h34rtl4ss0

[h34rtl4ss0]

She who wears the skin

Part 1/2 of Oneshot: researchers!141 are attempting to attach a camera on you to observe the life of seals, but you're a selkie

a/n: I was watching 'Animals With Cameras', I think by BBC, and there was a segment where the researchers attach a camera to a fur seal. I love love LOVE selkies and was like- oh em gee!; I made the border myself :3

2.7k words ദ്ദി •⩊• )

You resided with the thousands of fur seals on Kanowna Island (it's a real place), in peace. As a selkie, you originated from the rocky, unforgiving shores of the Scottish isles, but Australia was nice. You tried to figure out if there were other selkies among the community, but it seems you were yet alone again. It didn't really matter though. The hardest part for you was sleeping without shedding your coat.

You got into the habit of becoming too comfortable, too off guard once you've entered your slumber, sometimes waking up with feet and not fins. The other seals couldn't really tell from the way your coat engulfed your frame, appearing as a rather rugged seal.

You were also used to the occasional researchers that came to temporarily stay on this uninhabited island. Nature was the reigning monarch. You missed when the helicopter landed, too busy hunting underwater, but you heard the rustles of their tents upon the lush green land. You figured they were just checking up on the population, making sure there wasn't another case of rabies going around.

They took their time coming closer to the seals. You could hear them tinkering. You assumed their scientific equipment broke; maybe the experienced was teaching the fresh-out-of-school researchers.

It was a warm, sunny day against the cold, harsh winds. You were full from last week's catch and would rather sunbathe away. The researchers in the past never proven themselves to be a threat. They were always cautious, keeping their distance.

Some of the younger seals wanted to go up to the fields, play around in the sun. You decided to tag along, hoping to find a secluded area where you could stretch your legs. Your body starts to feel cramped once in a while if you took on your civil form for too long.

The grass was lush and soft, absorbing all the sun's rays. You and your herd rolled around, relaxing from the strain of hunting in the waters.

You didn't notice the researchers stealthily stalking up to your herd. The leader had prepared a rather large net, opting for a sneak attack approach. The other three followed, carrying an anesthesia tank, a camera, and their contingency plan.

It was sudden the way a large, bear-like man came running towards the younger seal. You were protective of your kind. You had rejected humanity long ago, and they proved your reasoning.

You rushed in front of the seal, snarling your teeth at the man as he trapped the net around you without hesitation or fear. You'd get out, is what you tell yourself. It was the only choice you had.

A man in a cap quickly put a breathing mask over your snout, and you tried to play sleep, but they weren't playing around. You could hear the other seals retreating back to the shores and rocks where the rest laid, and hoped they didn't come back to try and get you.

You were slipping under the anesthesia. A man with a weird haircut was stroking your head, obviously trying to soothe you. For some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to look them in the eyes. It was comforting to be treated so softly as you fell asleep.

The men got to work as your heart rate slowed and steadied. They removed the net and strapped you to a metal stretcher, five equipment straps securing you down. They started attaching the camera to your long back, which they had altered many times to ensure it wouldn't fall off. But their efforts were simply a waste.

As they were making sure the camera was secured, they noticed your fur becoming more limp, more flimsy. That's when they noticed your feet sticking out under from the fins of your coat, and human hair fluttering against the wind under the hood.

"Well fuck me, we got us a selkie." Soap muttered, lifting your hood to see your human face.

Gaz retreated the anesthesia, worried that the concentration for seals would be too much for a human. But did it matter? You were technically both.

"I thought they were just a myth." Ghost eyed Soap.

"I know just as much as you do." Soap shrugged.

But the three of them faced their leader.

Price stared down at your body, obviously very much covered by your large coat. Selkies were a myth for a reason. He noticed how your seal self threw itself to protect the others. He'd keep you a secret unless pushed otherwise.

"We'll bring her back to camp, make sure she's alright."

They undid your straps, and Soap was the first to try and carry you. But your coat wasn't on all the way, slipping and flashing him, which he slightly freaked out. He quickly pulled the coat back over, begging Gaz to help him. Gaz simply wrapped the strap like a belt around your waist to secure your coat. Ghost gingerly carried you, your head tucked to his chest as your legs hung over his thick arms.

Price observed the seals below the hill, but it seemed that they made no effort into coming back for you. Maybe they trusted researchers.

The men shared a single large tent, four sleeping bags laid about and only their rucksack for clothes and toiletries. Gaz put the sleeping bags together, attempting to create a cushioned surface for you to lay on. He also removed the strap around your waist, not wanting it to startle you once you woke up. No one brought a blanket, so Soap laid his hoodie over you.

It was awkward. They were just trying to provide research for a TV network, to let them know that their documentary in theory would be successful. They didn't expect to uncover a folklore.

"So what's the plan when she wakes up?" Gaz asked.

"Apologise." Soap quickly answered.

"I wasn't asking you." Gaz poked the side of his head for emphasis.

"We'll take it slow. Even in our tent, she'll feel trapped. We keep her freak out to a minimal. Try to ease the stress. She's human so that should be an advantage." Price ruled out, not leaving space for arguments.

"What if she turns back into a seal?" Ghost asked.

"Is she still human as a seal?" Gaz asked Soap.

"Fuck if I know."

"She still had conscience as a seal. She thought like a human. Stay alert and expect anything." Price ordered.

Soap and Ghost made a campfire outside the tent after the sun had set. Gaz stayed by your side to monitor your breathing, checking your eyes to make sure you were still responsive. Price went over his research, the plan, and all selkie tales.

There was a drop in the atmosphere when you turned, your face scrunching as Soap's hoodie dropped to your side, making a soft rustle.

Gaz held his breath, anticipating for you to wake up. Based off your reaction, you were in light sleep. He could wake you up. His eyes met Price, silently asking for permission. The final word was no. Price had to consider the possibility that you might be cranky if forced to wake up. He needed you as cooperative as possible.

But it didn't matter when Soap exclaimed about something and his booming voice carried over into the tent.

Your eyes darted open and Gaz noted how quickly your body became tense. Your eyes met with the side of the tent, and you knew you were human based on your vision. You jumped to your feet, facing the two men. But it wasn't like your coat had buttons and entirely concealed your body.

Your bare front side was facing them, and Gaz couldn't help but take a gander to see if your body had any semblance to a seal's, or if your body could switch entirely to human and to seal. Price locked his eyes onto your face, searching for ques of your next action.

"What've you done." you demanded, unaware but also not caring about the state of your display.

"We tranquilised you as part of our research. We didn't know you were a... selkie." it felt childish for Price to say the term out loud.

"So why'd you keep me here."

Price looked at Gaz for him to answer. You noticed the way his eyes were observing you, nearly dissecting every inch of you. You quickly hid yourself under your coat.

"We uh, wanted to make sure you were okay." Gaz nodded.

"Did you put any trackers in me?"

Price kinda wished he did do that. He was naturally curious.

"No, that'd be inhumane." Gaz slightly mused.

"You people track animals without second-thought."

"Well you aren't exactly an animal- right now." Gaz's brows raised.

You gave a dissatisfied look, nearly disgusted. You started heading towards the zipped flap of the tent, but Price caught your arm. You faced him, instinctively snarling at him. Your canines were sharp, teeth made for ripping.

"You're not going anywhere." he stated, sternly looking you down.

"I'm not some animal in captivity." you snapped, lips twitching to try and bite his hand.

"You're not. We need to check your vitals and we'll send you off." he lied. He didn't want to let his own superiors know of his catch. You were such a gem, such an oddity- and he was a selfish man at heart.

You understood his words and his reasoning, but you couldn't be fucked.

"I'm fine."

"It's not up for debate, love."

Your human movements were sluggish, muscles not even stretched in the last week. Price caught on with your action, and his large hand smacked your jaw away. He tackled your body to the ground, keeping your face upwards so you couldn't try to bite anywhere else.

You let out a high-pitched shriek which made Price go dizzy for a bit with how close your mouth was to his ears. You kicked and wrestled under him, but his body weight alone kept you in place.

"I'm gonna need you to behave and act civilised." he grit through his teeth.

"Let me go!" you screamed, teeth chomping the air.

Soap and Ghost unzipped the flap, seeing your out lash. Gaz was simply observing from his corner, taking notes. He knew Price got you handled.

"Shut 'er mouth." he told his boys, not caring who would do the job.

Ghost immediately came down, trying to get his hands on your jaw, but the way your teeth barred and tried to bite him, it became difficult.

"Should we tranquilise her?" Soap asked, eyes on the darts and gun.

"No." Gaz and Price answered at the same time.

"You need to start acting grateful that we haven't taken your coat yet." Price lowly said in your ear.

Your struggling lessened, your blood freezing in realisation of his words. You've heard the tales, knew a selkie who knew a selkie that was forced into marriage, forced to be a man's eye candy, to be their beauty.

Ghost managed to shut your mouth with his hand as your body came to a still.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You glared up at Ghost with such hatred even though he hadn't said that. How dare they all take part in such a horrendous act?

"We're just g'nna monitor your vitals, make sure you're alright, then let you go." Price stated, slowly taking his weight off of you.

Price nodded to Ghost to release your mouth, and you continued to lay on your stomach, still prepared to fight for your coat at all costs.

"You should sit." Gaz came over with his pouch, taking out a stethoscope.

You sat hugging your knees to your chest after he listened to your heart beat and breathing. It felt dehumanising to be in such a situation, and to be forced to be docile from a single threat.

"Wouldn't you want to monitor me as a seal?" you asked. It was your main form.

"Well you transformed into a human in the middle of anesthesia so... I dunno, you don't learn about Selkie biology in zoology." Gaz muttered, looking at Soap and Price for help.

"Think it'd be easier for us all to be human." Price answered.

"You men have a habit of keeping selkies as human out of selfishness." you snapped.

"Really? I've never really heard anything like that, just tales from long ago that are like folklore." Gaz responded, completely missing your tone.

"Maybe long ago, love, but not now." Price assured you, his words full of air.

"My granny would flip- like do a licheral back flip had she'd seen you." Soap said in awe, hand reaching to pet the back of your coat.

"Don't touch me." you snarled, feeling his hand but unable to see him.

"Sorry" he meekly apologised.

Ghost came up to Price, head nodding to the opening. Ghost's hand was on the zipper. A quiet transaction of sorts. You needed to know everything.

"Where are you going."

"Just having a conversation." Ghost replied.

"Have it here."

A long silence filled as you stared Ghost down yet again, neither of you prepared to back off.

"Well I want to know too." Soap chimed in.

Price looked at Ghost, but Ghost couldn't think of a way to lie his way out. He turned to talk to him.

"I was just wonderin about sleeping arrangements. She basically slept through the day while we stayed up."

Price listened, not even bothering to look at you.

"We'll take turns watching her."

"I'm right here. And I don't need to be watched because I'm not in captivity according to you." you shot at Price.

"Well you've proven you can't be trusted-"

"Because men can't be trusted!" you burst, your hands deathly gripping onto your coat. Gaz slightly distanced himself from you. He couldn't fight for shit. Price was the only person with any sort of military training. Ghost used to work at a zoo handling the dangerous creatures. Soap was an engineering major they picked up right after Gaz's graduation from receiving his masters in zoology.

"We've given you every reason to be trusted. This whole situation is just a misunderstanding. Have we hurt you?" Price's voice thundered with authority.

But authority was as intimidating as the weather to you, "No, but you refuse to let me go!"

He shook his head, practically laughing. Ghost side eyed him, unsure where this was going.

"A fucking animal that doesn't listen."

You know it'd take more than a second for you to take on your seal form, so you lunged for him in your human form. You bit into his neck, canines digging deep, growling as you do. Price yelped, basically holding you in the air as your teeth cleanly chomped through his skin.

Ghost tried to pry you off, but you were stubborn. Price was hollering all sorts of profanities while Soap watched the scene unfold. He had to memorise every detail to tell his great-grandchildren one day. But Gaz went straight for the darts. He pushed Ghost away and let the needle pierce a vein in your very own neck.

You let out a whimper, wincing, your bite diminishing with force. Price tossed you to the ground, but he didn't bother to hold his own neck to stop the bleeding first. Furiously, he grabbed your coat, shaking it vigorously to get you out, the motion further pushed the needle of the dart in. You were slow and uncoordinated, grabbing at the air trying to grab your coat. You tried to speak but your tongue was too soft, too fuzzy, too foreign.

Then he left the tent with your coat.

You dragged yourself to the tent's opening. Gaz prepared another dart but he figured one was enough. Ghost didn't bother to restrain you with how bad you were moving. He'd seen alligators move like that while still trying to go after him. You'd be out soon.

Your blurry eyes followed Price to something bright, something flickering.

Then he tossed your coat into the light.

An awful stench was carried by the winds, and you grimaced, trying to remember what that smelt meant.

Your mind was too far away.

And you gave up.

I honestly had no direction with this blurb but while I was watching the documentary, I couldn't get the idea out of my head :/ I now have an idea for the second part of this oneshot thanks to the five minute brain constipation I had in order to fart out a title. I hope it was okay; I know this is a bit rougher and mean :( But I can feel my future self cringing when rereading this in the far (most likely near) future lol

To my sweet, darling, sunshine readers, I love you ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡ take care of yourself ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[h34rtl4ss0]

Summerboy !

going nowhere, fast !

you let Simon 'Ghost' Riley crash at your place for the summer

a/n: border is from pinterest; my eyes are irritated so I didn't read this over :(; I'll read it over later (maybe lol)

(previous) summerboy ! (next)

It was a Saturday morning. You had nothing against Saturday or mornings, and it excited you even more when you knew you had a friend staying with you. You still needed to go grocery shopping though.

You quickly got ready, putting on some top and bottom, and put your hair up in preparation for the heat. You wanted to treat Ghost to breakfast since he paid for dinner last night (he insisted on buying the take outs if you paid for groceries). You headed to the kitchen to make coffee, stocking up on black coffee espresso pods for your machine in preparation for him. Your room was the second furthest in the corridor, your locked office being the furthest. You walked past Ghost's room, assuming he was sleeping in from jetlag, but you heard grunting. It stopped you.

Curiosity bit your fingertips as your the doorknob beckoned to be touched, but did you really have to see what he was grunting on about? You just told yourself he was working out. He was still in the force, still technically active duty.

You prepared your latte, then his black coffee, then a cup of cold water for him. You didn't have any work out equipment which you felt bad for, but it seemed like he was making it work. Your mind wandered about strong men. He could definitely protect you, you've seen him in action. He held you before, grounded you, kept you from bleeding out before Rudy came over with a med kit.

You didn't want to remember.

You turned on the TV, always stuck on the documentary channel. It was the least triggering and still entertaining. It had been barely a week since you moved in and you saw an explosion being reported on the news and you thought of the time you helped redirect the missile. Thought of how much you trusted Graves, even looked up to his cool demeanor, his leadership. How he crossed you and kept you hostage in an attempt to draw out Soap and Ghost. You got stuck in the past for days, unable to leave the house or your bed.

This morning's documentary was about the various ways other living beings care for their offspring. How cute! You still receive filtered news on your phone, but you knew about the events before they happened. You were able to control them after all. You didn't like it, but you gave each the best possible outcome.

You made a list on your phone for groceries. It mostly consisted of what you always get, but also what Ghost said he wanted to try. You considered possibly getting a fan. You were used to the heat, but you didn't want Ghost to melt.

Speaking of, you heard a door creak open, but no footsteps following. You watched him emerge from the corridor, making sure to greet him with a smile.

"Morning" he replied, face and body glistening with sweat. He wore a compression shirt with gym shorts.

"There's a glass of water in the fridge and black coffee warmed up in that pink mug." you let him know, turning your attention back to the TV.

"Thanks, you didn't have to though." he said as he opened the fridge.

"I know; I wanted to." you wit back.

He stood beside the couch you were sitting on, coffee in hand, "Another documentary?"

The TV displayed hyenas hunting, the narrator describing how young hyenas are rather brash and aim for the adult buffalo, while the older hyenas are experienced enough to know that the baby buffalos are an easier catch.

"I thought you liked animals." you looked up at him.

It would be a terrifying view if it wasn't for how soft his eyes were for you. Sweating with some scars highlighted by the morning sun, muscles defined through his skin and shirt, his aura murderous as ever, but his eyes cradled you with care.

"I do."

You felt your cheeks heat up a little, breath catching, but it was really nothing. He was a friend, a colleague, a platonic partner.

"So when are you going vegan?" you quipped with a grin.

He scoffed with his own grin, finishing his mug.

"So, we need to go grocery shopping today, if you wanted to tag along." you offered, looking back down to your list. Maybe he wanted to explore the city more on his own.

"I will. Only right if I carry the bags." he softly said as he walked back to the kitchen, rinsing the mug and setting it in the sink.

"You don't have to, Ghost. I-"

"Simon. Should call me Simon." he cut off.

You felt a bit embarrassed. Duh, Ghost is his call sign. You're not on the field, and neither is he. You're safe in a relatively civilian life.

"Right, sorry, Simon. Uh... I just, want you to enjoy your time here." you set your phone down.

He had appeared next to the couch again, "Well I'm not only here for Italy, I'm here f'you too."

You faced him, smiling, "That's awfully kind of you. I still need to finish getting ready, so..."

He nodded, "I'll take a shower."

You both set off. You sat at your vanity, doing your makeup. You started to feel a bit insecure. You wanted to look good for him. He's seen you bare-face before, would it be silly to continuously put makeup on? Were you attracted to him? No, you were just excited to be around him. You'd probably act the same if it was anyone else. You'd want to impress Laswell.

You just did your usual makeup, but put on tinted lipgloss instead of your chapstick. You packed reusable bags inside of your bag. You waited on the couch for him. You wondered what he'd wear.

He didn't make you wait long, and he wore the same outfit as last night but different colours. It was cute of him. You both put on your shoes by the door. You only had one set of keys.

The supermarket wasn't too far away, roughly ten minute walk away from the flat. The street vendors were out with the sun. You lived in a rather less touristy spot, but there were some that came to check the place out. Lots of people checked Simon out too. He seemed to be really good at ignoring things.

He let out a sigh of relief once the AC hit him, which made you giggle. He looked down at you, a bit puzzled with mock annoyance. You led him in, explaining the layout. You showed him the list, but told him he could simply follow along and not get lost.

"I don't get lost." he shrugged, holding your phone closer to his face.

"I know, but I don't want to lose you." you replied as if it was normal. Was it?

He understood though, he always did. He shadowed next to you, pushing the cart as you gathered the items on the list you had already memorised. You explained what each item was for, and he listened, giving inputs or suggestions.

Then you brought him to the deli counter.

"Ciao Lorenzo." you greeted with your smile. Simon was surprised you did have friends.

"Ah! Buon giorno, dolcezza!" he greeted back. He was about the same age as Simon, slightly younger, very youthful. He was always generous with you.

"Come stai?" you asked him how he was. It had been less than a week since you've seen him.

"Sono fantastico!, e questo chi è?" he asked, pointing towards Simon with his eyes.

"Lui è mio amico, è solo in visita," your hand pointed towards Simon then Lorenzo, "Simon, Lorenzo." you introduced the two.

"Nice t'meet you." Simon spoke up.

"Piacere, piacere. Il solito?" he returned his attention to you.

"Si, per favore."

Lorenzo nodded, going off into the back.

"So you do have a friend." Simon nudged your shoulder.

A sly smile crept up on your face, "Yeah, I guess. He comes with perks though."

Before Simon could reply, Lorenzo came back out with multiple cuts wrapped in brown parchment. He pointed at a white cardboard container on top of the brown.

"Good cheese." he said proudly.

"Lorenzo, non avresti dovuto." you said as you took your order.

"Il formaggio si sposa bene con il miele." he teased.

You playfully rolled your eyes as you fished out the correct sum of money, handing it to him. He still handed you some back, like he always did.

"Discount, eh? Per il mio orsetto preferito."

"Mi vizi troppo." you shook your head as you put the money back into your wallet. There was no convincing for Lorenzo. You bid your farewells and he never let you leave without feeling a bit loved.

Simon couldn't help but feel some type of way witnessing that interaction.

"You seem close with him."

You eyed Simon, "I'm a loyal customer, I hope so."

"He called you a bear."

You cringed a little, "Yeah... He first saw me when I had four tubs of honey in my basket. Never gone back since. He literally looked at me and laughed."

"He laughed at you?" Simon asked a bit confused, the cart rattling.

"Well, no. He asked me what I was planning to do with all that honey and I just said 'eat it'."

He chuckled, "Not yer brightest moment, eh?"

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆

After you two came back home, you showed him where each stuff went, but told him not to worry if he forgot. It was weird for Simon to be treated a little flawed. You always assured him that perfection wasn't expected. You were soft and understanding, opposite of what he had to be and definitely what he faced.

You decided to finish the leftovers for lunch, and sent him out on his own to explore the city a bit for his own lunch. He'd have to get used to being on his own, since you're mostly reading and organising files during the week. He came back with more clothes and a room fan.

You cooked a meat pasta for dinner- also on a first name basis with the butcher (Camilla). You always had the ability to connect with people easily, but Simon wasn't sure how bad that was altered. Wasn't too bad, but it wasn't as great as it was either.

He offered to help, nearly begged because of your stubbornness, but you cornered him to the couch with your never-ending wits. You poured him a neat whiskey and let him browse your Netflix. His stomach couldn't stop growling at the smell of your cooking. He wondered if you heard or was just being cocky when you laid a small charcuterie board on the coffee table.

You were letting the pasta absorb the sauce, letting the meat become a bit more tender. You came over to the couch, a thrifted apron wrapped around your waist and neck. You sat on the arm rest next to him, seeing that he hadn't finished the charcuterie board, feeling a bit concerned.

Simon turned to you, noticed a wine glass in your hand. Then he picked up a slice of meat and cheese and carried it to your mouth. You ate from his hand, mumbling a thanks.

"Smells lovely." he commented, preparing another meat and cheese as you swallowed.

"Well, it's not the best, but compared to British food..." you teased.

He grinned, feeding you again.

"You should finish the board. I'm sure Lorenzo included the cheese for you." you tell him as you got up, taking your last sip before preparing the table.

His eyes trailed you to the kitchen, watching you take out the cutlery. He stood up, coming up next to you in quick strides and taking the utensils out of your hands.

"Let me."

You opened your mouth to protest- setting the table took two seconds, it wasn't a big deal.

"None of that." and he headed to the table, no room for arguing.

You prepared the plates, handing them over to him. He told you to sit down first, insisting on preparing the drinks. You were undoing your apron as you always did, but the knot behind your neck was too tight; your hand slipping in anticipation of tonight's cooking.

Simon saw you standing by your chair, hands fiddling behind head. He set the glasses down on the table, then came up behind you, brushing the hair covering your neck.

"I got it."

Your hands hesitantly dropped to your sides. He was good with knots anyways- no, it was Soap who memorised all the types of knots out of boredom. Maybe Simon was runner up.

You held your breath, his fingers softly grazing your skin. Your hairs stood up, and when the two strings felt loosened, the apron lost it's form and you held it before it could fall. But Simon still lingered behind you.

His hands were on your shoulders now, tenderly massaging the knots out.

"Oh, no, you don't have to." you tried, feeling bad that he was taking care of you.

"Let me," he insisted again, "Can't let you work so hard over the stove and not pay you back."

You felt yourself relax. His rough hands working into your exhaustion.

"Well, I wanted to cook for you so it doesn't matter."

"And I want to take care of you. I'd never hear the end of it from Price if he found out I let you do all the work and I sat on my ass the entire summer."

"You're too kind, but the growling of your stomach is concerning. Let's eat, okay?" you crossed your right hand over your chest to reach his hand that worked your left shoulder.

"As you wish"

Endless compliments spilt from his lips as he dug into the meal. It made you giggle, shyly shaking your head to humble yourself. Maybe Soap's influence was rubbing off, or maybe this was Simon and not Ghost. It was nice seeing this side of him. Like an intimidating golden retriever.

He insisted on doing the dishes, of course, claiming it was only right that you cooked and that he cleaned. Your TV was still on Netflix, some film you've never heard of before paused. You didn't want to risk it. Simon seemed to like action movies. You didn't want to see anything you couldn't.

So you switched the channel back to the local documentary channel and left room on the couch for Simon to perch next to you. He made tea and brought a cup over with some biscuits he brought in his empty duffel bag. Tonight's documentary was about how bats use echolocation.

Struggled to end tonight's blurb lol. I think I should just say this here but I honestly feel awkward with smut and I'm not sure if I want to include it in my fic(s), but I'm always open to change. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Take care of yourself.

I love you ! (⁠｡ > ⁠ω < ⁠｡⁠) ♡ .ᐟ

[h34rtl4ss0]

Summerboy !

you let Simon 'Ghost' Riley crash at your place for the summer

a/n: border is from pinterest; no, I've never been to Italy before

(next) going nowhere, fast !

Ghost wasn't open towards spending another summer in the wet highlands with Soap. Sure, he had nothing else better to waste his leave on, but he might lose his bloody mind this year if he spent his days in the pissin rain.

Thankfully, you kept in touch after the missions- even after Las Almas which left you with PTSD. You were just shadowing Laswell as a fresh-out-of-the-academy agent who was the top of her class. You were better as an informant, organising and putting the pieces together for the hands-on agents, but the higher-ups wanted to push your boundaries: make you into the perfect, ideal agent.

It was all shattered along with your mental stability and confidence after Grave's 'backstab'. You weren't ready for the field. You weren't supposed to be a combatant. You were supposed to be the informant, the brains.

You carried the guilt that you should've prevented it all. You were supposed to prevent the number of casualties from piling up, to make sure all the civilians stayed safe alongside the mission being successful.

If only.

At least the agency favoured your assets enough to let you relocate wherever there was a military base nearby, and simply gave you an information-processing job. The army was useful in having a base in northern Italy.

Ghost arrived at your address: a five-story flat in which you were the third floor resident. A rainbow doormat laid outside.

It was hot, to say the least, and Ghost was only wearing a mask that covered the lower half of your face- he was starting to consider getting rid of any concealment just to avoid a heatstroke. You've never really seen his face, always lowering your gaze or turning your attention elsewhere when you noticed he was about to reveal a portion of himself.

For someone constantly dealing with information, you weren't that nosy.

He rang the doorbell, unable to hear your footsteps. You opened the door, wearing shorts and a tank top. He bared himself for the unbearable news.

"Good to see you! I don't have AC." you greeted him with a smile.

He simply nodded back.

You invited him in, helping him with his duffel bag that was scarily light. The flat was made for families, so you showed him the spare bedroom that would be his for the next month. You adorned the room with soft flower patterns. You were considerate that he was staying here, but it's not like it was permanent.

"Do you want anything to drink? I stocked up on beer and whiskey." you told him as you showed him around the kitchen.

"It's barely three o'clock, water's fine."

You poured two glasses of ice cold water.

"Did you want to take a shower? Glad to see you're wearing shorts but it's hotter than the ninth circle of Hell." you joked as you handed his glass to him.

He lifted his mask, his eyes watching you turn your head towards the low-humming TV on a documentary channel, "I didn't go to a cold place for nuthin.'"

You turned your head back, but you focused on the condensation on the glass, "I'm really glad you took up on the offer. I've been starting to feel lonely, honestly."

"Sweetheart like you didn't make any friends?" he smoothly asked.

Out of reflex you lifted your head to smile up at him, the corner of your eyes crinkling, "It's not like I have the opportunity to meet banger people like you."

Ghost figured you were taking in his face with your peripheral vision.

He cleared his throat, "You been going to the beach lately?"

Your eyes passed his lips as you looked down at your skin, "Nah, I've been busy just going over paperwork."

He nodded, eyes trailing down your body. The way sweat dampened your skin, the way your clothes tightly hugged your figure, and how simply plush you looked.

You raised your head, "I can still show you the beaches, though." you quickly added.

He nodded, turning his attention towards the TV while clearing his glass of water.

"Any requests for dinner tonight? I need to go grocery shopping." you softly told him as your feet patted against the cool floor tiles back to your fridge, eyeing down the contents.

Ghost simply refused to look at you until his thoughts calmed down, "Anything italian"

You giggled, closing the doors, "You wanna eat out or would you like a home cooked meal?"

"It'd be nice to explore the city a bit."

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You settled into a flowy dress that went down to your ankles, flats protecting your feet from the uneven paths. It was unusual to see Ghost in such casual clothing, all in shorts in fact. He wore an airy navy button shirt with beige shorts. You'd think he shopped at H&M last minute.

It also felt like a culture shock seeing his face in its entirety. He had scars, but he also had fluffy blonde hair. He was cute, boyish.

"Y'know Venice is like sinking, so don't freak out when it floods." you tell him as you both walk along a canal.

"I read up on this place before I came here." you think he grumbled.

He walked along the edge as you explained what you know about the city, how to get around the place. You picked out a restaurant for him. A place more inland, a bit touristy, but their wine selection was too good to pass up. It had two floors, the second with outdoor seating on the patio which you two were lucky enough to score.

You only came here during their cafe hours, enjoying a latte with their pastry of the day. It was nice to see the night life. There was still a part of you that urged you that night was dangerous, that only bad things happen at night. It took months to be able to step out of the house after the sun had set.

"So do you come here often?" he asked after you told the waiter both of your orders and asked for the house wine.

"Only during the day." you answer. He figured.

He had managed to get access to some of your therapy and psychiatric files. You don't like the dark or night anymore. You don't like loud noises or crowds of men. You're skittish and cautious and not as curious as you used to be.

But you're still you though.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" you asked him. You knew the different special forces often trained together.

"Been to the alps to train with the other forces." he shrugged, starting to wish he ordered a beer. No sense in not trying out different cultures.

"That's not entirely Italy." you softly chuckled.

"Close enuff f'me."

The waiter brought out the house wine, poured in rather generously large glasses. You thanked him, then watched Ghost take a sip. He didn't have a reaction. He noticed you were watching, and wanted to play along, "S'fine."

You took a sip of your's, "I'm glad."

Dinner came and it was swift. He ordered a simple pizza while you had red tortellini. You still gave him a bite of your's, determined to give him the full italian experience. The restaurant was starting to get full and busier. You two had finished and you insisted on dessert, especially their tiramisu.

You both continued on your third glass of wine, chatting on what he should do here for his time being.

"I think Soap wanted to come here." he said. You frowned a bit.

"Ahw, I should've offered him to stay." You liked Soap. He was always trying to cheer you up, trying to make you laugh. You two could go days just bouncing off each other's puns.

"Nah, he only brings up the southern part." Ghost dismissed.

Your eyes brightened, "We should take a trip down south then! It'll be so fun!"

He was glad you still had a sense of adventure.

"Alright, I'll have to ask him then." a small smile pressed on his face.

"We should ask Gaz and Price." Ghost deemed that they didn't have any plans but still didn't want to go to the highlands with Soap.

Then you two chatted away about another set of potential plans for a group trip, until a loud shattered echoed up to the patio from the kitchens.

You froze.

Ghost noticed how your shoulders tensed, the way your muscles were taut. You stared past him. The restaurant had slightly silenced as well. He looked towards the inside: just a mishap. He turned back to you, slowly reaching a hand out to you.

His hand engulfed on top of your's, "hey"

You blinked, chest silently heaving.

"You're with me. You're safe. You're okay. Everything's calm."

A forced grin appeared and you coughed out a chuckle, "Silly me."

You retracted your hand from his, both hands on your lap as you turn to take a look of the inside of the restaurant, assured yourself that there was no ambush. There was no violence.

Ghost observed you. He knew what it was like to have nightmares following you. He wasn't a stranger to your symptoms.

You tucked your hair behind your ears, "I hope that wasn't our tiramisu.", you softly joked. You didn't want to be pitied. You didn't want to ruin the mood. You wanted Ghost to enjoy his break, his holiday. You couldn't ruin that for him.

No one in the military talked about their feelings. You just bury it down and pretend it doesn't exist; practically manipulating and gaslighting yourself that feelings aren't even real at the end of the day.

"I wouldn't mind if they served us gelato instead." he went along. He let you lead. Let you take control of the scene.

Your eyes lit up, and Ghost felt himself relax- when did he get tense?

"I know a gelato place!"

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Your flat had two showers and you stocked his shower up with proper shampoo, conditioner, soap, body wash, and basic skincare. You even shopped for a robe for him.

You said your goodnights after a proper cup of tea in your PJ's, Ghost telling you he'd sleep later and promised to turn off the lights. You had small nightlights scattered throughout your flat anyways. Cute ones: the ones he's seen at Bath and Bodyworks.

He took a moment to be real with himself. It was nice to be wearing a soft robe with fluffy slippers even though it was still warm outside.

Honestly, I'm not really sure what I'm going for with this fic, but I really love the song Summerboy by Lady Gaga. Anyways, constructive criticism is always appreciated -`♡´- Take care of yourself.

I love you ! (づ> v <)づ♡

[h34rtl4ss0]

One day, it'll kill you

oneshot: You want Price to give up smoking; he doesn't see the point in it.

a/n: inspired by 'Realistic John Price headcanons' by archrosewrite (on tiktok); this is lowkey my first post ever writing lol; border from pinterest

You waited for him to come home, as you always do. It felt strange to be so in love with a man who was gone half the time. You gave up your life to be with him, but it was all your own choice. He promised to take care of you- even taking care of you during his courtship.

A quick, hushed wedding after a year of dating. It was what you both wanted. You wished his kiss at the altar wasn't so smokey, so nicotine-filled, but who was Price without his cigars? You moved onto the military housing. Price's salary was doubled and you didn't need to worry about rent or utilities. A cushioned life for the price of your husband gone for half of the year.

The sun had set, dinner had gone cold. You made roast chicken with mash and sausage rolls on the side. His beer and favourite glass still chilling in the fridge. You couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights when the last bits of light left.

He warned you about the potential paperwork sitting on his desk upon his return, and he kindly asked you to not wait up for him. He did feel guilty for constantly making you wait. You wished he felt more guilty.

A rumble on the gravel driveway. You had cultured a natural garden. He found it cute. The car hummed for a minute before the engine turned off. You sat on the couch, posture straight as you practised to be the perfect wife for him. TV on the side of the door turned off. The cable on base wasn't what you liked. He bought you all the streaming services in response.

You left the door unlocked. You heard his heavy steps, soles dragging up to the door. His keys jingled, keyhole rattling. He slowly opened the door, taking notice of the darkness. You left the kitchen light on, like you always did.

He scanned the room, eyes locked onto you immediately. He gave a small smile, softly saying your name in an exhale. You couldn't help but smile back. He just returned from a mission after all. He must be tired. You wanted to help, to be there for him.

His smile erased everything you ever doubted.

He walked further in, letting the door close behind him and dropping his bags. You ran up to him, practically jumping as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He caught you by the waist, holding you tightly, your feet no longer touching the floor.

At least he had the decency to freshen up.

"I missed you." you murmured into his neck, burrowing your face.

"Missed you too, love." his gruff voice rumbled against your shoulder.

He gently lowered you, as if you'd shattered if he was too harsh, too careless. You took his hat off for him, dusting off whatever remnant was too stubborn to leave itself behind.

"Dinner's gone cold." you mumbled, an ugly feeling sparking in the depths of your stomach. You pushed it down, not wanting to be immature.

"Told you not to wait up." he softly responded, bringing a hand to gently caress your hair.

You looked up, a small pout on your lips, "What else was I supposed to do?"

He gave you a sympathetic look, his hand now cupping your jaw, thumb drawing mindless circles. He leaned in for a kiss, which you met half way on your toes.

A kiss for partners, for someone he couldn't imagine to hurt.

He pulled away, taking his hat out of your hands, "I'm sorry."

All you could do was shrug, it wasn't his fault anyways.

"It'd be a shame to let the dinner go to waste." a small smile crept on your lips.

The table was for four. Price moved the other two chairs long ago, and only two chairs stood side by side. You liked leaning against him, resting your head on his arm. He liked cutting the meat up for you.

You prepared his beer while he triple washed his hands with a nail scrub. You even made his plate first and heated it piping hot, so when your plate heated, it'd be about the same.

You thrifted new place mats. You doubt he noticed. He sat after you set the plates down and sat down yourself. You waited for him to have the first bite, watching his reaction. He nodded as he took a bite into the roast.

"Better than anything in the world, luvie." he'd respond.

You grinned, shyly thanking him for his compliment and digging in yourself. He doesn't talk about work, and you don't necessarily like to gossip about the other spouses in the neighborhood- but the dinner wasn't entirely silent. He'd fill you in on his boys, how they were doing. It would be Soap's birthday soon. Price wanted to host a party for him. You agreed to help.

After dinner he'd get you comfortable on the sofa, draping your favourite blanket over you with your favourite drink and turning on the TV to whatever sitcom was running. He told you he wanted to do the dishes for you, wanted to make sure your ring never falls off.

He always joined you afterwards, lying down behind you and holding you. Then you two would fall asleep on the couch and complain about how sore your body was. Then he'd pay for a couple's massage. The same old routine.

The tap turned off and you made space for him, but he walked passed the couch.

"Going out for a smoke." he told you, eyes searching for your permission.

He knows how you feel about his smoking habits.

But he just came home and for all you know it could've been a tough mission for him. You should be lenient and understanding; passive and obedient. It clawed you to nod your head, dismissing him and turning your attention back on the TV, to a show you didn't care for.

He was back in five minutes. He tried not to make you wait. He quietly slid in behind you, still wearing his cargo pants. His arms wrapped around your waist, under your shirt. His watch was going to leave an imprint on your skin. You took a bath, exfoliated, oiled and lotioned your entire body. Could he even smell it? Would he even appreciate it?

"Why do you still smoke?" you mindlessly asked. You made sure your words held no weight, no pressure, no command.

He sighed, his grip on you loosening, "I know you don't like it, love, but I just... it makes me feel better."

He always says that.

"Am I not... enough?" you didn't want to fight, but you were so tired of this habit of his.

"You're more than enough," he said your name as if it dripped with love and care, "Nothing can compare to you."

You closed your eyes, wishing the TV would just turn off.

"One day, smoking's going to kill you, John."

A laughter played on the sitcom, two characters acting stupid and chasing their own tails.

"My job could kill me first." he points out.

A frown etched on your face. You opened your eyes, trying to ground yourself, distract yourself.

"I just want to live long with you." your response came out hoarse as your throat threatened a sob.

He turned you around, making you face him. You couldn't look at him. He came home after six months and this is how you greet him? You felt pathetic, stupid- like a child. You were trying to be perfect and everything for him, for a person who seemed like they couldn't care about living half the time.

"Hey, look at me." he softly beckoned, gently raising your chin. Tears spilt out the corner of your eyes as you looked into his eyes.

"I want to grow old with you too. I want to live to see your wrinkles and your chin whiskers," he tried to uplift your mood, "but there are plenty of old, withered people who've smoked their whole lives. I'll be okay. We'll be okay."

It did make you chuckle, but it didn't make you feel any better. He wasn't willing to give it up. Not yet, you'd tell yourself. It felt unfair how much upkeep you did to yourself to be perfect, to be his darling- yet he couldn't quit one habit for you? To subdue your worries?

He kissed the top of your forehead, wiping away your tears and pulling you to his chest. You swallowed your thoughts and accepted his peace.

Smoking (and vaping) can kill, please be careful and take care of yourself.

I love you ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡