Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you're playing the game, and notice how your operators seem to move on their own, but you attribute it to stick shift, but it's really them keeping an eye out for themselves even when you're not paying attention.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: when you take a quick break to scroll on tiktok, either alone or in a party with friends, and the operators on screen seem to... move a bit more than you've seen in other instances. Their sway is more aparent, their idles include more detail, but nothing too out of the blue.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who make sure they get good kills and are always aware, keeping your K/D in the positives and always using their "in game" senses to be aware.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who pray to have a new, fashionable skin, just so you can play with them a little bit longer.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who laugh at your curses and shit talk, enjoying when you speak your mind, or listening to music if you do, maybe even just listening to your breathing as you play.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who gush when you fawn over them in new skins, or over your favorite ones, who can't hide their pleasure and smile. It's an idle, you think, but it's always very convenient that they do it "on time" after you compliment them.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but feel jealous when you favor more... popular operators. Ghost, Konig, Gaz, Soap, etc... they want to feel even a fraction of the praise you give them.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who seethe when their base skin isn't available in the more affordable packs, wanting to spend time with you and show off their skill instead of being stuck behind a locked screen...
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: Operators who can't help but laugh anytime you play one of the guest operators, Niki, Snoop, Homeland, etc. It's so odd seeing them on a battlefield or even in the operator screen, but as long as you're happy, they adapt quickly.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who up the ping on opposing teams, lag switching them, or even causing their games to crash just so you can secure the win. Any for you.
Call of Duty: Self Aware AU: who don't understand why their universe connects to yours through the game, but with this connection, they crave to bring you to their world. The fight that would ensue on who gets to keep you? That's something they know will come but refuse to accept.
Obsession | Ghostface, Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson | Dead By Daylight
Summary. the ghostface isn’t known to be gentle, but when it comes to his... obsession, he can’t seem to bring out anything other than a wicked devotion that many could only envy, even if his muse couldn’t accept it just yet.
Warnings. intimacy, suggestive material, heavy petting, yandere vibes for ghostface tbh
Reader. Female reader <3
Word Count. 1392 words
Authors Notes. another danny fic lets gooooooooooooooo, only spell check was used and i wrote this in only an hour and a half while watching house of the dragon and barely able to speak english at this point. i love commas if you couldnt tell that already lmao. enjoy!
Obsession
the state of being obsessed with someone or something.
"she cared for him with a devotion bordering on obsession"
an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind.
plural noun: obsessions
ㅡ”without obsession, life is nothing.” John Waters
There was something in the way he held you that made his grip secure, where you could feel the groove under every knuckle and the rise of his calloused skin, it was safe. It was comforting, really, if you ignored the suffocating reality that this wasn’t a choice of your own free will, and that your current situation was one that you had to become accustomed to. Large, needy hands move around you as you lay on your back, and you remain still enough for him to get comfortable on you.
His mask is shifted upwards slightly enough to see his lips, a wicked smile shows between them, and you feel a shiver up your spine as your body relaxes enough for the Ghostface to not know of your own inner turmoil's that are hidden behind your eyes and above your heart. He rests his head on your chest, face turned up into the crook of your neck and shoulder, his mask laying on the other side of your body while a killer finds comfort in your warmth- legs open and his weight crushing you in an oddly pleasant way.
He smells of leather, iron, and cologne, his hair is longer than usual, the short black tufts have now become loose curls that tickle the side of your face and neck. His scruff is starting to grow, you note, feeling it scratch your skin as he nuzzles into you further to comfort himself. He finally stills, and you let out a small sigh, giving yourself some time to shift under him for your own comfort.
He's cold, so unbelievably cold, and he saps the warmth your body created like a leech does to an open sore. Your heart picks up a bit as you feel his gaze on you, looking through the flesh and into a deeper part of yourself that even you refuse to acknowledge. His eyes aren't meeting yours, yours are closed, relaxed, and moving behind the darkness of your lids, His eyes stare into your skin, looking up, unmoving.
He’s waiting, you realize. Your hand twitches, before slowly coming up to rake your nails through his hair, a satisfied hum leaves his throat through unopened lips. But his eyes don't close. He expects more from his gaze. His muse. His lover.
Another hand, at the same pace as its successor, moves under the opened leather jacket, before finding its way under more cloth to the cool feel of his back. He isn’t a corpse, but he lacks so much warmth, you almost worry for him,
“Keep going.” He's curt, but his voice is soft, as you realize that this is Danny you're in the presence of. Your fingertips are warm, and the palm of your hand even more so, and as your dignity falls into nothing Danny finds himself pleased as you fall to him whims of your own volition.
For a killer, one who lacks a heart, who lacks every shred of humanity that is expected of a man, he finds himself at the mercy of his instinct. He’s needy, clingy, desperate for your attention. The beast that craves the screams of his victims, a ghost in the night, a monster that thrives off playing with the mind of his victims finds himself at the feet of an unwilling woman whom he can't imagine a life without.
You start to scratch at his back lightly, and his skin raises at the attention, begging for more of you, before flattening your palm to soothe the red flesh. His mind is full of static, and he presses himself into your body even more, the need to crawl into your skin becomes more and more evident as he stares into your body once again, and your anxiety spikes.
He feels how your body reacts to him, fearful, yet pleased. Hesitant, but yearning. You enjoy the attention he gives you, the feeling of knowing how you’d never be rejected by him in any way, shape, or form. Your heart and body fight your mind as you force yourself to remember the blood that stains his hands, the thrill he feels chasing down his prey, his victims, and the subsequent glee as they take their final breaths under a hunting knife as the phone line is cut.
You were never going to be one of them. He assured you that.
You were to be worshiped by him, to have your feet kissed and your body touched with love and safety, to have your needs provided for as you keep him sane by merely allowing him to be near you- to take what he needs from you.
But he also can't deny the jump of his heart when your voice quivers underneath him, or when you jump as you realize he's in the room much later than the time he entered it, the way you fight the urge to lean into him and his hands hold your face or when they grab at your hips.
He was in love with the way your skin felt against his, searing hot, as your bodies molded together in a way he can only describe as perfection. The way you style your hair to fit your face in the most pleasing manner, how you bite at your lip or cheek when thinking or absentmindedly, the way your fingers would tap against the countertops or the wheel of your car as music plays- either aloud or in your own head. Everything about you screamed at him to worship that part with every part of his being, his newfound, and unknown obsession.
He mouths at your neck while you continue to massage and scratch at his back, playing and pulling at his hair at the same time, His mind races with need as you take in a quick take of air, a broken whimper leaving your throat as he continues to mark up your neck as best as he could, his own hand coming up to your jaw, to hold your figure in place before you squirm as you usually do when in his hands.
Your senses are overwhelmed by him, the way he feels, the way his body looks laid on top of you as a mess of ebony rests just under your chin, his scent filling becoming stronger as he manages to somehow get even closer. You hear the sound of his mouth on your skin, his heavy breathing, the sounds that leave him before he slowly moves his hips into yours- leaving you pawing at his hair and skin as your own hips move to meet his.
He overwhelms you. He leaves you needy and empty, craving more of him as your mind screams to just leave him and run, but those thoughts are only pushed back further and further into your head as the emptiness and need grows more in importance at that moment.
You know he’d never hurt you, even if you asked, because he can’t bring himself to.
It brings you comfort as you fall into him, allowing your heart to open up, and he notices rather quickly.
Your body finally is able to relax, sinking into the bed under his weight, no longer fighting to keep yourself up. Allowing yourself to sigh and move your own hips against his, before you tug at his clothes in a silent beg for more and it leaves Danny feral for your need.
He grins again, wicked and delighted, teeth against your skin as you finally fall into his touch. He’d gladly lay himself bare for you, ready and waiting, watching in delight as dark eyes watch as you finally start to take what you need from him.
His obsession leaves him weak for you, open, and bare.
And it leaves you hungry, and watchful, moving to please the both of you.
It soon grows, and the obsession is a mutual agreement, of blood and kisses, with bared teeth and needy hands, playful and curious as time goes on.
It's an obsession, yes, you’ll admit that later on.
Summary. Malleus should've been more careful in handling the details of his relationship to his grandmother. A shame, really. Mayne he would have to go around hiding his love for you like a coward then, but that's how life pans out, a series of mistakes we wish we could have redone.
Warnings. 18+ Content Ahead. Mentions of Smut.
Edit Status. Not proofread, we die with beta
Word Count. 1.9k
Song. the fruits, paris paloma
A.N. I'm back here's some shit lol. Ended up joining this weird cult but it's all good now :D be careful online kiddos
My love, are you the devil?
I would worship you instead of him
The sound of a brush scrubbing softly against keratin filled the Ramshackle Prefects room, The low hum of the fae prince cuts through gently, his large body hunched over on your bed, hands holding his head while you kneel before him. A small laugh leaves you as you watch his eyes slowly close, his breathing evening out, as he continues to lean forward until his forehead makes contact with your chest, and his hands slip from their place against his jaw.
You do your best to finish his horns, cleaning each ridge with precision and a gentleness to not wake up the sleeping prince, his hair still dripped with water from the shower you shared, which greatly helped in keeping all the grime soft enough to be removed easily enough.
A deep breath makes you stop for a second, your eyes on Malleus, watching as he slightly readjusts before settling into your chest once again. You can’t help but worry for his neck and back, even while your thighs ache and your knees throb in pain. No matter how soft the bedding Crewel had given you was, staying in this position for nearly half an hour was beginning to take its toll on your body.
Finishing as quickly as you could, you readjust the prince to relax in your bed, pushing him to his full length slowly as you held his head and neck, before removing yourself from his side as he shifted once again to find comfort in the plush covers and pillows.
For I'm too busy committing sins
I have no time for confession
God, you think to yourself, he really was such a beautiful creature.
“And where are you off to, child?” An amused voice finds your ears, and you can't help but jump as a chill runs down your spine, the chilly air not helping you in settling quicker. You grip the band of the duffle as your teeth grind against each other, thinking quickly, you sigh and turn around, deciding to stall him before coming up with something… believable.
“And where are you off to so late? Doesn’t Bat-Daddy have you under house arrest?” You muse, raising your eyebrows and you watch him- he's still stand-offish, tense, but the mention of his guardian makes him relax, before a realization comes to him.
“How do you know that?” He grits, teeth on display as his most prominent feature, his fangs, have you faltering for a second. Pointed ears move downwards in an unspoken sadness.
“Sebek isn’t all that quiet when you’re upset, especially when you’ve been reprimanded by both Lilia and your grandmother, Mal.” You start shifting your weight between each leg, anxiety eating at your core.
He shouldn’t be here. He isn’t allowed to be here.
The knowledge of that leaves your heart breaking, but you didn’t want to leave Malleus in trouble over some silly human who doesn't belong to this world, especially when the topic of love and relationships with him comes to mind.
He isn’t allowed to be with me.
“I see. I don't think I have the heart to reprimand him, though.” He chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood, hopeful eyes and his ears twitching up and down, before remaining in a downwards position as your sad smile reaches his eyes.
“Go. I don't want you in trouble for being here.” You point with your nose to his direction.
Go back, please.
“Can I at least know where you’re off to? I’d like you to be safe.” He’s nearly begging.
My love, you're something special
“Crewel. Late night job with one of his oldies. Nothing too bad.” You smiled, catching your eye, and he seemed satisfied with that answer.
You never seem to leave the fae prince's mind.
Your smile, your laugh, the way you get excited when you’ve learned new things about this world, the way you yawn, how your shirt seems to always expose just the right amount of skin when you stretch-
You don’t like how easily you can lie to him now.
I've never met someone like you
He cannot get enough of you. He’s a man possessed, and not even a real man to begin with in technicality, both in his race and his age amongst the fae. He wants to hold you, to mold into you, have you in his unwavering grasp and never let go.
His skin yearns for even the slightest of your touches, his lips mourn for yours once again, his eyes wish to the souls beyond to fall deep into yours- his heart can only survive with you by his side, happy, and healthy.
But he cannot give you that.
How could you make him feel this way? To love and lose, to yearn and obtain, to lust and hate. He wants to be angry, to hold his wrath to a standard of equivocated fear and respect like it usually is, but he can’t, not with you.
You'd make me fall from heaven
If only he was human. If only you were a fae. If he was a commoner or if you were of noble blood. If he was your lover and you were his.
How could a magicless human make him feel so much?
His whispers echo in a room filled with desperate pleas and calls demanding to be answered, his back hunched and cracking as scales start to make their way from under his skin, his body moving forward even more to accommodate the tail that manifests itself, Lighting crashes during the storm that rages on, and Malleus is grateful for the weather of the past week, able to hide his tantrum within the will of nature.
The room fills with smoke as he breathes heavily, unable to stop the small flames that leave him, and he gets his hips into an empty space- leaving him whimpering and choking up, before a low and deep growl follows.
But I know just what I do
Long black nails rake across the faes face as he grips at himself hard enough to draw blood, the wounds healing as quickly as they arrive, his breathing is shaky, uneven, as a low laughter leaves his throat. His eyes blow a brilliant green, nearly lighting up the room with their light alone, his horns crack and split open at the ridges slightly, exposing the game green that lights the prince's eyes.
Your name leaves his voice in desperate whispers, clawed hands dipped in ink rush down his blistering flesh, lust consuming him as he reaches down to grasp at himself, imagining your own hands being the ones to do so.
"Angel, " he calls me
It wasn’t enough.
He needed more.
Does he know that I'm falling
His lips clumsily drag themselves from your sternum, up your neck, and take your own greedily- nearly biting your lips in the process. It's sloppy, needy, and his grip is unrelenting as he tightens himself around your hips. He starts to huff with small amounts of smoke leaving his open mouth, tail and scales manifesting, his horns and eyes carrying their warm glow.
“Malleus- calm down.” You manage to get out before he's on top of you again, whining and growling, pulling at your pajamas while he nearly tears off his own clothing as well. The wind whips against the window, a sharp crack scaring you into a jump, and the small amount of bare skin that meets his own leaves him weak and fumbling.
From a precipice that I tripped off long ago?
“Malleus.” Your voice is strained, a harsh whisper, as your head is leaning back against the plush of the window seat as you desperately grip at the cushions and stone wall. He’s hunched over again, but this time, he's able to associate himself with you.
“N-no. Please just- just-” He’s stuttering and cutting himself off, unable to properly think now that he has you in his grasp. Nearly three months now. Three months of you running off and leaving him alone. Abandoning him. All because he let his affections for you slip. All because his grandmother's court didn’t approve of your relationship.
For three months.
"You're so pure, " he says
He was starving.
Does he know, I'm forsaken?
The voice of your guardian and adoptive father seems to fade into the distance as you stare out of the window, looking down upon the campus, thoughts running wild as a new soreness leaves your body aching and throbbing.
Malleus was starved.
You think to yourself, if you could keep ignoring him for this long, and go back to avoiding him at all costs, and your heart breaks at the thought. You loved him, and your relationship was small, budding, but still strong and fulfilling.
Until the bud was found and cut by his grandmother and her court, leaving you heartbroken, and you in fear for your life as you were left with a simple warning.
But now he's had his fill of you.
Stay. Away.
And you did, ignoring him best you can, occupying your time with others, dodging him at every turn. That was, until he came to you in the middle of the night, opening the window of your little reading nook in Ramshackle, and begging you to have him.
“Puppy! Are you paying attention? This is important to how we're going to handle this little… situation,” Crewel doesn’t know about last night.
No one does.
The original sinner
Maybe there's hope for the two of you to let go.
Your neck throbs as you feel his teeth sinking into you once again.
But soon you'll know
For if I'm going down
Naked in that garden
His arm remains under your pillow, the other around your waist and keeps you close to him, while both of your legs remain intertwined with one another. Marks and bites litter your body, as Malleus also bares his own from you, though you can say you were more careful of your claims on his own body.
You fear the consequences of being found, but you can’t help but indulge your lover any time he comes to you, needy and whiny for attention. You push your fears to the side, enjoying your simple and short time with the fae, slowly turning and moving to embrace him.
I guess I'll take you with me
You slowly bring yourself into waking up, eyes heavy with sleep and body sore once again, naked and warm. The cover of the duvet encases you in warmth from your own body, Malleus’ own body, cool and slowly warmed by your own, wrapped around you tightly.
You breathe in his scent, a natural smell with his usual soap and cologne, a mix that leaves you addicted and needing more of him. Your nails slowly rake up and down his back, the pale skin going pink and rising slightly, going to his back and hips, upper thigh and the bit of his shoulders you can reach.
Slowly, Malleus wakes, and simply enjoys your presence and attention.
He could only think that this is how he wants to wake up everyday.
But for now, he lives with your love in secret, until he has the power to keep you by his side as he sees fit.
A.N. welcome to the first installment of my horror series! i hope you enjoy it and look forward to the rest of the month! cant wait to hear yalls feedback and thoughts!
WORD COUNT. 1065 words
WARNINGS. cannibalism, obsessions, obsessive love, mentions of cooked human flesh, yandere themes, non-con, horror
Please remember my blog is 18+ only, and does not cater, nor encourage, minors to interact. Minors are NOT welcome to interact with my works or blogs, as they contain mature content.
[ OCTOBER HORRORS MASTERLIST ]
got any requests? want more horror? wanna see a prompt for a different character? feel free to check out my [ HORROR SENTENCE THEMES ]
i. cleave. ryomen sukuna. jujutsu kaisen.
Cleave (捌はち Hachi?): A slashing attack that adjusts itself depending on the target's toughness and cursed energy level to cut them down in one fell swoop.
Dismantle (解カイ Kai?): Default slashing attack that is normally used for inanimate objects, however it can also be used against cursed spirits and sorcerers to great effectiveness.
一cleave and dismantle, sukuna, powers and abilities, jjk wiki
The King of Curses is not a kind, or empathetic building, finding humanity to be nothing other than a resource he can take and consume as he pleases. He hungers for the flesh of women and children, smites men for the pleasure of his power and the cravings for a mere display, holds an authority of a near-god and yet there are still those who wish to challenge him, foolishly, is to be added.
He picks at his teeth with a bone, broken, small and curved. You can only infer it’s from a larger one, a rib, you gather. Sukuna has overtaken Yuji once again, speaking their vow into existence at the worst time, and he’s lost himself in the glee and pleasures of the human body and what it offers to him.
Bones are scattered around the area as he lounges on a bed, hidden in one of the larger buildings, his cups and plates overfilled by his devout followers from times long gone. The area is dark and lit with lanterns, the air is dry and leaves your mouth watering, the stench of death and charred pork allows the bile to rise.
It was not pork.
You curse to yourself silently, eyes meeting the dual set of your lost friend, and the tears start behind your eyes. His features changed, you noted. The soft angle of his jaw is sharper, thicker, making his face wider than the young man's slimmer look. Large eyes have narrowed, making room for his extra set of eyes, his brows thinned and his cheek bones have lowered.
“Young one, you’ve interrupted my time alone, and leave me wondering what exactly you want from me… would you care to explain yourself?” His tone is musical, he entertains himself as you shake ever so slightly, he is fond of the soul that your body hosts, the long forgotten original he yearns to experience once again.
“Sukuna, the others are coming soon, and your time with Yuji is almost up.” You attempt to remain steady, your finger twitching in anticipation as your heart races, loud and thundering in your ears. Sweat beads at your scalp, above your brow, the heat in your neck and chest cause your anxiety to rise against the chill of your back and legs. Your voice was strong and steady, but your body language spoke otherwise, even as you stood as straight as you could.
“You’ve come to warn me, why is that?” He muses, grinning as he takes in the scent of your fear into account, he was fond of you for many reasons, of the memory you ignited in his head, and the way you act now. Small, soft, and your smell-
The smell of the most delectable meal he could have,
Sukuna was unwanted, an unloved, and unbearable being for the entirety of his human life, only respected and wanted for his power and authority once he had rebuilt himself after his death.
He remembered your face, the foreigner who came such a long way from home, a traveler who wanted to master their power and energy. He remembered your face, your hair, your eyes, your body. Gods, the body he held for so long, the body he gripped at and took many times, the body he admired and cared for, that he broke and rebuilt over and over.
The soul that came with the body was even more tantalizing, he drooled as you spoke and commanded others, watched with captured eyes as you entertained the young ones and the elderly, listened intently to the stories and knowledge from your tales from afar. He wanted everything, he wanted you so much then, so much he wanted to hold you close and press him to his skin.
He wanted you closer, to crawl inside your skin and lay inside you, to crack your chest open and curl up in the warmth and the wetness inside, to taste the innermost parts of you and merge your being into his.
His stomach turns at the thought, and he realizes he's okay with making a sacrifice just this once- to give into his urges just this once. He yearns to be with you, again, forever. Until your soul incarnates and your body comes back again.
Again.
You’ll come back again, he can’t allow you to leave, into the arms of another, even if he possesses the body of the boy.
“Because you still have Yuji's body, and I can’t let anything happen to him, to… you.” You answered, his blood pressure rises, adrenaline rushes through his body at that answer, he doesn’t care for the damned brat, he actively ignores that part, he only hears how you care for him.
For him.
Sukuna.
He’s seen once again, he groans, empties his hands and stands up. Your guard is down and you relax slightly, he grins behind his poker face, and as you go to turn, finished with your discussion, you do not have time to comprehend his words.
“I’ll have you, just this once.” He stares, a hand gesture later, and your body splits at the joints, cut cleanly and thinly. You fall to the floor, and the scent he’s yearned for fills the air, he wants more and sticks his tongue out to lick the air.
His strides are long, confident, yet quick. Almost like a child running to his parents for a treat, a malicious giggle escapes him, and he licks his lips before bending over to pick your head up from the pile of freshly cut flesh. Your eyes have rolled back, gone before you could realize what happened, and his hands are gentle against the warm skin of your cheeks.
“All to myself, yes, this’ll do.” He’s softer now, bringing your head to his, a small kiss to your lips before holding it closely to his chest. He takes a deep breath, eyes dilated, before he calls for his long time friend.
Found You | Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson | Ghostface, Dead By Daylight
Sum. Jed Olsen watches as you seemingly fall from sanity, watching in amusement as you attempt to run from the killer. You have no choice but to attempt to save yourself, but as you lose hope, you realize that in the end, you have no choice.
Warnings. paranoia mentions, cursing, intimacy with a killer(?)
Word Count. 2127 words
Reader. fem!reader
A.N. i haven’t actually written anything in almost a year so pls be nice yall :’) i tried my best and ill have more things coming out soon
There's something in the way Jed keeps his eye on you, that leaves you feeling odd, feeling… pinned.
i.
His gaze is friendly, it's warm, and empty. The way his pupils seem to see a bit too large, lulling the naïve or those under the social contract into a mutual agreement of silence, and leaving you unable to rip his gaze from the back of your head. You felt like prey, being stalked, hunted.
But Jed is just so great.
He's an amazing writer, brings in hundreds of thousands of reads, and makes meaningful connections for his career. He’s got a great sense of humor. He’s good-looking. He’s a great conversationalist. He puts on a great show.
A show.
Jed Olsen is a liar, an obsessive man.
You feel his eyes on your body as you stand in your coworkers office, in a small group of four, chattering away about deadlines and word choice, propaganda, and anything else to do with your friends' writings and stories ready to be sent in and revised. You only half-listen, your cheeks felt like someone lit a match to them as your body screamed in fear, begging you to leave the room with walls of glass, to get his gaze off your body.
You excuse yourself, and walk to your own office, the hunt is on, and while you feel the eyes fleeting from your body, the sensation of being prey never leaves. You’re clocking out early. That's it. You’ll work from the safety of your home. Away from the deep coffee eyes that can’t remove themselves from you. You shove your shit into the small backpack you have, hurrying as you send a message to your boss about needing to take some time off, and how you’ll be working from home. The stress seems to calm as you're ready to leave, calming as you weave through the other offices and wait for the elevator to come up, the feeling of eyes on you go.
Your heartbeat suddenly picks up as the door opens, filling your ears, and you hold your breath. Your name is called by the devil himself as you walk in, a hand on the doors, his figure taking up the entirety of the entrance. It’s ominous, how large he is, with such a nice face. A wolf in sheep’s skin.
“Hey there, you seem a little tense.” Jed smiles, before standing in front of the buttons, hitting P1 before asking you for your floor.
“The lobby, please.” You keep it short.
“Oh? Leaving early? I hope you're feeling well.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, so he does it manually, like an AI attempting to mimic emotion. You don’t like this, being so close, it's suffocating. The elevator is only so big, the air is thick with tension, and his gaze is eating you up as it flickers up and down your figure.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Heading out of town for a couple days.” You lie.
“Sounds exciting. Are you leaving with anyone?” He’s expectant.
“My boyfriend. We’re visiting his mother for a celebration.” You lie, again.
“Boyfriend? Lucky man. Hope you have fun.” His smile is a bit strained, and his eyes are narrowed, jaw tightening at the word boyfriend.
The elevator opens to the lobby, and you're thankful to take the train home, something public. Where the safety of the herd keeps you safe, the social contract comes to mind, and you sigh with a real smile on your face this time.
“Yup. Well, thanks for the talk, see you around, Jed.” You step out quickly, and the doors start to close, his body moving to the center of the elevator, his eyes still on you as you turn to face him again.
The tension leaves as the door closes more, the air thinning, but the way his face rests sends a chill down your spine, and his eyes speak a thousand words. You know better than to speak out loud, to complain about him, to ask for help.
Running is your only option.
But that look, the obsessive one, speaks to you as you watch the doors close.
I know you’re lying to me.
Your heart leaps from your chest, and you berate yourself mentally as you dissect every part of that conversation, that interaction. Why didn't you just ignore him? Just keep it simple? Why did you lie? Fuck, you should’ve taken the stairs, the next elevator. Do you not go home? Spend the night in a hotel? You have the funds, but is your paranoia getting the best of you? Or is this the beginning of something you know will haunt you?
Fuck it. It seems to be your motto of the day. You pull up the hotels near the innermost part of the city, something nice, expensive, and good security. Your mind has been running all day, your survival is on the line, and you can’t even remember the morning you spent in your own apartment. Your memory is shot, and Jed Olsen is running around your mind and something about his fucking eyes-
Cold. Primal. Yearning, even.
No, don't think like that. This isn’t a time to look into things, especially since your emotions are running so high, your heart is racing and you feel like throwing up at certain points of your journey.
But Jed-
Whatever that thing is, it’s not Jed. Jed is a façade. A fake. A personality. You can tell. From the way, it takes a moment, a split second, for him to answer his own name. The way he reverts to someone else when he's alone, calm, or thinks he's not being watched. Jed only comes out when he's interacting with people. When he wants something. To be liked.
To be normal.
“Are you checking in?” You snap back to reality, and suddenly your wallet is in your hand and you're speaking with the concierge, he’s looking expectantly.
“Ah, yeah. I made a reservation? Under, shit, let me get my personal card.” You muttered, telling him your name and how you’ll only take a quick second to fish out your card, sighing in relief when the red plastic is free and between your fingers.
“Alrighty. And the room is a King Bed, skyline, and room service? Anything else you’d like to add or change?” He smiles, and your mind blanks once again, and you could only smile and shake your head before accepting the keycard.
The lobby is beautiful, golden and marble, open, and calm. It makes you feel revered and elegant but on your toes. Like a show is to be put on, but you decide to make your way to the elevator, and your body starts to relax, and you think that your days off will give you some peace.
Peace. Calm. Your head is spinning. Your body feels heavy as the adrenaline leaves your body. The cold wall of the inside of the elevator is welcoming, and the doors start to close, and you feel your body chill immeasurably.
Walking through the large, glass doors, is the thing you’re trying to escape.
How… how did he… find… me…?
Jed Olsen only smiles as he looks around, and spots you, before stopping to give you a small wave.
Your heart stops as you realize.
He’s smiling for real this time. At you. For you.
ii.
And you couldn’t help but melt.
The skyline view absorbs your attention, the door of your room is locked, your extra lock that is hooked around the deadbolt makes you feel something. But you couldn’t say it was safe. Your mind is empty as the same question runs through your mind over, and over, and over again.
How did he find me?
Me? How? Why?
Find me? How? How’d he… do that.
The sun starts to set, and the warmest colors fall behind the horizon as the Golden Hour soaks into the room, giving your body much needed warmth that gives you the semblance of comfort.
But you remind yourself this is a waiting game.
Do you cry? Should you cry? Will it make you feel better that you can’t escape the being that is him?
Helplessness settles in, and your body falls into itself as the weight of your situation crashes onto you, laying down on your bed and letting a long breath escape your mouth. A few silent tears manage to escape, and your numbness only grows as you hear a card slide from the other side of the door, a small ping signaling the unlocking, and footsteps coming in slowly as it is locked behind Jed.
You hear muffled breathing, and don't bother to move, your fatigue and hopelessness crushing your body further into the mattress. The footsteps started again, heavy, confident, and in stride with confidence.
“Hello, darlin’, I know you’re not sleepin’ there.” The voice is smooth, but doesn't sound quite right, and it's quite clear that a voice changer is being used.
A voice modulator.
Just like Ghostface was known to use.
Muffled breathing.
It was blocked by a mask.
You couldn’t help but let a loud laugh out. It was short. Loud. Obnoxious. And you couldn’t help but keep laughing. Your small giggles slowly turned into cackling as it became hard to breathe, your cheeks aching and your stomach started to cramp from the pain as your lungs burned.
You only heard a soft sigh, before the killer moved, watching as you rolled over on your back on the bed before he slid onto the mattress next to you. He’s sitting up, pillows against the headboard cushioning his back as he waited, knife sheathed in its holder as he looked straight ahead.
His eyes watched you intently, through the mask in his peripheral, taking a deep breath as he watched you slowly start to calm down.
“Hehe, wow.” You prolong your fake exclamation of surprise.
“I never would’ve thought… Jed Olsen… hehe, I really was naïve. Let my paranoia get in the way.” You spoke breathlessly, exciting the killer ever so slightly, fingers twitching at the sound of his name. His breathing is heavy, and you noticed the small signs, but you couldn’t care for the danger that lay next to you in the bed.
“Jed… why me?” You asked, calming down after a few moments, hands on your stomach as you lay flat on your back. He slowly turns his head in your direction, looks down, and tilts his head. A gloved hand moves slowly, from your wrist up your arm, and his body turns; he switches arms and leans in his left side, his right arm coming up to push your face towards his mask.
You only hear deep breathing again.
And ironically, you’re not scared. You can’t even feel your heartbeat, and you’re lightheaded, unable to think as you simply watch the Ghostface move slowly as he touches you. It was tender, curious, and predatory.
“Danny.” He’s curt.
“Danny? What happened to Jed?” You asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper, peering into the inky darkness of his mask.
“Jed isn’t real, darlin’” He’s slightly forceful in his speech, and you only nod, his hand cupping your face as you start to move.
“What is it you want from me then, Danny?” You asked, and his head tilted again, before he moved to slowly climb on top of you, knees on each side of your hips as his hands sunk into the area around your shoulders, barely touching you while the mask moved closer to your face.
“Do you really wanna know?” He’s musing, his breath is shaky, and you can only seem to hold your own.
If he wanted you dead, he would’ve done it, right when he walked into the room.
Ghostface liked to play with his prey, but not like this.
“Yeah…tell me, Danny.” Your voice is soft. He lets out a soft groan as he listens to his name slip off your tongue, not his fake one, but his real name- years since he’s been called Danny.
“Let’s keep this short then…” He trailed off, moving to sit on your pelvis, keeping most of his weight on his own legs that pinned your hips tightly under him. He chuckles just a bit, and something lifts in your head, still numb, but more interested.
“I just can’t seem to get you off my mind, and I really can’t bring myself to kill you.” He sighs.
“And since I can’t kill you,” He breathes deeply, bringing a hand to the mask, slowly pulling it from his face, his hood staying in place as the darkness of his eyes swallows you whole, a horrifying glee filling his face.
Roman Numerals I-V | Simon “Ghost” Riley | Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II
Sum. Roman Numerals I to V about being with Simon “Ghost” Riley. He doesn’t imagine himself being in love, and yet when he his, it’s more soothing than expected. And even then, his mind can’t rest, but he now has family to help him along the way.
A.N. getting back into writing yall- hoorah. Dont be afraid to load up the inbox with MWII. i havent touched the COD games in like...3 years and i wanted to get into this one so bad... i am so happy these boys are getting their love yall- i will be making some roman numerals for Soap lmao. I kept mixing up NewSoap with OldSoap and i was so mad i had to rewrite it. anyways. enjoy! i will replay the campaign now and cry at the gym now lmao
i. In terms of a relationship, Simon wants a civilian, while Ghost needs someone with a military background. If you knew Simon before you met “Ghost”, you’d have met as children, aware of his situation with his family but never allowed to be involved. He gets very attached to the few good things life has given him, and he wouldn’t just throw it away because he had his job take most of his time away. If you had met Ghost first? “Ghost” would have in turn met “Fawn,” with the team's support following behind whoever needed her closely, it would take about a few months before names would be exchanged, and a good year before faces are revealed in a more intimate manner.
Simon “Ghost” Riley
ii. Simon is softer than many would expect, often touching you with the back of his hand in fear of his grip, he prefers for you to lay on top of him with your whole body weight rather than the opposite, and unless others are present, his voice is softer- more tired, vulnerable. But when others are around, like Soap, or Price, he's noticeably softer, but not enough to hurt his pride or self image. Everyone in the situation knows Soap and Price don’t care, and are happy for Simon, but they also accept he’s a rather stubborn man.
iii. His love language is definitely physical touch, on the highest end, with acts of service as a close second, and quality time as a third. He’s had a… scarcity in positive physical touch growing up, and the military didn’t do anything to help that craving, so he does get a bit choked up when he’s held for long periods of time. You learn not to mention it, let him tear up in peace, shakey sighs leaving him when your nails start to scratch his scalp and play with his hair.
Keeping him in mind when out and about leaves him weak in the knees, buying him paint for his face when you see it, patching up balaclavas that he gets attached to rather than replacing them, grabbing him tea when you get your own coffee/hot cocoa/tea. Even just being around him is enough.
He’s not a man of many words when he’s in his moments, and sometimes just having you near keeps him sane. You notice how his dry humor evaporates to nothing, he isn’t quippy,3 but follows you from room to room like a shadow. He stares, watching you cook and hum to yourself, curling up on the couch behind you as you iron with the TV on, sitting on the carpet floor with his head on your thigh, reading aloud. Those moments keep him sane, his mind running wild with his heart pounding in his ears, and seeing you… live, so close to him brings him back to Earth.
iv. He’s often gone for months on end, usually around three months on average, before coming home for a while, to start up again. He gives you a burner, and usually wants you to travel as he’s gone. A secure channel and consistent movement allows for better safety, and more frequent comms. They’re usually short, you hear the others in the back. Laughing, shouting, hollering, crying. It depends on how the mission goes, who's back, who's lost. Ghost always comes back, and Simon seems to lose a bit of himself, faded eyes and a hollow look to him, but he manages to somehow pull himself back. But there are times where he can’t seem to, where he’s lost. He’s grateful you never leave him in these moments, even though he thinks you should, that there's something better out there for you.
v. He often talks with Soap一 Johnny when he’s home, at the bar on a quiet night, in their homes on the rooftops, a bottle of Scotch between them. Maybe Bourbon. Depends on how Johnny boy feels that night. It’s their usual banter, throwing how they’ve saved each other in their faces, a quick jab at the other in the side, sometimes escalating to a grappling session.
Simon wonders if this is what it’s supposed to be when you have a brother, and though Johnny is the older one, he still can't help but baby him in a way. He’s seen how brothers act, on the TV, siblings on the school grounds, and in public. He was envious of them then, those secret chats they have in the early mornings, the silly banter that creates inside jokes no one else could ever understand, the meaningless bickering that only led to a stronger bond. He wanted that.
So here he is, on the roof of Soaps home, a chill in the autumn air that keeps the men awake. Scotch again for tonight, and Simon hums as his throat burns with another sip from his glass, and he wonders if you’re asleep in the guest bedroom you’re both to share, or maybe you’re having your own quality time with Johnny's wife. He wouldn’t be surprised if he and Johnny found you both asleep in a bed together, TV playing with snacks and your own drinks/smokes of choice by the side of the bed.
He smiles at the thought, seeing and feeling everyone in the home happy, and yet- he can’t help but feel his heartache as his mind wanders into darkness again. And he ends up begging Johnny, for him and his wife, to take care of you if anything is to happen to him.
“Don’t say that, brother. You’re not going anywhere.” John tries to smile, to bring the mood back up, and not allow Simon to fall into his own mind again.
“Just… just promise me, Johnny. That’s all I need to hear right now.” He gulps down the rest of his drink, looking ahead for a second, slowly turning as he waits for a response.
“I promise. But, you need to promise me one thing as well.”
“What.”
“Promise me… promise us you’ll do what you can to stay here. Stay with us. As long as you can.” He can only glance at the Brit, unable to meet Simon's eyes for this moment, not wanting to scare him away with too much emotion.
“We all need you here, Simon.” Soap is quick to grab the bottle, refilling the glass, tipping it over to ask if Ghost wants more. He’s met with a glass, and he fills it, the roles reversed as he awaits his response now.
Soap is such a loving man, he's so kind and caring, strong and stable, and even if he leaves for long periods of time, you always manage to make things work. It's always been you and him, ever since he lied about his age to get into the military, highschool sweethearts sticking it out.
You're everyone's dream couple, one of the stories everyone looks to and is amazed how it worked out for you both, and you two are even surprised by how well your relationship has worked for so long, especially considering the stereotypes around military men and their partners- especially once they got married.
Your sex life is something you both fond to be healthy and even a bit erratic, but what can you do when he's gone for months at a time? You make up lost time and practically cling to eachother. From his basic training all the way till he joined the 141.
Of course he's gonna grow close with the squad, spending time with them, fighting, saving eachothers asses. You hear all about them and they all sounded so interesting and were inspiring people. You were happy for Johnny. And he was happy.
But things slowly take a turn, and it's small, and you don't even notice it. How he mentions ghost evey once in a while when he's home. Attempting to find and contact him when they're both off duty. Trying to get drinks. Hang out. You thought nothing of it.
Because everything was perfect between you and him. Nothing changed between you and Johnny, so did it really matter?
He comes to you one day, fresh out of a shower amd you're laying in bed after a long night, scrolling through your phone absent-mindedly. And that's when he asked, almost shy and bashful, but as adorable as he looked- you felt a crack when he asked you.
How would you feel if Ghost joined you two?
It should've been an opportunity that would have anyone jumping. Two strong, beautiful, admirable men in your bed with you? Touching you intimately? Getting your needs met and moving on the next day, and then, it's just you and Johnny again.
But...you saw through it. Your mind wonders, and you think about it for a while, even as Soap unknowingly sulks at the thought of Ghost not being in his bed. You notice. And fuck- you'd do anything to make Johnny happy, so you bite thr bullet, and give him the go ahead.
Because it'll always be you and Johnny in the end.
And when Ghost- Simon, comes into your bed, you notice it even more. How Ghost os solely focused on your Johnny. How Johnny seems to forget your there at certain moments, the intimate touches that seemed to hold a lot of meaning, the breathless chuckles a d laughs that leave them, and the fact that for most of the night- you're pushed to the side. A margin note.
And even if you and Johnny loved eachother, together through years, stronger than anything...watching both of them together made your relationship crumble right before your eyes.
So you lay in bed, a deep sigh leaving you, a few silent tears betraying your blank face as you "sleep" facing away from the both of them, John in the middle, Ghost on the other, both cuddled up rather well with one another.
Insecurity plagues your mind, and you see the cracks in your relationship, even if they only seem to be coming from your end.
Days, weeks, a month passes. And John is worried. You're pulling from him. No longer walking around in your underwear after you shower and get ready, no more random kisses, no more hugs from behind, no more... intimacy. You touch him, and it's cold, its hollow, empty. He tries to talk, and you brush it off, as you notice how he contacts Ghost more and more, laughing behind a locked bedroom door and the frequency only seems to intensify.
He feels alone now. Your warmth is gone. Your stability is hollow, and your heart seems to be gone, and all that's left is a shell of his Bonnie...when was the last time you called him a name other John? Even Johnny?
But you smile at him, and tell him you're okay, you're just not feeling all to well at most... somethings going on with your family... you and a friend had a spat. But you ignore his advances and love. He's called up your family to check up and everything's alright. Your friend is too, because he's asked to see of everything's okay.
And when Soap puts the phone down after another text, he notices you, laying in bed turned to your side, deep asleep with no goodnight kiss, no cuddling, no jokes or nothing.
And Johnny realizes he's lost you, while Soap managed to get Ghost, and he can't help but let a few sobs out, even while you laid there, with tears falling silently once again.
Heyoooo! I was wondering if the Iseo that you posted about Soap and reader drifting apart after they decided to have a 3some wit ghost was a 1 part thing? If not can their be another extremely angsty part 2?
Cheers, To Us | John "Soap" MacTavish | COD: Modern Warefare II
[ Original ANGST Post, Part One ]
Warnings. mentions of cheating/growing distant, unfulfilled relationships, lowkey toxic relationships
Reader. Fem!reader, female reader, reader has braids, reader is American (American coded? Can't fuckin remember lmao)
AN. I wrote this within the span of one hour and nearly 25 hours with no sleep. Pls enjoy
Tags: @rey26 @trash-important @l1anaisasasama @thatanonymouschocolate (I saw you were looking for part one so here's part two lol) @bbaengtan @corvusmorte @uwu-i-purple-you (saw you guys asking fkr the first one in comments and decided yall might want one AND two lol)
Rain falls, heavy and unforgiving, and your mood seems to dampen along with the ground. Curled into the window seat, the lamp light leaves a warm, dim, tone to wash over you, and a book in hand as your head rests against the lush pillows and curtains. You tried your best to move on, to find peace, and maybe allow yourself to find it as well. God knows you tried.
“Beba, you really gonna sit there and mope, or actually read the book?” Your friend calls out, breaking you from the beginning of a spiral into another descent of depression and anxiety, and a sigh leaves you as the book is shut and tossed to the nearest coffee table.
“Neither.” You groan, meeting her in the kitchen as groceries and necessities are unpacked and put away in the correct areas, allowing you to move and sit at the bar and watch quietly. The silence is comfortable, and your mind settles, something that gratefulness cannot even begin to touch as a description.
“So, you going back? Saw some emails from old friends…” She starts, deep brown eyes staring deeply into yours, before yours find the back of your head, and she only laughs at your antics. She's finished placing things away, and opens the cabinet, the clanking of glass makes you wince just a bit.
“Maybe, not too sure yet.” You start, before a glass comes to your countertop, a vodka bottle soon filling it before filling the cup further from you.
“But?”
“But, Laswell has a place for me through some connections. Intell is always needed, and some guy… eh what's his name?” You wonder aloud, moving to take a sip of the hard liquor, pursing your lips together as you get more… acquired with the taste once again.
“D-Day! That's his name… Wayne “D-Day” Davis” You’re proud of remembering the name.
“That's… a name. A real American, huh?” Your friend snorts, turning away quickly before coming back, leaning against the countertop and nearly finishing her drink there.
“Take it easy, girlie. You’re not the uprooted one here.” You laugh, and she continues on, shaking her head.
“Uprooted. How is that, by the way? Enjoying being back home, rather than Scotland?” It’s genuine, and your eyes still water at the name of your old… home. An old life. One broken away from, because of a stupid decision, one you hate, but had to move on from.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.
“Come on, Hen. Talk to me, please.” His hands move to your hips, desperately trying to grab at you, gentle enough to let you leave, but firm enough to let you know he wants you in his hold.
Stay. Please. He begs in his mind.
“Get away from me, John. I can’t do this right now.” You move from his hands, going to change out of your pajamas into clothing, ready to get things ready for the day. You’re exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. You wanted to be free of this. Of him. Even if it’s killing you, and your soul would damn you for leaving a love like this behind, but the pain was too much- and you didn’t want this anymore.
It’s not like he’d care.
He has different… priorities.
“Well, when can ya? Ya never seem to have the time for me. Or us.” He’s choked up, and you can imagine the tears welling up in his eyes, but you didn’t find your heart weeping for him like it would have months ago.
You stop moving, tense, dead silent. John can only regret his words and actions so much, but when you’ve been acting like this, he feels more justified in his feelings for Ghost.
But he wanted you too, he wanted you back and normal again. Happy to see him, in love, always talking his ear off and eating the food he’d make for you. The happiness in the air whenever he came home from being gone for months on end at times.
Months… with Ghost. As much as he missed you, he was never as lonely as you were, huh? Never as loyal.
Maybe he should have expected this.
“Well you seem to have the time for Ghost. Why don’t you go to him? It’s what you’ve been doing anyways.” You grit through your teeth, moving across the room to finally change, deciding on what you needed to do first. From the embassy to the lawyer, your mind is running wild and John begging at your hip like a lost puppy isn't helping.
“That’s not fair, Hen…” He whispers, standing in the same place, watching you throw on your clothing and tuck your braids into your hood, desperate to keep warm from the chill. Lord knows “Johnny” wasn’t going to warm you anytime.
“It isn’t fair I lost my husband to a Ghost. Looks like nothings fair nowadays.” You go on, pushing past John to grab your phone and wallet from the nightstand, not responding to his small “goodbye” as you leave the room, and the house soon after.
Yeah, nothing seemed to be fair. Not for him. And especially not for you.
“I’ll be fine. Probably gonna focus on work… friends… family.” You mumble into your drink, deciding to mimic your friend's earlier actions and take a large swing of the liquor, needing to numb your mind for a quick second.
“But not yourself?” She mused, tilting her head, a sad smile gracing her face.
“You would know how to do that best, I’m guessing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Focusing on yourself, and only yourself, after a break up,” She rolled her eyes at you, finding irony in your words, before moving to grab the bottle of vodka and refill your cups of uncertainty and sorrow.
“Valeria.” You finished, and she perks up at her name, clicking her tongue against her teeth before continuing her questioning of you. There's a cheerful sway in her movements and it leaves worrying thoughts only to fester.
“Oh, I know very well. But, that's why you're here, no? To focus on you, and your own needs.” A sigh leaves you once again, and at least you know your lungs are working, while your brain short circuits in reasoning and logic.
“Yeah. My needs, a place to hide, a place that they’ll never find me. Until I go back, that is, a girl needs to work, needs her money.” You finish another glass, and your mind spins, Valeria finds glee in seeing your tongue loosen and speak your mind.
“Two birds with one stone. You get your privacy until you decide on what to do, and I have a piece to use against Los Vaqueros and their friends, a win-win.” Her smile is wide and your heart stutters.
“A piece against them? Or him?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
Your glasses are filled once again, and clink to a toast, a promise is made and leaves you both satisfied after this night.
You both will get what you want and need, soon enough.
