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loveindefinitely · 5 months

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02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Masterlist:

Click here to buy me a coffee :)

Sorted by character (more always to come)

All writing reblogged on @reading-writing-watching so switch notifications on there for updates :)

Requests: closed

All 18+ works will be marked as so in their individual warnings so minors do not interact with those!

Fan favourites marked with **

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Beaming Beskar**

Din has a unique way of telling you when he's smiling at you.

A Million Love Songs

If music be the food of love, play on.

Stormy Skies**

Din rescues you from an Imperial prison.

Sultry Sunsets

Din takes you to see the most stunning sunset in the galaxy.

Some Kind of Wonderful

Din shows his affection for you in strange but simple ways.

In Sickness & In Health

Din cares for you when you’re sick.

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

Puppy Love

Your neighbour Dieter's dog is the only comfort you need during stressful days. Well, maybe her and her owner.

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

There Are No Words Left To Speak

Joel watches you from afar and decides he needs to invite you in closer.

The Liquor On Your Lips

You’re a vice too good to resist.

Not A Place, But A Feeling

They say home is where the heart is. And your heart is with Joel Miller.

Frankie “Catfish” Morales (Triple Frontier)

Something Stupid

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you”.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Unspoken

You and Obi-Wan take a moment for yourselves to reflect.

Absolution

Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty)

Somebody’s Watching Me Masterlist**

You sense someone following you after returning home from active duty.

Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)

Southern Charm

You’re supposed to hate him but you just can’t resist that southern charm.

John/Johnny “Soap” MacTavish (Call of Duty)

My Guiding Light

You and Soap have a mutual agreement to take care of each other when returning to base after exhausting weeks out in the field.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick (Call of Duty)

Burnt Cake & Melted Ice Cream

Gaz returns home from deployment earlier than expected.

John Price (Call of Duty)

Homecoming

Price finally comes home after long months away and there’s no one else he’d rather spend the time with.

Michael Myers (Halloween)

Every Breath You Take**

It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Robert “Bob” Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying**

Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Pattern Breaker

A love confession turns to more once Bob knows you’re interested.

Asks

Simon “Ghost” Riley 1

Captain John Price 1

Captain John Price 2 (Homecoming)

#masterlist #fics #writing #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s writing #ej’s fics #deakyjoe’s fics

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nrdmssgs · 8 days

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Since you made shifters AU - the crowd (me) asks for more. HCs maybe?

Hi, love! Sorry, it took forever. I wasn't sure, anyone would even notice my little shifters. Anyway, here how it started, and let's check, how it's going.

Ground rules

So when creating shifters AU, I made a few rules, that would help me personally in a world building. These rules are valid ONLY in my AU, so don't worry, it's not a must.

Shifting process is long and painful. While the body may change its form relatively fast - it is the shifter's mind that needs time to adapt. The shifter needs some time to remember, who are they and what is happening. The first minutes after the shifting - it is just a scared animal in terrible physical pain, so it can harm even its beloved ones.

Cat shifters are the most feral of all mammal shifters. You don't want to be in the same room with a freshly shifted lynx or lion - their mind needs much more time to come back to 'normal'.

The closer your 'second face' to your human body (in terms of measurements and body funktions) - the easier your shifting process is. Shifting to a mouse is much more complicated than shifting into a bear (because of size differences). Insect/bird/fish shifters are fucked rare and they are doomed to have much more complicated shifting process.

Wolf-shifters are the most common type in my world, because they learn and adapt faster than any others. Also they are very welcome in military because of that. Everybody wants a fellow wolf in their squad.

Shifting process can be trained in time. The more times you shifted - the faster your body and mind adapts. So the fact that cat shifter Nikolai didn't try to harm his beloved is due to his enormous experience.

Second faces

Second face is simply their animal form. One shifter has only one form. I dont make any segregation in my AU and shifters may work alongside non-shifters just fine. Nevertheless, 141 is a shifter party 100%

Captain John Price

I wouldn't dare to NOT make this man a bear. Because c`mon, it's John Price. He has his timing, his fair share of violence, he's highly territorial, he's absolutely gorgeous. If you're not on his team, "Bravo six going second face" is your death sentence. He can chase his prey for miles, he crosses ice-cold rivers and climbs peaky mountains like it's nothing. There is practically no place, where you could hide from him.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

As intimidating, his angry roar can seem to you - your real problems start when you don't see him. Because Kyle is a lynx. He won't let you know, he's around, until you believe, he lost your tracks. You won't hear his feather step behind your back, won't feel his hot breath right above your head as he climbs that tree. He's just a shadow caught in the corner of your eyesight. A trick of light.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Now Johnny is a wolfboy. Wildly talented, loyal to the end, restless. Harm his beloved ones, threaten his comrades and his piercing amber eyes will hunt you down in your nightmares. You would await him being just a hot headed pup, but when you realize, how skillfully his hunt is planned - you will finally notice unmistakable intelligence and wisdom in every his move. As he will corner you - you will notice that his movements are not just those of a predator, but of a creature with an innate understanding of the world around it.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ok, this might have me canceled, but hear me out. Ghost is not a wolf shifter in my AU. And there is a reason, why almost nobody even in 141 ever saw his second place. There is a reason, why Simon relies only on his human form, trains like there is no tomorrow, fights, like there is no plan B. This ideal soldier, the legendary war machine was 'blessed' with one of the rarest shifter forms, which can be utilized only on a very special occasions. Ghost has no problems with fighting armies in his human form. But god forbid you meeting him on open waters. It will be oh so quiet after he falls into the darkening abyss under your boat. Only waves licking plastic boat sides and a few birds screaming somewhere far. You would calm yourself down, convince yourself, Ghost is no more around. Drown. Dead and silenced finally. This would be when the dark abyss beneath will shift and move. Your boat would twirl and crash as a paper ship, sacrificed to the wild waters. Your men will disappear beneath the dark waves one by one, and you will have nobody to call for a help around. It's then when you will notice a jet black fin appearing and hiding between waves. He will let you see his second face before he drags you deeper to meet your end. An enormous beast, a deepwater demon with black skin shielding him from the sun and white belly masking him from anyone looking up. The last thing, you'll notice, before his jaws clench around you - will be a strange white pattern on his face. Now that you look at it - it doesn't resemble average orcas white spots. It reminds you of his skull mask.

#call of duty #call of duty mw 2022 #cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mv2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #mw2 fanfic #cod x oc

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virtualgirladv · 2 months

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you talk like johnny bravo

This is devastating news. I don't know what to do about this. I'm going to eat ice cream about it.

#vga.ask #virtualgirladv #do I really??#worst day of my life

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 10 months

Text

Decode

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Ghost x Shadow!Reader x Soap

Your mission takes a turn for the worst after getting shot down from the sky. Now being injured, low on ammo, and completely surrounded by hostiles, you're only hope is for the Task Force to reach you in time before it was too late.

WC: 4k ~

Action, Angst, Thriller, Suspense, Tense, Graphic Violence, Dark, Mentions of Death, Slight Unrequited Feelings, Slow Burn, Romance, Love Triangle, Longing, Drama, Canon-Compliant, Mentions of Blood

Happy 4th! 🦅🇺🇸

CoD Masterlist

Control Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Decode

There's a reason Ghost liked to keep everyone at a distance, and why he's told himself countless times not to give in to his urges and care too much.

It hadn't been out of fear of being close or even vulnerable towards another, nor did he keep his distance out of the coldness of his own demeanor.

At the end of the day, it had only ever been about one thing and one thing only: Control.

To know one's self and to keep things in check is what matters most, both in peace and combat. After all, it's the actions of those who know no bounds to their own greed and power that have left the world in such a way as is; it's one of the very reasons it's brought everyone here tonight.

All of Simon's life has he seen the dangers which came from men unwilling to keep themselves in check; his own father showed him as much before he'd yet to hit puberty.

"I'm takin' the boy out and teachin' 'em how t'live like a real man," he'd say. A real man.

It's selfish, evil men who relish in the barbarity of their own nature. And Ghost only knew that he did not want to be anything like that. He feared those parts of him he's inherited, whether he could say so out loud or not. And he had feared them so much that he'd been willing to sacrifice everything else in his life to keep them buried.

Keeping control meant everything to him. For a long time, it was the only thing he cared about. The only thing that mattered. The only thing he had left.

Had things been his way, it'd stay that way. And yet it had been one thing to look up to the sky and see you be shot down, bringing an ice cold chill through the man's body as though he'd just been thrown into the artic in just his undergarments, but to then know that Johnny stood beside him in absolute shock, his eyes wide, gun frozen in hand, mouth agape with horror... In complete and utter despair. A sight the lieutenant has never seen of his Sergeant before.

An old and familiar madness stirred in Ghost once more, one he'd thought had been dead and buried long ago. It made his blood boil and his jaw tight beneath his mask.

His gaze hasn't left the spot that you've crashed since watching the entire thing conspire -- simply processing everything through the hazy green of his night vision goggles. Breathing. Blinking. Hoping that if his eyes opened once more that what he'd seen had only been a trick of the mind.

Yet his eyes keep opening, and your helo still sits in the distance. Burning.

Ghost does the first natural thing that comes to mind and reaches for his comms. "Alpha, what's your status?!"

Silence. No response from anyone in Alpha, nothing beyond their coughs in between static and gunfire.

No sound from you either.

Ghost shuffles about anxiously in his stance, tuning out the worried chatter of the others around him, and feeling the pit of his stomach sink to new depths he hadn't known yet existed in him.

Had he lost you so soon, he wondered.

The lieutenant goes for his comms again, doing everything in his power to keep his composure and stay focused on the task at hand.

"Alpha, how copy..?"

A voice finally picks up on the comms, and Ghost swears it hits him like a shot of adrenaline.

"Bravo- Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical!" One of the soldiers relays through the comms.

Ghost attempts to take a moment to digest this information -- Multiple critical, but that hadn't meant everyone had been lost. Though fate seemed adamant on making that a reality, as the sounds of gunfire start to erupt in the distance.

The comms cut back in. "Oh, shit-! We're taking effective fire!"

In a matter of seconds, the building the helo had crashed near continued firing on them, bullets and shouting picking up through the comms.

With Alpha down, that left Building Three compromised, further complicating the mission. Ghost knows what needs to be done here. He radios in, "Alpha, we're moving to building one. Hold tight!"

Alpha Team has to wait while they secure Buildings One and Two, as the mission states. While Ghost is aware that the others would rather jump straight into the fire for their comrades (he shares the sentiment), he knows that it won't do anyone any good if they're all taken out in a single emotionally driven move. it's too high of a risk to go and help them now, and Ghost knows this.

Yet, he remains still, knelt beside his team in the tall grass, as the darkness surrounded him in more ways than one.

Had you still been alive? How could this have happened? Why did this happen?

His mind buzzed with these pains within him, intertwining with each and every other thought. No matter how much he tried to shake it, they ate him alive. And after each one, the same thought concluded them.

This is why, he thought. This. Is. Why.

This is why he wanted you to stay away from him. Why he hadn't wanted to get to know you, and for you to know him. Because suddenly, the thought of losing you tonight had felt unbearable.

"Ghost." It takes hearing Soap's voice, riddled with impatient desperation, for his mind to be made up about the situation. "We need to secure that crash site, now."

For Soap, it hadn't even been a question of what needed to be done here. He wouldn't believe you were gone until he saw for himself, and until that day comes, you've now become the only job that matters to him.

"First, we clear for Hassan," Ghost commands. "That takes the heat off Alpha. Then, we secure the crash site. Clear?"

Soap nods. "Roger that."

"Let's move."

The team moves forward in unison down the hill, using the dark and tall grass to their advantage. Each step made closer to Building One -- approaching the erupting gunfire and explosive blasts -- Ghost felt another part of himself be done away. Parts of himself that were once calm and feared only for himself and the mission's status.

Before long, your helo feels within arm's reach, blocked off by obstacles needing to be tended to. Fear becomes action, only to be fueled by the impending rage he kept within himself.

Ghost would not lose himself tonight, he told himself again and again, don't lose yourself.

He would not lose you either.

It's the smell of burning flesh that wakes you, and the thick taste of iron on your tongue that brings your heart to an erratic drumming.

The world around you is a foggy black, as though you were drowning in dark waters. The gunfire comes in slowly after the taste of blood has settled in your mouth, distant at first, before it blares alongside the shouts and screams of your comrades.

It's then you've heard the loud popping noises of the gunfire, and the thunderous crashing of bombs and RPG blasts just barely missing your position. It shakes the entire ground, rattling your insides, and making the sores on your body swell with pain.

You cough involuntarily before your eyes have even opened, to your dismay, as it ripples a dull pain through you that only grows sharper at every hoarse exhale.

Once your eyes have opened, you're damn near blinded by the growing fires surrounding your crashed helo, the bright fluorescent oranges and yellows hitting your retinas like needles. Your comrades' silhouettes appear blurred and twisted in the flame's light, gathered for cover at the open end of the helo, grabbing whatever ammo hadn't fallen out of the sky to keep them settled until help arrives... if help arrives.

If that help didn't get here soon, there wouldn't be anyone left to save.

One of the two men defending the entrance of the helo is suddenly mowed down, their body becoming riddled with bullet holes. If the crash had already made him worse for wear, then it had been this act after which killed him.

His body crashes to the ground without so much as a scream, and his teammate, Alpha 0-4, who's now been left outside to pick up the pieces alone, does just that. He takes what remained of the marine's ammo and continues to defend his position. It's either that or they all die here and now.

You didn't need to look around and see the rest of your team's dead and butchered bodies -- some from the crash, others from the gunfire soon after -- at this point, this had now become about survival. No matter what, you must keep moving.

You see that you're still buckled in your seat, though your weapon was no longer at your side. It had been the least of your concerns, at the given moment.

You reach for your buckle, pushing back the pain it coarsed through you as your muscles shifted and tugged at the device. The longer it wouldn't unclasp, the more desperate your actions grew.

"Let me get that!"

One of the other marines on your team, Alpha 0-2 you believe it was, rushes over to your aid, having just been assisting another wounded soldier leaning against the walls of the helo. Since the crash, he's been scrambling about trying to help the others, seeing as he had been the least injured one of the lot here.

He pulls a knife out and cuts the straps from you, releasing you from your temporary confinement. The second he does, you feel the weight of your constraints release you, and it feels as though all your insides had been compressed up until this point. The sudden release of pressure overwhelms you, nauseating you.

You fall to your knees in pain, feeling your entire body throb and your brain pulsate in your skull. You did just survive a helicopter crash, so whether or not your mind wanted to, you needed a couple seconds.

Had it not been how light-headed you suddenly felt, the cold breeze that bit at your hip finally tipped you off that you were bleeding. Loose bits of metal must have hit you during the crash; frankly, you were lucky that it only seemed to graze your hip, leaving a nasty gash at your side you only knew would heal poorly later.

The blood dampens your uniform, making your sweat run cold, as you bring a hand to your wound, attempting to soothe away the pain.

"I'd offer you some supplies," Alpha 0-2 says to you, bringing a hand out to help you back to your feet. "But we've barely even got any ammo left as is after that crash, let alone supplies. AQ's been rainin' hell on us since."

You take his hand, gritting your teeth as you'd gotten back to your feet. The hip wound wasn't as bad as it appeared, though your entire body still throbbed from the crash. At this point, if you stopped moving now, your adrenaline would dip, leaving you an exhausted wreck on the ground if you weren't careful.

"We thought you were a goner," the marine only continues. Up until he'd heard you cough, he'd all but been ready to count you as part of the deceased. "We've lost four guys already," he says. "Alpha 0-5's wounded and we're running low on ammo-"

Bullets shakes the helo, making you both duck for cover. AQ only seemed interested in providing one-minute intervals between firing on your position. Whatever little time you once had before, had now been gone.

A small part of you felt desperate to ask 0-2 for answers, wanting to know what could be done, or if this had been hopeless. Your mind was being pulled in so many different directions all at once; it was difficult enough just focusing on breathing and keeping the pain bottled in.

However, you had been Team Lead. if anything, Alpha 0-2 was happy to see you living, because now it means he didn't have to be the one giving out orders anymore. In a matter of minutes, he's watched his team's numbers drop from a group of eight to three. If any hope had been left for them now, it had been you being the extra number, and you being the leader.

With the helo wall pressed hard against your back, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the blood and sweat which stained your skin, you find thinking a bit more streamlike suddenly.

You look to your side, being fortunate enough to find a spare pistol on one of your fallen teammates. Quickly, you reach over and retrieve the weapon, checking it for ammo first, before turning back to Alpha 0-2.

"Hold this position until Bravo can reach us," you say. "We'll reassess our game plan after we've regrouped."

"Roger that!"

As you always try and do, you put things into perspective for yourself, running by what would happen from this point on.

Soap wouldn't leave you here now. Ghost wouldn't leave you here either. Somehow, you just knew they wouldn't, which made things clear: Wait and survive.

"AUGH!"

Both your heads turn to the entrance of the helo, where you've seen Alpha 0-4, the last man other than you two, get shot.

He falls back to the ground with a heavy thud, grunting out in pain before crawling over to cover behind one of the fallen crates.

"Samson!"

Alpha 0-2 looks about ready to stand up and head out there himself, which sets alarm bells off in your head.

"Wait!" You grab his arm. "I'll go."

"What?! You can't go out there; you're already beat up as is-"

"Which is exactly why I'm going! The last thing we need is for you to get shot as well. Stay here with 0-5 and cover me, I'll bring Samson back in."

You don't give him much time to protest before you've turned your back to him, waiting for an opening between the gunfire before heading out to your comrade. Once the enemy fire ceased, you listen for your cover fire, and in a low crawl, rush out of the helo.

Outside the safety of the crashed metal, the cold night air pools around you in heavy waves. You were scared. You were terrified. One wrong move and that's it -- Light's out.

The realization of your situation hits you as you weave your way over to where your comrade has knelt, the fear and adrenaline buzzing through you as though you were drunk on it. Your actions come to you in a matter of seconds, your body relying on all of its most trained muscle memories to do what needs to be done.

You wanted to do more than you have these last few missions. You wanted to give more, to be more. And now was your chance to show that.

You crouch behind the crate, getting beside your comrade as he looked up to you, both surprised you came and writhing in pain from his wounds. However, up close, his condition had been much worse than you'd hoped, your expression sinking.

The bullets tore completely through his armor, having been shot twice through his chest. The blood pooled around him, only growing the more he shifted against the crate, and it had been clear it was taking all he had in him just to keep breathing.

Enemy gunfire picks up again in the distance, though their focus sits mainly still on the helo, the nightshade providing you with extra cover. It gives you both some time to breathe and assess the situation.

Alpha 0-4's eyes, wide and shaky, look over to you, pleading, and you've felt his trembling hands grab hold of your arm. He doesn't speak, he can't, but his actions say everything to you, and you hadn't come over here to leave him unanswered.

You bring your hands to the soldier's arms, looking him in the eyes and listening for the gunfire. "When they stop firing, I'm gonna bring you back over to the helo, alright?"

He nods.

You keep hold of him the entire time you wait, feeling his grip grow weaker by the second, and your own heart beat in your ears.

The shooting stops, the surrounding woods growing dead silent, apart from the crackle of the fires, and the distant shouting of AQ. You take hold of the soldier, lifting him up from his spot. He yelps as you bring him to his feet, and once he's stood, the minute he tries to walk he stumbles. But you steady him, letting him lean against you as you damn near drag him back to the helo with you.

"I've got you," you assure him, taking in deep breaths to distract from your own pain. "You'll be alright!"

You make it into the helo just before the enemy has started firing on your position again, their bullets kicking the dirt up in front of the helo's entrance. Had you been a few seconds slower, it's safe to say you both would have been taken out.

Inside, you bring Alpha 0-4 over to where 0-5 had been lying injured and unconscious, deciding to keep all the wounded in a single area.

"Look, we made it," you rest the soldier against the wall of the helo, steadying your breathing now that you were safe. Or at least safer than you had been out there. "Let me-"

As you've rested him down, you see the man begin to convulse. His eyes and hands starting to twitch, as gutterly noises erupted from his throat. He groans in pain, unconsciously hugging his arms over his body, as the blood continued to pool from him, his mouth now having spilled its share for itself.

"No, no, no," you begin looking around for anything that could help him -- bandages, morphine, or even just a damn bottle of water. It seems everything had been destroyed in the crash, just as Alpha 0-2 said, save for you yourselves.

His demise had only been a matter of time at this point.

"Try and hang on," you beg. "The others will be here soon."

Yes, you remember to remind yourself that fact. The others are on the way. This whole time they've been on the way. They'll get here on time, you tell yourself. They'll make it here on time. They've got to.

But when they get here, what will they do exactly? What can they do..?

You look to the man's hands, seeing them trembling and shaking. He couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes, just as much as he couldn't stop the blood from leaking out.

You can see that he knows.

Unsure of what else to do, you simply reach out and take hold of him, letting your touch soften his grip.

"I'm here," you say. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Alpha copies all!"

You look over to Alpha 0-2 upon hearing him speak over the comms, your heart racing as you see the joy in his face. "They're heading here now."

You don't even try and hide the smile that grows on your face. They'd made it in time after all.

"Look!" you say. "Did you hear that-"

You turn back to 0-4, only to have your smile fall and your heart sink. His grip goes still in your grasp, his eyes glassed over and wide, as his mouth sat lightly parted, the air no longer pulling its way through. Dead.

You had already known he wouldn't make it, and yet...

"Blue! Blue!"

You hear the sound of Ghost's voice boom from behind you, as the sounds of gunfire outside came to a sudden end.

Ghost is the first to enter the helo, and it was Ghost whose eyes you first met the minute he had the chance to search for you. It hadn't even been a struggle for him to find you tucked away toward the back of the helo. But when his eyes finally met yours, it was as though a weight the size of the world had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

It seems he hadn't lost you after all. And though it wouldn't be until later that he realizes this, it had almost been laughable how happy it made him feel to see you still here. One of the most unexplainable things he's ever experienced, only that seems to happen a lot with you, he's noticed.

And you couldn't be happier to see him. In fact, you felt the air from your lungs leave you the second his voice traveled in the air. Even as it had still saddened you of the ill-fated outcome of your team.

You can't bring yourself to speak, even as a million words passed through your mind. Had any come out, you may have just lost your composure altogether, overwhelmed with everything that had been and still was going on.

Ghost steps further into the helo, lowering his rifle and almost instinctively making his way over to you. You watch his gaze fall to the injured and deceased behind you, and then to your wounded hip.

It's there you've seen something change in him.

"Ghost..?" Your voice breaks when you speak, to your dismay. It takes all you can not to break down, now that you've allowed too much time to settle and for your troubled emotions to fester, your body screaming at you for aid.

Hearing your voice now, so tattered and broken... Ghost wishes he hadn't, even as it had been everything he hadn't known he needed to hear right now. Just the simple sound of you again.

Ghost had wanted to address you, having felt the urge to speak to you, and yet not having wanted to overstep the boundaries you two had created up to this point. The ones he has all but painstakingly made. However, you move forward before he can speak, and without so much as a word, you embrace him.

Ghost stands frozen, feeling as your arms tremble over him, your face buried into his chest, pressed uncomfortably to his gear. Your body moved almost involuntarily, merely needing to hold onto something, anything. Anyone. If only for a few seconds.

You hadn't expected him to reciprocate. Hell, you were fully prepared for him to push you to the side and reprimand you for distracting him from the mission. However, something comes over the man, an impulse that had been with him his entire journey here, and it's somehow wrapped his arms around you too, holding you tight, as though to make up for all the times he couldn't bring himself to do so properly before.

At this very moment, he truly realizes that you are alive. You are alive, and he cared more for you than he should ever have let himself.

"Canary?"

But it's Soap's voice that finally wakes you up.

You've pulled away from Ghost almost as quickly as you've taken hold, your attention being dragged in another direction.

You see the Scot emerge from behind the lieutenant, and immediately his blue eyes have fallen on you, lighting up with the twinkle of a thousand stars at the sight. He says nothing -- he wouldn't have the words to say anything good right now anyway -- he instead comes your way and takes you into his arms as well. Only unlike Ghost, who had been reserved and caught off guard by your touch at first, Soap had reciprocated your need to be held immediately, tenfold.

Soap pulled away from you, though he'd been reluctant to let go, only now noticing your injury.

Never in your life have you wanted to lean in and kiss someone before so badly like this, let alone in combat. Looking into Soap's eyes, you could see he'd felt the same way, the only thing holding you two back being your current responsibilities. That and the eyes of your lieutenant, who had watched you two silently since converging.

"Thank Christ you made it," Soap says, his eyes dropping to your wound again.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you say.

"Damn good to see you guys." Alpha 0-2 chimes in. Naturally, everyone's attention falls back on him, coming back to the task at hand. "We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo," he starts to make his way over to you and Alpha 0-5. "Help me move him-"

"No time," Ghost moves over to one of the helo's windows, checking the perimeter from his position. "They're here. Get your gun on that tree line."

Soap gives you one final look, his hands tightening over your arms. You can do nothing else but look back at him, sharing silent words with one another.

Your brief moment of levity had now come to an end. Granted, there had been no rest for the wicked. You still had a job to do.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: At first I was gonna have more go on with Ghost and Canary/Reader, however, as I was typing it, I was just like, "that wouldn't happen right here", so it didn't.

I kind of run out of things to say here in the notes. I sincerely appreciate all of you who continue to read and support this series, it truly means the world to me and it's one of my biggest motivations to see this story through. I really don't want this plot to turn out poorly or not worth it.

I would like to upload more quickly, but alas, life has really been hitting me with the wombo-combos lately. But the next chapter will wrap this mission up, and then after that, Ghost x Reader girlies, I hope you're ready for mess 😈. Stay Tuned~

Taglist: @sleepless-atnight @sarraa-26 @quincessimus ꒰ · ◡ · ꒱

#call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mwii #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #Spotify

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spongebob-connoisseur · 10 months

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Tom Kenny has the unstoppable power of voicing most of my blorbos.

#He's too powerful #the spongebob connoisseur #Tom Kenny #Aside from the obvious like slappy and Spongebob #Theres also carl from johnny bravo and simon/ice king from adventure time #Also my favorite iteration of starscream

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wildmtthyme · 2 months

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Chapter 3: Price's Right

Warnings: Slight body insecurities?

Chapter Note: Phone screenshot is of Indie's phone (trying to find the right generator to use).

Chapter Characters: Morgan "Indiana" Turner, John "Bravo 6" Price, Sam (OC K9)

Story Synopsis: Ghost and Indiana have been best mates for years, partners on and off the field. And she's loved him for just as long. But she's never let on that she's felt anything more than friendly towards him. That all starts to change when Simon starts seeing someone for longer than a single night. Indie decides she's going to try and get over this annoying crush once and for all. Simon realizes that maybe he's been feeling more for his partner than he thought. Maybe a lot more. Partners to lovers with a sprinkling of smut, some fun and humor, a team that won't leave them alone, and a car that seems to weave it all together.

Morgan tried. She really tried not to let the whole ‘Stacy Situation’ get to her. The few more times Simon had brought the woman around the team, she’d been nice to her because, after all, absolutely none of her own personal issues were her fault at all. Stacy was an innocent bystander in all of this. Hell- Morgan felt like an innocent bystander most of the time when it came to her damned feelings over Simon. No matter how hard she tried… it felt like she just couldn’t get him out of her head. And while it used to be a kind of pathetic pining feeling… now… more often than not, she just felt… sad. Because now… there it was, right there in her face, the walking, talking, embodiment of who she’d never be. What she’d never have.

Stacy was gorgeous. Curves in all the ‘right’ places, boobs that actually required a bra, the whole package. Simon’s typical fare. She had long brown hair streaked with lighter toned highlights that the woman either had naturally or would curl into these long loose spirals. Again, gorgeous – credit where credit was due. And again, it didn’t necessarily make her feel envious in the sense that it made her mad or anything. It just made Morgan feel… sad. And she became more determined than ever to finally get Simon out of her head once and for all- to get over him. Because this shit sucked. On a massive scale.

She gave herself a firm nod one morning over her coffee, a hand aimlessly scratching at Sam’s head right behind his ear while the shepherd leaned against her hip. She blinked and cocked a brow down at her phone, which was hooked to the charger on the counter as it dinged at her. It was a Saturday and luckily, that meant no having to go to work. She really hoped this wasn’t Johnny trying to get everyone together, again… so he could bombard Stacy with a million questions about her and Simon’s relationship so he and Gaz could shoot texts back and forth under the table like those muppets who judged everyone in the theater. She plucked the phone and blinked at it a few times.

Price smirked at the phone and tucked it into his back pocket before he slammed the tailgate shut on his old truck, his eyes flowing over the gear he’d already loaded up. He mentally checked off everything they’d need. Rods, check. Tacklebox, check. Ice chest, check. Picnic basket, check. He gave a firm nod and trotted back upstairs to his second story flat, grabbing his coat and boonie, locking up and heading back down to hop in his truck, tossing both behind him in the extended part of the cab. He’d been trying to play buffer for weeks now between Simon and Indie. At first… it was because he clocked what he was certain had been there for a while and something he had been kicking himself for not noticing sooner. Indie’s crush on Simon. Then again, she was damned good at hiding it. So good that it was painfully obvious that no one else knew, especially Simon. But, at first, he had wanted to stop any sort of rift in his team. They all needed to work together flawlessly, their lives and the success of their missions depended on it. But… the more time he spent with Indie… the more he realized that she was actually… a really nice person. She was kind. And that was a rare trait, never mind their line of work. And she was actually… hilarious. In truth, he didn’t know why her and Simon hadn’t gotten together already- they’d been best mates for years. He turned out onto the street and rolled his window down, letting in the crisp nearly Spring air. A nice, relaxing Saturday, fishing was just what the doctor ordered.

“This was a wonderful idea.” Morgan deadpanned as they stood under the tree by the banks of the brown water river, the sky opening up above them. She was soaking wet… poor Sam had already tried to shake his coat out at least three times, sending dog-scented water cascade out over both Price and herself. This tree had been the closest shelter that promised any sort of relief from the deluge.

Price chuckled, offering up a shrug as he wrung his boonie out. “At least we caught some fish before the rain started.” He looked over at her, she looked like a drowned rat and he couldn’t help but chuckle again at her appearance. She glared at him and he shook his head at her antics. “Ah, we’ve been through worse.”

“True enough, doesn’t make this pleasant.” She eyed the Captain with a suspicious eye. This impromptu fishing trip was… strange, to say the least. But it was like the culmination of the past few weeks of his… sudden attention. She didn’t get the vibe that he was coming onto her or anything like that, thank all that had ever been holy. Just… she couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe he was lonely? Hell, she knew that feeling. She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Alright, Cap. What’s eatin’ ya.” When he raised his brows at her, she gestured with her shoulder at their surroundings. “You got me out here in the middle of god’s nowhere… something’s gotta be on your mind.”

Price smirked at her. There was that kindness. Here he was, doing this for her… and she thought he needed something from her. He shrugged slightly, tugging his hat back on. “Just thought you could use the company.” She quirked a brow at him, her blonde hair disheveled from the way she’d brushed it back without thought. “Can’t be easy… seein’ Simon with his girlfriend every weekend. Thought… maybe you could use a break. If we’re out here, Soap can’t rope us into visitin’ the pub.” The moment Simon’s name left his mouth, he saw her shoulders tense.

Morgan blinked only once and gave a shrug. “Doesn’t bother me.” She watched Price give her a look. She muttered under her breath, sighing after before shaking her head. “Damn you and your… supernatural… perceptive… you’re a freak of nature, you know that?”

Price smirked and lifted a shoulder. “Probably. Doesn’t change the fact that I noticed.” He shifted his weight, leaning towards her. “Also doesn’t change the fact that I know it hurts you, seein’ him with her.”

Morgan’s face twisted up and she looked away from him quickly. She was quiet for a while, the sound of the rain around them. Eventually, she let out a shallow sigh. “I try not to let it get to me. I really do.” She felt his broad hand slip onto her shoulder, giving her a grip there like he did whenever the mission they’d been on didn’t go as planned… the same hold he gave all of them.

Price frowned slightly. “I know. See that, too.” He didn’t like the far off look she got in her eyes. “What do you want to do about it?” She shot him a confused look. “We’re a team, Indie. I’ll support you no matter what.”

Morgan hated the way the center of her chin shook just a little, how her eyes stung and her nose itched. “I just… I want it to all go away.” She nearly whispered. “I don’t want to…” She gestured lazily in front of her, her hand having slipped out of her pocket. “I don’t want to want him anymore. It hurts too much and I don’t have time for it.” Her shoulders fell, a feeling of being defeated filling her up.

Price nodded. He understood that… when your heart craved something that you couldn’t control. Something you couldn’t have. He saw the way she rubbed at her nose, how she blinked rapidly. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a warm hug. “Give it time.” He didn’t know what else to say other than that. He felt her lean into him, as if she were so damned tired of this that she couldn’t hold her own weight up anymore.

Morgan let her forehead fall against Price’s shoulder, she nodded and just let the moment exist, with no expectation, no preamble, nothing. Just her and her Captain… no… her and her friend. She didn’t get that romantic vibe coming off of Price. Women had a sixth sense about these things. “Thank you, John.” She felt him rub her back slowly. Anytime, love.

#call of duty #fanfiction #cod writing #my writing #judgement story #captain john price #morgan indiana turner oc #john bravo 6 price #sam the k9 #not beta read we die like men #not edited really either #wanted to get this out before work this morning

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