yonaakaihono - Tumblr blog

yonaakaihono · 1 year ago

Text

✶₊‧.°.⋆✦Ephialtes✦⋆.°‧.₊✶

Silver found himself lost in a spacious valley, unknowing that it was going to be a vigilance for the new awakening fear reaching after him in disguise of a nightmare.

(suggested track while reading!)

Pairing: Trịnh Quang Vũ (aka Artur "Silver" Schmidt) x William Buchberger

Disclaimers: English is not my first language. May contain bad grammars. This is a fic dedicated to me and my friend's OCTP, which is our own creation, please do NOT steal, copy or repost my drawing/writings w/o permission.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

TW: Mentions of death imagery, gore (ig), nightmares.

A/N: This is my first OCTP fic tho, and there was yet to have a proofread caution. Apologies!

READ AT YOUR CIRCUMSPECTION!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

It was a vast valley brimming with untamed foliage and newly blossomed flowers, nestled serenely between towering mountains standing high to the overcast sky. The waves of chilling breeze danced their way towards Silver's decorticate surface. He jolted awake as a neurotypical response, eyes opened wide screening through what on earth just flashed before him.

Admiring the landscape beforehand, how did he even end up being here? in this strangely luminous place?

Silver questioned himself while walking through the grass without a direction, hoping to find something, or someone.

He vividly saw William. He was here. William? Why was he standing here? Silver was only just a few meters away from him, yet it felt like thousands of miles.

Silver tried to call out for him, but every words were never formed into sounds.

He wanted to reach William's pace, but every steps unknowingly seemed to be heavier.

He has never witnessed such hollow, stagnant look on him before, nor how cold and quiet those eyes turned.

He began to realize that something isn't right, which happened to have already been wrong from the start.

Please, William. Say something..!

He yearned.

There were neither the sun nor the moon's presence.

However, the sky grew progressively darker with each step he took.

William was still standing there, watching him run in vain. The grass and flowers unpredictably grew taller and enveloped their feet, causing Silver to stumble and fall on top of him.

Oh how painful it was, to see your significant other, senseless and empty, looking at you without factually smearing away the exquisite epitome of himself. Leaves and floral stems started to crawl up around him, gradually, hugging his body little by little.

..Willy… i’m sorry.

Answer me, please…

Silver was unable to speak, therefore he started panicking, hoping that William would understand the situation.

Among all the deafening quiet, William at last made a gesture towards him. He slowly extended his hand towards Silver. He paid no mind to it, but quickly advanced and tried to seize his partner's hand back.

Much to his surprise, both of their hands came through each others. Silver felt as if the previous cold breeze had been embracing his skin once again. William's hand became somewhat see-through, resembling a ghost, drifting away from him.

The sky went pitch black. Silver kept on removing the branches that climbed on him. William hadn't moved an inch, but his appearance was coherently dissolving by seconds.

No, no no no no-- the fuck is happening?!

Bitte, don't disappear in front of me, Verdammt!

Silver attempted to grab William by the shoulders, but upon doing so, his uniform dissolved into a liquid substance that dripped down onto his skin, causing it to become deformed and twisted. It quickly disseminated throughout William's body, like a radioactive acid that corroded him. The stronger Silver's desire to feel him grew, the more dire the situation became. His liquified skin moisten through every muscles, every red flesh and guts steaming out ever so abnormally until they meet his decaying viscera.

He couldn't make it. He should have been there sooner for him.

He couldn't defend William.

Silver couldn't avoid feeling both defeated and overwhelmed by the horrifying sight. It felt not just like searching through an operated autopsy, but also fruitlessly seeking something that had vanished long ago.

“...Artur...”

His name. William had recently spoken his name. His eyes shone in the most endearing way Silver could barely describe, before he rested his head to the ground and finally cease to visible. He could not believe what was going on. Shortly after he regained awareness, Silver found himself kneeling in front of a rotting corpse, with a tormented partially shattered skull and widely opened ribs containing unusual squirming larvas coexisting alongside a few delicate floral living.

Throughout the whole time, he attempted to communicate with a spirit. The soul of William, to be precise.

The indescriptible smell of blood on his hands filled all over his nostrils. Silver remained motionless, unable to comprehend anything other than staring intensely at his reddened hands. What had he done to result in such a brawning outcome?

In a matter of moments, the ground transformed into a solid concrete substance. The dark abysmal void filling through the space, with just a small lightning bolt hovered above his head. The remaining branches wrapped around his arms and legs happened to be thick ropes, keeping him kneeling down the floor.

Thus, the same chilling wind tiptoeing its way to him one more time, proven to be a set of multiple firearms clicked before his head. Yet, conspicuously, the muffled voice of William hollered out his name echoed inside his mind.

He mourned, his face twisted into a grimace of pain.

“ᴬʳᵗᵘʳ...”

“..Artur..”

"Artur!"

He grasps ahold of the sheets tightly, breathing heavily as he mutters in his slumber. William tries to gently awaken him from his nightmare as his body thrashes around uncontrollably.

His eyes open abruptly, flicking from one point to another of the room before settling his gaze to William.

"You alright, Sil? Mein Gott, you’re sweating so much."

Silver hesitates to reach his arms out.

".. Willy?"

His eyes linger in unsure beliefs.

It feels a little too surreal. Unlike that one cold demeanor William once gave him in his dream, he was greeted with concern and affection, with actual worry in his eyes, with the real William.

He can read Silver like a book. William promptly gets into bed, bringing himself close for a comforting embrace.

"Shh, it's me. It was a bad dream, isn't it? I'm still here, silly. It's okay."

Within a warm hug and soft spoken affirmations, he makes it so easy to snooze out the tensions.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. A wave of realization hitting him like a truck. Silver immediately wraps his arms around William's cordial body, buries his head against his shoulder and lets his eyes slip shut.

"Hell, Schnuckiputzi, I almost thought i fucking lost you."

He breathes, letting out a few mortified snicker.

"Not gonna happen."

Exclaiming as he circles around his back, the other hand tracing his hairlines, slightly rubbing his head.

He swears he's not gonna leave his side ever again.

#octp #Spotify #my fic #writing

3 notes · View notes

yonaakaihono · 1 year ago

Text

AY YO????

IS HE HANGING ON A ROPE STUCK ON AN AC130??????????????

the AC130 (I think? I'm not knowledgeable enough) has like a sort-of ram on the front and it like-- pulled the rope??

And Gaz, being the quick-thinker he is, realized this and thought that the injured comrade will be helpless on his own, SO HE HOOKED HIS OWN HARNESS TO THE INJURED DUDE SO HE COULD SOMEHOW SAVE HIM.

AND THE GUY LEGIT GOT YOINKED

Price was there to hod the riot shield against incoming fires. He probably expected Gaz to return to combat with him once Gaz secured the injured guy up to the airship, but the AC130 (?) pulled the both of them to the sky--

#GiveGazABreak2023

(Edit : Apparently, there's this fast-evac technique called Skyhook (thanks @efingart for the info). Here's an article about it and as far as we can see, apart from the explosion, it's going... according to the manual book... (supposedly)

It's hard to see, but Price actually got yoinked as well at the end together with Gaz and the injured guy, and so it's a reference to the Gulag mission in the OG!MW2! Woohoo!

954 notes · View notes

yonaakaihono · 1 year ago

Text

Simon "shoulderss" Riley

1K notes · View notes

yonaakaihono · 1 year ago

Note

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/09/2023)

2K notes · View notes

yonaakaihono · 1 year ago

Note

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(10/09/2023)

3K notes · View notes