#cod modern warfare 2

[unmotivatedartistry]

💀 click for better quality 💀

Ghost. '09 and '19.

Check out my Soap version of this!

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI G/N!Virgin!Reader corruption kink, possessiveness

As he lies on the white silk sheets, calloused fingers ghosting over your delicate skin, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight, gaze roaming across your sleeping form, beholding your tender beauty shining under the soft glow, his mind wanders. 

He can’t help but think that his ensanguined hands have corrupted your purity, his vile soul has tainted yours, he has desecrated you.

Guilt and shame engulf his heart, well... what’s left of it. It must be a sin to have taken your innocence away. 

When you asked him to take your virginity, his breath hitched in his throat. How could such a pure soul want such a monster?

He hesitates, tries to oppose the idea and warn you, keep you away from himself, but you don't budge, you want him, you need him.

His eyes follow the movements of your lovely lips and soft hands. And he wonders how they would feel like wrapped around him. But no, he shouldn't.

He tries to put an end to the thoughts with all his might. But he can't resist the urge any more. Thoughts of the filthy deeds he would do to you pervade his whole mind.

In that moment, something was awakened inside him, arising from deep within his wicked soul, a burning desire, a craving to corrupt your innocent soul, defile your untouched body.

And with that hunger, he was led into your chambers and within moments, his blood-soaked hands were painting your body crimson, his monstrous soul tainting your unsullied one, lustful eyes glaring into yours as he plunged into you vigorously, molding your pristine hole into the shape of his cock, his body enveloping yours as he ravenously ravaged your body, until only he was on your hazy mind, and you became entirely his, body and soul.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[paranoid-borderline-insane]

Not Meant to Be Here, But Glad You Are

John Price x she/her reader

Summary: You just missed your loving partner, Captain John Price, so much, but getting through the work week was keeping yourself sane for now. That is until your workplace is hit by a terror attack. Now you need to remember all the tips John gave you for this sort of scenario and hope you can make it out so you have a chance of seeing him again. 

Inspired by 'Piccadilly' mission and my own self indulgent daydreams Post MWII. Self-indulgent as shit.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, reader is described as wearing a dress and heels, reader gets glass in her feet

Gif by @cssndra-cain 

OG gif set here

Thank you for letting me use it!

“Hey, are you sure it’s okay if I take your lunch break?” 

Looking up from your temporary desk, you smile at your desk neighbour. “Of course! I’m not hungry yet anyway.” She smiles back at you, as she lifts her bag from the floor and swings it over her shoulder.

“Then I’ll see you in an hour! Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it; have a nice break!”

The door shuts behind her and you’re left alone in the back offices of London’s Science Museum. Tapping the butt of your pen against the paper on the desk a couple of times, you let the noise wash over you before throwing it down. As much as you’re enjoying being on loan from the Wellcome Collection to help the Science Museum with their queer exhibition pieces, it didn’t dull the loneliness inside.

John <3 Price: Have to go dark again. Love you x 2 weeks ago

Me: I love you too 2 weeks ago

Me: Come home safe, my love 2 weeks ago

Me: Got a cushy third floor desk. It looks out over the crepe place we go to whenever I drag you here. 2 weeks ago

Me: Successfully found a way to get to my office without having to go past the space exhibition or getting mobbed by little kids 2 weeks ago

Me: 2 Attachments 1 week ago

Me: Wore that dress you like 1 week ago

Me: Thought you’d like to see it, I’ll wear it again when you get home  1 week ago

Me: A friend from uni sent me some pictures of some awesome vintage condoms, I’ll show them to you when you get home! 6 days ago

Me: Miss you 4 days ago

Me: Can’t wait to be in your arms again 3 days ago

Opening your phone, you look over the messages between you and John. He never minded you messaging him in the periods where he couldn’t look at his phone, but there was only so much you could message him without devolving into heartbroken cries for him to return safely. Multiple pixels lamenting how much you missed the beard burn on your neck. The smell of his cigars lodging in your hair. The overbearing heat that followed being swaddled in his arms.

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating. He warned you incessantly that there would be long periods of no communication. But with all those warnings, he always promised he’d try his hardest to make it home. And so here you are, waiting for him to make good on that promise once more.

Putting your phone on your desk, you folded your arms and looked around. Even if you were okay with forgoing your lunch break, you had long since lost focus in your work for the time being. 

Getting up from your chair, you only made it a few steps before-

BOOM

Screams and shouts started up. Frantically looking around, the office hadn’t been affected by whatever had happened. For now at least.

“Do you think there will be another terror attack in London?”

“I’d rather you were prepared, Love. Especially if you’re gonna be working in central.”

“Okay. So what would I do first?”

Kicking your heels off, you can’t hear the padding of your bare feet as you creep over to the window. The sounds of crying and screaming and shouting only being cut through by the beginnings of sirens. From outside you can see the coloured lights of police cars as they come to life. From the interior, you can only just make out that someone tripped the fire alarm in a panic. You guess that works. Just need people to get out of the building.

You're on the third floor. Too high to try and escape from the window. Silently padding further across the office space, you look for anything you could use as a weapon. A box cutter is all you can find with an open blade, but you tuck a couple pairs of scissors into your skirt pockets in case.

“Run. If you can’t run, you hide.”

“What do I do if I can’t hide?” 

“You take the weapons you find and move to somewhere you can hide.”

John is kind enough to take your hand and rub his thumb over your palm. The light from the paused movie, what brought this conversation up in the first place, illuminating your hands.

“Just keep pressing forward until you can find help.”

The open plan office wasn’t going to offer you much protection, so you start towards the door. 

Opening it slowly, the hallway was quiet, aside from the alarm still going off. That is, of course, until you make it half way down the hall. You see shadows start to grow across the wall opposite you, shouted voices and heavy footfalls accompanying them. Taking no care to stop your feet slapping against the floor below you, you race back to the office. 

Your desk doesn’t offer much protection. A reason you had tried to get to a new room. Alas, it would need to do for now. Your knees get caught in your skirt as you crawl under the desk, a cardboard box being the only thing providing a wall for you to hide behind.

The shouting. It gets louder. It’s not English. None of the words hold any meaning to you. For a split second you wish John were here. He’d be able to translate it. 

The thought of John being here rips a bit of the adhesive keeping your cool together away, your eyes feeling hot. You get time for one soothing breath before gunshots ring out next to the door, still left ajar to give you some exposure to the outside.

Luckily the automatic guns hide your small yip of surprise. Controlling your breathing, you stay silent as a short gun fight breaks out. For whatever reason, the office isn’t breached. That is until a sickening crack sounds as a body is flung against the door. From under the desk, you can only see the final moments of a body hitting the floor. 

Whatever luck you have is cashed in as the boots belonging to the men who felled the body now poking through the door move on quickly. Trying desperately to bring your breathing back to some normalcy, you keep your eye trained on the legs of the body before you. He continues not to move, the hallway again returning to its current state of silence. Taking one more forced breath, you crawl out from under the desk. 

The man lying on the floor was decked out in a uniform you had seen John wear bits and pieces of before in pictures. A union flag velcroed to the front of his bullet proof vest. Reaching forward and grabbing his wrist, you could feel the beat of his blood still pumping through his veins. Still alive at least. He must be knocked out then. The purpling of a bruise on his head adding to your theory.

At his side lay his gun, dropped when he lost consciousness. Kicking it aside with your bare foot, you moved closer. While John had taught you a bit about guns, usually after you had asked in relation to some video game or tv show, you still weren’t comfortable enough to touch one. Nonetheless be prepared to shoot it. 

Checking the man over, you were spooked at the muffled sound of voices coming from the man’s ear. His radio! If you couldn’t get out, at the very least you could listen in to what was going on. Get a sense of when parts of the building were clear enough for you to make an escape. Maybe even alert someone that you were still in the building.

Grabbing one of the pairs of scissors, you set to work cutting the man’s vest until you could get the radio. Pulling it out of its position outright might have unplugged its numerous cords. You also weren’t keen on leaving the radio behind if you decided to move. 

Having finally cut the radio free, you took another peak out into the hallway before sitting back by your desk and inserting the earpiece into your ear.

“-rmy assault team is enroute. ETA 2 minutes.” 

“We need a bomb squad,”

“The army is bringing the necessary professionals.”

“Fuck’s sake!”

The back and forth over the radio didn’t quiet your nerves. Guns you could hide from. Bombs? The best you could do is continue to find an exit from the building. Keep an ear out for ticking. 

Facing the doorway, you start moving into the hallway. You were able to clear the hallway easily enough, opening a door to the public area of the museum. Within taking the first step into the main exhibition hall, your feet brush up against the next challenge you’d face.

Glass. Hundreds and thousands of shards of it. Nearly every glass case had been smashed open, now littering the floor with the remnants. To add to the sudden chaos of the situation, you could also hear men talking at the far end of the open hall.

If you went back down the hallway, the door you had just opened would slam shut behind you. That would leave you trapped again. And even if you went back to get your shoes, they were heels. They’d leave you unstable on the glass and make more noise as you walked, the exact reason John had told you to discard them at the first opportunity. Taking a deep breath, you only had one option. 

As soon as your foot was hovering over the floor ahead of you, the radio buzzed to life in your ear. You couldn’t even hear what the new voice in your ear was saying as you squeaked in shock.

Immediately the voices you had heard from the end of the hall got louder as your exclamation was accompanied by your foot slamming down on the glass in front of you. Turning your head in the direction of the men and already seeing their guns aimed and approaching you, you didn’t have a choice anymore.

You run.

Every step hurt. The patches of clear ground that you stepped on weren’t felt as glass became more impacted in your feet. Your only perceived advantage being that you knew this museum better than them. Knowing what paths to avoid to not become stuck in another room. Shots began to be fired as you ran. Your sense to stay quiet was gone as you screamed in response. 

Your feet hurt. 

Your lungs hurt. 

Your throat hurt.

In your ear you heard more voices coming from the radio, but the blood pounding in your ears was impacting your hearing. You were nearly about to rip the stupid thing out of your ear before you finally came to what you were looking for. The stairs.

Only a few flights of them and you were home free. The first set of them was easy enough, but you saw your bloody footprints as you started down the parallel set. However splotchy they were, they still would lead straight to you. A fresh wave of panic and adrenaline filled you as you focused forward. You’d just need to be fast enough to not be caught.

Each flight of stairs intersected with the main area of the floor of the museum. This allowed you to see a tall figure with a gun on the second floor. Whether they were friend or foe, you weren’t willing to wait and find out.

Your bare feet slip a bit on your own blood as you continue down the stairs. There’s shouting coming from behind you, continuing to spur you on. 

But all too abruptly you stop, clinging to the handrail next to you. The stinging in your feet increasing as you try to gain some traction to stop yourself falling on to the man in front of you.

The man pointing a gun straight at you.

“P-please. Don’t shoot me.” Your voice is shot from screaming. Or maybe just from fright. John never mentioned how terrifying it was to have a gun pointed right at you. God, you just wanted him by your side right now. You felt faint now that you had finally stopped running.

The man in front of you looked you over before nudging his gun in the direction of your ear. “Where’d ya get that?”

“I-i took it.” Shit. Shit shit shit. Fuck. That’s not what you meant. Well, it was, but not like that. The man’s eyes squinted as he took you in again. His gun didn’t lower and you started panicking. You couldn’t be sure they’d know John, but you knew someone they’d hopefully know instead. “Wait, wait! There’s a station chief I know, Laswell! She goes by Watcher-1! I know her! Please!” Your voice is screeching in fear that the man before your eyes are only narrowing. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG

A scream was ripped from your throat. The sound of shots firing filling the space. For a moment you could’ve sworn the bullets had gone through you. Your head begins to turn to face the direction the bullets had come from until a pair of hands hold your shoulders firmly. The pressure on your shoulders and the presence of the body behind you makes you freeze.

“Don’t look.” A deep voice says. A voice you recognise. “Johnny, lower your gun.” Tears start to well in your eyes in relief. 

“Simon?” You call to the man behind you, not daring to turn around. Your voice still stretched thin. Saliva gathering in your mouth as your emotions continue swirling in uncertainty. The man in front of you still hadn’t fully lowered his gun. Only lowering the barrel of his gun from its original target of your chest down to your stomach.

“Yeah, but call me Ghost here.” You nod shallowly in response. Simon was the only member of his task force John had ever let you meet. Already your body was sagging in relief. The fear of the gun in front of you barely remaining. If John trusted ‘Ghost’, then you’d trust him. He’d protect you.

“LT-” Before the man could keep talking, the radio in your ear buzzes to life. 

“Soap. Ghost. What’s going on up there?” Another man’s voice crackles through the earpiece. Neither Ghost or the man in front of you rush to answer their team mate’s question. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny.” Ghost sighs, moving forward. He releases your shoulders as he moves. One hand remains on your body, moving to your back, ready to stabilise you. The other hand bridges the gap between him and Johnny’s gun, forcing the barrel down until it's no longer aiming at you. “Price’ll have your head if you shoot her.”

Before you can process what he said, Ghost is lifting his hand to the receiver on his chest. “Floor 2 is clear. Soap’ll check floor 3, but it’s gone quiet.” His eyes flick down quickly to your ear, making sure your earpiece is in before continuing. He must have been able to hear that it was receiving the same feed as theirs. “Captain, got someone here for you.”

Only a moment passes before the radio buzzes once more with a response.

“Was worried you’d say that. She alright?” Your whole face scrunches into a distinct frown as you try and hold back the tears, snot, and sobs that start to overflow from you. The man in front of you, Johnny, softens as he gets a front row seat to your emotions. 

“Needs medical, but she’ll be okay.” 

“Alright. Gaz, join Soap to finish clearing the building. Ghost, bring her down to the ground floor. I’ll meet you at the info desk.”

“Copy.” Ghost says, releasing his radio. He continues to keep a hand on you as he moves down a couple stairs until he’s slightly more at your height. “It’ll be faster if I carry you.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, but still waits for you to nod before pushing his shoulder lightly into your stomach. He guides your body to flop over his back and secures you in place by locking his arm over the back of your thighs. 

You hear footsteps that don’t belong to Ghost as he turns so he’s facing Johnny again. A sharp inhale through clenched teeth greets your legs once the other man sees your state. 

“Creepin’ Jesus, her feet…” 

“There’ll be EMTs outside. Head up and finish clearing the third floor.”

“Rog. C’mon Gaz.” Ghost moves to the side to let Johnny and another man follow. The new man, Gaz, you presume, looks back at you as you lift your head to watch Johnny go. He sends a curious look your way before focusing ahead towards the next floor.

It’s disorientating being carried over Ghost’s shoulder. While he walks at a normal pace, being tipped upside down still makes you nauseous. Quickly you realise it’d be better to just close your eyes, only aware of the slight changes in his gait as he goes down stairs and steps over small obstacles.

You end up not needing to see John anyway. You hear his voice as soon as Ghost turns the last corner to the main entrance. 

“Oh sweetheart,” his voice is deep and soft at the sight of you. “Pass ‘er here.”

You start to whimper even before your toes touch the ground. The anticipation of the pain to come causing you to grab at the back of Ghost’s vest as he tries to lower you down. 

“It’s alright, love. Just let me turn you ‘round, that’s all.” John’s hands fit perfectly around your waist as he supports your body weight, only allowing the tips of your toes to touch the ground. With only a slight bit of Ghost’s help, John has you quickly turned to face him. Exchanging a look that goes unseen by you, Ghost’s hands take over from John’s and supports your weight for only a moment. As quickly as John removes his hands from your waist, he crouches slightly and places them on the backs of your thighs, only making a small noise as he hoists you until your faces are level. His upper body leans forward slightly to encourage your instinct to wrap your arms around his neck.

“You do this to all the girls you save?” You sniff.

“Ah, only the pretty ones.” He responds, giving you the quokka smile of his that always comforts you. His smile drops as the radio buzzes, the captain taking over as Soap and Gaz report that the third floor is all clear. He hoists you a bit higher on his body and readjusts his grip on you. This enables him to use one hand to press down on the button of the radio. 

“Soap, Gaz. Either of you in the back offices up there?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m here.” A Scottish voice responds.

“Soap, need you to go into one of the offices there and grab something.” John tilts his head back slightly, keeping his eyes on you as he finishes talking. The stretch of his neck draws attention to the microphone attached to a band around his neck.

“What do ya need me to get?” 

John keeps his finger hovered over the button of his radio as you lean closer to his neck. Only pressing down when you inhale to speak.

“Uh, umm, my bag. It’s under my desk. Oh, um, the desk with the pride flag on it.” If Soap is bothered by your stuttering and absent thoughts, he’s polite enough to not say anything. “It’s a yellow satchel. Oh, c-could you put my laptop and phone in there? They should be on my desk too. Thank you.”

“No problem! You sure there’s nothin’ else I can grab for you?”

“Oh, my shoes! Wait, no. Don’t bother. They’re not important.”

“They heels or flats, lass?”

“Heels.”

“Got it.” You huff slightly in embarrassment as John releases the radio. 

“How’d you know where my office was?” You ask, the adrenaline still running through you was making it hard to fully relax, your brain instead racing for answers for inane questions.

“Just because I can’t respond back doesn’t mean I don’t try and read your messages when I can.” Instead of putting his hand back on your thigh, John brings it to your ear and taps the earpiece. The same one that let you hear Soap in the first place.

“Now where did you get this, love?”

“I, umm. I took it. From another soldier.” You feel flustered as you admit this to John, but you can see there’s a proud sheen in his eyes. “He got knocked out in front of my office, a-and I couldn’t get out, and I thought I could contact someone for help.”

“You did good, love.” The heat in your cheeks only increases at his compliments.

“Soap thought about shooting at her.” You jolted in John’s arms as you twisted yourself to look back at Ghost, forgetting he was still there. “Thought she was with them since she had a radio.” John sneered slightly at the thought of more harm coming to you. Unfortunately for Soap, he chose then to radio in.

“There’s a guy here upset about losing his radio. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya, lass?”

“That’s ‘miss’ to you, MacTavish.” John growled back at the scot. Taking a quick breath to calm himself, he continued, “All stations. Prep medical. 141, rendezvous at Exhibition Road exit.” 

Both Soap and Gaz responded in confirmation, even if Soap sounded a little wounded and confused. Once he had received word from his team, John made sure you were secure around his waist before beginning to move out of the museum. He kept his hand on your back as he got closer to the doorway to the noise of the street. His fingers made barely noticeable motions to try to keep you calm. As the afternoon light began to engulf you both, you hid your face in his neck, taking deep breaths of his scent to soothe yourself. John moving his hand to cradle your head.

“It’s alright, love.” He whispered. “It’s over. You did so good for me, sweetheart. My smart girl.” 

You could feel his overgrown beard catch on your hair. The slight squish of his cheek against the crown of your head as he continued to walk. Always the strong pillar to support you and soothe you.

John places you down on a gurney some EMTs have brought forward for you. People beginning to crowd around you as he begins to pull away. 

“No!” You scream. Your throat is so raw. Your voice so weak. Even still, you’re not ready to let your partner leave your sight. John’s eyes soften as he reaches forward to grasp your hand.

“Love, it’s okay. I have to finish my job, and then I’ll come back. Alright?” He must have seen your trepidation, but he doesn’t admonish you for being selfish with his presence. Instead, he turns. The EMTs are kind enough to allow John free movement as he moves closer to your head. They seem to understand after your outburst that they’re not going to be able to do their job of treating you without your partner’s presence or assurance. Crouching to be near your eye level, he points ahead of him. 

“You see them over there? You see Simon?” Following the line of his finger, you see his three fellow soldiers. Ghost stands tall next to the ones you now know as Gaz and Soap, the two of them talking to each other, facing your direction. They stop abruptly once they notice your gaze on them. Gaz waves at you, Soap giving you a crooked smile as he shoves Ghost with his shoulder. Ghost had been looking over the crowd of first responders with his arms crossed over his chest. Despite his attention being elsewhere prior, it focuses on you for a few moments at Soap’s nudging. The man simply giving you a nod of acknowledgement before turning away once more.

John turns back to you in time to see you nod slightly. “I’m just going to be over there. I’ll stay there so you can see me, okay?”

“Okay.” You whimper. John gives you a heartfelt look before leaning his lips down to meet your forehead. Pressing them to your skin, he lingers for a few beats before pulling away. Turning to one of the EMTs next to him, he’s quick to address them. 

“She doesn’t leave here without my knowledge. Understood?” Receiving confirmation that they’d follow his instructions, John moves forward to meet up with his team. The EMTs are quick to take over for him. Asking your name, telling you how brave you were, that you were safe now. None of it really penetrates your brain as you keep your eyes fixated on John’s form getting further away. Seeing no further point in having it inserted, you rip the ear piece out of your ear.

You don’t know if it’s the stress of what happened, if it’s the people poking at your bloody feet, or if it’s just the sudden sadness of watching John leave you again. You don’t know what exactly triggers it, but you dissolve into a crying mess all the same. You don’t scream or whimper anymore. Just heave gulps of air as you become more and more frustrated by the people around you trying to calm you down. You barely feel the individual pieces of glass being pulled from your feet. Only the hot pain of the disinfectant and the rush of blood trying to create scabs. To heal the injuries to your body so you could focus on the injuries to your mind. 

But even through the pain and the crying, you keep your eyes on John. True to his word, he stays in the same area that he had pointed to. Directing his team to move in his stead, give orders on his behalf so he doesn’t move from his position. In the moments he stands alone, he doesn’t turn to look at you. Only talking to someone on his phone.

While you don’t know it, John’s restraint was barely holding. He knew if he looked over at you, he wouldn’t be able to continue wrapping up the loose ends of this whole mess. Ghost seemed to know this. Being the captain’s eyes for him and keeping him updated on how you were faring. In saying that, Ghost never mentioned whether you were crying, but John could feel it nonetheless. His heart was tugging him towards you, but it would have to wait. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could give you his unfettered attention.

“They’ve finished bandaging her feet. Looks like they’re just treating her shock now.” Ghost’s deep voice broke through the countless other voices surrounding him. Looking down, John focused on your things that Soap had left at his feet. 

Your yellow satchel. The one he had bought you after you had graduated university and gotten your first job that utilised your degree. He complained that you couldn’t be carrying around your laptop in a tote bag. You complained that you couldn’t find a cute enough bag for your laptop in your budget. The compromise was this, something cute he bought within his budget. 

Next to it were your black and white heels. Another present that he had enjoyed giving you. Enjoyed seeing the joy on your face when he had surprised you with the very shoes you had said would be perfect to go with your favourite dress. He wondered when you would be able to wear them again. If you’d wear them again. He wouldn’t hesitate to burn both accessories if you said that they reminded you too much of this day. He’d burn everything he had to erase what had happened today. Nothing mattered to him more than you. 

John finished heaving a deep sigh as Soap and Gaz regrouped with him and Ghost. 

“Everything’s wrapped up, sir.” Gaz stated, looking over his captain. While Gaz was still trying to give Price his space, Soap didn’t seem to have the same tact. 

“Well, ya gonna go back to your lady now?” Gaz and Ghost both nudge him on either side of his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, John finally turns to look at you. 

You look so small, wrapped up in a shock blanket. Your feet wrapped up in bandages and your head lolled back against the head of the gurney. And still, your eyes were still on him. Whether you were truly looking at him anymore was another question, but your eyes didn’t stray. Looking back down at your things, he knew he wouldn’t get away from his boys if he didn’t let them say hello. 

“She’ll be fragile… but would you like to meet her?” Raising his eyes, he was met with Gaz’s gentle smile and Soap’s golden retriever glow. Before he could reach down, the scot had already nabbed your bag and shoes, ready to bring them to you. “Well alright. If we’re done here, let’s go.”

They got all of two steps towards you before Soap and Gaz were tag teaming questions.

“She your wife? Your girlfriend?” The Scot asked.

“Girlfriend. Haven’t proposed.” Yet, John thought. You’d probably need some time to heal before he finally asked, however.

“Why didn’t you mention her, cap?” Gaz questioned, barely letting their captain get a breath in.

“Didn’t feel the need to.” Was John’s response.

“Why’s LT met her and we haven’t?” This time Soap hadn’t even given John time to close his mouth before asking his next question.

“Trust he wouldn’t bother me like this.” He answered finally, giving Simon a shared amused look at Soap’s upset at being left out on this piece of his life.

At least the boys had the sense to stop once they got into hearing range of you. John can’t stop himself from jogging the last few steps to you. Gently taking a hold of the hand that you reach out to him as he gets closer.

“Hi, my love.” You try to stop yourself from whimpering, but the noises come from you without your input. You had finally reached some sort of passive calmness, but seeing him was causing the water works to start again. Without missing a beat, John leans forward into your space and is wrapping you up in his arms. He doesn’t shush you or tell you to calm down. Doesn’t minimise your stress. Just holds you and lets you sob into his chest.

When your breathing evens out, he starts letting you go. Not pulling away from you until you’re willing to pull away from him. Your supervising EMT passes John tissues at his silent request and he goes about wiping your face gently.

“There’s my brave girl. I’m so proud of you. You did so well.” And for the first time since the beginning of all of this, you smile. Preening under your partner’s praise. Your feet, body, and throat still hurt - accompanied with a raging headache from your crying - but he’s here. And even with everything that happened, you did the best you could under his silent guidance. 

“Now don’t go being polite to them just for the sake of it, yeah? But my team’s here if you’d like to meet them.” He holds your head in his available hand as he talks, stroking his thumb along your cheek, “but don’t worry if you just want to go home. I can tell them to piss off and we can go straight home, mm?” You giggle slightly at his care for you, his eyes shining at the noise you make.

“I wanna meet them.”

“Alright, love. But just say the word and I’ll send them away.” Straightening up, John gives the hand he’s holding a small squeeze as he faces his team. They had been patiently waiting for their captain to call to them, so as soon as their captain motioned them over, Soap was first to bound forward. 

Gently placing your satchel at John’s feet, after lifting it to show you that he had retrieved it, Soap places your shoes on your lap. “I woulda taken these off too, lass. Woulda made a hell of a sound!”

Before you can respond, John is already cutting into him.

“I don’t think flattery forgives a gun pointed to the face, does it, MacTavish?”

“John, it’s okay.” At the sound of your tired voice trying to mitigate the situation, John huffs, but doesn’t say anything else as you introduce yourself. “Thanks for not shooting me and everything. Bet I looked pretty suspicious.”

“Oh, umm, of course, lass. Uh- miss. Still shoulda lowered my gun.” Soap was turning bashful under your unexpected understanding. And at the captain’s watchful eye making his ears and neck feel hot.

“You would’ve taken off my shoes, I wouldn’t have lowered your gun. Call it even?” 

“Uh yeah. Thanks, miss.” Turning to get out from your and Price’s gaze, Soap turns and throws his arm around Gaz. “And this is Gaz!”

Your excitement gets caught in your healing throat as you exclaim, “Oh! Kyle, right? I’ve heard so much about you!” If Gaz was surprised by your acknowledgement of him, he doesn’t show it. Not skipping a beat as he comes closer to talk to you, shrugging off Soap’s arm.

“All good things, I hope.”

“A bit of both. You know how it is,” Gaz can tell you smile is a little forced, noticing that his captain has also noticed your decreasing energy. 

“Cap never mentioned he had such a beautiful woman waiting for him at home, either.” While none of the members of the 141 would dare say it in front of their captain, you looked adorable when you were flustered. John got lost in that same cuteness for a moment as you pulled the hand that was holding his to your face, hiding behind it slightly. As your eyes darted around in embarrassment, you finally lay your sights on Ghost.

“Si- uh, Ghost!” You call out to the tall man standing at the back of the group. Gaz isn’t insulted by your dismissal of him. From the small comment he heard from Soap about how Ghost reacted to finding you inside, and the near slip of his name you just did. Well, he figured you two had some level of friendship that the two sergeants weren’t privy to.

While his steps start off a bit forced, at the genuine happiness you seem to give off to his presence, Ghost is soon confidently walking forward until his body brushes the gurney you’re on. 

Shaking John’s hand out of yours gently, you quickly replace his grip with Ghost’s. Giving the man’s hand a tight squeeze to portray your quiet thanks to him.

Giving a quick look behind him at his two colleagues, and seeing that they’re the only ones around, Ghost turns back to you. Pulling up his balaclava until most of the fabric is bunched on his forehead, Simon’s eyes are soft as you meet his. 

You gently mouth some words to him. Simon is quick to lean his body down into your space for you to wrap around his neck, allowing you to hug him. 

Price had warned him that you were a hugger when you two first met, but you had always restrained yourself in his presence. Simon figured that this one time he could give in to your hold. You deserved it after the day you had. Plus, he needed to whisper his response to you directly into your ear to make sure you heard it.

Thank you for saving me, Simon.

You saved yourself, kid.

When he pulls back out of your embrace, he’s quick to pull his balaclava back down. He only owed you some vulnerability. No one else. 

However the show of Simon’s willingness to let you hug him brought tears to your eyes again. As they start falling down your cheek, your energy seems to fall with them. Closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the gurney. John is quick to take your hand back in his, having his index and middle finger lay over your pulse to make sure it isn’t dropping. The sounds of him and the EMT talking blur as you get weary with exhaustion. If you weren’t already lying down, you were sure you’d faint.

Moving his hand to grip yours properly now that he knew your pulse was somewhat stable, John gives yours a couple of squeezes. When your eyes flutter open, he’s already leaning down in front of you. His eyes dart over your face, doing one last check over himself before talking.

“EMT says you’re free to come with me as long as you’re okay with that. Was thinking I’d bring you back to base with me while I deposit my things and then I can drive us home, hmm?” You’re already nodding before he begins again. He wants to make sure you know your options at least. Make sure you’re not just blindly agreeing because of exhaustion. “Or I can have someone drive you straight home and I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“No. Please. Wanna stay with you…” You’re drowsy as you say it, but it doesn’t warm John’s heart any less as he sees your desperation to stay with him. He checks once more with the EMT watching you two that it is okay to take you with him before he starts moving. He hands your bag and shoes to Ghost before the man steps back to give John space.

“Okay, love. Gonna pick you up now, okay?” Your frail nod only confirms to him that he needs to do this gently. Putting an arm under your knees first, he slowly lifts them to make sure they don’t hit the gurney as they’re moved. Once he’s successfully lifted them up, it’s easier for him to get his arm under your back and hoist you aloft into your arms. The EMT wishes you a speedy recovery as they help tuck the shock blanket around the front of your torso to keep you warm.

Once John has turned back towards his team, you in his arms, he notices first that Gaz is gone.

“Went to get the car to bring it as close as he can.” Ghost offers. 

Second thing he notices is Soap now has your bag and shoes once more.

“Got jealous you gave them to me.” Ghost fills in once more, causing an amused huff to leave John’s mouth and a tired chuckle to leave yours. 

Now leaning your head against the flat of his vest, the velcro hurts your cheek slightly. But the rise and fall of John’s chest as he moves you brings you enough comfort to handle it. Even when you’re gently jostled as he walks towards where Gaz has brought the car forward. You mostly keep your eyes closed as you’re carried, only opening them every now and then to get a sense of where you are. The only time you keep them open is when you’re gently passed to Ghost. John saying something about not wanting you to be uncomfortable when you complain about being moved from his arms.

Watching John taking his tactical vest off and throwing it in the back of the van is enough of a spectacle to catch your interest though. Watching the hem of his turtle neck lift from his trousers as he removes the armoured clothing doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Especially when it catches on the bit of his stomach just under his navel, the hair trailing into his trousers getting covered when he tugs the shirt back down. 

He waits until he’s sat on one of the benches in the back of the transport van before taking you back from Ghost. 

“You need to behave,” John is quick to admonish, moving you slightly so you’re sitting across his lap before continuing. Though he pretends to disapprove, he has a slight smile tugging at his lips as he remembers your gaze. “There’ll be none of that until you’re feeling better.”

You give a weak groan in response, more for his sake than yours. It’s mission accomplished when he chuckles in response as he moves his arm to prevent your feet from bumping against anything during the drive. Taking the shock blanket from your front and wrapping it properly around your back now that you’re in a more settled position.

Soap sits across from the captain in the back while Gaz drives and Ghost accompanies him in the front. Your shoes and bag are placed next to guns and magazines of ammo, given the same importance as Soap makes sure they won’t move or topple over throughout the drive.

Once the van starts driving, it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall asleep against John’s bicep. The men’s quiet conversation creates a safe atmosphere for your brain to finally allow you to rest.

Soap waits a couple of minutes after your breathing evens out to ask if you’re asleep, Price giving you a soft glance as he answers in the affirmative.

“You picked a strong one, huh, sir?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did.”

[bubble-dream-inc]

hii! i love ur fics!! can u write something about medical f/reader and her being scared of Ghost and can't look him in the eyes (he makes her really nervous and shy) and Ghost kinda find it amusing:))

an apple a day...

At first, Simon wasn't fazed by the rumors about the cute new head doctor on base; that is, until he realized the effect he had on you - and how fun was it to tease you with it.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Medic Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 1,4K

a/n: hi anon! thank you for this ask, i had a lot of fun writing this <3 bear in mind i used the little medical knowledge from my brief pharmacist student era and i actually have no idea how medical regs work in the army so take these inaccuracies with a grain of salt lmao. thank you my love @chaoskrakenuwu for the beta read <333333

tags: profanity, pure fluff, medical innacuracies, female reader, Simon is a smug little shit.

Ghost was many things, but amongst it all, he silently took pride in being good at reading people.

At first, he didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, and later he’d come to realize it was an amusing game for him, oddly enough, considering Simon Riley was never a man to bask in mundane pleasures.

It started with the rumors around the base about the allegedly cute new head doctor. Simon had been around these men for long enough to grow used to their touch deprived selves thirsting over literally any woman that came close to their general vicinity, so at first the talk didn’t stir his curiosity - it almost never did; he didn’t like to gossip. This changed one morning when he woke up with a killer headache, and unwillingly made way to the infirmary to try and get some painkillers. Gingerly knocking on the door and waiting for the approval of whoever was on the other side - which came in the form of a meek ‘come in’ - he had completely forgotten about the rumors going around until he set foot in the room and instantly came across the new head doctor.

They didn’t do it justice. You weren’t cute, you were a fucking spectacle.

He blinked, seemingly expressionless behind the mask, but he embarrassingly had to admit he might have let his gaze wander more than usual as you looked up from the papers you were looking over, clearly confused as to why you heard your door open but not a word out of the person who came in, and, as you did so, he recognized all the emotions people felt whenever they looked at him for the first time: confusion, shock - be it by his sheer absurd size or the mask - and, lastly, intimidation. It wasn’t unusual, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother a very hidden part of him, the fact he was intimidating such a small and seemingly harmless woman such as yourself. He had half a mind to speak first, but you beat him to it.

“Oh, uh…Hello, er, Lieutenant Ghost? How can I help you?” You clearly fiddled with your fingers as you stared at him with wide eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. Simon was slightly annoyed you already knew who he was - the whispers about him on base weren’t exactly positive, and he wondered what you might have heard.

“Yeah. Got one fuckin’ headache, I need some meds.” He was aware of how much more coarse his already gruff voice sounded, courtesy of the annoying pain and the sour mood he was already in, and took notice of the way the sound of it made your eyes widen even more. Clearing your throat, you mumbled something in agreement, heading to a cabinet near your desk, and he couldn’t help but watch you like a hawk - entranced by how you looked with the clearly frantic tied up hair and the white lab coat moving in tandem with your body. You looked so small compared to him and the thought made him more satisfied than he’d like to admit.

Finally reaching the drawer you were looking for, you searched it around for a bit until grabbing a small blister with four duo colored pills, hastily making your way over to Ghost and handing him the medication. You gave some instruction on how he should take it - once every six hours, if the pain didn’t go away, but not more than three a day - but he barely registered it, too caught up on watching you from above. Deciding to end your torture, he looked over at the blister on his hand and raised it slightly as if it were a toast.

“Cheers. Thanks, doc.”

With that, he left, not going unnoticed how surprised you were at his cordialness.

After that, he unconsciously made a habit out of it, popping into your office for the stupidest of reasons and he wasn’t even sure why; he’d find himself gravitating towards the infirmary, like a lost dog, to the point you updated his file with the recently known information that he had constant headaches - he didn’t. Simon took some sort of sick pleasure from watching you squirm under his gaze, never able to keep his eye contact for long, even more so when you heard his voice, and things took an interesting turn when he realized you probably weren’t intimidated - but flustered instead. It clicked with him one day as he entered your office in casual clothes before heading to the gym and you thought you were being subtle about the way you ogled his arms in the tight black shirt he was wearing. As he was leaving, he subconsciously turned to grip the doorway above him - not by much - to bid you goodbye, and he couldn’t help but to smirk under the mask when your eyes widened and your face visibly reddened at the motion.

So, he decided to test his theory. That day, he didn’t even need to fake a headache to go see you, he actually had gotten injured when helping out with some maintenance, a moment of recklessness giving him a cut on his hand. If it were another circumstance, he would just have taken care of it himself, considering how desensitized he was to pain these days, but for once he had a good reason to bother you, so that’s exactly what he did. Even if his presence made you so shy, this time you couldn’t help but look at him with worry as he entered the infirmary.

“Ghost, you really have to look into those headaches of yours.”

“Not my head this time.”

He showed you the bleeding cut on his hand, and almost chuckled at the way your eyes widened and you got into professional mode, hastily walking around to gather materials he knew all too well - gauze, iodine, all fun stuff. Simon was used to the sting of stitches, but they rarely felt as gentle as you did it, the way he relished on how close you were while fixing his hand, a focused flash in your eyes, not helping his case one bit, even if it was slightly disappointed how all of your shy nature disappeared the moment you had to be professional. He could appreciate how good you were at what you did, though.

Too soon for his liking, you were done, going around mumbling about a specific anti-inflammatory you were going to give him while he admired the neat work on his hand. Still sitting on the infirmary bed, he watched as you realized where the medication was, which just so happened to be on the tallest shelf of the medication cabinet. You sighed, grumbling about the reckless nurse that always messed with the placement of the medications, too caught up in trying to stand on your tiptoes to reach it that you missed Ghost moving right behind you, noticing only when his torso was inches away from your back and he had one hand gingerly touching your waist, the way you shivered not going unnoticed. He indulged in the way you stilled, turning to look at him with a surprised expression, and he almost chuckled at how adorable your eyes looked when wide like that, but, instead, he only looked down at you for a few moments before effortlessly getting the medicine box from the shelf - which was almost at his eye level - and handing it to you, putting minimal distance between your bodies. Mumbling a small ‘thanks’ you averted your eyes from him, visibly gulping while you quickly found the blister inside the box and handed it to him. However, even after taking it from your hands, he made no move to leave, keeping his stare at you while tilting his head lightly to the side.

“Do I make you flustered, Doc?”

You blinked, processing his words before opening and closing your mouth like a fish and looking to the side, breaking eye contact.

“…Yes. I knew you were doing it on purpose…” You mumbled, embarrassed, and he finally chuckled, not a bit ashamed that you caught him red handed.

He was never so glad to be able to read people so well as that day, when he went back to his room leaving behind a bashfully grinning you and the promise to take you out on a real date whenever you’d be free.

[punk-jester]

Alejandro's safe house

(please someone draw this)

[dropped-their-sniper]

just a silly lil man!! doing silly lil military things!! just a tiny guy!! 

[ofsappho]

Summertime Sadness (part 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Ten years ago: the first time you met Simon

Today: the first time Ghost meets you

Tags: mental illness, therapeutic boarding school, self harm, suicide attempt/suicidality, self harm, abuse, parental abandonment, much the same as last chapter. This fic is unedited because I don’t feel like editing it lol. If you see spelling/grammar issues, no you didn’t.

TEN YEARS AGO

Reader POV

-

It’s intake day.

Intake day happens once a week, always on Wednesday.

You don’t know why they pick Wednesday. It seems pretty arbitrary, doesn’t it?

On intake day, the nurses and counselors make all the current residents of the inpatient program line up to greet the newbies. You actually look forward to intake day. Everyone here is so boring and routine; your roommate never speaks unless spoken to and she always keeps her earbuds in. On intake day, the hope that someone nice will be admitted survives for the few hours of the intake itself.

It usually dies right after. There was one polite girl who smiled when you waved last week, but she was transferred to a different facility that night before you could learn her name.

You’ve been here for three weeks, so that’s three intake days.

You’re not sure why you’ve been here so long. It seems a little excessive; you’d think by now they’d realize your stuff isn’t so bad and maybe you could transition to outpatient appointments?

It’s a little dissociation and some minor depression. Not bad at all.

But your doctors agree, albeit gently, that you should stay for the full five month course.

The program isn’t so bad. The facility sits on a sprawling multi-acre property in the British countryside, where everything is beautiful and verdant and always chilly. It’s lovely. The tea is good. You’re getting used to how they take it here. It’s nothing like the sweet tea you drink back home.

You suppose that’s another reason why they won’t let you go home even though you’re okay; there isn’t a home to go back to. Your dad hasn’t looked you in the eye since Mom left. At least the orderlies here greet you in the morning.

(What Dad doesn’t know is that before she left, she told you she loved you and to wait for her. Soon, she’ll take you away from this place and you’ll never have to see your dad again.)

Before you head to the foyer, you check your hair in the mirror of your room’s suicide-proofed bathroom. A young teenage face stares back at you with cheeks flushed red from the sun. You trace your deep smile lines with the tip of your finger, then practice smiling. You would have feel better about moving to a therapeutic boarding school if you’d been greeted with a smile.

At first, you think the newest crop of poor souls will be uninteresting at best. Listless rich kids detoxing off Mommy’s coke, frightened preteens who’ve never been away from their parents for an extended period of time, and a few teenagers straight from an ER, IV bags and all.

And then you see him get off the bus last.

He’s tall, towering over everyone else. A lanky, almost skeletal build, with a bored, aloof expression on his face. He hides the Zippo lighter he was playing with in his sleeve before the nurses catch and confiscate it.

There’s something horrifically severe about him. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, but he carries himself like he’s a blade and the world is filled with monsters.

His eyes are large and dark, rich brown irises rimmed with pale blonde eyelashes. And they’re kind, even though he would probably hate having that pointed out.

You decide then and there that you’ll befriend him. He could use a friend; everyone here does. He’s beautiful in his sharpness and elegant in his abrasiveness. Maybe you can coax more of that hidden kindness out, show him that it’s worth more than his anger. You wouldn’t be able to stay away if you tried.

You both like playing with fire, though you prefer less literal ones.

-

TODAY

Ghost POV

-

Your smile fades swiftly as if it was never there to begin with.

There are two ghosts in this room. That’s what you are; a ghost of the girl he knew.

He watches and waits for you to shift uncomfortably and start blabbering to fill the silence like you used to. “Why’d you make them call me?” Ghost asks when it’s clear that you won’t.

As soon as you explain, he’s out of here. Ghost meant it when he said he never wanted to see you again.

You’re the last living reminder of the past he’s tried so hard to kill. The beeping sounds of your heart monitor spell out his mistakes in a grating, irritating rhythm.

Your answer disappoints his expectations. “I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Ghost doesn’t hear any wistfulness or longing in your voice, anything that would tell him that you’re clinging on to the boy you thought he was. Only a bone-dry and hollow statement of facts.

“What do you want?”

You ignore his question. At fifteen, you were good at that. At twenty-five, you’re better. “You got any cigarettes I could bum? You look like you still smoke them,” You say as you fiddle with your torn, bleeding nail beds with the classic anxiety of nicotine withdrawal.

He does that too when a mission stretches too long without a resupply and he finishes his cigarettes early to stave off hunger.

Ghost remembers fighting with you over the pack of smokes he smuggled into the program. He would hold it way above your head and laugh as you struggled to reach them. But you never gave up - they were bad for him, and you liked him too much to see him die of lung cancer.

He remembers the determination in your eyes and your unwavering faith that he could be saved.

“They’re bad for you,” Ghost echoes.

If you remember that moment, you don’t show it. “You know what else is fucking bad for you?” Your tone is so acerbic that it gives him whiplash.

He can’t resist taking a shot. “What, being a prick?” You just… bring out the worst in him. You make him feel as unhinged and unmoored as he was when you first met.

You roll your bloodshot eyes.

“I wasn’t going to call you out on that. I was going to say benzos and vodka. Also throwing yourself headfirst off a bridge.”

“Oh.”

What is he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you come?” You ask after a long moment of quiet interspersed by that fucking heart monitor.

Ghost grinds his teeth into each other as he reflects. He hates doing that; the inside of his skull is a bad place. “…I don’t know,” He admits. Coming here was a mistake; Ghost understands that now.

The foul taste on the back of his tongue is guilt. But why? You did this to yourself. You brought him here to play games and fuck him up, so why is he the one who feels… bad?

You sigh. “Simon-“

“Ghost. It’s Ghost now,” He cuts you off with more violence than necessary.

Your mouth settles into a tight, pained line. “Ghost. Go away.”

“But you called me here.”

That provokes a reaction.

Ghost sees it and immediately wishes it hadn’t.

You stare him straight in the eye, your dilated pupils peel back his mask and see the face underneath. Your skin is tinged gray and your bottom lip blooms red with blood from where you’ve bitten through it.

He wants back the child sobbing for his forgiveness on her knees, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And it was a mistake, and I should never have done it, and I just wanted the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t going to pick up the phone. That I was truly alone.”

So the memory of him is a knife you’re using on yourself. Fucking disturbing.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow as you wave. “Bye.”

Right.

That’s it.

Though your dismissal rankles, Ghost does as you ordered and takes his leave of you.

His work phone vibrates a few times.

Only one person calls that it. “Captain,” Ghost greets.

Captain Price clears his throat on the other side of the line. “Lieutenant. When can we expect you back?”

‘Tomorrow’ is on the tip of Ghost’s tongue.

He’s never taken a day off in his career, which means he’s got at least a year or two in built up vacation time. “I’ll be gone for a while longer, sir. Not sure yet how long,” Ghost answers promptly.

It’s only for a few more days, a week at most. Long enough to make sure you won’t try to kill yourself again, long enough for the guilt freezing his blood and choking his lungs to fade.

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

TAGGING: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner

[ohgeesoap]

Soap talks recovery, focus and fitness.

Journal entries typed out beneath the cut.

A few ask. Most don't.

They see I'm 22nd and no one prods. I lay around and listen -- let them talk; About their injuries. About the headlines. Apparently world thinks Russian warheads were a Russian test. They think the cargo ship was "lost at sea".

Gaz's family deserves to know.

So I focus on getting better. On my PT. At one point, chopper pilot was reading my kill number. Exfil'd as urgent surgical. Now adding another set of push-ups every day. Plan is pretty simple: get stronger than before.

I do what I can to push out the distractions. Nikolai doesn't help. Always bringing by friends. Lady friends. Guess Russian women love doting on us wounded, and I can't say the men mind one bit. Mix in a little vodka, too much free time, oxycodone...hard for most to get back into shape.

So I carry Price's pistol. Focus on disassembling it, cleaning it. I obsess over every scratch.

--

Back in Credenhill and training harder than ever. I run with selection candidates, hit the o-course and range, lift...basically put myself through day-long circuits.

Thing is, I'm enjoying it. For a while there, lived in a daze.

Between the morphine auto-injector on-site, the morphine IV drip at the field hospital, and all the oxycodone during rehab, it was hard to get my bearings, let alone get fit.

Suppose I should be happy with no nerve damage. But won't be happy until I'm 100% fit.

Circuit: 2 min/station; 1 min rest b/w; 2 loops

Pull ups

Planks

Tire/Sledgehammer

Kettle lifts

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: I’m very sorry this took me so long.

Being a Medic meant that you had to help everyone, know matter how annoying they might be.Though it’s not like you could blame the man for not knowing you were married thanks to your gloved hand.

“Lucky me to have such a pretty medic helping me”Johnny glanced up at you for a moment taking in your features. You certainly were breath taking, kind eyes, kind smile and he would bet that your hair was soft, you even smiled nice. “How about I take you out for a drink after all this mess.”

Blinking, you grabbed a needle in your bag to stitch one of his wounds. “I think my husband will have a problem with that plan.” You can only imagine how he is right now, the man must be fuming on the inside.

Soap let out a laugh, the kind of laugh to distract him from the pain of the needle going into his skin. “Who is this mysterious man? Bet you you I am better looking than he is.”

Blinking, you stopped what you were doing then looked up to meet your husbands gaze. “Quite the opposite actually, he’s very handsome.”

Though your husband looked like he was about to throttle him.

Huffing, Johnny shook his head as he tried to wrap his head around who it might be. “Who is it?”

“Now where’s the fun in that Soap?”

Licking his lips he did his best to relax as you started him. “Is it Gaz?”

“Too young.”

“Is it that Alejandro?”

“He’s married with kids.”

Soaps eyes went wide, he was expecting to hear that, though he tried to think of someone else. “How about Graves?”

“That asshole?”

“Well you’re both Americas so.”

Shaking your head you tugged his shirt down then pulled off the gloves you wore. “You’re way off.”

Soap then glanced up spotting Ghost, it looked like the man wanted to kill him well he thought it did. He wasn’t quite sure how to read his emotions. Besides it couldn’t be him, he doubted that the man ever even touched a woman. Shaking his head he the Scotsmen grasped your hand gently. “You know Y/n. What happens on duty stays on duty.”

Your lips slipped into a smile as you tugged your hand away. “Is that so? What do you think about that babe?”

Soap blinked then looked around trying to figure out who you might be taking to but then he stepped forward. The man helped you up then tugged you to his side, his arms protectively around your hips.

“I think that he’s lucky I didn’t let him just bleed out.” Ghost did his best to hold back his anger, the man was honestly tired of people hitting on you and it felt like this was the last straw.

Soap did his best to take this information in, he was just hitting on you and now he’s going to have to deal an angry Ghost. It’s not like he’d blame him either, he would be pissed if someone was hitting on his wife too.

Ghost kept his hard gaze on the man, he wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Though from what you’d always tell him he would slowly get over it. Because at the end of the day you were laying by his side, you were kissing him and everything on between. Simon knew that he was lucky to have a love like yours, but you would always smile and tell him the same thing.

“I’m sorry Johnny, I really am. But I love my husband and nothing will ever change that.”

Turning to face Simon you gave him a bright smile, the man’s que to tug his mask partially up his face. Standing on your toes you pressed your lips against his for a gentle kiss though Simon took this moment to deepen it, not about to let Soap get away with what he said.

“Alright! Alright I get it, Y/n is off limits.”

“Damn right she is.” Simon growled out keeping you close.

This was going to me a long mission, though you had a feeling the would become friends by the end of it. 

[lulila-safu]

First time I draw them (except for Ale), so the result is catastrophic💀

[artistcalledbella]

Caaaan you draw Horangiiiiiiiiii? And ellieeeeee from tlou?

Horangi, yes! Ellie, no 🙂‍↔️ (don’t like tlou)

[emryaxar935]

Ghost x Fem!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Look its not my fault he has his issues." You sigh. Price had called you out for having problems during missions. But the thing is its not your fault. Ghost keeps nagging you the whole time and even after that he's bitching about your position.

He was your Lieutenant so you had no choice but to deal with his shit 24/7 no matter how much you wanted to back hand him as he sat judgingly next to you during a sniper mission... You weren't about to just throw away your military placement because of him.

"I know... Just try to shrug it off the best you can. But don't ignore him! He's still your Lieutenant."

Price warned you now letting you take your leave back to the shooting range.

You entered grabbing your sniper and reloaded it. You had to practice. Maybe he'd get off your back if you pleased him enough with some improvement.

Now steadying the sniper you aimed to one of the farthest targets and fired hitting the human shaped target in the collar bone.

"Eh could be better..."

"That's something we can agree on." A deep British accent sounded from not to far behind you.

You rolled your eyes and refocus your sniper again on the target. Before you could shoot however a large hand pushed down the front of your sniper.

"Your position is bad."

You've had enough of his shit. Couldn't he just let you improve in peace?

"Ugh you know what?! I don't have to put up with your bullshit!"

You turned around swiftly and wacked him with your sniper as if it was a baseball bat. He stumbled back allowing you to slip past him to leave the range.

"God you are so insufferable!" You yelled as you busted through the iron door to the range and walked out.

Ghost was somewhat shook by your outburst. It wasn't the pain in his head from the collision with your sniper. It was the fact this had never happened before. You never yelled at him not once. You were usually quiet aside from an occasional huff of annoyance and snarky comment. But this was different you had reacted violently to his criticism.

"Hey uh saw a pissed lookin (Y/N) walking away from here... What happened?" Price asked leaning on the wood rail support next to Ghost.

"I said she had poor positioning with her sniper..."

Price knew there was more seeing him holding his head.

"And?"

"And... She hit me with her sniper..."

Price sighed sharply shaking his head.

"You two and your constant battles and bickering. Give her some space for now we have a mission tomorrow and I don't need my Lieutenant getting a concussion before hand."

Price stood up straight and walked away.

"Yes sir..."

You and Ghost didn't talk for the rest of the night. Getting ready for the day ahead you weren't excited to face him again. You were actually kinda scared. What would he do when you were face to face again? Would he get payback? He's probably pissed at you... There was nothing to do but shake the thought away as you layed down and stared at the ceiling. After a while of thinking things over of the days events you finally fall asleep not so thrilled to work beside Ghost tomorrow.

You woke up still feeling tired you didn't remember how long into the night you fell asleep, but to the feel of it you had at least 2 hours of sleep max. You groaned as you sat up.

"Time to face Ghost..."

Getting your mission gear on you head out to meet with the others at the planning table. Outside the room door you can hear Soap and Ghost were already in there. Great you thought putting your head down on the way in. You didn't want to make much contact with him at the moment so you keep your distance and sat in the corner as you waited for the others.

"Oh hey (Y/N) didn't notice you came in your very quiet." Soap greeted you from the other side of the room next to Ghost. That had made Ghost aware of your presence now.

"Yeah hi Soap." You looked up to Soap for a second before looking away again not wanting to make eye contact with Ghost who seemingly stared at you. What is his deal with staring at you?!

Finally your saving grace that took Ghosts piercing eyes of you was Price and Gaz finally showing up to the party. You got up to join them listening in to Price as he explained your positions.

"Alright and (Y/N) you'll be sniping with ghost over on this building got it?" Ghost nods along but you, you were annoyed.

"Why can't I be on the ground this time? Put Soap up on the roof with his boyfriend." Your words laced with hate as you turned to glare at Ghost.

"He's not my boyfriend." Ghost barked back with that iconic deep and threatening voice of his.

Soap laughed awkwardly in the tension you caused.

You all exited the planning room heading to the chopper. You, Soap and Ghost were the only ones on this mission Price and Gaz would be monitoring from base tonight. Getting settled in you sat between both of the men as the chopper took off.

"You put them on the roof together on purpose didn't you?" Gaz commented looking over to a defeated looking Price.

"Yes I did... They have to learn to put aside their differences and work together." He sighs heading back to the planning room with Gaz.

You had all gotten to your positions after drop off. Setting up your snipers you and Ghost sat beside each other silently. Though you could feel his eyes on you the whole time.

"Is there something you need Lieutenant?" He didn't say anything for a little bit.

"(Y/N)?"

"What?!" You snap at him.

"Look Im sorry ok. I know your mad and I get it Im an asshole..." He looked away. "I don't say the things I do to annoy you. I do it so you are safe."

You turn your attention to him confused by what he meant. He looks up at you making eye contact as he explains. "I just don't want you to make mistakes here... This stuff is serious and you could get hurt.. Or worse and we can't afford to lose ya... You know?"

You had never see this look in his eyes before he looked lost. He wasn't normally so fragile seeming, always tough and hard with expressing much especially because you cant really see his face.

"You matter a lot to this team. A lot more than you think really... You matter to me too. Im sorry I upset you but Im willing to improve on my communication with you... If you'll let me?" You stare into his eyes for a second realizing how he is feeling right now you could see it.He does mean what he says. You drop your sniper sliding over to give him a little hug. He flinched not expecting it but accepted it anyway hugging you back.

"Alright Ill try to get along better. And uh sorry for hitting you with the sniper yesterday..." You giggle nervously as you sit infront of him." It fine. I had it coming for a while now... So we ok now? Or are you still mad?"

"Oh I'm still a bit mad but if you can prove to treat me better Ill possibly think about forgiving you." You punch his shoulder playfully giving him a genuine smile. You could tell he was smiling to because of how the corners of his eyes creased slightly.

"Aw you two are adorable." Soap chimed through your guy's ear pieces.Ghosts eyes widened then turned to slightly angry.

"Shut it MacTavish"

Soap laughed on the other end and made some more mockery of Ghost as the day continued. Back in the fight again you and Ghost took out some reinforcements of the enemy that tried to get to Soap. Ghost left you alone this time focusing on the targets more.

Soon after Soap emerged from the building carrying a bag that would have our next hit as to what our next mission would be. Going down the buildings fire escape you run to get to the chopper once more along with Soap to return to base and celebrate a successful mission.

You had all decided to go to the bar for some drinks to wind down.

Arriving you at it to together at a big booth and talk amongst one another laughing at occasional jokes about training with rookies.

It had been a while into the time you've been there that you lost count of how much you drank you definitely felt woozy though enough so that the others noticed.

"Had a bit much there did ya?" Ghost laughed pushing your glass away from you.

"Should take her back to base. She's lookin a bit out of it at the moment." The others nodded watching Ghost get up pulling you with him.

"Ill be back... Or not depends on if Im willing to stay up any longer."

He lifted you up into his arms and left as you were close to passing out from exhaustion.

Ghost set you down on your bed and helped take your vest and boots off so you weren't uncomfortable.

As he undid your vest you had put your arms around his neck pulling him into a strange hug.

"Uhh (Y/N) Im trying to get this vest off... You mind?"

He tried to pull away but you held onto him, stuck as if you were glued to him.

Ghost stops and allows you to hug him as he sits down next to you.

"Do you hate me?" You mumble into his shirt.

Ghost finally detaches your arms and pulls you up onto his lap. "No I don't hate you at all. I am actually quite fond of you." You smile softly pleased with his reply. "Your not going to let me leave are you? "You shook your head and moved your right hand to tug on the bottom of his mask. "(Y/N) you know Im not going to take it off right?"

You frown and stop hugging him and look down at your lap. He looks at you not understanding why it upsets you so much but he wanted to make you happy in some way.

"Only half way ok?"

Looking up you smile again as he pulls his mask up onto the bridge of his nose.

"Happy?"

You nod quickly taking in the features of what you could see. Ghost closed his eyes for a second. He was tired and wanted to sleep. He felt pressure against his forehead and opened his eyes slightly to see you close resting your forehead against his.

You moved closer. Ghost wasn't sure what to do. Did he want to push you away? Or did he want you closer? Ghost thought for a moment then accepted it pulling you against him as he leaned backwards onto the wall. He hadn't been offered this kind of affection before and wanted to know what it felt like.

Ghost closed the space between you two. He was gentle as he kissed you. Rubbing your back softly before pulling away. Ghost liked you and all but didn't want to get carried away. You were tipsy at the time and knows it would be wrong if he kept going. Resting your head on his shoulder you fall asleep in his arms.

"I guess I'm stuck here for the night."

Ghost smiles pulling his mask back down and puts his head on yours as he to falls asleep.

[killerpancakeburger]

"Soap almost faced disciplinary action for punching a military police officer, knocking him out and locking him in his own vehicule."

"No charges were filed to avoid embarassment for the officer" 💀💀💀

I'm reading the COD wiki and just stumbled upon this GEM?? Does anyone have more info???? I really REALLY wanna know why Soap did this. I knew he was hot-blooded but he's still a soldier, yknow, so he must have a significant level of self-control/sangfroid and respect for autority...

[beeswaxsims]

SOMEONE HELP ME!! 😭😩😩😭

[bubble-dream-inc]

i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time. 

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen. 

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace. 

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream. 

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you. 

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.” 

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend. 

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears. 

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?” 

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

[punk-jester]

last one applies to both