#will i be lost or just breaking protocol? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetnothingtm · 2 years

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RUTHLESS// simon riley x reader

pairing simon riley x f!reader

word count 4.6k

content warning rough sex, knife play, degradation, oral sex, the mask stays on!

authors note i hope you enjoy you dirty little freaks. thank you for everything ♡

It’s an honest mistake - really. Had you known any better you would’ve kept it right where he left it.

But you can’t help yourself, lingering just a moment longer to stare at the blade that shines in the light. Its tip was stuck in the wall, the black hilt of the knife worn from use. Soap is calling your name, but you stay put, lip caught between your teeth.

It’s the lieutenants, his initials engraved into it - and you pocket it without a second thought.

You hide it from him like a dirty secret.

At first, you reason that it’s a good knife - a waste of potential to be left in the wall. It’s been polished and sharpened, the tip of the blade pricking into your finger. You had to keep it, you thought. Despite the fact that he would eventually come back for it, eyebrows drawn in confusion at the empty hole where it used to stick. You don’t necessarily use it, but you keep it on you at all times. It rests in your breast pocket, your heart beating against it even now.

A reminder of him. All the little unspoken truths and harbored emotions that you kept from him.

Then you think he could've asked for it back. You don’t admit that you have it, but if he wants it then he’ll try to find it. You have a bad habit to absentmindedly stare at him during briefings, and you notice the empty spot on his vest. It’s a similar shape to the knife.

You’ve been free falling for the lieutenant since the day you met him. Always a little too desperate and eager, you did your best to please. Arriving early for meetings, being the first one up, getting your report and handing it to him finished not a day later. He’d catch your gaze, cocking an eyebrow almost as if in challenge. You’d blush, breaking his stare and shoving down all those months of pining.

He taught you how to aim, how to disassemble your weapons and put them back together, hell- he’d just about taught you how to breathe. A ghost that’s hellbent on haunting the living, he kept you waiting patiently and obediently. You just needed a sign - something to tell you that he sees you.

The lieutenant doesn’t ask for it back. Yet. You’re starting to fall asleep looking at it, eyes half lidded and thumb rubbing over the hilt softly. It flips between your hands under the table at meetings, head in the clouds with your superior storming your thoughts.

The initials are ingrained in your memory like it was branded. SR. You start to carve it in bathrooms, trees, your bed frame. It’s shameful to admit, but having a piece of him is nice to carry. It’s because he’s your boss, the guy whose job it is to keep you alive. You’re just being sentimental for a friend.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows it’s gone. There’s a part of you that hopes you’ll never have to give it back.

Eventually you’re beginning to treat it like it’s your own. You carry it with you like a lost piece to a puzzle. It’s got a spot on the inside of your vest, hidden from his eyes. You let it dance on your skin in boredom, and use it to cut stray threads off you. But you can’t cut the lieutenant loose.

Your eyes are blinking away boredom and disinterest, head hung low as the drowning deep voice of Ghost continues on. It’s late, and you’re tapping your boot impatiently as Johnny and Kyle are making small talk about the stupidest shit.

The knife clicks open and closed, fingers unconsciously brushing against the blade. You really just need a shower and eight hours of sleep, but time is ticking away.

Think Lt will let us sleep in tomorrow?

Not a chance, Soap

Bastard doesn’t even sleep. It’s not fair

You feel like kicking yourself to stay awake. Yawns are bubbling up from your chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. It’s been a half hour since he started talking about procedures, protocols, what to do if blah blah blah. You fiddle with the knife in your hands, glancing down at the initials. Simon Riley. You wish you were in bed, the soft glow of your lamp illuminating your favorite kept secret.

He can tell too, and it’s infuriating him. You’re messing with your hands, lip caught between your teeth as your leg bounces in the chair. You rest your arms on the table, leaning forward and absentmindedly playing with something. Then he sees it, the black hilt that’s worn from the grip of his hand. It’s got the same engraving too, the one he got custom done his first day on the force.

You took it.

Simon didn’t think you’d have it - just a sneaking suspicion. He’s lost it before, usually to find it the next day in his jeans. Yet he saw you leaving, cheeks scarlet as you avoided his gaze. Your hands were shoved deep in your pockets, mumbling soft apologies as he brushed past you and back into the room. It wasn’t there, though.

He missed it. Simon carried it with him everywhere, like it was a part of him. It’s the only knife he owns, always wiping it clean at the end of the night. It twists between his fingers at night, the hilt worn from the palm of his hand. He would lazily flick it open, thumb rubbing along the edge of the knife. He thought he’d find it by now - but there you are, treating it with the same care that he has.

The lieutenant pauses, words trailing off as he stares at the familiar blade. You glance up, catching his gaze with eyes that are dark and heavy. You blink once, twice, straightening and looking down to your hands where the open knife lays. You freeze, the air around you running cold. Heart faltering and chest tightening, you wait with baited breath. Never has the truth been laid so bare before you. His eyes are kept on your face, pinning you in your seat. Does he know?

The lieutenant breaks your gaze, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. You’re absolutely mortified, shoving the knife in your back pocket and biting your tongue. Johnny looks to Ghost, pausing his conversation with Kyle at the unexpected silence. You’re distracting yourself by looking at anywhere but him, breaths uneven and shoulders tight with anxiety.

Ghost takes a moment to regain his control, mind clouded with the image of you playing with his knife. He runs a hand down the haunting white mask that separates you from him. Still wearing the uniform and gear, his hand rests on the empty spot of his vest as his eyes drag straight back to you.

He has to know.

“Johnny, Gaz - take your gossip outside. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” he states, leaving no room for questions. The lieutenant breaths a long sigh, head cocking to the side as you blush a deep red. You whip your head to him, standing up straight at the sound of your name. He doesn’t dismiss you. The boys nod begrudgingly, standing up and stretching while grunting goodbyes as they shuffle out of the room. The door swings shut, clicking back into place and leaving you stranded.

It’s just the two of you, a thick and nauseating tension arises as moments slip by in an uncomfortable quiet. Your hands are balled into fists out of anxious habit, nails digging into the palms for your hands. He’s shrugging off the vest, peeling off his gloves and tossing everything on a nearby chair. His bare hands brace against the side of the desk, eyes staring straight through you.

“That’s my favorite knife that you stole,” he says, voice patronizing as you stupidly blink at him with innocence in your eyes. Your mouth opens and shuts quickly, head spinning with all the ways you can lie yourself through this.

“I don’t have it, maybe you lost it?” You say, shifting uncomfortably as he cocks an eyebrow at you. He looks at you as though you’re on fire, burning up with every lie that you feed him. You fumble, shaking your head at him and letting poor bluffs take the lead, “I just bought this one. I got it from a store in-“

“You’re a bad fucking liar.”

You freeze, words stuck in your throat as his voice rings in your ears. You’ve been caught like a deer in the headlights, eyes widening and panic setting in. His fingers drum against the side of the desk, and he almost looks like he’s found his new pet not behaving.

Glancing to the door, you swallow a thick ball of fear. It’s a few feet away, right there and waiting for you to run. Excuses and dishonesty coat your senses, trying to cover up lost tracks as you look longingly to the exit. The knife sits heavy in your pocket, a ruthless and terrible reminder of the fact that it doesn’t belong to you. You should’ve given it to him when you had the chance.

He waits for you to answer, and he’s gritting his teeth every second you stare at him all pretty and dumb - like you don’t know a goddamn thing. Honestly, a part of him feels a little prideful that you kept it in the first place. You intoxicate and torture him, forcing him to keep distance from the forest fire he wants to call home. The lieutenants been waiting for you to spark since the day he met you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, voice struggling to stay even as his eyes narrow at your words. You try your best to remain calm as the lieutenant continues to stare, skin flushed with fear as he shakes his head at you. “You’re a rotten brat, you know that?” He spits, watching with hate as you look away with your chin held high. You won’t admit defeat, not until it’s ripped from you with prying hands.

“It’s got my fucking name on the blade, sweetheart-“ he grounds out, leaning forward as his eyes burn into your own. “And unless you’ve got it branded on you too, I’d suggest being a good girl and giving it back.”

The room is laced with a thick silence while you shiver where you stand. You nod meekly to him from across the table, letting loose an uneven breath. You hold his gaze, stomach churning with months of suppressed fear and unrequited adoration. You speak to him softly, as if your voice is made of truth.

“You left it, and I found it. It’s mine now,”

He laughs at you, the sound hateful and violent in your ears. He pushes himself off the desk where he leans, the mask building a wall of irritation around him. His footsteps land heavy as he’s crossing the room, sauntering towards you with a determined look in his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he states, shaking his head condescendingly at you.

Three steps, and he’s right in front of you. His figure towers over you, face tilted down to look at you. He smells like tobacco and pine, and you notice the spread of ink that peeks out from his sleeve. A finger grazes under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his dark eyes. “Give it back.”

It’s a losing game, and you’re trying desperately to win. You shake your head, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. No.

The lieutenant drags over a chair, exhaling heavily as he takes a seat. His legs are spread, a hand resting on his thigh as you shake under his touch. He looks away for a moment, as if he’s mulling over something. Tsking softly to himself, he reaches a hand out and hooks it into your vest before tugging you down, “patience is wearing thin, sweetheart. I want it back, now.”

Your breath fans hot against his mask, eyes widening in shock as his grip tightens on you. His eyes are swimming with a haunting rage. The careful distance you’ve kept from his is crumbling, heart skipping a beat to catch up with the lieutenant. He pulls you closer, and you’re tripping under yourself as the mask stares back at you in challenge.

“I’m sorry, sir-” you whisper under your breath, the tip of your shoes hitting his boots as your shoulders sag. “I’m keeping it,” you say honestly, letting the shame wash over you. There’s nowhere to hide, all the time spent trying to get him to see you when you should’ve been running.

“Wrong answer.”

His hand drags you down and over him, knees pressing into your stomach as the breath is stolen from you. His hand finds its place along the back of your head, keeping you down as his fingers run along your back. Head spinning with all the ways in which you’ve been waiting for this, you squirm on his lap and brace your hands under you and on his thigh.

The lieutenants face drops down to you, mask brushing against your cheek. Your mind is blank now, the feel of his hot breath against your skin causing you to freeze. His dog tags dangle over your back, brushing against your shirt. “You should really mind your manners,” he admits, plucking the knife from your back pocket. “You know better than this.”

Your ass hangs up and over his knee, his hand resting along your upper thigh to keep you in place. The blade clicks open, and he lets loose a chuckle as he appreciates it. He flips it between his fingers out of sight, pulling back your hair as it takes place against your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut at the touch, the cool metal pressed against your skin and causing you to shiver.

There’s a moment where it’s just the two of you in silence. You count your breaths, biting your cheek and waiting patiently for the lieutenant to make his next move. Apologies are at the tip of your tongue, but fall short as his blade runs along your skin.

A sickening smack lands against your ass, body jumping from the unexpected touch. Desire runs up and along your spine, head cloudy with longing for a ghost in your haunted home. You can feel his hand rub softly into your skin, breath coming loose as he pulls away. “Lieutenant - please, I’m so sorry-”

Another smack, this time harder as it leaves a sting. “Simon - don’t you remember, love? That’s the name I’m gonna carve into your fucking skin,” he spits, digging the tip of his knife into your throat as you nod to him. Heat is pooling between your thighs that rub together in anticipation, lip caught between your teeth as you peel open your eyes and glance over your shoulder to him.

You regret ever having bothered.

He stares at you with a hateful lust, a smirk playing on his lips that are just out of your sight. Simon dips his fingers between your thighs and rubs soft circles, savoring the way you melt under his touch. You wiggle your hips, shifting on his knees and spreading your legs open just an inch. He notices, sending another smack to your ass. “Filthy,” he laughs, two fingers dragging along the wet desire that continues to grow within you. “You’re not even sorry - are you?”

You shake your head, nails digging into his thigh as his fingertips dig into your clit. “I am - I didn’t mean to steal it - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon,”

His name is unexpected as it falls from you, but you say it like it belongs to you. The bulge in his pants is growing, dick twitching at the way you squirm on his lap. All those months spent dreaming of you on your knees is starting to catch up with him, and he just can’t run away. He grits his teeth, the sound of his name on your lips sending him straight to hell. Good thing he’s friends with the devil.

Simon’s hands leave you suddenly, the knife clicking closed and set onto the table. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back until your neck is craned and your eyes begin to water at the pain. “If you really are sorry - then get on your knees and ask for forgiveness.”

He abruptly pushes you off his lap, and you tumble to the ground with your head smacking against the floor. You pull air into your lungs desperately, body recoiling from the shock of being thrown off of him. Hands pushing from under you to brace yourself, you look to him with innocent wide eyes and full lips that wobble in fear. He leans back in the chair, arms braced on the sides as he looks at your expectantly.

Shamefully, you crawl between his legs and sit on your knees. The knife sits alone on the table, watching you mockingly as you blink up to Simon. There’s a wide grin spread across his face, though you’re not able to see it. The mask keeps you from him, a careful distance that he isn’t willing to give up yet.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumble softly, blushing crimson as his hands fall to his belt. “I’m sorry.” He unbuckles the belt, dragging down the zipper as his eyes remain on your pretty little face with eyes glossy from tears. He’s nodding to you, pushing down the waist of his pants until you’re staring at the swollen tip of his dick that’s wet from pre cum.

“I know you are - but I want to see you beg.”

His hand comes to lazily stroke himself, hissing as he squeezes the tip of himself. Your hands gently rest against his knees, chest coiling tight with a familiar ache. You sit there patient, waiting for his approval as Simon jerks himself off. The heat between your legs is burning, heart struggling to keep a steady pace.

Then he gives a small nod, hands drifting to the side as your mouth waters. You lean forward, little lips parting wide. Simon sighs softly as your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing and eyes fluttering closed.

Your head bobs in his lap, hand coming to stroke what you can’t take. His hand tangles itself in your hair, guiding your movements slowly. Your tongue dances along his tip, his hips bucking at the touch and fingers tightening their grip. Simon lets his head fall back, waves of pleasure rocking through him at the way you hum against his dick. “Shit, you’re such a nasty slut,” he laughs out.

Lips dragging along his shaft, you take him inch by devastating inch without hesitation. Your nails are digging into his knees, clawing at him to take control as he begins to unravel. His shoulders drop, groans pulled from him when drool dribbles out from your lip and onto him.

Simon watches as you force him to the base of your throat, soft gargling sounds emitting from you. You can’t take all of him, but your hand massages the rest of his shaft, the touch soft and delicate. His head is cloudy with desire, forcing your head further down until you start to choke, tears blurring your vision. He’s abandoning all self control, letting it slip from his fingertips like a thread of gold. Doesn’t matter when you’re on your knees for him, sucking his dick like its the only thing you’ve dreamed of.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, hips bucking into your mouth. You’re humming, bobbing your head yes as you continue to let him fuck your mouth. He feels sick with pleasure, hand pushing you further along his dick until he’s seeing stars.

You’re eagerly on your knees, chest tightening with every moan that fires from Simons lips and aims straight to you. It’s got you feeling confident, sitting up on your knees and licking your tongue along the bottom of him. “Fuck - that’s it, sweetheart,” he grounds out, and you’re pressing your thighs together to stop yourself from dripping. You look up at him, dick caught in your throat and eyes sparkling with obedience.

Your teeth drag along his shaft, causing him to slam your head down. You choke, struggling to pull back and catch your breath. “Bloody hell,” he muses, the pad of his thumb rubbing into your cheek softly. You pull away, lips smacking as you try to control your uneven breaths. Simon watches as you rub the drool and spit from your lips, eyes turning a shade darker when you give him an innocent smile.

“Come here.”

When you stand, his fingers push themselves between your thighs. His hand comes to undo your pants, your lip caught between your teeth as you wait patiently for him. He’s pushed down the hem of your pants, hands coming to grip your waist. You stand there silently, holding your breath when he glances up to you. “Well? Show me how sorry you are,”

It takes you a moment to peel away your clothes, strewn on another chair where his things lie. Your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment as your arms snake around his neck, hesitantly coming to sit in his lap. He leans over to grab the knife, flicking it open again and pressing it against your chest. “Simon,” you breath softly, fingertips brushing along the base of his neck.

“Can you forgive me?”

He shakes his head at you, muttering filthy curses as his fingers dig into your waist. You’ve been waiting for this, soaked through and blind with guilt, you let the tip of him brush against your folds. Simon drags the knife to your throat, watching you with his breath held as you sink slowly onto his dick.

It’s a feeling you’ve only ever dreamed of. He pushes into you completely, heart beginning to falter and freeze at the pure pleasure that spreads between you. Your stomach is tightening, hips grinding into him softly. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, the hold on his knife tightening until his knuckles are white. “I’m considering it.”

It wouldn’t be so bad - to spend the rest of your life chasing after this high.

Hesitation has been tossed aside, breaths becoming in sync as he watches with baited breath as you grind into his lap and mewl out moans.

You pull yourself up with shaking thighs, falling back into him and letting a moan slip past your lips. You bounce on his dick, hips rolling and grinding with his knife pressed against your throat. Disgraceful slick wet sounds are ringing in your ears like a sickening melody. His hands are pressing and pulling you down, his hips bucking up with your movements.

Simon garbs a handful of your ass, keeping you in balance as you ride him ruthlessly. The knot of pleasure is tying itself tight, and you’re whining in his ear from the ecstasy “That’s it - look at you, such a good girl riding my dick.”

“Mm-mm,” you moan, head falling into the crook of his neck as he drags the knife to your chest, letting the tip press against your skin. “Please - please, I’m so sorry, Simon,” you gasp out, tightening your arms around his neck as he slams his hips into you.

His touch is rough and ruthless, impatient with pleasure as he smacks your ass that’s now red with his handprint. His. The thought sends him spiraling, groaning loudly. Simon lets you roll into him, bouncing in his lap with his breath fanning hot against your neck. “Careful,” he laughs against you, fingers traveling to your clit to rub harsh circles. “I just might think you like this.”

And you do. In fact, you’re overwhelmed by the sensational desire that’s boiling within you. Your moans are becoming desperate, nails scarping along his shoulder blades as he continues to fuck you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, practically hanging off of him as he rubs the wet pleasure between your thighs.

It’s just the two of you. His hand is greedily snapping your hips back to him, and you meet the touch eagerly. There’s a fire that’s building within you - and neither of you can smother it out. Your chest is tightening, lips mumbling out pathetic moans as Simon laughs, the sound dark and tantalizing. “You do - don’t you?” He asks, and you’re nodding into his neck with pleas rippling off of you. “I know you do, I bet your pretty little pussy is gonna cum on my dick-” he states, suddenly grabbing your throat and forcing you to look at him.

You hold his stare, mewling out and begging for him as he rubs quickly. You’re losing your sanity, hips eagerly grinding into his lap until a simmering heat takes a hold of you, crying out in pleasure. “Right about now.” He finishes, watching as you smile innocently at him.

He still fucks you though, riding out your orgasm as he chases after his own.

It only takes him another moment until he’s following you, sloppy and lazy thrusts into your hips. Simon is grounding out your name, gritting his teeth and savoring the way your slick cunt tightens around him. His head falls back against the chair, breath hot and uneven as he snaps and slams his hips into you one last time.

Then you’re sitting pretty and patient in his lap, letting him grow soft in you with your lip caught in between your teeth. Your eyes are glossed over with happiness, stomach flipping as he closes the blade and leaves a hand resting against your waist. Seconds slip by in silence, buy neither of you seem to mind. His breath is slowly untangling itself from yours, gaze dark and haunting.

When you peel yourself away from him, shaking hands pulling up your pants and blushing scarlet, he tugs you closer to him. You button your pants, still wet from the way Simon pulled all those dirty little secrets from you like they were his to begin with. He lets his hands slide to your ass, giving it a final squeeze.

“Such a good girl,” he says softly, a smile playing at his lips as you blush deeper. He stands, cupping your face in his hands and looking at you with the same adoration that you’ve given him for months. “I think you’ve learned your lesson - yeah, sweetheart?”

You nod up to him eagerly, the strings of your heart snapping and breaking as he pulls himself from you. “Uh-huh,” you breathe, and you mean it. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, letting his finger commit the feel of your skin to memory.

“Be good for me - get some rest, love.”

He left the knife in your back pocket, and it sits there now - waiting for him to come back.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost riley #ghost riley x you #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw22 #cod fanfic #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mwii

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lillysdreaminnn · 2 months

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Labyrinth.

literally in love with this pic ANYWAY

Pairing; Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Warnings; established relationship, Hotch is a love struck fool, slight suggestiveness at the end, reader being a lil stubborn, aaron being cute, fluff, fluff and fluff :))

Summary; You're giving Aaron the silent treatment and he's trying to make up.

A/n; heavily inspired by Labyrinth by Taylor Swift. Especially the quote below the cut.

"you would break your back to make me break a smile." - Taylor Swift, Labyrinth.

"Please talk to me!" Aaron begged, walking through your apartment, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You were giving Aaron the silent treatment. This man disobeyed protocol, once again, and ran into a house - unarmed - to negotiate with the unsub. The unsub who was armed and had placed explosives in said house.

To say you were mad would be an understatement.

You were furious.

He could've gotten himself killed and he just dismissed it as if it were nothing. But had you done it? He'd be over you all time, showering you with questions; "are you sure you're okay?" "love, maybe you should see a doctor?" "you need anything?"

Of course you asked him if he was okay and took him to a doctor, even if he said he was fine.

"Baby please!"

Not only were you giving him the silent treatment, you deprived him of his favourite; your kisses. You hadn't kissed him or hugged him ever since he came out of that house.

Three days before.

Now, you were at work and he was still following you around like a puppy, not caring if anyone said anything - not that they'd dare to.

"You know what? I'm done chasing you." Aaron mumbled, walking away from you finally, making you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

"You're still torturing him over that?" Emily's voice rang, making your head snap to her.

"What? Oh, yeah. He needs to learn he can't do that stuff without consequences! I mean, screw me; he has a son to go home to!"

You complained again, hiding your face in your hands as Emily - and Derek, who seemingly came out of nowhere - laughed.

Derek clasped a hand over your shoulder and tried to comfort you along with Emily, both attempting to make you laugh.

Successfully.

Work hours passed and you were at your apartment, kicking your shoes off and sighing as you thought of the much needed bubble bath you needed.

Leaving your stuff by the door, you suddenly thought of Aaron.

You hadn't seen him since he left.

Where was he?

Was he okay?

Had anything happened to him?

Was he safe?

What about Jack?

All of those thoughts were interrupted when you heard your shower running, making you tilt your head in confusion.

You walked to your bathroom and gasped when you opened the door.

Your favourite candles were lit all over the bathroom, bathtub full of water and bubbles that smelled like your favourite scent.

Soft music playing.

Aaron.

Aaron Christopher Hotchner.

With a sheepish smile you walked to your bedroom, gasping again at the sight.

Aaron, standing in front of you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, smiling sweetly at you.

Behind him was your bed, which was decorated with rose petals, as you noticed. "Aaron..." You mumbled, your hand coming up to your mouth as you were in shock.

"So you do talk." He smirked softly at you.

You gave him a 'really?' look, even if a smile was on your face.

"Sorry, sorry. Let me restart." He chuckled, passing the bouquet to you.

"Honey, I'm so, so, sorry I went into that house so recklessly the other day. I know how dangerous it was and how incredibly stupid I was to do that. I'm sorry I upset you, sweetheart, I really am."

He apologised, regret and remorse in his gaze as he shyly passed the flowers to you, making your heart swell.

"I forgive you, honey. But you should know; I wasn't... Upset, per se. I was... Scared. So scared. You have Jack to go home to, Aaron. You can't recklessly decide to go in a house that has explosives."

You reasoned with him, making him sigh and nod as his head fell forward. He knew he was being stupid as soon as he stepped foot in said house.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sorry." He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly.

"I love you." You mumbled in his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

That made him smile and kiss the side of your head. "I love you too."

That's when your eyes caught a glimpse of your bed. Well a better glimpse.

"Aaron, oh my God!" You exclaimed, making him laugh and turn to look at what you were looking at.

"Oh I forgot about that." He smiled sheepishly, looking back at you. "Aaron- how? Where?" You couldn't find the right thing to say or ask, waddling over to your bed in shock.

On it was a huge teddy bear and a matching pair of earrings and a necklace with your birthstone on them.

Penelope told him about your birthstone.

Definitely Penelope.

You made a mental note to buy her many of those croissants she loves so much as a blush crept onto your face.

"I saw how you looked at them last time we were shopping and I really, really, wanted you to forgive me..."

Aaron explained himself, as you just took the jewellery in your hands, looking down at it in pure and utter awe.

"Aaron those things were expensive."

He shrugged and wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing kisses to the back of your neck.

"I don't care. And you shouldn't either. I saw how much you wanted them and I bought them with no second thoughts. I love you."

You smiled and sighed as you leaned back against his arms, enjoying the hug.

"I love you too. Thank you so much. You really didn't have to."

He shut you up by kissing the sensitive spot under your ear, a hazy smile appearing on your face as soon as he did it.

"Bath won't be warm for long..." He reminded you with a soft smirk that matched yours as you turned your head to face him.

"How much time did all this take?" You asked with a chuckle as Aaron started slowly removing your clothes with a smile.

"Doesn't matter."

"So a long time."

He laughed and shook his head, kissing your shoulders as he took off your blouse. "Let's go relax, my love."

And that's exactly what you did.

He really would break his back to make you smile.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #thomas gibson

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david-talks-sw · 9 months

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I think it's interesting that - in order to make his "free-thinking Jedi" characters hold any semblance of rationality in their arguments - Dave Filoni needs to resort to artificially dehumanizing the other Jedi and painting them all with the same "we dogmatically worship protocol" brush.

He does this with Huyang in the recent Ahsoka episode.

"Lolz he's so narrow-minded, preachy and by-the-book, unable to think outside the box, just like the Jedi in the Prequels."

My first reaction was being amused at the fact that Filoni had to resort to making the Jedi Order's ideals and rules be embodied by a literal machine for his anti-Jedi headcanon to start making sense.

But then I remembered: Huyang isn't just any droid.

In The Clone Wars, he had a sassy personality, he had a pep in his step, he had a sense of humor...

This character was human in his behavior, he was fun and whimsical.

But now he's been reduced to, I dunno, "Jedi C-3PO"? Basically?

"Ha! He's blunt and unsympathetic because he's a droid, but it's funny because the Jedi were the same, they were training themselves to be tactless, emotionless droids."

And Filoni does this with Mace Windu too, in Tales of the Jedi.

Mace, who brought a lightsaber to the throat of a planetary leader to defend the endangered Zillo Beast...

... and who went waaay past his mandate by mischievously sneaking around Bardottan authorities and breaking into the Queen's quarters because he felt something bad was afoot...

... was reduced to being an almost droid-like, rule-parotting, protocol purist who sticks to his instructions (and is implied to be willing to let a murder go unsolved so he can get a promotion).

I mentioned this at the end of my first post on Luke in The Last Jedi... while changes in personality do happen overtime and can be explained in-universe... if you don't show us that progression and evolution and just leave us without that context, that'll break the suspension of disbelief, for your audience.

Here, we have two characters with a different (almost caricatural) personality than the one they were originally shown to have.

Now... we could resort to headcanons, to make it all fit together.

We could justify Huyang's tone shift 'cause "Order 66 changed him". And we could make explanations about TotJ's Mace:

Being younger and thus more ambitious and a stickler for the rules, and only really becoming more flexible after getting his seat on the Council and gaining more maturity.

Being such a teacher's pet in the episode because we're seeing him through the eyes of a notorious unreliable narrator, Dooku.

There'd be nothing wrong with opting to go with either of those headcanons to cope with this. After all, Star Wars is meant to help you get creative.

But the problem I encounter is that:

Filoni has an anti-Jedi bias, so the above headcanons clearly wouldn't really track with his intended narrative.

We'd be jumping through hoops to extrapolate and fill in what is, essentially, inconsistent characterization, manufactured to make Ahsoka and Dooku shine under a better light.

And that sours whatever headcanon I come up with.

Edit: Also, yeah, as folks have been saying in the tags... wtf is "Jedi protocol"? The term isn't ever mentioned in the movies, I skimmed through dialog transcripts of TCW, never saw it there.

So it's almost as if - if Filoni wasn't draining characters like Mace and Huyang of all humanity and nuance - his point about "the Jedi were too detached and lost their way, but not free-thinkers like Qui-Gon, Dooku and Ahsoka" wouldn't really hold much water.

#I *will* acknowledge that part of this may also be that in a cartoon like TCW - characters with no moving facial features like Huyang...#... had to be more expressive in other ways; hence why he's so active in the cartoon; which may not translate well to live action.#Then again- look at how expressive and emotive that Hondo Ohnaka animatronic is at Galaxy's Edge.#And the fact remains that he went from a whimsical Mr. Ollivander type figure to... a droid with data on the Jedi...#... all so Ahsoka would seem more human and grounded by contrast #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka show #star wars ahsoka #huyang #tales of the jedi #totj #dooku #mace windu #ahsoka tano #star wars #dave filoni #disney plus

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juuuulez · 3 months

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📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess.”

🎧 -> untitled 07, kendrick lamar

info: Richie Jerimovich x Reader, no use of (y/n), reader’s nickname is princess because duh it’s cute, mention of drugs, arguing, brief mention of Mikey, brief mention of a sexual relationship, Richie just wants what’s best for you.

summary: Richie is your dealer, and also a pretty good lay. But recently he’s changed his priorities, and tries to change yours, too.

gigantic bear brainrot right now, and i was thinking about that little glimpse of dealer richie annnndd that’s sorta it! don’t like, don’t read, but the overall consensus is about recovering and breaking old habits.

i also happen to have such a soft spot for this man!!!!!! sue me!!!!!!!!!!!!! i literally wrote this in less than an hour i’m insane

Hey. You working?

Richie’s phone goes off, ironically, right when he’s on his break. Every day, he goes outside for a cigarette at the exact same time. And you know that. He knows you know that, and he also knows what you want. Of course he does. It’s always the same thing. He stopped doing this shit for a reason, but you? He’s weak. And probably stupid.

Neither of you even discuss the plan: it’s protocol at this point. Not even seconds pass, and he’s already punched in a response.

Nah. Come see me.

Minutes later, and there are footsteps approaching down the back alley, towards the door Richie lingers near. He turns to see your form approaching, watching the way you tug at the sleeves of your sweater, likely much too thin to truly combat the cold. With how hasty you’d been, Richie suspects you’d already been nearby. Likely around the corner, just waiting for the go ahead.

It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you, though Richie knew why. Because he didn’t do this shit anymore. To reach out again, you must’ve been desperate. He could work with that.

“Princess.” He greets, nursing a lit cigarette between sharp teeth.

You’re sighing, a look of exasperation on that pretty little face. A mix of relief, and discomfort, at being out in this weather. “You’re my saviour, you know that, right?”

Richie scoffs, already approaching. Closing the gap between you two. “Find that one hard to believe.” He mutters.

As usual, you move in to intrude on Richie’s space, tucking yourself against his side. The biting Chicago winter urges you closer, as he’s somehow warm, though Richie is always warm. One hand ashes his cigarette onto the concrete, and the ofher arm wraps around you, hand cupping the ass of your jeans, thumb tracing the pocket seam.

Laying there is a wad of cash, he can feel the outline faintly under the thick fabric. But he doesn’t take it. Nor does he replace it with anything, despite what you’d been expecting, what he’d agreed to. This routine you’d built up, an unspoken process.

You shift away slightly, looking up at the taller man with furrowed brows. His hand shifts higher, finding its place against your side, holding onto your hip.

“What gives?” You ask, trying to decipher that unreadable look on Richie’s face. For a man so expressive, you were lost on an interpretation in this moment. He wouldn’t even look at you, squinting at some unknown spot in the alley.

Then his head starts shaking, a disapproving look forming, before the words follow. “Sure you don’t want some dope instead?”

“If I wanted dope, I would have asked for it.” You retort. The words were sharp with intent, slightly irritated.

Richie tries harder to convince you, finding that would be easier than outright admitting his concern. “Come on. You haven’t thought about making the switch?” He muses as if it were obvious, taking a long drag from his cigarette. That hand is still on your side.

You roll your eyes. “To what? Being miserable and a fucking downer?”

“No.” Richie rolls his eyes. “To going, I dunno.. natural, or whatever.”

This gets no response, and Richie finally glances down at you. You look confused, but mostly pissed. Definitely some form of agitated.

“Weed and shrooms.” He clarifies with a shrug.

“Are you serious?” You’re snapping at him, finally stepping back a little, out of his hold. “As if you even have shrooms.”

“I could get them if you wanted. Gotta be better than that other shit.”

“Fuck! You’ve gotta be the world’s worst dealer.” You utter, running a hand through your hair and looking off into the distance.

Before he can get a word in, you begin venting, letting that frustration bubble up. “Y’know, if I wanted a lecture, I’d call my parents. But you, Richie?”

So, he snaps back. Like he always does. After all, fighting is miles easier than having an actual discussion. “I dunno, princess, this ain’t fuckin’ right! I can’t do this shit to you.”

“It’s coke, Richie! Not heroin. I’ll be fine.” You urge.

He shakes his head, voice only rising with his temper, a tone most are accustomed to. “You know that’s not the fucking point.” The words have anger in them, laced with bite, intent.

And for some reason.. some, god forsaken reason, you let up.

Maybe you knew this would happen. Maybe you had the smallest, tiniest inkling that coming to Richie, of all people, was a bad idea. You knew he’d stopped dealing, for the most part. But you couldn’t blame him, not after everything that happened with Mikey. It’s not like you didn’t know him, too, but it was different.

So, you relent, pressing a hand over the crease of your brows. “Okay, okay. Just..” You can’t get out a full sentence, mind reeling with about twenty thoughts at once. The most prominent notion: you certainly weren’t getting your coke today. Not from Richie. And, frankly, you didn’t trust anyone else.

He looks down at your dejected form, jaw clenched with tension. Richie didn’t like being the bearer of bad news, by any means, and felt a pang of sympathy. In an ideal world, he’d give you anything and everything you wanted.

In an ideal world, you wouldn’t be asking.

“What’ya need it for, anyway?” He ends up inquiring, tone a tad softer, now that the hostility has simmered.

You shrug, kicking around a rock. “House party.”

Richie nods, getting a vague idea of what was happening. It was for later. That was good.

“Then how ‘bout.. you come over to mine,” He suggested, “We smoke up instead.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar request, but any means. You’d spent many nights in his apartment. It was lonely and derelict, as most days, he didn’t have his daughter around. Sometimes things escalated. By all means, Richie was certainly a good fuck, if anything. But you were messy, complicated, not someone that stuck around for long. Richie understood that, as he wasn’t looking to settle down, either. Not with someone like you. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Already bought the beer, Rich.” You justify, giving a minor resistance towards the idea.

Of course, he has a solution for everything. “Bring it.”

You nod along, the slightest of smirks appearing on those plump lips. It was clear as day, a physical indicator that you were fucking weak for anything he suggested. “So you’re denying me product, and you’re gonna drink my beer?”

“Yeah, but the weed is free.” Richie offered, a grin beginning to form, purely because he was getting what he wanted.

There’s a low whistle, sucking the air from between your teeth. It’s cold out, and you’d rather get home, given this was supposed to be a quick pick-up. The thought of spending a night over at a Richie’s place was incredibly tempting, given you hadn’t seen him much lately. He’d been pulling away, which was understandable. You weren’t exactly the healthiest to be around.

“M’kay, weirdo.” You agree, looking away to avoid spotting how purely happy that makes Richie. Deep down, you know he’s genuinely pleased with himself, not just for getting you to come over, but to abandon the drug altogether, even if just for a night. He’s fixing you, making you a better person, which you really fucking hate.

He throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping on its ashy remains. “See? What a good fuckin’ girl you can be. Just gotta use that pretty little head more.”

To emphasise his point, Richie cups the top of your head, fingers disrupting the part of your hair. His hands are huge, for the most part, covering the expanse of your skull. It prompts you to swat it away with a displeased grunt.

“Don’t push it, asshole.” You warn, already trying to fix your hair. Before he can cause any more damage, you’re turning on your heel, eager to escape the cold.

“10pm. Don’t be late, princess.” Richie calls out to your retreating form, watching the semi-enthusiastic thumbs up you flash him in return.

Feeling pretty goddamn successful, he gets back to work.

#me when i neglect all my current wip’s because i desperately needed to write about richie #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear x you

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clairebishop6226 · 11 months

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A study on the character of Ambrosius

Nimona (Netflix)

Am I the only one who sees the sharp difference between the photos?

(Ambrosius seconds before having to use his forced smile to please the audience)

About halfway through the film, we see Ambrosius freaking out under the pressure of having to hunt down someone he loves who is working alongside one of the capital's greatest threats, he says he never wanted to be descended from Gloreth and that he didn't want to be the figure he was represents the ideas of someone who lived hundreds of years ago.

In the first few seconds of the film we see a complete stereotype of a golden boy, and then we see a completely funny and soft man when he meets his boyfriend Ballister.

Already throughout the rest of the film we see a lonely guy who just lost his boyfriend, completely closed with his teammates and constantly being snubbed in the work environment even though he is the purest noble of the team.

I saw that there were a lot of people complaining about Ballister's attitude of forgiving someone who caused him a lot of pain during the narrative but for me it's important to also look at things from Ambrosius' point of view, at no point in the film do we see Ambrosius really feeling Ballister's anger, he constantly backs off when he meets him again and he bends the rules by not following the protocol of neutralizing the threat immediately, he doesn't show it but he was always freaking out at the idea of once again disappointing the man he loved most and considered the his whole life as a best friend, he didn't know if he followed the rules that haunted him all his life just because he had the misfortune of being born into the lineage of the most famous heroine, he never asked for this but that's his obligation, his personality change in the movie is one of the things I like most about his character, he does have a life of privileges but he never seems to like it he just wanted to please everyone always and be by his boyfriend's side to be able to deal with all the pressure.

I like the character of Ambrosius precisely because he breaks all the stereotypes that his appearance represents, although we don't see much, he is much more than what the movie shows us

#nimona movie #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #gloreth #ballister x ambrosius

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gracejh08 · 17 days

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Breaking the media

Chapter 6- You're okay now

The days after had been hard yet you had managed to keep yourself under control and almost push the incident in the past. Alexia had advised you took the next few days of however you didn't want to miss training before the first game you weren't promised to play but there was a good chance you were making it to the bench. Like normal training was enjoyable but this time it was different all the girls had to do a weekly check with the physio just to make sure nothing was wrong and everyone was up to standard for the match. You had thought nothing of it as you had made your way into the room and were greeted by the physio "hola y/n" he said as you sat on to the medical bed. You had been here quite a few times so you knew what the protocol was just testing muscle tightness and how well your joints were working.

The first half was going smoothly until he placed his hand on your upper thigh just where the man had a week prior. The memory flashback in your mind as you became panicked and you curled up in ball hiding your face from him hyperventilating. The physio was frozen in what to do he couldn't just leave you but he couldn't console you either so he did the next best thing and went to where the girls were sat waiting for thier appointment "guys i have a slight issue, i was just doing movement checks and when i put my hand on y/ns leg shes gone... i guess panicked im not sure" he said staring at the girls almost blankly. Alexia had heard this and she bolted straight to the room where she found you a curled up ball sobbing. Yet you almost look terrified the air wasn't coming in or out it was stuck making your panic worse than before "hey pequeña, im here its okay can i hold you" she asked walking towards you. Then no response came you were so trapped in your mind it was hard to snap you out of it. Alexia had no clue what to do so she did what she thought best call for ingrid she had her fair share of panic attacks and was sure she knew what to do.

Ingrid had recived the text from alexia and she swiftly moved herself from the arm chair she was sat on to the the physio room. She opened the door and it was exactly what she feared it was the feeling where nothing is going in or out and everything is overstimulating from the feeling of your clothes to just the loose hairs whisping off your neck. She sprung herself into action she knew how to deal with panic attacks but ones caused by something so triggering and from recently she didn't know much about. "Y/n can you look at me" she said while crouching at your level still there was no response it was like you were in your own world one surrounded with thoughts of him and the way his words spat at you the way he stared as though you were an object. She waited a couple seconds and began to repeat her question but still no response came from you only the sound of your laboured breathing. Ingrid was almost lost for anything to do she was completely out of luck and she felt a dash of worry for you as your condition didnt change, therefore it lead to doing the only thing she knew what to do. 'Y/n im going to touch your hand okay" she said reaching her hand out slowly towards you and she placed it on your shaking hands you look down and instead of the expecting reaction of you holding it and breaking out of your thoughts your mind was so clouded with him the thought of someone touching you was almost as bad. "GET AWAY FROM ME....PLEASE" you yelled standing up from the floor and the two girls swiftly followed you to thier feet.

There it was you looked into alexias eyes and the fear in her eyes almost crushed you and you just collapsed into her arms realising what you had done and it wasnt him it was your friend, your teamate who you'd just shouted at. You clung to her as though she was your life line "im sorry im so sorry i wont do it again" you repeated into her shoulder through sobs. Alexia just rubs her hands on your back and through your hair as her and ingrid glance at eachother of almost panic and a sense of relief. You finally calm down and let go of alexia the corner of her jumper drenched in your tears yet she makes no remarks you walk over to ingrid and hig her tightly "im so sorry for shouting at you i didnt mean it i promise" you say burried into her shoulder "its okay love i know you didn't" she says back to you. "However I think you should go home and get some rest" she added pulling out of the hug to see your tear stained face the tear tracks still prominent on your cheeks.

Alexia had excused herself for a minute to compose herself she was so built up with worry over you and the fact you hadn't said anything the past week had really bothered her but you were young and probably trying to put on a brave face for her. "Come on pequeña lets get you some sleep" she said putting her head round the corner of the door. You had made it back home when you had sat on the couch. "Ale can we watch a movie" you asked her "sure whatever you want" she replied joining you on the couch. You played your favourite movie and you didnt mean to but it just sort of happened as the movie progressed, slowly you made your way to alexias side and leant into her "is this okay?" You said in an almost whisper tone "of course pequeña" she said wrapping her arms around you and running her finger nails through your hair. You slowly adjusted into her side and the longer it went you fell asleep on alexias shoulder it felt like home and for alexia it felt like peace knowing you were safe and in arms reach.

#alexia x reader #barca femeni #woso #woso x reader #wsl #mapi leon #woso imagines

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dinsdjrn · 1 year

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the devils we keep | j. miller x f!reader

summary: After a messy end to things, you feel the only option left is to leave Jackson. For good. [wc: 1.6k]

a/n: this is part one of a series of standalones; they all follow Joel x same f!reader but at totally different points in their relationship.. they don't have to be read together or in any order.

content warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST with a side of ANGST, no use of y/n, established (and end of relationship), break up, post-outbreak!Joel, afab!reader, talks about loss and death, lack of communication, morning sex (blink and you'll miss it), graphic depictions of darkness, poorly edited, lmk if I missed anything <3

previous part | next part | masterlist

They always used to say that if you loved something, set it free, if it loved you back, it will return. Sometimes when you set someone free, they’ll still love you, and they’ll run as far away as they can.

The night offers some release, the darkness that surrounds you also understands you. It wraps its arms around you in a cold and unforgiving embrace, numbing your heart and soul. Momentarily releasing you from the ache that sits in where your chest meets your stomach. You thought that a “sinking heart” was just an expression, you have quickly learned, it’s a symptom.

You were not ignorant to heartbreak and pain, but previously it had come in exchange of survival. You didn’t have time to feel your heartbreak in the moment, you needed to keep moving and survive. The pain had always come later and your desire to survive always took president. So the dull ache in your chest was just a part of your daily routine.

“Movimiento es vida” your best friends voice rang in your head, movement is life. So you moved on from your grief, and moved forward to survive.

So you’ll take this pain, and you’ll push on, find somewhere new and start over.

Jackson had become so comfortable this past year you resided there. In all truthfulness, Joel had become so comfortable and he made it easy to forget a world beyond Jackson. He was someone you connected with so easily; he understood your best parts and forgave your worst.

You weren’t someone who was very good at connecting with others. Ever since you had lost your brother and best friend, you had become closed off. Maria, one of your only friends here, would describe you as a wallflower.

“Stoic and unreadable,” she would joke.

You would always roll your eyes at her. Jackson was safe but for the first few weeks you weren't convinced it was where you wanted to call home.

That was until you met Joel. He was arguably more closed off than you, but his scars matched yours. It was almost ironic how your pain matched his. You connected over the foals at the stables. Well, you and Ellie had connected over Shimmer. Joel came as a part of a package deal.

You had taught her all you could remember about horses and the equine world before the outbreak. It was what began to thaw your frozen heart; teaching Ellie how to ride, tack and untack, groom and even the different feeding protocols for the different horses. She wanted it all, and for the first time in so long you cared to share.

Your connection brought you closer to Joel, and proximity was all you needed to know that your heart matched his perfectly. You had originally planned on being two ships that had passed in the night, but life had other plans. Life with a little help from Tommy and Ellie.

None of that mattered anymore, the fondness that once sat in the memory of Joel had been buried beneath a field of darkness. Your whole life you could never seemed to pick up on when you had overstayed your welcome. Joel made it very clear that you had.

It can as a shock and surprise as you had always found yourselves talking about the future you had together. As you reflected, it was you who always brought up the future, he merely nodded along with you. Recently he had been more distant and cold, but in the moment this was a blind side.

“I think it’s time we both move on,” Joel said but wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“We had a good thing goin’, something comfortable…” he paused, “But we want… no, we need, different things.”

His gaze was on the ground.

“If you’re going sit here and tell me you need a change. And that change is to let go of me… then I want you to look me in the eye as you break what you promised to keep safe,” you seethed.

His gaze met yours, his eyes were cold as the day you had met. Secrets, pain, and distance that you couldn’t tap into were all that you were left with.

He bore into your soul as he ripped it from your body.

“We’re done here. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. You deserve more than that, but it’s all I can give.”

“Fuck you, Joel. Fuck this and fuck you,” you spat.

In some other world, you handled things more gently, but you’re certain that world beat and berate you with heartbreak after heartbreak.

So here you are, surrounded by darkness, letting the burning pain in your chest turn to numbness.

You laid in bed for a week, with only the memory of Joel to hold onto.

The way it felt to wake up late with him, when Ellie stayed with a friend and Joel stayed with you.

The way he would kiss the nape of your neck and trace his hands down the curve of your side from the swell of your breast to the top of your thigh. He would pull you in close pushing your ass against himself. Knowing exactly where to put his hands and lips to ignite a fire within you. Then he would move into you slowly, softly fucking you in then morning light. Whispering sweet nothings about how you could live in those moments forever.

All of those stolen touches, kisses, slow mornings and heated midnights. They were all ghosts of loves watermark. They drowned you, plagued your thoughts. You couldn’t escape them in this bed, this house, this city. Joel had infiltrated every corner, nook and cranny of your existence in Jackson, it made it impossible to breathe.

You hadn’t slept much since that night, because at least the darkness veiled the details of Joel the light seemed to amplify. It provided short moments where you could process half of a coherent thought. Those thoughts always brought you to the same place. Washington. You swore you wouldn’t go back after the QZ fell, but it is the only place you know you’ll find safety. Safety and ghosts from your past that wouldn't haunt you leaving you feeling cold and lifeless.

So in the darkness you packed what you would need for a few weeks travel. As the morning sun peeked over the mountains you knew what you had to do.

With your small pack over your shoulder and a backpack of food that would last a week or two if you rationed correctly, you headed up the hill to a house that was all too familiar.

You knocked gently on the door and it had opened a few moments later revealing a man, that you thought would be easy to say goodbye to. You were wrong.

“Tommy,” you whispered.

“Fuck,” he said, “I thought you were Joel.”

“I know you have patrol soon I won’t be long. Just had something I needed from you,”

“What is it?” He asked, dreading what the response might be.

“I need a gun and horse, to get me to Washington,”

“I was worried you might say that,” He raked his hand through his hair.

“I have to go. I can’t stay here any longer. Please Tommy, I can’t take it,” your voice broke as you pleaded.

"C'mon now is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?"

"I can't keep feeling this way Tommy. I've lost so much so quickly and had no choice in whether or not they left. This though? It's almost worse, he chose me and kept choosing me. Until one day he didn't anymore and I still have to face him. To face this town, it's tearing me apart. He chose this, he chose to lose me, and now it is my choice to keep moving, keep living." Tears threatened to break and you could barely speak above a whisper without your voice cracking.

“I understand,” he said putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“Let me get something for you and get you on your way,” he said.

“Thank y-“

“Under one condition,” he said.

“Anything,” you said.

“You find a way to tell me you’ve landed somewhere safe,”

“Promise.”

So you went to the stable to tack your horse, Blues, and secure your cargo. Tommy followed a few minutes later with a shotgun, ammo and hunting blade to get you through to Seattle.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said offering him a smile.

“Hey, be safe out there, alright?” He pulled you in for one final hug.

“Tommy, uh, one more thing?”

“Shoot,” he said.

You pulled a clip from your hair. It was a tulip hair clip that Joel had found for you. The gold of the metal clip began rusting over at parts and the pink wasn’t as bright as you’re sure it had once been. Joel had found it for you when he learned how much you loved tulips and their sign of new life in the spring. How they came and went before all the other flowers and their was beauty in their brevity.

“Can you give this to Ellie? She won’t wear it it’s way too girly, but I just need her to know I’ll be with her aways,” you placed the clip in Tommy’s palm and he put it in his pocket.

“Go on now, before everyone’s up and tryna stop you,” Tommy nodded toward the door.

You mounted Blues and off you went through the gates of Jackson for what you were sure would be the last time. Not even a glance over your shoulder, if you looked back you’re not sure you would’ve made it past the tree line.

next part

comments, likes and rbs are so greatly appreciated

tags: @undrthelights @pedgeitopascal @tightjeansjavi @joelsversion & lmk if you would like to be added or removed in future <3

#joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x y/n #meg writes things #devils we keep: series

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webslingingslasher · 5 months

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Would Peter ever talk to trouble as Spider-Man during their break up (assuming she finds out after the become bf/gf). Not like a regular thing but if once he’s really desperate just to say hi because he misses her voice. Just like when he’s swinging by after patrol ends. Or is that against his protocol?

totally against his protocol... buuuut:::

peter's missed you so much and you've iced him out completely and you're right there and look lost and you absolutely adore spider-man and always wanted to meet him.

'need some help, miss?'

'oh my god.' you stare, totally speechless for ten seconds. 'you're spider-man.' the hero nods, 'that i am.'

'you're talking to me.' another nod, 'that's correct.' you point at yourself, 'me? okay, um. oh my god, what the fuck. okay, holy shit- i need to tell pet-' you lower your phone, no, you can't tell peter.

peter feels terrible and bitter because you're choosing to leave him out, but filled with warmth when he was the first person you thought of.

'who's pet?' oh, spider-man likes hunting for pain sometimes.

'peter. just... some guy i really liked, i guess. but, he's stupid or whatever. you're spider-man. hi.'

'hi, sorry about peter.' he really is.

'it's okay. you're talking to me. do you have a girlfriend?' peter is not about to speculate what you mean by that, but even if he did, the lines of consent would blur so hard he's staying away from that with a thousand yard pole.

'i thought you looked lost, need any help?' you look down at your phone, you could figure it out. 'no, i don't think so. i just... you're really spider-man?'

the hero chuckles. 'i really am.' peter knows you're totally spun around, but he can't call out like he knows where you're supposed to go. 'are you sure you don't need any directions? i see everything up there, you know.'

'wow. i'm just really, wow. hi.' spider-man's laugh feels homely, it swallows you in comfort. like you know it. there's a pang, you really miss peter, he'd be so happy for you.

'would you like to take a picture?' you choke on your air, spider-man is offering you to take a photo? the world feels upside down. 'yes! oh my god, thank you so much!'

you feel your cheeks go hot at your shakey hands, but spider-man just takes over. a hand on your back has you wanting to scream, you know he's under a mask, but it felt like he smiled for the photo too.

'last time, miss. no help?' you bite your lip, it was a new area, so new the google maps haven't fully updated. peter was the last one to take you down here, it's his fault you don't know how to get back.

'um. actually, yeah. would you mind telling me the way back to esu?' new york city's hero nods, 'it'd be my honor.'

----

four hours later and you break your no contact rule.

'look who i met today.'

peter responds immediately.

'so happy for you! was he everything you dreamed of?'

'he asked ME for the picture. my ego's on level ten rn parker.'

'if he had an instagram that picture would be pinned.'

'damn straight.'

it's bad and morally corrupt but it makes you talk to him, so the next time he really misses you and can't take it anymore... he knows what'll make you break.

#frat!peter drabbles

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h-c-u · 1 year

Text

Uncertainty

Summary: You're a 3rd driver for the Mercedes team, in a secret relationship with the team principal and you fill in for Lewis during the race. The car malfunctions, you completely lose control over the steering and can't avoid crashing. And it's bad.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!driver!reader

W/C: 6.1k

Rating: M. Car crash, talk about injuries and surgeries.

TWs: Car crash, near death injuries

A/N: I swear to gods, my mood when it comes to writing changes so quickly -,- It's dark, sad, and heavy. Also - like 90% of the fic is happening when the reader is in surgery, but the idea just dug it's claws into my brain and didn't want to let go.

Masterlist | List of tags

- Bono, something's wrong with the steering, there is a slight delay in response, and I'm unable to predict how much I should correct. - you were honestly getting scared. You didn't want to lose the 5th position, especially this late in the race. You knew yourself well enough that you could get at least 3rd before the end, but not with a car that behaved like that.

- I'm running the diagnostic now to see if we'll be able to do something about it remo... FUCK. CRASH. Be careful. - you instantly felt cold, but it wasn't your first time in a dangerous situation. When Bono told you about the crash, you hadn't seen it just yet, because it was hidden behind a turn, and as soon as you turned...

- Breaks are not working. And I completely lost control over the steering. - everything was happening in slow motion, and you couldn't do anything. There was no fancy "eject" button like in a James Bond movie; you were able to just watch and brace for impact. - Bono. I'm going to crash into them. Don't let me die. - you whispered, tears very slowly gathering in your eyes under the helmet.

You didn't say another word. You didn't swear, you didn't scream. You knew what was about to happen and somehow you managed to remain calm. You just fastened the straps holding you to the seat even more and held your arms close to your chest.

You heard people screaming over the comms, familiar voices full of panic and desperation but the one voice you were hoping to hear... wasn't there. So whatever others were saying didn't matter.

And then you were flying. The nose of your car wedged under someone else, and it sent you into a barrel on the track. You closed your eyes, not to get nauseous, but it was a small comfort, especially when the car turned to its side and continued to barrel toward the wall. How you were able to stay conscious for so long - you weren't sure, but then suddenly... there was nothing.

- TOTO, NO! YOU CAN'T GO THERE! THERE IS PROTOCOL!

- FUCK PROTOCOL!!! - he was trying his best to get from Bono's and Ricardo's strong arms, but they held him steady and didn't let him run out of the garage.

- Medics and the crew are already at the scene. She will be in the ambulance before you get to that part of the track. - James stepped in front of the man, blocking his way, and put his hand on his boss's chest stopping him from moving any further. No one ever saw Toto this distressed. Sure, he could get angry, but this... This was different. - Calm down and think.

- I... I can't. - his shoulders slumped and even though he wasn't trashing and trying to get out anymore, his thoughts were galloping at the speed of light, running through every possible scenario. - I just can't... - Bono and Ric loosened their grip on his body and exchanged a worried look with the technical director. - I don't know what to do... - he admitted, his voice completely broken.

- We're gonna get to the hospital and we'll go from there. - James realized it was his turn to think about everything, and even though he didn't completely understand why Toto reacted this way - he wanted to help in whatever way he could. All of the people in the garage were shaken up, but this... This was new. Toto was oozing fear and desperation from everywhere. His posture, his voice, the frantic look in his eyes... - Toto. - the technical director wasn't sure if his words even reached his friend, but Wolff finally nodded slowly. - Yeah...? - he made sure.

- Yeah. Hospital. Let's go. - he whispered eventually. He was in no condition to drive, so he let his friend do that. He didn't take his eyes from the view behind the window once, even though he was seeing none of what they were passing. He dug his nails into his knees, bit his lower lip until he drew blood, and tried his best not to break down completely. Not before he knew if you were dead or alive.

When they arrived at the hospital, Toto didn't even wait for James to park properly, he was out of the car as soon as they reached the entrance. He run into the emergency room and quickly located the admission desk, but before he said anything, he took one last, deep breath.

- Hello, my name is Toto Wolff. I'm the emergency contact for Y/n Y/l/n. I would like to know in what condition she's in. - his voice was surprisingly calm. Even in such a state, he knew that whatever happened wasn't the nurses' fault and he didn't want to take out whatever he felt on them.

- I have to confirm your identity first. Can I see your ID? - the old nurse asked, but she was already typing something on the keyboard. Toto frantically patted his pockets in search of a wallet, momentarily mortified, because he got afraid that he left it in his bag, in the garage, but James came to his rescue with said wallet. He quickly fished out his ID and presented it to the nurse.

- She was admitted about 10 minutes ago and is being prepped for the surgery. She already had a head CT, but there are no results yet. There is also no information about planned procedures. - she explained with a soft tone, even though the news she was sharing wasn't exactly... good.

- What does it mean...? - Toto asked, fearing the worst.

- It means there was a head injury and she's unconscious. They don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's serious enough for emergency surgery with neuro, orthopedic and cardiothoracic surgeons. - she added, quieter. Sure, she could have omitted a few facts, but something told her that it would have the opposite effect on the man in front of her.

- Her... Her heart...? - if he weren’t holding the high counter in front of the admission desk, he would have slumped to the floor.

- Or lungs. - she clarified. - I'm sorry I can't give you better news... But she's in the best hands in the country. I will ask one of our interns to take you to a waiting room... - she waved at one of the young men, who was currently filling out papers, and quickly told him what to do. - And sir... - she added, just when they were about to leave the area. - It will be a long surgery, but the longer the wait, the better. It means that she's still fighting. - that was the first thing that gave him hope... You were still alive. Still fighting. And you weren't the type of person who easily gave up.

Toto Wolff was not a religious man. He honestly couldn't remember when was the last time he visited any place of worship, but now... Now he was going through every prayer he knew. He begged every god, every angel, every demon, every saint he could think of, not to let you die, and if that's necessary - to take him instead. Logically he knew that wasn't possible, but he was willing to try everything, no matter how stupid it seemed at the moment.

James left his side only once, to get some shitty coffee from the machine, but it was left untouched in between Toto's feet. He didn't know what to say, what to do... Other people came and went. The pit crew, engineers, other team principals, drivers... A few stayed. Mostly other drivers, and from the closer circle - James, Bono, George... And Lewis - without even saying a word was on a video call with Bono, feeling extremely guilty.

- Did... - George finally broke the silence. - Did anyone call her family? - he asked, and Toto just clenched his fists.

- She doesn't have one. - he whispered eventually. - She's an only child and went no-contact with her parents just as she started racing. - he added and the others looked at him trying to hide the surprise. - She will kill anyone who’ll let them know about anything even remotely connected to her life. So as far as things go... she doesn't have a family. - he ended in a harsher tone than he intended and almost immediately sighed.

He was still in the clothes he was wearing during the race... The track pass was tucked in the pocket on his chest, and the headphones were still around his neck, but he didn't even notice them, and no one in the room dared to say a word.

Just as three hours passed since they arrived, a young-looking woman called out your last name, and the four men immediately stood up, three with hope, one in fear, because it was much too quick for the surgery to end.

- Hello, my name is Alex and I'm one of the residents helping with your... - she stuttered for a second, realizing she didn't know the relationship between her patient and the men in the waiting room. - With Y/n's surgery. We were able to stop the bleeding in her brain and remove all the debris lodged there without major issues. The head of neurosurgery is currently reversing all four of the aneurysms, but compared to what we already did - it's the easiest thing. - she started explaining and everyone except Toto sighed with relief.

- What else...? - he asked, afraid of the further news. - Please tell us everything, no matter how small or ugly. I need to know... - he pleaded, and James put his hand on his boss’s shoulder. There was some hesitation on the young doctor’s face, but eventually, she continued.

- Eight of her ribs are broken... Two of them were lodged in her right lung and the cardiothoracic surgeon was able to remove one and is working on the second. One pierced her kidney, but due to the positioning... The lungs take priority. Her spinal cord is intact, but three of the lumbar vertebrae are fractured and we will have to realign them later. Her right femur is broken in six places, left in two and our head of ortho is currently working on that. Both of her tibias and feet are by some miracle intact. All the bones in her shoulders, arms, forearms, wrists, and hands are also free of any injuries. She didn't sustain any burns or lacerations because of the suit, which will help during her recovery. - with every word the relief disappeared more and more from the men's faces, and Toto's lips became almost invisible.

- Her heart...? - he asked eventually.

- Intact and strong. She's not on any assistance during the surgery, although we're ready for that if the need arises. She's a fighter. - the young doctor added with a gentle smile.

- You've mentioned her recovery... Does that mean...? - he was afraid to finish the question, especially when he saw Alex's face drop just a little.

- I... I shouldn't have said that. I can't promise you any type of outcome, especially with such severe injuries. - her voice softened. - We know what's wrong. We know how to fix it. And we will do our best to do so. Three of the best surgeons in the country are currently working together to keep her alive, so objectively - the chances of success are high. But I can't promise you that everything will be perfect. – Toto nodded, acknowledging the situation.

- Thank you for taking the time to explain everything to us. - he whispered, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. - Would it be too much if I asked for an update after every major stage? Doesn't matter if good or bad... I just need to know... - George was the one to notice how shaky Toto truly was, so he helped him sit down, so the man wouldn't fall over.

- It wouldn't be too much at all. I was planning to do so anyway... But it... - she started, but Wolff cut her off.

- It's gonna be a long surgery, I was told. I will be here. - his voice was stronger than his body, and the young doctor gave him one last smile before she turned around and went back to the operating block.

None of the men knew what to say, so they just sat in silence, trying to process what has happened.

There was a moment when George started quietly sobbing, and without even thinking, Toto put his arm around him and pulled him into a hug, trying to give him the comfort he so desperately needed himself. But the only person who could give it to him was currently lying cut open on the operating table.

- George, you officially got second place with 18 points... - James eventually broke the silence, but none of them were able to say after how long, because time had become something immeasurable. - Congratulations... - he added, but that was the last thing on young driver's mind. Few other drivers in the waiting room took out their phones to check the results, but in the end - there were more important things than that.

- Holly shit. - someone whispered and almost immediately added. - Y/n crashed after the red flag. She got 5th. With the fastest lap. - all heads turned to Carlos, who was sitting on the floor. Even Toto couldn't believe what he just heard. He knew you were good, damn... He believed in you since day one, that's why he was so quick to sign you. And now... Now Y/n Y/l/n was officially the first woman since 1975 who scored points in F1, which was a historical achievement.

- She got 11 points... - James confirmed after checking his email once again. And then there was silence again. There should be a celebration, all of them knew that. And even though someone will contest that, because technically you wouldn't be able to finish the race if it were resumed, and your team would fight tooth and nail for that not to be taken away... But for now, in the official FIA statement, you finished in 5th place.

There were some murmurs and whispers, but none of it mattered to Toto more than you actually living, so when he saw the familiar face of a young doctor again, he almost jumped from his seat.

- Hello again... - she smiled, which he took as a good sign. - The orthopedic surgeon finished working on her legs and we were able to close them. There was no additional damage to the thigh muscles, so we didn't have to take any part of them, which means that she will be able to regain a full range of movements, in time of course. The neurosurgeon just finished reversing the aneurysms, and the new head CT didn't show any additional injuries, so we will be able to slowly close her skull as well. We were also able to remove the other rib from her lung, and the head of cardio is currently working on repairing her right lung, but we don't know for sure if it is viable, which means... - she stopped for a moment, not sure how the man in front of her would react to such news.

- That there is a chance you will have to remove it. But she could live with just one lung, right? - he made sure.

- With some restrictions, but yes.

- Then in the end it doesn't matter. How about her kidney and spine? - he asked, eager to know more.

- The kidney is being worked on as we speak, but the spine... - she stopped for a moment, trying to find the best words to explain the situation to someone unfamiliar with medical jargon. - The best way to get to the lumbar vertebrae would be from the back, which would require a change of position. And since the injuries on the front of her body are so extensive, the new position might be dangerous for her, so there will be benefits to closing her up, letting the body rest and regenerate for a few days, and proceeding with second surgery later in a week.

- Wouldn't leaving it as it is, be dangerous as well? I mean - is there a chance of the fragments moving and injuring her spinal cord?

- That's exactly why we haven't decided on the best course of action just yet. We still have to finish working on her kidney, lung, and ribs, while the neurosurgeon assesses which option would be the safest and does more scans to see if going from the front would be possible. It's unconventional, but it has been successfully done. - she explained and Toto nodded.

- Thank you for explaining that to me... - she just smiled gently and walked away.

It was the first time he looked at the clock, and it was almost midnight, but he didn't feel that at all. Time was weird, because he felt like the crash had happened just a few seconds ago, and at the same time as if centuries passed since he saw your car barreling down the track. And then he heard an unfamiliar voice calling out your name. He instantly turned around in that direction and saw a medical responder in full gear. She repeated your name once again and Toto finally put his hand up.

She quickly came closer and sat in front of him.

- Good evening, sir... I was one of the first responders to the crash, and I was responsible for intubating Y/n. - she started explaining, and Toto was too exhausted to ask what it was about, or even to introduce himself. - But before I did that... She was awake for just a moment. And she asked me to pass the message, the problem is... I don't know to whom. - it was like he caught a second wind because he instantly focused on the woman in front of him.

- What did she say...? - he asked, leaning forward. He knew everyone was listening, but he didn't care.

- She said... "Why didn't I say it back... Please tell him that I love him." - Toto blinked a few times as if the words had trouble reaching him, but when they finally did... He started to laugh like a maniac, and everyone looked at him in worry that he actually snapped or went crazy.

Earlier today, when you were both just waking up with the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon, he said those three magic words for the first time... Three words, eight letters... He didn't expect anything in return, because he knew how hard expressing any emotions came to you, but it was important to him to assure you that he, indeed, loved you and wasn't planning to go anywhere. He also knew that you loved him, because you had your own way of showing that to him...

So, to hear that when you were convinced you were dying, the last thought in your mind was telling him something he already knew for a while was... a bit absurd. But then it hit him... You did that because you thought that he didn't know you loved him. And your possible last thought was letting him know that you weren't in it just for fun, that you were serious about your relationship. And that made him freeze.

- Sir...? - the lady in front of him reached to touch him but stopped last second.

- I'm sorry... I know who that message was for... Thank you for passing it on. - he gave her a weak smile, and she just nodded. - And thank you for what you did for her... It means a lot to me. - he added quieter, and just like that, she was gone.

The atmosphere in the waiting room was still extremely tense, but that didn't stop a few of the drivers from dozing off. Someone even ordered pizzas, but Toto didn't move... He didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't say anything... He was a shell of himself while his heart was being cut open, stabbed, prodded, and stitched back up on the operating table just a few meters away.

And while at first people were brushing it off as a team principal caring for his driver, the few closest to him realized that there was more. Finally, Bono had enough and sat right next to him.

- How long...? - he whispered quietly enough that no one else was able to hear.

- I don't know what... - Toto immediately wanted to deny everything and play stupid, but one look from his friend and he folded. - 5 months... - he said, barely any sound leaving his lips.

- And the thing the paramedic said...? - he asked, but only got a nod in reply. - Shiiiiiiit... - this time Toto looked at him confused. - I lost the betting pool.

- What?

- We have... Well, now had... A betting pool because we noticed that you were much happier for quite some time. The most popular option was antidepressants, and I bet on that, not gonna lie. - Toto just blinked a few times, still trying to process what was being said. - There was also a winning streak, therapy, someone you hated dying, that you got laid, but Lewis was the only one that bet on a new relationship. I mean - there were a few more people who bet on the relationship, but Lewis nailed the 5 months. - Toto still couldn't believe what he was hearing, but somehow, the absurdity of the situation helped him relax just a little.

- You make bets... about my private life? - he was genuinely curious if it was the first time.

- Well... Yeah. Because you're all mysterious and shit. It's easy to make up some crazy stories just for fun. - Bono just shrugged. - None of us suspected that you and her... I mean, in public, you were equally close with... - he stopped and pointed with his chin in the direction of the familiar face in blue scrubs.

- We were able to save the lung and a kidney. All ribs are secured in their places. - Toto sighed with relief for the first time since he saw the car tumbling on the tracks. - The head of neuro managed to find a way to repair the vertebrae from the front, but it will be a long procedure. The angle he has to go in from is very unusual and taxing, but we will be able to do everything today. Her vitals are stable, her heart is strong... She's doing well, sir. We still don't know the extent of her brain injury, which will have to wait till she wakes up, but we are optimistic that she will. - she smiled softly and gently squeezed his arm.

- Thank you... - and with that, she was gone again, and Toto looked around the waiting room... It was almost 3 AM, and the surgery started... around 10 hours ago. And yet the whole younger generation of drivers was here, most of them still in gear... Some were on the uncomfortable chairs, some quietly talking, and few even fell asleep on the floor. Even though you were all competitors, and you weren't even a full-seat driver yet, they still respected you and your skills a lot. - Guys, I think you should go back to your hotels and get some sleep... Or just rest... I'll let you know in the morning how the surgery went. - few heads turned in his direction, but no one moved. Lando finally broke the silence.

- With all due respect sir, she wouldn't leave any of us... - Toto couldn't help but feel... pride. Not just for you, but for them. Just 10 years ago this type of situation wouldn't be possible... After the crash, maybe one or two drivers, who were the closest to the injured one, would be in the hospital, but never for this long... And never this many... They were good kids, and it meant that the times were changing.

- I can't disagree with that... - he smiled. - Thank you all. - he added and sat right back. Now, that most of your injuries were under control, he let himself think of anything else, and that turned out to be those boys behind him. He quickly wrote a few messages to the other team principals, letting them know where most of their drivers were and asking them to arrange at least a change of clothes, because the majority of them still had sensors under their gear, and that must have been uncomfortable. He also took time to bring every single one of them a cup of that awfully sweet hot chocolate and spent a few minutes talking with them one on one about whatever they needed to get off their chests. And next to being worried about you, most of them were scared...

It took a while, but he finally came back to his original chair and for the first time - leaned back in it and stretched, but that wasn't near enough for him to release all the tension collected in his body. But now... Now he allowed himself to hope.

The next time he saw Alex, she was with another doctor, and it was already getting bright outside. All of the drivers - now in regular clothing - were sleeping on each other in different combinations, and only George was awake beside himself.

- The operation was a success... - she started, and Toto felt as if someone finally took the weight of the whole world from his shoulders, the relief of it forcing tears out of his eyes. - She's already stitched up, and soon we will move her to a recovery room, where you will be able to see her - for the first few hours, just through the glass and then in person. - you lived. That's all that mattered. - She will be in a medically induced coma for at least a few days to prevent her brain from swelling more. We will continue monitoring her, and based on the results we will decide when will be the best time to wake her up. - the young doctor explained and when she looked over the waiting room, she added. - She... She's stable, but she doesn't look well... - the tone of her voice was enough to convey what she really wanted to say.

- They won't take no for an answer... They will want to see her. - he quietly said. - They look young, well, they are young... It's hard to explain, but they need to see her. They need to see for themselves that she's alive... - Alex looked at the older doctor who gave silent permission. - Thank you for all you did... For saving her...

- I can take you to see her now, but the rest... Groups of 3 the most. - Toto nodded and another sigh of relief escaped his chest. He still couldn't believe what happened. When he saw the crash, he was mentally preparing for the funeral, but now... Now you were alive. Still extremely injured and with months if not years of therapy in front of you, but you were alive. Fuck everything else.

- Can you give me a minute...? I'd like to tell them myself. - he explained and after getting a quiet “sure”, he went first to Bono and James, who were sleeping in the chairs next to each other, and very quickly explained what he just heard. After that, he went around the room and quietly told everyone else. Some of the younger ones immediately started crying from relief, and he couldn't blame them, because he did the exact same, so he just pulled them into a wordless hug until they calmed down. It definitely took more than a minute, and he felt a bit bad for keeping the young doctor awake, but when he took a quick look in her direction, she smiled at him, letting him know that he can take as long as he needs. This was definitely an unusual situation.

But eventually, everyone was up to speed, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed a bit. There were even a few awkward laughs, but Toto wasn't there to hear them. He was walking a couple of steps behind the young doctor who was kind enough to update him over the last fifteen hours, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see. You were alive. That's all that mattered.

It wouldn't be the first time he saw someone after the crash, hell - he was in one himself. Albeit not such a serious one... He was around the track long enough to know that even the nonlethal injuries weren't pretty, he saw what could happen to drivers who either weren't careful, skillful, or lucky enough. But you were definitely careful and skillful enough. But today, well... yesterday. You didn't have enough luck. A mechanical failure. Two of the things that had so many fail-safes, he wasn't sure he could count that high. But somehow all of them failed... He knew there would be an investigation, but that didn't matter. Because you were alive.

So, when he finally saw you through the thick glass... He broke. He had to hold himself on the metal barrier in front of the window just not to fall over, and the young doctor put his arm under his, trying to assist him until he'd be able to stand straight. You looked so small connected to all the heavy machinery in the room. A thick tube down your throat, a bag of full blood connected to the IV port in your arm, all the cables coming from under the bandages on your chest... The draining tubes coming from under the bandages on your thighs... Your face was swollen, with bruises in multiple places, and your head was shaved and covered in bandages. He couldn't help but laugh at that one detail... You wanted to shave your head for ages but never found the right moment with all the press and photoshoots.

And your hands... Somehow, they didn't fit the picture... They were pristine, not counting the IVs... No bruises, no bandages, no anything... Your long fingers looked exactly the same as they did this morning when you intertwined them with his, just as he was about to tell you he loves you.

- I'm sorry, it's just... - he started, but he couldn't finish, so he just rested his forehead on the cold glass in front of him, trying so hard not to let tears into his eyes.

- It can be a lot, seeing a loved one like this... I understand...

- She's alive... - he failed. He tried to convince himself that it was enough, but seeing you like that... So small, so... weak. It hit him. He wouldn't be able to live without seeing you wildly dance on the roof of one of the many hotels you stayed in during the racing season... Without hearing your broken singing from under the shower in the morning... Without your contagious laughter at something stupid, he said... He needed you more than he needed to breathe, and it scared him.

He wiped the tears with the back of his hand, straighten his posture, and did his best to compose himself. Not for himself, but for the people who were about to see you like that. You lived... and for now that had to be enough.

He didn't leave your room since he was allowed to enter it for the first time... Sitting at your bed, holding your hand, putting on the music he knew you'd like, reading aloud... And with every passing day, you started looking... stronger. The color started returning to your skin, and the bruising and swelling on your face slowly started healing. The drivers kept visiting you, and when they had to leave to prepare for the next race - they kept sending you gifts.

Lewis stayed the longest after he finally got well enough to leave his room... He spent the entire day at your side, holding your hand, apologizing profusely, and praying... And after he didn't have any more tears left in him, he started telling you stories he knew you'd love. He was also the one to bring that perfume you bought in Egypt and which you absolutely adored; he put a drop of it behind your ears and on your wrists and left the bottle on the nightstand.

George was the one to take it the hardest... Even though he tried his best not to show it when he was visiting, Toto knew. He knew how close the two of you were, and all the crazy adventures you shared. You were like siblings on crack and the things you could get into when let out of the bullpen... He honestly couldn't believe that you haven't been arrested yet for some of the stuff you pulled... That's why the last time he visited before leaving the UK, Toto suggested talking to a therapist and George agreed.

It took more than the few days Alex mentioned after the surgery, but the decision to wake you up was finally made a bit over two weeks after the crash. And he felt like a babe in the woods the whole morning; happy that the medication will be out of your system, but afraid of what would happen if you didn't wake up.

Alex was the one who sat with the both of you in the room, watching your vitals like a hawk, and as soon as she saw any change, she explained to Toto what exactly it meant. Around noon, she made the decision to stop intubating you, because it looked like your brain took over that function. She of course was ready with a new tube, just in case, but it ended up not being necessary; even though one of your lungs wasn't fully healed, enough oxygen was getting to your brain.

Around noon he started to get antsy, but Alex quickly calmed him down and explained again that it might take even a few days because there is no way to tell how your brain would react. It didn't help much, but having someone to answer his every question was a godsend because he wasn't able to think about worst-case scenarios when there was a professional who said otherwise.

He wasn't able to eat, but he didn't care... He didn't want to miss the moment when you woke up. But the day ended and nothing changed. In the evening one of the other residents took over for Alex, but Toto still didn't move and didn't let go of your hand. Not even when he rested his head on the bed next to your legs for just a moment. But the moment became a bit longer when he closed his eyes...

A familiar sensation woke him up... Long, cold fingers running through his hair, and he couldn't help but smile, at first - not realizing what it meant. But then it hit him. His eyes shot open, and he immediately sat up.

Your beautiful eyes were open and full of tears, while your hand found his, and squeezed it tightly.

- You're awake... - he whispered the obvious... - She's awake! Get a doctor here! - he shouted when he realized you two were alone in the room.

You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat due to pain.

- Shhh... Don't say anything just yet... You were intubated and the doctors said it might take some time for it to heal... - he said, without even noticing he started crying, but you decided to ignore him; your determination was much stronger than a little bit of pain. Well, ok... More than a little bit.

- I... - you started, but the rest of the sentence didn't want to come out...

- I love you... And I know you love me too... I have known it for a while now. You never had to say it... I knew... - he said, brought your hand to his lips, and started pressing soft kisses to the back of it. You extended your finger to wipe one of the tears from his cheek, and his other hand quickly followed, wiping the rest. You looked around the room and noticed all the flowers, the teddy bears, the toys... There was even a... Tamagotchi...? And a brand-new Nintendo Switch...?

You looked back at Toto with a question painted on your face.

- The other drivers brought most of this stuff... They still keep sending things even though... - you nudged your head forward, urging him to continue. - Even though they had to leave for the next race. The accident was over two weeks ago, I'll explain everything later, I promise... But now the doctors will have to run some tests, ok...? - you nodded in response and shifted your gaze to the doctors that came into the room just a moment ago. They started simple, asking you to follow the light with your eyes and look in certain directions. And you did whatever they asked, not letting go of Toto's hand.

You were scared and in pain... But somehow you knew everything will be all right, because despite everything - you weren't alone. And that was certain.

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

#my writing #Toto Wolff fanfiction #Toto Wolff x reader #🖤

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multific · 1 year

Text

The French and His Wife

Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Mention of torture, Murder

Summary: After a long day at work, Vincent was tired. He just wanted to go home and take a shower with you, then sleep. But when he arrived home, he found mayhem.

Arriving back at his mansion all Vincent wanted was a quiet night, to hold his wife and sleep.

He let out many long sighs during the drive.

Then as they arrived at the gates, his driver looked at him through the mirror.

"Sir, something's not right." said the driver before he drove further into the property.

Vincent saw his men running around as if they were headless chickens.

"What the fuck happened?!" yelled Vincent as two of his bodyguards went over to him.

"They took the Miss."

Vincent stood in silence. The calm before the storm as they say. His other man tried to explain the situation better.

"She was in the bedroom, sleeping, we assume, when it all went downhill. They broke in through the front door but it was only a distraction because, at the same time, they broke into her room as well. They killed her guards and took her, Sir."

He pulled his gun out and shot the two men. Everyone around him froze as they looked at him.

"Someone better have a fucking explanation!"

He now sat in his office, bouncing his leg as the man in front of him explained what happened.

"They broke down the front door and caused a big scene. It attracted most of the guards. As per protocol, two guards ran to the Miss' room. They tried to get her, and while they did cause some delays, they were killed. The Miss ran but soon got captured. In total, we lost four of our men but killed most of them. They took her to a car and drove off through the back gate. We have a license plate but we found the car dumped not far, they changed cars. We are currently following tracks."

"I don't give a shit about the four men."

"Of course, we do have the footage, if you wish to see it."

"I do wish to see."

"I believe it is best if you don't watch the footage, Sir."

But Vincent only needed to look at the man once and he closed his mouth and opened the laptop.

The footage had no audio so Vincent turned it on.

How dare his men decide for him, if he wants to see and hear, then he will.

Truth was, his men knew him very well and no one was ready to take the blame for what happened. They knew how he is with you. And everyone knew that the two men he just shot outside had it easy. A quick death, but if he finds a person responsible, they will die slowly.

No one messes with the Marquis and his wife.

Vincent watched as two of your guards ran into the master bedroom, there were two gunshots and then you ran out of the bedroom, two men following you but at the end of the hall stood another, so you bolted into the bathroom.

Vincent checked his phone as he did remember you calling him earlier but he couldn't pick up.

He felt guilty.

He rejected your desperate call for help. It didn't take long for the men to break down the door before they dragged you out. He heard you cry and beg, he heard you plead as they dragged you.

One of the men had enough of your crying.

"Shut up, whore." he demanded before he hit you with his gun, knocking you out.

Vincent felt his blood boil as he looked up from the screen to his man.

"Is she alive?" he asked, rather fearfully, but it couldn't be heard in his voice.

"We sent out ten teams, Sir. She is alive. One team found her, they are bringing her to the doctor." the man confirmed.

"You found who did this?"

"Yes. Your car is ready. Once you will be done, the Miss should be at your other house, Sir."

Vincent nodded as he stood up. He buttoned his suit in before turning.

He saw red.

---

It wasn't even an old enemy of his. A newly formed assassin group with big potential were just wasted due to their dumb action.

They attacked the Marquis to replace him and get a higher position at the High Table.

"I need a new house. A more secure one, no one can know the location. They found this one too easy." he said on his way back.

"Of course, Sir." replied his man.

"Also check for mules. Someone might have told them and helped them from the inside."

"Right away, Sir."

When they arrived at his other house, Vincent got out and walked to the front door.

As soon as the door opened, his eyes locked with yours. Three guards standing behind you as you stood right in front of the door. He noticed the bandages on your arms and the already forming purple marks.

He felt his blood boil once more, these idiots dared to touch you.

You ran into his arms as soon as the door was closed.

He looked at his men who were now walking away, giving you privacy.

"They told me you would be back soon." you whispered into his neck.

"Mon Amour," he whispered as you tightened your grip. "I should have picked up. I'm sorry."

"I was so scared." you whispered.

"What did they want?"

"Information. Names and addresses of members of the High Table. Anything. But I told them I don't know anything. Then they said they wanted to break you down." you said as you pulled back, but he still had his arms around you. His eyes looking you up and down.

"And they tortured you." he concluded as you nodded, his finger running down your neck.

"I can't go back into that house." you whispered.

"We will find a new one, a safer one." he whispered. "Not today, and not in the near future but one day I wish to know what they did to you. Whenever you are ready, you will have to tell me. So I'd know what to do to the people who dare put their hands on you, Mon Amour." he said as you pulled away and he started to run his fingers up your neck, he placed a kiss on your lips.

"I don't know what they call it... they put a towel on my face and poured water. They also used electricity." he nodded and you could feel him getting angrier by the second. "But you found me."

"What did the doctor say?"

"I had a dislocated shoulder, twisted wrist and slight head trauma when they hit me. I know you watched the footage. I tried to run."

"You did. You did well. It wasn't your fault my men are incapable. I will find you new guards, better guards. I won't let this happen ever again."

"Thank you, Vincent." he walked you to the bedroom, closing the door behind himself and you as you went to the bed.

He blamed himself.

He nearly lost the one thing that mattered the most.

Now his suit was on the back of a chair as he laid down and pulled you close.

"I know you are angry," you whispered into the dark.

"I nearly fucking lost you because of those idiots. You got hurt and tortured when I promised you this would never happen. I promised I would keep you safe and I broke my wedding vow." he whispered the last part and it made you move so you can look into his eyes.

"You didn't break anything. Technically, you weren't here so your men failed, not you and I'm a big girl, I will get over this with your help, I know it. Please don't let this break us apart. Please don't lock yourself into your head." you placed your hand into his hair, moving his head so his eyes would lock with yours.

"I will try, but I'm very angry."

"You killed them, right?" he nodded before he spoke.

"I sent a message to everyone. They dare not touch what's mine." your fingers ran through his soft locks.

"Good. Then you touch what's yours and hug me please." he did.

Pulling you close, he kissed the top of your head.

He will never ever let you go. And that's a vow he will never break under any circumstances.

A/N: I while back I wrote one with a similar plot for Santino, and it inspired me to write this one. Hope you enjoyed it!

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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Wait wait wait, in light of the recent update, I gotta ask - has Eddie ever passed out while getting one of his tattoos? I'm kinda obsessed with the idea that he's well known in a few of the local parlors, having new ink done every few months, and he's this badass middle-aged rockstar with jagged scars and covered in demonic imagery but all the artist just know him as Ed The Fainter and always have a cool wet towel and a bottle of water waiting for him. I also like to imagine that those times when Steve's there waiting for him, he and the receptionist or whichever artist is on break at the moment get a bet going about how long it'll take for Eddie to pass out / how long he'll stay out.

If this doesn't line up with what you imagine for the emtts feel free to say so and I'll just grab my headcanon and shove it into a different au, but I wanted to share in case you found it as endearing as I do :D

I love Eddie being Just Some Guy at his local tattoo parlor.

Like, the older guys that would’ve seen him in his heyday are just so used to this dork that it doesn’t even faze them when world famous guitarist Eddie Munson walks in for a tat. The younger ones don’t recognize him even if they do listen to his music.

It’s only after he gets popular on Tiktok that those guys are like ‘wait a minute is The Fainter with the pre-school teacher husband famous?’

Eddie doesn’t faint all the time.

There’s no rhyme or reason to when he does. He doesn’t have a problem with needles or with blood (at least in the quantity that you’d get with a tattoo), but sometimes he’ll just be chilling out getting a tattoo and the whole world will dip out from under him. He’ll wake up a bit later, soaked in sweat and confused.

He thinks it’s a bit embarrassing, but Eddie’s always been able to laugh at himself and make other people laugh too. It’s a bit of a routine for him when he goes. The whole shop makes a big show of getting him some water and something to eat, and they ask if he wants to take a break a lot no matter what tattoo he’s getting or where it’s placed.

The first time Steve goes with him to get a tattoo, it’s specifically to make sure he doesn’t get ‘Steve’ tattooed on his ass after Eddie lost a bet with Lucas. Eddie getting a touch up to an old tattoo and zonks out halfway through. Steve goes into full panic mode so now the shop has protocols for Eddie and Steve.

Once Steve learns that this is just something that happens (“Like at the blood drive, Eddie!” “Don’t remind me of the blood drive.”), him and Eddie’s main tattoo artist, Meg, always make a bet on if he’s going to pass out or not. Steve is scary accurate at this game which is good because Meg says she’s going to get him in her chair when he loses.

Also, Eddie has a series of tally marks tattooed along the top of his worst demo-bat scar. He adds to it every year and when Steve asks about it, Eddie just say, “That’s the number of years that I’ve been the luckiest man alive.”

There are thirty-five tally marks. If you were to calculate how many years that Steve and Eddie have been together, you’d get – “Thirty-six.”

“What?”

“We started dating summer of ’86,” Steve says, “That is thirty-six years ago. Summer of this year will be thirty-seven.”

“Well, ’86 had a lot of ups and down. Wasn’t really my year, was it, Steve?”

#Eddie and Steve weren’t even getting blood drawn at the blood drive #they were just volunteering and bam! one moment Eddie’s watching someone get their blood drawn and the next he’s on the floor #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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captain-mj · 2 months

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First of all, I love your writing and your fics. I love your IWTV au so much. And I'm a fan of your other stuff.

Sooo I have some ideas I'd like to share with you , dear MJ. I was thinking of an isolated Ghost. He almost hides himself from people, some place like Alaska or in the wild. Somewhere cold and out of humans, so he can be all by himself. He doesn't want to be around people because of his past, and he hides himself from people. He lives in a cold forest or somewhere unreachable in winter because of the snow. He lives in a cabin.

And there is Soap, who goes on a camping trip with himself after breaking up with his boyfriend. Thinking that camping would help him get better emotionally. But it starts snowing, and he is not prepared, and he gets lost in the wild. He is desperate and cold. While searching for help and walking for hours. He comes across the cabin where Ghost is staying. Ghost doesn't welcome Soap at first, but because of the heavy snow, they are stuck for about a week or a month. So Ghost helps Soap get better, and they start to get close and hot...

I think I explained it in so much detail, but you can change it however you want. I'm always hungry for your stuff, in any form. And feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write about it. And of course, please don't mind my English; it's not my first language.

Ily,take care.

Very much can do that!! Yes!

Ghost sat in his cabin up the mountains, using his sniper to look down at everyone. He knew that right now there were two different groups of people camping. One further down that seemed to be full of experienced campers and one a bit higher up that set up their spot for their view. They were way too close for comfort.

Neither were particularly good company. No one was.

Ghost hated people. Especially fuckers who came on to the mountain for camping.

He had hoped this secluded place in the middle of nowhere would provide peace. Instead he just dealt with this.

Ghost put his gun away. It was for hunting and he was worried any gunshots would send the campers into a frenzy. He had plenty of food for the winter thanks to Price sending him stuff. Price insisted he just used Ghost's pension for it but he didn't believe him. Old sap probably used his own money.

Ghost went to his cabin and cleaned instead. Not that it really needed it. Besides the fact that he meticulously cleaned most of the time, nothing he did made much of a mess. It was mostly just dusting the books off to make sure they didn't get dry rot.

The snow started. A lot harsher than he had been expecting. It started to pile up on his porch and it made the roof creak a little.

Ghost imagined it caving in and crushing him. Suffocating under the weight of wood and snow.

There were worse deaths.

Further down the mountain, Soap went a little away from the group he came up with. He set up his tent and planned to relax for the next two days.

No cell service which was exactly what he needed. No worrying Mam, no angry ex trying to get him back. Just silence.

Soap was so bored. He supposed it was his fault for expecting anything less. He was not a person that sat still often. Always searching for the next thing. The next adventure.

This did not feel like an adventure. It felt stale.

Soap noticed the snow so he only walked within the vicinity of his tent. He followed the protocol, but it took one stumble for him to fall out of bounds. Quickly, Soap scrambled back up and glanced at his tent. Still right there, just slightly farther than before.

Maybe some sleep would do him some good.

Soap settled into his tent, ignoring the snow piling on top of it. It just kept coming. Covering him in a freezing cold blanket of water.

The tent had a hole in it. He had just bought it, he had no idea what he did to cause it. Although small, it was definitely messing up the whole insulation part of this. It also let snow in which started to melt, getting him and his clothes wet.

Frustration started to bubble over. He wasn't experienced at camping but he wasn't an idiot. This wouldn't work. He'd have to either fix it or leave and he wasn't sure how he could even leave.

Thanks to the water, his arm was soaked, cold digging in so hard it felt like actual needles. He tried to dry himself off but the whole situation wasn't working.

Reluctantly, he ignored that he was still slightly wet and got dressed. He'd just go out for help.

The people he came with weren't there. Or at least, they weren't where he thought they were. He didn't want to believe the guide they came would be so stupid as to not count the people before evacuating if they did, but he also said he wanted seclusion and lied about being experienced.

Maybe they assumed he already left?

Soap panicked for a moment. He allowed himself that. Before he straightened up and started thinking. There was no way he was the only person on the mountain. While he couldn't make it all the way down on his own, he was sure someone had to be there. It was mid morning, he had time before it got dark and cold.

Ghost sat on his porch close to twilight. He smoked silently, watching the trees.

The man had been walking around his property for a few minutes and Ghost was trying to figure out if he was a real person or not.

He sighed and whistled, watching him yank his head around painfully to stare at him.

"You okay?" Ghost called out.

Soap stepped a bit closer, no longer shivering. He was also holding his shoulder. "Are you God?"

"Oh for fuck's sake. Sure. I'm God. Where are your things?"

"I took them."

"Why are you jacketless in the middle of the snow?"

"It had gotten wet. Was trying to dry it out but it didn't really work..."

Ghost sighed. "Come closer."

Soap stumbled to the steps. His pants up to his knees were soaked and his face had pale skin with rosy patches.

Ghost sighed in frustration and opened the door. "Come on." He'd get the guy warm and then send him on his way. The snow wasn't too bad yet. Neither of them had a radio to know that it was predicted to get much worse.

So Ghost accepted him in and had him sit in front of the fire. He found a dry blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. "You okay?"

Soap started to shiver.

"Guess not."

"Got a drink?" Soap rasped out.

Ghost poured him a nip of bourbon and handed him.

"Don't suppose you got Scotch?" Soap said softly before knocking back the drink. He grimaced and Ghost was sure he heard a mutter under his breath about British people having shit taste.

Ghost watched the way the alcohol raced through him. Color almost immediately back in his face. "Thanks. Name's Soap by the way."

"...Ghost. The fuck you doing up there?" Ghost went by his callsign since there was no way someone would name their kid Soap. He thought of asking him about his shoulder but decided against it.

Soap sighed. "Trying to clear my head." He flinched when Ghost laughed at him.

"Piss poor job of preparing."

"Aye. Suppose I thought myself a survivalist." Soap laughed softly before averting his eyes. He looked embarrassed.

Good.

Ghost put the bottle of bourbon next to him. "Drink as much as you want." He knew he'd barely make a dent on the bottle.

Soap only took what he had to. He managed to get himself warm.

Ghost looked out at the sky. Too dark to send him anywhere.

"In the morning, I'll show you the way down the mountain."

"Yes, sir." Soap looked at him. He seemed almost indignant. Like Ghost was being bossy.

Ghost bit his tongue. "fuck off. Go to bed near the fire. You'll need to stay warm all night."

Soap nodded and laid down. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Ghost went to his bedroom, brandishing a knife. He stayed there and watched the door all night. Just in case. Just in case.

Soap stayed in the living room and he tried to Keep warm. Ghost would come in like clockwork to put more wood on the fire.

During the night, the snow came down harder. Before long, it was at the door, covering the entire porch.

Ghost groaned as he watched it. While yes, he may be able to go down by himself, he'd never be able to get Soap down the mountain as well. As much as he hated it, he also likely wouldn't be able to make it back.

Soap stirred and groaned, holding his shoulder. He saw the outside and before long came to the same realization that Ghost did. "So we bunking together?" It sounded sheepish, like there was a risk that Ghost would throw him out into the cold.

Ghost sighed. "Yeah we are. I have a guest room that i haven't used in ages. I'll get it set up."

"And I had to sleep on the floor... why?"

"Be closer to the fire." Ghost left him alone to brush the dust off of everything. He had planned to turn it into a gym or something equally useful, but never did. The stupid room came with the house.

Once it was livable, Ghost came back out. "You can go in. I'll make breakfast. We'll be up here a while. It's still snowing so it's hard to tell."

"You have a vehicle or anything?"

"Nope. We'll be walking."

Soap cursed in a funny language and stretched, back popping. "How long you guessing?"

"A week. Minimum."

Soap winced. "Sorry for the... everything."

Ghost stared at him for a moment before just going in. He cooked breakfast silently and Soap sat nearby. Occasionally, he'd start talking, but Ghost didn't respond to any of it.

"Oh come on. You're going to be stuck with me for a week. Might as talk to me. What are you doing up here so isolated?"

Ghost put a plate of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns in front of him. He sat across from him and yanked his mask up just enough to start eating.

His scars had the effect he hoped. Soap winced at the harsh smile cut into Ghost's face. "Aye. I see."

"Good." Ghost answered, shoveling food down. He mentally counted through his supplies. He had enough for a few months, so with two people, it should be fine. This bastard was getting none of his ice cream though.

Soap ate quietly before swallowing. "Gang?"

"Military." Ghost admitted begrudgingly.

"Aye. I see. I'm a sergeant right now."

"Retired." Ghost drank some of his tea.

Soap nodded. "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass here. Really. You don't have to talk to me. But. Do you have any coffee?"

Ghost stared at him for a minute before getting up and checking. "I got instant and regular."

"Got a coffee pot?"

"French press. It was a gift."

Soap's eyebrows scrunched together. "You know how to use it?"

"...No."

"Fuck."

They put their heads together and worked with the French Press until they managed to get a cup of coffee brewing. Ghost watched the stuff bubble and huffed. "Tea is easier to make."

"Coffee tastes better."

"Yeah, right." Ghost continued drinking his tea.

"Since we got it figured out, do you at least wanna cup to try your gift?"

Ghost sighed. "Yeah, why not."

Black coffee was just as dreadful as he remembered. He added some sugar, ignoring Soap's mildly judgmental gaze.

The first day was spent with Ghost trying to do his normal routine of reading or working out and Soap being incredibly bored. Ghost felt too uncomfortable to do most of his workout routine with him around and decided to give up.

"Do you have internet? Or anything? Most of my stuff was left in my tent."

Ghost sighed. "No. How far away was your tent?"

Soap hummed. "No clue honestly. I don't think it was that far, but there should be a trail of my clothing. I have no idea why I started taking it off."

"Hypothermia makes you feel warm after a while. It's some psychological thing. It's why some people who are frozen to death are found naked."

Soap grimaced at him. "That's horrifying."

Ghost shrugged and showed him the guest room. It was pretty nice, if a bit plain. Soap fell on the bed and groaned. "Firm. I like that."

Ghost hit his boots. "I'll try to find your tent tomorrow. Get some sleep."

The second day he found himself being trailed by Soap despite the asshole clearly should be staying at home. He kept touching and rubbing at his shoulder. Ghost was trying not to ask, but he'd need to eventually. If he got infected, that would make everything a lot harder.

They found his tent and Soap went searching for his phone. Unfortunately it was dead and when they got home, they found that his charger had too much water damage to help. Soap sighed and rubbed his face. "I knew I shouldn't have come out here."

"Why did you?"

Soap thought about it for a second before turning towards him. "My ex." He was careful not to include man or woman. This guy could be homophobic for all he knew.

Ghost nodded. "Got it. Their fault or yours?"

Soap blinked. "What?"

"You cheat on them and up here hiding from it? Lot of guys do. Or did you come up here because they're a right prick?"

They. Not she. They. Soap picked up on the pronouns and took a deep breath. "They asked me to leave the military. I said no. They said stuff."

Ghost tilted his head. "I see. Well. They can't exactly find you up here."

"Aye. Guess they can't." Soap smiled.

On the third day. Ghost went searching and found his dvd player and old tv. He showed Soap his dvd collection.

Soap hummed. "More romance movies than I'd expect."

"I inherited my mum's collection." Ghost lied.

"Uh huh." Soap picked a movie and put it on, happy to have something else to do besides sit there. How Ghost did it was beyond him.

On the fourth day, Soap even managed to convince Ghost to sit with him through one of the movies. It was a romance movie that Ghost had memorized. It was a film where she had to travel across Ireland and stayed with a nice Irish man throughout the journey.

Soap drank some more of the coffee and it seemed to calm him down a little.

After a bit of hesitation, Ghost looked at him. "You smoke weed?"

"No." Soap glanced at him.

"You wanna start?"

Soap took a deep breath. "Fuck it. Sure."

Ghost pulled out a joint and lit it. He took the first hit and then gave it to Soap.

Soap coughed and Ghost laughed at him. "It's a little different than a cigarette."

"Yeah, a little bit, sir." Soap smiled at him and they passed it back and forth for a bit.

Ghost felt the pretty much permanent ache throughout his body disappear. It seemed to do the same for Soap's shoulder.

They both relaxed for a bit and Soap looked over at him. "You're a cool guy, Ghost."

"Thank you." Ghost smiled at him and kept smoking. They put on another movie and relaxed for a while. It took the edge off.

Soap swallowed. "Why are you up here?"

"It sucks down there."

"Does it get lonely?"

"Sometimes." Ghost mumbled, his head falling against the couch. Around people he was usually always wide awake. Too scared. But Soap made him feel weirdly safe.

Soap fell asleep against his shoulder and Ghost followed soon after.

When they wake up, the fire had been out for hours and the house was freezing.

"Fucking hell." Ghost got up and tried to start a new fire but it wasn't sparking.

Soap shivered. "Well, that's not great. Anything i can do to help?"

Ghost checked the wood. It was fucking damp for some reason. He couldn't figure out why but that would be better for morning when he had more light. "My bedroom has the least amount of windows."

Soap's eyes gleamed as they shacked up in there. Ghost covered his windows with curtains and grabbed some more blankets as he turned on the lights.

His room was far better decorated than any other part of the house. His bed was covered in quilts and high quality soft pillows. A cabinet in the corner had tons of photos from Ghost in his time in the military. Most of them had Ghost's own face covered with marker.

"You know Captain Price?"

"Yeah, I know John." Ghost rearranged a few things and started to strip off his jacket.

Soap paused to stare, admiring the muscles that were revealed when the shirt followed right after. His pants unfortunately did not come off too. "Take off your shirt."

Soap nodded and followed the order. Was this happening? Were they about to fuck right here and right now? The worst part was he was going to let it happen.

Ghost pulled him into bed and shifted so he was fucking spooning him. "Fucking hell I was cold." He settled into the warmth and promptly closed his eyes, pretending nothing was happening.

Soap was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Either way he was getting hard and that was not great.

Ghost fell back to sleep. Soap was ridiculously hard, pressed against a beautifully muscled chest. He could feel each of Ghost's breaths with the rise and fall of it. In a desperate attempt to calm down, he thought of war. His ex. The fact that his ex was probably trying to blow up his very dead phone.

Soap thought of his ex and felt a strange lump in his throat. God he didn't want to go home. He really didn't want to. His ex would be at his heels like a baying fucking dog to nip at his fucking heels.

Soap let out a sharp noise, a bit like a sob, and quickly bit his lip to shut up.

Ghost pulled him closer. "Soap?"

"My name is Johnny."

Ghost's thumb rubbed circles in his chest. "Johnny." Oh that beautiful voice. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Simon. You okay?"

"My ex tried to hurt me. I'm military, don't know why he thought it was a smart idea. But when I defended myself, he was just... so cruel. Called me shit I never wanted to hear again. Accidentally made myself upset over it."

"I'm sorry, Johnny."

"S'okay. Nothing to do with you. You're the first person that hasn't made me feel worse honestly."

"Not worse. I'll take it." Ghost sounded a tiny bit amused. He squeezed him. "Do you feel warmer?"

"Yes. Feels nice in this bed with you." Soap didn't mean to sound quite as suggestive as he did, but Ghost noticed. His grip loosened briefly before tightening again, tangling their legs together. "Simon."

Ghost turned him onto his back and kissed him, having pulled up his mask at some point. His scars tickled a little. It was pretty nice honestly.

Soap's fingers ran down his chest to his pant's button and undid it for him. "Is this okay?"

"Should be asking you that." Ghost gruffed. "Don't have to do too much tonight, but you're hard."

"So are you. Can feel you through your jeans." Soap smiled at him. He slowly unzipped his pants and touched over Ghost's cock.

Ghost let out a small whine. "Fuck, it's been so long." He quickly unzipped Soap's pants and pulled him out, having no shame about it. His hand fit around both of them and his thumb easily ran over Soap's head.

"Me too. Won't judge you if you don't last long." Soap teased, pulling him back to kiss him again. He groaned as he thrust up. "Nice and easy, yeah?"

Ghost rutted into him and moved his hand in time. They kept kissing as his hand found a decadent rhythm, truly stretching the pleasure out for both of them.

Soap moaned and his back arched trying to press himself even closer. "Simon."

Ghost bit his lip hard and paid more attention to Soap's cock, trying to get him closer and closer. He felt him start to pant into his mouth and licked into his mouth happily.

Simon buried his face into his throat and came over his chest. Despite this, he managed to keep his hand moving so Soap followed after a moment later.

Johnny kissed him softly. "Later, if you have lube, I'll let you fuck me."

Simon wondered briefly if he was a rebound and then decided he didn't particularly care. "Okay."

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