lockes’ help the babies middle pops out.Kate sobs as the rest of the baby is slowly tugged free of her tortured opening. Taking a long time to catch her breath as the baby lays on her heaving chest. 

All three men are just stunned at their experience. 

#birth fiction #labor kink #birthkink #birthfic #writing

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

William Rex Route Review

Okay~ Finally, I sat down and completed William's route today morning.....till 4 am. Yes, I have no life and my opinion is....it's kinda good! Honestly, a part of me was expecting it would be a snoozefest and another part of me was like 'Don't worry, it's gonna be fine. You'll love it!"

Usually when I play an Otome game, if the game doesn't manage to impress me within the first 30 minutes, I'll just immediately uninstall it and would never download it ever again. But I have a soft corner for the Ikemen series because their games really fill up my lonely heart....anyways. I'm not gonna sit here and compare Ikemen series with Voltage games or anything. We'll only compare ikemen games with other ikemen games!

I thought that Ikegen was gonna be my fav game forever and I used to think I wouldn't love another game and its characters as much as I love Ikegen. I mean look at Yoshino, for example! Do you really think any MCs could ever beat her? She's honestly the best thing to come out of Cybird and very thankful to them that I finally got an MC I could truly love!! Since Ikegen set the bar up really high, I was hoping the next upcoming game to be even better or at least the same as Ikegen........and then we got something that I don't even wanna talk about :/

So I was skeptical about the projects after that and then we got the news about Koihana. It got me interested, but it wasn't exactly a game in the 'Ikemen series'. There is no 'ikemen' in the title. Not that I won't play, I will when it comes out when I have time. After that out of nowhere, they dropped the teaser for Ikevil and I was SHOCKED!! because I was expecting a teaser of Koihana that day. I was honestly shocked that we're actually getting two new games for the 10th anniversary. The bgm in the teaser was so good (but too bad they didn't use that bgm even once in the whole game!) and I got intrigued about the characters, how they are gonna look, the MC, what's the story about, whose the artist, MC's role blah blah blah etc etc...I was super hyped.

Then the game came out and I played. Like I said, if the game doesn't impress me within the first 30 mins, I was gonna immediately uninstall it, because what's the point in playing if you're not gonna enjoy it, right? I need that 'first impression' to be the best impression! Honestly, I wasn't expecting a gore scene IN the prologue. I thought the prologue would be nice, calming, and maybe a little bit violence here and there...BUT NO! They didn't hold back at all and I LOVED IT! It got me really excited.

I started with William's route because I was planning to translate it and was expecting a lot more gore. William's route is good..................if you can sit through at least 15 chapters without sleeping, then I guarantee you that you will enjoy it. This is also coming from a person whose fav type is not William. Let me divide William's main story into two parts, without giving as many spoilers as possible. The first 1 to 3 chapters are okay. It just gives basic info about William, his personality, and other characters....simply basic stuff. The chapters from 4 to 14, are basically filled with William and his friends doing various missions and William helping Kate to be honest with her desires. It's mainly the bonding stage and I wasn't really into it because I felt like nothing was happening. Even William and Kate's interactions were alright, didn't get me that excited at all.

The story was moving really slowly and it felt like a lot was happening but I wasn't finding anything exciting. There was no 'real' conflict for example, there is no enemy that is terrorizing the Crown. The Crown members look severely overpowered and they are killing all the butterflies without breaking a sweat. The Crown members having these abilities as the 'cursed ones' is honestly very op if you use it in the right way at the right time. There is not much hand-to-hand combat which I personally love watching and translating. But I also love that they are all working together on these missions in groups. It's not like each member is assigned a different mission. All the members have faith in each other and help out each other when doing missions. No egos are clashing, no unnecessary fights, I love that about Crown, even though they all state that they are not friends.

So In between I was thinking...."What's the real threat here? What is Kate's role? Is her role only going to be just standing around and watching people die? Because if it is, then it's very boring."

It was only after chapter 18, that I really ended up liking William's route. William after chapter 18, is one hell of a badass character. There is this certain scene in chap 19 that I really love and it really caught me off guard for a second. There are some lines said by him that I really love. I can't wait to translate that chap and the madness ending. Also, William and Kate's relationship gets really fun. It's cuter and William keeps teasing her whenever he gets a chance (reminds me of a certain other King with black hair and blue eyes who is also cursed!).

The route has some gore and creepy scenes which are really good in showing how horrifying the world actually is. There is no filter. It feels like no one is safe. I don't even know why because at some point, I thought that there is going to be a scene where Kate is also gonna be injected with drugs. I don't know why I thought something like that, maybe in the future, some golden butterfly member will kidnap and inject drugs into her or something to mess up with the male lead's mind....who knows? But it feels like Cybird is not holding back with this one.

Now, coming to Kate. As an MC, I think she's good. She's very nice, caring, understanding, and possessive (lol). I like her a lot. I feel like out of all the Ikemen series MCs, Kate is the only one that has some sort of character development. She goes from being this shy and reserved person to more lively and talkative. It's kinda cute. She gets more bold in the latter half and doesn't shy away from expressing what she wants to do. I like that. Thank god, cybird didn't end up ruining her character in an attempt to make her look pure-hearted. The only, drawback I have with her is her job as a 'fairy tale master'. Honestly, it's such a.....meh job for some reason. She doesn't really get to do much, she only has to stand at the side and watch the male leads mutilating people. It's kind of boring because she has no real goal in life. I thought her job was to find a way to break the curses of the Crown members but no, she simply writes reports that are to be submitted to the Queen. *Sighs* it's fine, I still like her though and I hope her personality doesn't change once I switch routes, or else I will be mad.

Final thoughts, not bad as the first route. I mean it's still the 'first route' and I'm sure the future routes will be crazier....especially Jude's route (I hope I don't die before that!). I feel like his route is going to be before Victor. But still, William's route did a good job in making me wanna continue playing this game, so that's a plus for me. If not, I would have uninstalled it immediately, waited for Jude route, and re-install it then.

I was thinking to start Harry's route next (not translating that btw!) but I'm restarting William's route again to get the other ending not because I'm poor and saving up gold for Harry's route, pfffttt not at all!

#ikemen series #ikemen villain #ikemen villains #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen villains william

[aminta]

bro theyre playing croquet 😭 😭 damn my family just like the bridgertons fr

#op #oli watches bridgerton #also i love what a hater kate is. real

[callmemaeverick]

Whumptober #1 - Drugged [Alex Keller x Reader]

Words: 1.7k

ps: Yeah, I’m doing Whumptober. Yeah, I’m a day late. No, I will not explain. Prompts courtesy of @ailesswhumptober

He was underwater.

“Keller?” A voice called out somewhere. Cold fingers against his cheeks and Alex hissed. Cold. Too cold.

“Keller? Can you hear me?”

The lights were bright against his pupils, but he couldn’t see a thing. The air rippled and Alex shuddered as he tried to curl in on himself.

The hands were on him again and he wanted to push them off, but he’s tired. He’s so tired.

Alex knows the deal.

This job he chose, this job he so excelled at, he knew the odds going in. He knew what failure and discovery entails. His was the business of espionage and sometimes that business does not come with a safety net.

There will be no one coming to get him. That was the first thing Kate had told him regarding this assignment. If he gets caught, the CIA is not going to send a team to extract him. "Beyond classified," she had said. "Off the books."

And Alex had nodded. He had understood.

His job had been simple enough. Recon, intel gathering.

Kate had caught wind that one of their station chiefs in Amsterdam might be involved in a drug smuggling ring. Due to the nature of the mission, they needed someone that has not operated in Europe in the last decade. Someone that had been embedded in the Middle East so long, Arabic is practically his native language. Someone who looks generic enough to not raise suspicion.

The station chief was newly appointed, so Alex had banked on the intel that he had not come across his files yet. Still, he went in under a tourist visa, a different name and a clean-shaven face.

It went well the first week he was there. Too well. He’d established Ambrose’s schedule, knew his favorite coffee spots, his favorite strip clubs. He couldn’t really plant bugs or trackers anywhere near the man, but Alex was nothing if not resourceful. In the short time he was there, he’d made friends. Little grannies that had too much time on their hand, kids and teenagers all along the river.

He’d created a spy network and it worked for him.

Until it didn’t.

In his work, bad intel is not uncommon. He’s had them fed to him numerous times. But this was the one that blindsided him.

Ambrose knew who he was. He knew the moment Alex landed in Europe. Still, he led him on a chase, let him get comfortable. And when Alex least expected it, he was ambushed.

He could barely feel the pinprick in his neck, but fuck if he didn’t feel the drugs making its way into his system.

It happened fast. They pulled him into the van, they dosed him, and they tossed him back out before they even hit the corner.

By some miracle, he was able to get back to the safe house. By some miracle, he was able to get inside. And by some miracle, she was there.

~

You had no idea what was going on. But you knew you recognize that face.

He was clean-shaven and he had a ballcap covering his dirty blond hair, but you knew that face. You couldn’t forget it.

When you checked the office records, you found he hadn’t checked in, which meant 2 things. He was on vacation. Or he’s on an op. A black one.

You had a sneaking suspicion as to what. You’d been keeping an eye on it yourself.

He didn’t know you were in country though. Of that, you were sure. And if he was on a Black op, you wouldn’t want to expose him. But then one day, you station chief was acting a bit to differently for it to be a coincidence. And your gut was screaming at you something was about to go down.

That night, you went to his safe house.

And thank fuck you did.

~

For someone his size, Alex had always been quiet. It was a skill, really, and a skill he had perfected in the years of his work. But as he laid there in the ratty old couch, he was anything but.

His breaths were harsh coming out of his mouth, as if the air was fighting its way out of his chest. He groaned, deep and growling and you could only watch as his muscles spasmed. Whimpers of pain escaped him as he fought whatever it was they dosed him with.

You sighed as you took a towel to his brow, wiping sweat as if his t-shirt was not drenched already. The IV you bought hung from the coat rack and hanger you scrounged from the depths of his wardrobe. And you waited. And you waited.

~

The crawl to consciousness was not something Alex hadn’t experience before. He was a college student; so, he had been black-out drunk. He had his lights knocked out of him in basic and on mission, and he had been so exhausted that he just passed out standing. But he’d never been drugged before.

It was harrowing. He didn’t know up from down, left from right. He didn’t know where he was or even if he was awake or not. All he knew was pain. His whole body felt like it was brought through the wringer. His joints ache, his limbs are stiff. He’s hot, but he couldn’t. Stop. Shivering!

“Hey, hey…” A voice came through the din and Alex fought just a little bit harder. “It’s alright.” His fingers grasped something slender, something smooth. “Hey, you’re safe… I promise.” It turned in his hand and then, there were fingers lacing through his, cool against his clammy palm. “I promise.”

Pain seized his body once more and he gasped. His joints locked, his muscles froze, and Alex choked.

The fingers were in his hair now, whispering, coaxing him to breathe. The scent of coffee enveloped him, and he gulped lungfuls of it.

“Breathe, Alex. Just breathe… it will pass,”

The whine that escaped him was pitiful, but for some reason he felt safe. Safe to be weak. Safe to suffer.

And suffer he did.

~

When he finally fell limp in your lap, only then that you yourself exhaled. It was a bad one, so bad that he jerked out of the couch and onto the floor. Thankfully you were quick to catch him, to protect his head from any more damage.

His body was like a dead weight on you and there was no way in hell are you moving him, so you stayed. You stayed, your fingers threading to his hair, scratching at the grooves on the side of his head, courtesy of a shrapnel bomb he hadn’t managed to get away from.

That was the mission where you two met.

Tracking a serial bomber in Bahrain.

You got the fucker but not before Alex ended up in the hospital, half his head hanging out, a steel plate replacing a portion of his skull.

You had never seen so much blood before that day, and knowing it came from your partner was traumatizing at best.

But Alex was Alex about it. Once he stabilized and woke up, he was back to the bright-eyed, bright-smiled man, jokingly flirting with you as if he wasn’t just knocking on the Reaper’s door. He breezed through PT like it was summer camp and before you knew it, he was back on the field.

It was one of the reasons you said yes to coffee, a few months after Bahrain.

And then yes to dinner, a few weeks after Thailand.

Because for what he endured, he’d never once blamed you or anyone for it. It was part of the job. And he had accepted it.

That was what killed you. How easily he let it go. How freely he let himself be used, however the Agency wanted. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t endure it.

~

Weirdly, it wasn’t the pain that registered to him first. No. It was the smell. His smell.

He smelled awful. Of days-old dried sweat and drool, of stale coffee and dusty room. And then the pain came, and he groaned. It was muted, thank fuck, and his legs are stiff, but he could move… off the floor. How did he get here?

He heard the sniffles as he froze, looking up. The first thing he saw were the eyes, lined with wetness that will never fall. Then he saw the upside-down smile.

“There you are,” she said.

He blinked, utterly confused.

“You’re fine. You’re safe.” She began telling him facts. Only facts. Concise, compact, easy for his lethargic brain to comprehend.

Then it all came back to him.

It took days for the substance to make its way through his system, but it did. It was touch and go for a bit, but he pulled through.

They found out what the drug was. It was supposed to kill him, make it look like he OD’d. It was smart, in its simplicity. They knew he was alone. They knew if anybody found him, they’d rule him out as a tourist who partied too hard. They’d tag him, slabbed him and not look back.

And the CIA will be short a good asset.

But they didn’t account for her. They didn’t account for her intel and with his confirmation, they had all the evidence they needed to stop the drug and Ambrose.

~

“Thank you,” His exhale brushed your cheeks. There were still dark circles under his eyes but for all intents and purposes, he’s back on his feet. You were dropping him off at the airport, with him looking all the while like a tourist heading home.

You stared at the spot above his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. You didn’t like goodbyes.

But Alex is Alex, so he stood there patiently until you lost the fight with yourself and pulled your gaze back to him.

“We make a great team,” You held out your hand.

He looked down and grabbed it. You shook it once, and then you were careening forward.

Strong arms wrapped around you and the breath that was stuck in your throat released. Your arms came up behind him and squeezed him tight. A hug from Alex Keller works wonders on you.

“Take care of yourself, Keller.” You whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” He lied.

FIN.

#alex keller #alex keller x reader #whumptober 2023 #drugged #trigger warning #cod #alex keller cod #chad michael collins #whump

[pfhwrittes]

Okay, follow up to Gaz and Ghost razzing Soap over comms and he can’t respond:

This time, it’s Gaz’s turn. Soap determines it’s payback time and Ghost goes along with it. (Because let’s face it, he would.)

Gemma I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this prompt out. My brain went off in a million different directions before finally settling on this one. It's not my best work but it did make me laugh, hopefully it makes you smile too! 459 words of silliness (again). Also, I'm sorry for the earworm. “Ohhhhhh an’ I would walk 500 miles an’ I would walk 500 hunner mair jus’ tae be. the. man. watin’ at yer doooooooooor!” 

Kyle feels his left eye twitch in response to Soap’s godawful crooning. It’s been hours of the same fucking line sung over and over with different inflections and Kyle is seriously contemplating finding Soap’s overwatch position and beating him into a bloody pulp if he has to be subjected to the Proclaimers for even another second. Op be fucking damned. 

“Johnny.” Ghost snaps down the comms, and Kyle feels his shoulders drop in relief. 

Finally.

“Those aren’t the words.”

Kyle grimaces.

Here we fucking go.

“What’re ye on about Lt., of course those are the words!” Soap sounds delighted that he finally got a response out of the stoic Manc, which, in Kyle’s opinion, is the completely incorrect response to have. 

“No.”

“How no?” Soap shoots back, not deterred by Ghost’s blunt reply. 

“English Mactavish.” Christ, Ghost sounds downright fond of the prick. Kyle fights back the urge to make a disgusted retching noise in response. 

“Sorry, sir.” A pause, then “g’wan then. Give us a tune.” 

“Not a chance, sergeant.” 

If it wouldn’t give away his position, Kyle would beat himself into unconsciousness. Listening to Soap butcher “I’m Gonna Be” is less painful than having to witness the way he flirts like a teenager with Ghost. 

There’s another brief silence before Soap starts humming again. 

Fucking hell. __

(Bonus scene I just couldn't scrap, even though it doesn't quite fit)

“Gentlemen. I expect you know why you’re here.” Kate’s voice is smooth and controlled, not a hint of emotion bleeding through. Her body language gives away just as much as her voice, that is to say, absolutely nothing. Beside her Price is the picture of barely tempered fury. In any other circumstances Kyle would quietly marvel at the way she holds court in the small conference room, would probably shoot her a friendly grin to reassert himself as her favourite troublemaker.

As it stands (at parade rest no less, wedged between the ever fidgeting Scottish menace on his right and the breadth of his Lieutenant on his other side), Kyle doesn’t dare to even move his eyes from the point he’s chosen on the wall behind Station Chief Laswell and Captain Price. 

The silence stretches on and Kyle notices the faint tink tink tink of the ancient steel radiator as it blasts wave after wave of scorching heat into the room before his ears catch the sound of slightly off-key humming coming from his left. 

There’s a brief moment of near silence before Soap’s composure crumbles, clutching at his stomach as he bursts into only slightly hysterical sounding giggles. 

In his periphery Kyle watches a vein throb on Price’s forehead.  Oh, they are all completely and utterly fucked.

#pfh answers #pfh prompts #friend tag #it's not my best but i needed to get the worms out #legend says that price actually shouted himself hoarse that day and was rendered voiceless for a solid week #kg #jm #sr #jp #kl