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fortheloveofkonig · 11 months

Note

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Let's Have a Baby 2.0

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Simon Riley did not cry when his first daughter was born.

He didn’t know how to process his grief amid his love’s agony and emptiness. She spent days on end, curled into the plush rocker in the corner of the empty nursery or lying flat on her back, staring at the white ceiling. His guilt was no match for her shame – as she clutched the tiny hospital blanket to her chest, sobbing that she couldn’t name her. Couldn’t name the daughter that they didn’t get to bring home.

Her wails – I’m sorry I’m weak, Please don’t hate me, I'm fucking useless – echoed in Simon’s mind when he named that baby. He knew, in his heart, that Freyja loved her with her entire being, everything she had. He knew that, if she could, she would have picked the most beautiful name, better than anything he could have come up with on his own. So he named her after his wife, so his daughter would never leave his mind.

When Joan Vanadís was born, Simon stared at her for hours. He memorized every detail of her soft features, inhaled her scent, and poured over her deep brown eyes and button nose. His wife barely got to hold her in her first day of life. Sure, he had cried, as many fathers do in the delivery room. He was completely unsure of how it was possible that he helped create this beautiful, innocent little person.

But his son, oh his son, was an entirely different animal.

Where Joanie came roaring into the world, Arthur Simon was quiet. Quiet like his father, but the spitting image of his mum, minus Simon’s curved nose (Poor thing, he thought). The gentle cry from such a delicate thing broke whatever terrified stupor he’d been in since learning that they were having a boy. The doctor placed the blue bundle on his wife’s chest, and he instantly broke down. The ‘big bad Ghost’ was a blubbering mess as their son’s small hand curled into her skin, his eyes closed, and his mouth curled into a frown. He hesitated, hand hovering over the boy until Freyja’s came and pressed his palm into the tiny body, much smaller than Joanie’s when she was born. The steady rhythm of Arthur’s little lungs working underneath his fingertips made something inside his chest snap and crumble into dust.

Whatever fear he had about having a son was gone. As he had promised their daughters, he again swore that he would be better. Better than his father. He promised he would raise Arthur the way he should have been.

In the months that followed, taking care of his son healed a piece of Simon Riley. A piece that needed the father he had fought so hard to be.

The newborn seemed to have that effect on people, particularly overgrown men.

Arthur’s godfathers and grandfather returned to England about three months after he was born. Johnny brought his partners by the second they stepped off the plane, not even offering time to dress down in civilian clothes.

König was the first in the house, carrying his and Roach’s duffels as Johnny snuck in a moment alone with their partner outside. Freyja appeared, almost making him jump out of his skin at her sudden appearance.

“Herrgott, Kapitän!” he cried, hand on his pounding heart. “You scared me.”

Freyja had Artie strapped to her chest, sucking happily on his pacifier as he stared up at her face. He was already a certifiable mama’s boy, always enamored with her and clinging to her at every waking moment (and then some). “Oh, thank god,” she sighed, unraveling the fabric from her waist and shoulders. “I need a nap.”

His eyes blew wide through the holes of his hood, and he quickly stepped back. “Nein, Freyja, ich will ihn erschrecken—”

“König, nimm deinen Patensohn.” She didn’t allow him any time to hesitate, pressing the baby against his chest. The Austrian immediately dropped the bags from his shoulders, wrapped one arm under the baby’s bum, and rested one large hand against his back.

“Freyja–!”

She was gone.

König desperately wanted to give him back. He couldn’t take the heartbreak of another kid, especially his own nephew, staring at him with pure terror, trying to get away to safety. But this child, a sweet thing, had easily and without hesitation reached for him when Freyja moved to hand him off. It was as if he already sensed that his mom would never hand him off to someone that didn’t have her full trust.

He had gotten used to Joan by that point, but she was almost a year old when he saw her last. And she was much bigger than the infant boy in his arms, done up in an (admittedly) adorable, light blue onesie, with stripes nearly resembling those of the Scotland flag (Soap most definitely bought it for that reason and that reason alone). What if he dropped him? What if he held him too tight? What if he moved and hit Arthur’s head on something? What if–

A small tug caught his attention, his mask shifting downward. König glanced down at the boy curiously pulling the thing toward his mouth, which he put a stop to. “Iss das nicht, welpe. Du weißt nicht, wo es war,” he whispered, using a finger to nudge Arthur’s fist away from his mouth.

They simply stared at each other, the man holding the baby’s gaze, surprised that the little one was tolerating it. Then in a shocking turn of events, Art jerked the fabric up and over his head, making cooing and gurgling sounds that resembled an attempt at a laugh. Both under the hood now, König froze for a moment, completely and utterly bewildered. No grown adult, let alone an infant, had ever warmed up to the giant so quickly, immediately. Artie made another noise, and beyond his control, tears started to flow freely down his paint-smudged cheeks, a huge smile lighting up their dark cavern.

As König sobbed and shook, he pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, trembling body clinging to his godson like a lifeline.

König didn’t know how long he stood there with gentle but clumsy hands palming his scars and features, reveling in the attention. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t fail to notice what felt like Ghost’s hand on his opposite shoulder, brief but definitely present; then, the familiar press of Johnny’s cheek between his shoulder blades and the imprint of his firm hands on his hips.

Yeah, you could say Arthur Simon had a gift for healing.

“Uh oh, Dada!”

Freyja chuckled at her husband’s exasperated expression, staring at the ceiling as the plastic cup bounced across the floor. Simon had spent the last ten minutes trying to slice up an orange for Joan, who, in that time, had thrown the loose cereal onto the floor, tossed her plastic fork across the room, and finally dumped the cup of water into his lap.

“Yeah, uh oh,” he sighed, bending to pick up the cup but not bothering with his now-soaked pants. “Lovie, I’m almost done. You have to be patient. We don’t throw things.”

“No!”

“Look, Joanie, here.” Simon broke a wedge off and held it out for her. Two little hands took the fruit, holding the rind as Joan gummed at the soft flesh. “Can you say, ‘Thank you, Daddy’?”

“No!”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Arthur rested quietly in his mother’s arms with his cheek pressed against her breast as he dozed after finishing a bottle. Some mothers would have found Arthur’s level of attachment overwhelming; he rarely wanted to be put down, oftentimes crying out for her even when handed off to Simon. Similar to how Joanie gravitated to her father, Artie clung to her, and Freyja took pride in that.

When she looked up from her son, she found Simon had stripped out of his soiled sweatpants and now sat in only black boxer briefs. It was an unusually lazy day due to the poor weather outside. Simon got the kids up and fed at the usual time but didn’t do much to dress them, opting for fresh onesies. Joan’s was a dark navy, while Art’s was cream with mini tan teddy bears.

Joanie finished the orange slice quickly and placed the rind on her plate. She balled one hand into a fist and slapped the top with an open palm in a jerky movement. “Dada, more.”

“That’s right, ‘more’,” he praised, mimicking the sign for her. “Good job asking. Here.”

He placed the rest of her snack on the tray, and she immediately started nibbling at one. Simon leaned forward with his forearm on his knee, getting to eye level with the girl. “I’d really like an orange. Could you share with Daddy, lovie?” he asked while offering a hand. They had quickly learned to keep her hands occupied and practice hand-eye coordination in constructive ways, rather than letting her get bored. That was when she tended to start throwing things, as demonstrated by Simon’s now discarded pants.

She seemed to consider it, before dropping the piece she had already half finished in his palm and grabbing another.

“I meant one that wasn’t half-eaten, but this’ll do. Thank you.” He met Freyja’s eyes, his cheeks tight with laughter as he finished the fruit.

The rain thundered against the glass windows, filling the space behind Joanie’s giggles at the funny faces Simon made. Her clothed feet kicked the legs of her chair. It was there – in their kitchen on a rainy Tuesday afternoon – Freyja realized just how content she was with the life they had built together. Observing her husband as he wiped the sticky juices dribbling down their daughter’s chin and pushed her blonde curls back; her touch brushing their son’s warm, squishy cheek with her thumb.

She soaked in the atmosphere a moment longer before speaking. “Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I think Artie’s my last.” Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. They’d never really discussed just how many kids they wanted. Against his initial fears, Simon was a natural; he was just as much in his element taking care of their kids as he was on the battlefield. She didn’t want to take that away if he wanted more, but she honestly couldn’t go through it again. Recovering from a c-section royally sucked, but giving birth naturally was not an option.

Simon’s brows pinched together as he swiveled away from Joanie, searching her face. He watched how her careful fingers stroked Arthur’s face, her other hand wrapped around the baby’s thigh to secure him to her. Her touch slid down to his chest, measuring his tiny heartbeat and steady breaths. He often did the same with both of their children; the gesture grounded him in their reality, and he figured it did the same for her. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll call for an appointment to get snipped.”

He said it as if he were talking about grabbing a takeaway on his way home from work, which gave Freyja a slight shock.

“Just like that?” she asked, turning in her chair to face him better. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve given me three beautiful babies,” Simon cooed, reaching to drag his large hands up and down her thighs. Freyja melted into his touch, legs spreading so his knee could slot between hers. “S’the least I can do. If you’re done, so am I. I had a feeling, anyway.”

“A vasectomy just seems a bit extreme. Maybe we can just use condoms?”

He raised a brow at her with an upside-down grin, challenging her. “Do you wanna try that again, with feeling? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re never gonna let me cum in you, ever again?”

“...Birth control?”

“Remind me, how did we have our daughters?”

“I hate you.”

“But I’m right.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Still right, though.” Simon rose from the table and leaned over her, resting his weight on one hand next to her thigh. He slipped the other around the back of her neck and tilted her head up, stealing a long, slow kiss. He muttered, “I’ll go next week,” against her lips before resuming, tongue gently prodding her bottom lip.

Freyja broke away and glanced up at him through her lashes with a teasing look. “You sure you can last that long without sex?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz shipped out to replace the other half of the task force a few days later. They were only gone for two weeks, executing the final excursion to retrieve a stolen weapons cache. König, Roche, and Price had done most of the leg work but decided that the sergeants and lieutenant were better equipped for the situation at hand.

Johnny’s demolition expertise certainly came in handy this time around.

Still, Simon was sore and aching for the comfort of holding his kids and wife after what felt like the longest two weeks of his life. It was their first time leaving both babies with the other parent since Arthur was born.

Unlike his last time returning from a mission, the house was quiet, which allowed him time to take his boots off at the door and shed his mask. König’s car was parked in their driveway, leading him to believe the operative was spending the night in their guest room. Whether Roach was there too, he didn’t know.

The hall light at the top of the stairs flicked on, and Freyja appeared in a silky nightgown, standing on the last step with a tired smile and messy hair.

Simon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hummed while his eyes roamed her body with a dopey smile.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, locking her fingers behind his neck to tilt his head back, giving him access to slot their lips together. Freyja moaned quietly at the firm hands on her hips and thighs, gripping and digging into the soft flesh. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, humming against them. “No snags. Soap got to blow stuff up.” Simon’s mouth trailed down her jaw, throat, and chest, gentle and loving.

Her fingertips brushed a gash on his cheek. Most likely from shrapnel, if its depth and jagged edges were any indicators.

“M’fine, love.”

“Joanie’s out cold, but Artie’s awake if you wanna see him. I just finished feeding him.”

That woke him up a little bit. A soft breath of air tickled the wet spots on Freyja’s skin from his silent chuckle. Simon’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he nuzzled his face in her chest as he soaked in her presence. They’d gone more extended periods without seeing each other, but whether they were apart for a week or a few months, he still missed her like crazy.

“She doing better in her room?”

“Much. She’s having some nightmares but goes back down eventually. She’s having a good night.”

“Mmm, in that case, I won’t wake her. We can surprise her in the mornin’.”

When Freyja turned to lead him upstairs, he couldn’t help himself as his hand swung up and connected with her ass, a sharp CRACK! resonating through the air.

“Simon!”

“M’sorry, couldn’t help it. You left yourself wide open on that one,” he teased, his voice low to not wake their daughter or guests. As expected, Arthur’s quiet coos reached his ears the closer they got to their bedroom. Simon dropped his gear by their bedroom door and approached the bassinet on Freyja’s side of the bed. The little boy stared in his general direction, wiggling like a (precious) worm.

The man beamed down at him and carefully slid his hands under Artie’s back with his thumbs hooked under the infant’s arms, lifting him out of the crib. “Hi, beautiful boy,” he mumbled, pressing his pursed lips against his cheek, leaving multiple kisses in the same spot. He held his son back out for a moment, a confused expression on his face once he pulled away.

“Where’d it go?”

Freyja shifted to her knees on their bed and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering down at their son. “What?”

“The baby scrunch.”

“Huh. You’re right. I didn’t even notice.”

“I just…last time I held him, he still curled up. I missed it,” he said, a grown man literally pouting.

“I know…” She let her hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest. “I’m sorry, Si. I know it sucks. Being away comes with the job, and that means we miss things. We’ve been lucky so far with Joanie, honestly.”

Arthur had quieted down, sucking his pacifier as he studied Simon’s painted face and clinging to his shirt.

A knock at the doorframe caught their attention, and all three turned to the source. König rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bare feet padding across the carpet until he reached them. “Hello, Lieutenant. Did the operation bode well?”

“Yeah, everything was just as you said it – was…”

The baby had started to whine again and let go of his dad, reaching for his uncle with grabby hands. The man’s face flushed, but he didn’t make a move to take the baby. Once the shock wore off, Simon took the initiative to hand Art off, and König gladly received him.

He immediately settled again, laying his head back in the crook of König’s elbow, humming softly against his pacifier. “Hallo, welpe,” he said in a hushed tone, rocking his nephew gently.

“Well, that’s new,” Simon grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed to avoid awkwardly standing there. Simon wasn’t too annoyed, but he was somewhat sad. He had missed his babies dearly and looked forward to some serious attention. But his usually shy baby, who never wanted to be handed off to anyone besides his mother and occasionally Simon, was suddenly choosing their friend over him.

How much had he missed in such a short amount of time?

“I apologize, sir. I am as surprised as you are. He’s a good boy; I think we have been around so much the last two weeks…”

“König.”

“Ja?”

“Drop the sir. We’re not on base. I’m not mad.”

König blinked at him, confused. “It’s… Scheiße, wie sagt man ‘gebräuchlich’ auf Englisch? Ich weiß es nicht. It is normal to use sir where I’m from.”

Simon glared back. “And this is my house. You’ve done as my wife has said to gain my son’s affection. So now, you will do what I say to get back in my good graces after robbing me of my child. Are we clear?”

“I feel…bad. Please, take him back–”

He shook his head and stood again, scratching at the light stubble that had formed on his cheeks over the last few days. “And I’m telling you, no. It’s fine. I have to shower anyway.”

“Alles klar.”

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

A Late Night Last Minute Request | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i’m ripping up my carpet this took so long. MY BAD. i wrote an entirely different piece and then hated it LOL HERE WE ARE. (also to the request about learning more about winnie’s mom… here you go babes)

warnings: Mentions of death, pregnancy, miscarriages, abortions, past vague food insecurities, cussing. mentions of canon typical missions. gaz is super sweet and i love him

Summary: Laswell catches Simon at the supermarket, to which he brings bad news home. There's only one thing he wants - a last minute request.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Told you not to bother me.”

Laswell looked apologetic as she stood in the small aisle of the market with Simon, the folder in her hand looked hefty and he didn’t appreciate being interrupted on a Sunday with Mellie almost asleep in his grasp. The little baby curiously gazed at Laswell, her body still curled into Simon’s chest. “Was important. Sensitive information, couldn’t have your wife looking through it.”

He grunted in response. He snatched the manila folder from the Station Chief, he didn’t have to move Mellie between arms since she was secured to his chest with a black muslin drape - tied to his body and underneath his leather jacket, but she could still look around. He opened the file, skimming through the information and committing it to memory. He’d see it before, but one thing struck him as strange - the target’s latest location was London. He had never left Sicily the few years the higher-ups had been watching him. The man knew crucial information about the Russian Mob and was going to be put in Task Force custody as soon as they could find the bastard and keep him in one spot. The target had a knack for slipping out of everyone’s fingers, and for never being able to be photographed.

Mellie cooed from his chest, her little hand gripping the muslin. He looked back up to Laswell, closing the file. It was Sunday and he was looking through a damn target file when all he was supposed to be doing was getting milk and cat food, now that he still had Missy in his office. “Let me guess, it’s been pushed up?”

Laswell nodded.

“Great.” He turned away, grabbing a carton of milk.

“We’re taking König out of the mission and putting Soap and Gaz in.”

He frowned behind his medical mask, turning back to her.

She crossed her arms. “It’s in three days. I will be staying with your family until König and Roach are able to get there to take my place.”

“Why?” He glared at the woman, hand coming to settle on Mellie’s back.

“A precaution. He’s a little too close to us for comfort.”

“Don’t fuck with my cat while you’re there.” He answered, handing the folder back to Laswell. “Just feed it. She doesn’t know that it’s even in the house yet.”

“A birthday present?” Laswell remarked with a smile, Simon stared at her.

“Not for my wife, no.”

She nodded before taking a step back. “I will see you soon, then.” She turned away then, walking away and turning out of the aisle. The only clue that told him she had gone was the little ring of the door as she opened it, then it ringing again when the door closed.

Simon turned back to the refrigerated section, hand absentmindedly rubbing his daughter’s back. The little girl didn’t make a sound as he moved around the small store, scanning the aisles for something that dumb kitten could eat. Every time he tried to take it out of the house to drop it off at Soap’s, Winnie would follow him and ask what he was doing with the box. He couldn’t make it past his front door anymore with that box, she would appear out of thin air - a trait she apparently learned from him.

He turned down another aisle, the carton of milk made his hand begin to throb from the cold as he noticed a small boy in the aisle as well. Simon glanced down the aisle, seeing toiletries, microwave meals, cans of food and crisps - the blonde haired boy with dirty clothes was staring at the crisps with intent. Simon noted he probably wasn’t any younger than eight, the kid had only a couple pounds in his hand.

Simon easily moved down the aisle, dodging the kid’s little body as he then scanned the cans - hitting jackpot when he spotted a few small cans of tuna. As soon as his hand grabbed a can, he heard a woman’s voice speak towards the boy, “Love, c’mon. I don’t have enough for those.”

The Lieutenant observed the small woman out of the corner of his eye, in a ratty old sweater and pants that have definitely seen better days. She looked tired, her purse was definitely one she had bought for cheap - her trolley only had a box of pasta, a jar of pasta sauce, and two water bottles. It pulled at a string in his head, reminding him of a time where his mother only had twenty quid to get her and her two boys food for the whole week, his father had spent the rest of the money on whatever he wanted - alcohol, drugs, prostitutes. He had moments just like the little boy behind him, wanting something from the store yet unable to afford it. He had protected Tommy when he was ten because his little brother had pocketed a chocolate bar, Simon had taken a beating from his father for not teaching his brother better. If he looked for it, he’d find the silvery scar on the back of his arm from that belt buckle breaking skin.

“Dada.” Mellie cooed from his chest, he instantly looked down to her. Her big brown eyes that looked exactly like his looked so tired, he gently pet her head.

You’ll never go hungry if I have something to do with it. He remarked to his child in his head as he only grabbed two small cans of tuna, the tin’s logo blue and showing what looked like a swordfish. He held them in his free hand before noticing that the boy had gone, as well as his mother - he could vaguely hear her hushed words from another part of the small corner store. He turned around then, eyeing the small selection of crisps that the young boy had been only moments prior.

He plucked a bag of each of the two kinds the boy had been debating over and turned down the aisle, moving towards the till.

The elderly woman behind the counter had placed down her large book as soon as he approached, his daughter gently murmuring on his chest as he placed his five items on the counter. She had dark brown hair, wisps of gray in her tied back pony tail. She began to punch in the amounts for each item, he balanced on the heels of his feet. One hand dug into his pocket, pulling out his worn wallet you had gotten him on your first anniversary. It was a shiny black leather, worn on the edges but still something he’d always cherish. He opened the wallet, pulling out forty quid.

“That’d be ten quid.” The woman spoke softly, her voice kind.

He handed her twenty quid, saying, “Can you bag up the crisps separate?”

The lady nodded, pulling out two small brown bags. She separated the items and bagged them before handing him back his change, then pushed the bags towards him. “Have a good day.”

Simon took the bag with the crisps, slipping the money in before handing it back to the cashier. “There’s a mum and her son in here, do you mind giving the bag to them?”

She furrowed her brows. “That’s… very kind of you. May I ask why?”

Simon looked over his shoulder, down the store to see the little boy staring at a small selection of candy. He could almost see his little brother in the boy’s place, little grubby hand grabbing the chocolate bar and hiding it in his mum’s purse. Simon turned back to the cashier, mumbling a small, “Thank you.” He took his bag of milk and tuna and turned away, going through the same door that Laswell had left through only five minutes prior.

The air had cooled significantly, Simon tugged on his coat to cover Mellie more as he started to walk down the lane towards the tram stop. Sure, it was a corner store but it was still a tram ride and a walk back home - so he had a lot of thinking to do.

He has always hated leaving you and Winnie alone, but this would be his first time leaving Mellie. The baby strapped against his chest was obsessed with him, he knew it would break her little heart when he didn’t come to comfort her in the middle of the night - and honestly, it would break his heart too. You could say that he was going soft, and he would agree - because children need kindness, not a father whose problems are projected onto them.

He moved the bag into the crook of his elbow, his hand tugged up the zipper of his leather jacket up to Mellie’s shoulder, just to keep her warm. He didn’t expect it to get so cold so quickly, but it’s England. He patted Mellie a little, to which the little baby cooed, “Dada.”

“I know, Bug.” He murmured, moving the bag back into his hand. “We’ll be home for dinner soon.”

It had rained in the morning, leaving the day humid and letting the evening mist roll in. He wasn’t a fan of fog, knowing that anything could be lurking around a corner. The tram station was close, he could see it through the light fog. He began to speed walk, still keeping an eye out for his surroundings.

As soon as he stepped onto the platform, the tram rolled into the small stop. It looked empty, the late afternoon rush had already come and gone. He quietly hurried onto the tram, finding a seat near the middle as the doors began to beep, alerting they were about to close. There wasn’t another soul on the tram, he was silently thankful for it. He settled his paper bag with milk and tuna in it on the seat beside him, now resting his hands on his daughter’s head and her bottom to keep her close to his chest and to keep her warm. It reminded him how just more than four years ago, this was what he was doing almost every day: baby Winnie strapped to his chest, a bag of groceries sat beside them and him sitting down, exhausted. Winnie was always such an easy baby, it was a precursor for how much a terror she was to you when she was a toddler. He was sort of glad the baby strapped to his chest now was a happy baby, but that she also had a handful of times a week where she got upset. He hoped it meant she’d be an easy toddler.

He looked out the window as he heard the doors close, watching street lights come to life as the train began to move. With the baby asleep on his chest, he took the time to relax against the seat. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to just think, eyes watching trees pass by. The houses looked like the ones on the street that Winnie’s mom lived, it scratched something in his heart.

Grace de Havilland was a beautiful woman, a woman he had cherished for most of his life. A woman he had gone to grade school with and known almost all his life - wavy chestnut hair that her daughter had to match, gray eyes, and a woman who took no shit. That’s what he always liked about her and what he liked about you too, but she was always just as hot-headed as him. She was his on and off girlfriend since they were twenty one, he was just always so scared of what would happen to her after what happened to his family when he was twenty.

She got pregnant right before he was promoted to Lieutenant, and on a cold fall afternoon, kneeling on the floor of his girlfriend’s kitchen, Simon Riley learned he was going to be a father. All he heard was ‘three months’, ‘my birth control failed’. And he did something that he has regretted ever since.

He stood, turned, and left. And Grace had let him. He had ran away, literally ran all the way back across town to where he lived. He wasn’t proud of it, he punched a few holes in his walls - believing he was a fucking idiot for even trusting her. He knew that it was never her fault, that he was just as at fault as she was. He was angry at himself for even getting her into this mess, that the baby would get her killed by his enemies.

Simon had got over himself too late, but he only knew that in hindsight. She was only six months pregnant with Winnie when he showed up at her door, she was right to slam the door in his face. He kept knocking until she answered again, tears in her eyes and telling him to piss off. He begged her to let him help with the baby, that he would work on himself if that meant he could see his child. That if she wanted to, he would do his best to be there for her. She agreed after he showed up to her house every day for a week, telling him that he couldn’t run again. He did almost everything Grace asked the last month she was alive.

Grace started talking about maybe thinking about names the last morning she was alive. He had made coffee, she had commented how it wasn’t good for him. He shrugged, downing the whole mug before setting it in the sink. He had the day off, he was going to spend it fixing up the crib in the nursery while she drove to her mother’s house in Liverpool. She was going to spend a few days there, he had put her suitcase in her trunk last night. She had trusted him to watch her house, telling him that she’d be back in a couple of days for a doctor’s appointment. He only pressed his hand into her round belly, telling her that’d he’d be here.

Ghost doesn’t wish, finds it to be not worth the effort. Simon, though, wishes he never has to hear that phone call again - especially if it’s about you. He would lose it, he would physically break into a million pieces.

“Mr. Riley, we’re escorting your daughter to North Manchester General Hospital, she’s not in stable condition. You need to come right away.”

There was a small mmm! from his chest, Simon was instantly torn from his thoughts as he gazed down, his eyes settled on the child who looked exactly like the woman he loved. Her brown eyes blinked at him, her little hand reached for his face. His hand took hers in his own, letting her squeeze her tiny baby hand around his index finger. She whispered, “Dada.”

“Almost there,” He answered, looking up at the screen above the exit doors, seeing that their stop was next. He looked back down to his daughter, taking in the curious eyes that matched his and her face that looked almost exactly like yours. His other hand came to gently pet her head, Mellie giggled.

Three days would come and go too fast, he reflected. I don’t ever want to leave you and make you think I’m gone forever. He had watched Mellie grow for the past ten months, something he did with Winnie. And him leaving again was something Winnie was used to, but he didn’t want Mellie to be used to it too.

He wouldn’t mind having another baby but not until you were mentally prepared for the next one, the time he spent everyday with his girls made him a better man. Even the days when they’re more intrigued by you than him, it was the times where Winnie would sit on his bathroom counter and brush her teeth while he brushed his - the days where you hadn’t gotten up early, so he would pull Mellie’s hair into a little pigtail and braid Winnie’s hair anyway she wanted, even if he was never good. He was terrified that something could happen to his family while he was away, that he had no way of protecting them when he had always promised to. That’s one of the reasons why he didn’t want another one, it’s hard enough to handle a kid and a baby, it would be a lot harder to deal with a kid, a toddler, and a baby. He knew you would protect the girls with your life, but he didn’t want you to. He wanted to protect you before they even thought of hurting you or his babies.

The thought of early retirement was heavy on Simon’s mind. Maybe he should, he could spend his days spending time watching his girls grow - he could stay with you the whole pregnancy if you wanted another baby. He could help Winnie with her homework when she got old enough for it, he could take Mellie to her first day of school.

“One of these days,” He whispered to his daughter, hearing their stop be called by the intercom. He stood, one hand grabbing his bag while the other was still being held captive by Mellie. “I’ll never leave again.”

The walk from the tram station was only about two blocks, but it went by quickly since he just wanted to get home. You were making dinner, all you were missing was milk - that’s why he found himself walking to and from a tram in the evening. Simon looked up to his porch as soon as his home came into view, he could recognize that familiar baseball cap from miles away. His daughter was running around the yard, throwing her little bear in the air as Gaz sat on the porch steps, holding what looked like Winnie’s favorite doll.

“Gaz.” Simon called, the man looked up from Winnie and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Hey LT.” He stood up, but then there was a loud screech of “No!” from Winnie. Gaz immediately sat back down, keeping Winnie’s doll faced towards her. “Your girl’s keepin’ me hostage.”

“It’s getting cold, get her inside.” Simon walked up the stairs, hearing Winnie squeal with delight as soon as she heard him.

“Dad! Dad!” Winnie almost screamed, darting towards him and almost tripping up the stairs, her arms immediately grabbed his leg and she held on. “Dad, Uncle Soap and Uncle John are here!”

Simon paused, only a foot from his front door and he turned to his sergeant, who now stood beside him and chuckling to himself. He moved the bag towards Gaz, saying, “The milk’s for Y/N, then put the bag in my office.”

“Oh, where the Missile Launcher is?” Gaz wore the largest shit eating grin as he took the paper bag; Simon had half a mind to take the sergeant’s baseball cap and smack his face with it.

But he didn’t. He only glared at Gaz, lowly saying, “Soap’s a fat mouth.”

Gaz smiled at him. “That he is, sir.”

Simon waved him off as his now free hand went and opened the front door, answering Gaz, “Quit callin’ me sir here. You’re in my house.”

The younger man beamed at him, following him inside the house as Simon dragged Winnie in, her wrapped around his leg and chattering. Gaz helped his friend by grabbing Winnie off of her father’s leg, arm still holding the grocery bag as Simon walked into the front room, letting Gaz pass with Winnie. He tugged off his leather jacket after unzipping it, pulling it off and moving to put it on the coat rack. Mellie chirped from his chest, he patted her little frame before sliding off his boots - the laces only stuffed into the side of the shoe. He pushed them towards the coat rack with his foot before he turned around, heading into the kitchen where you were.

You were everything that he needed from Grace. Patient, stubborn, loving, an asshole when you needed to be. You put him in his place and never made him feel stupid or like he was worthless. He had earned your trust, your love, and the way you held your head high when he needed you.

You were making pasta tonight. You had told him all about it all day, since it was Saturday and the Task Force surprisingly had nothing to do. You didn’t even ask him to call them, you were on the phone by noon and telling them when dinner would be. Here you were, skirting around your kitchen in one of Simon’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings. You would argue with him that the outfit was nothing special, but he would still tell you that you were beautiful. He made his footsteps silent, using his weight like a cat to try and scare you-

“Dada!”

He looked down to his daughter, but her little head was facing you as you turned to him. Your hand reached for your baby, a smile on your face as you smirked, “Hi Mellie!”

“Say Mama,” He smiled as your hand rested on Mellie’s side, the baby trying to escape from the drape she had been so comfortable in for the past hour or so. You kissed Mellie’s little head, she whined with annoyance when you moved away from her to kiss his cheek. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s going.” You answered, moving back to the stove as you began to stir your sauce. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked so much.”

“‘m sure it’ll be fine.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, hand gently settling on your lower back. He ran his hand up and down your back, you glared at him from the corner of your eye. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

Your hand turned down both burners before turning to him, making his hand come to rest on your hip. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes unfocused - his daughter on his chest kicked her little legs against him. “Why do you think anythin’s wrong?”

“You run your hand up and down my back instead of circles, that means you have something to tell me.” Your left hand rested on Mellie, the baby cooed as you continued, “What happened?”

Simon frowned underneath his face mask, unsure of just how observant you were of him. Did you know all of his little tells? Would you even tell him that you did? “The boys are here tonight, I don’t want to worry you.”

“Simon,” You sighed, your other hand coming to rest on his arm. “I’m going to overthink it during dinner and I’d rather know what I’m going to be upset over right now.”

His voice was low when he hooked a piece of hair around his finger, your hand squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ve got three more days.”

Simon could really never say that he was leaving, that the deployment was soon - it was always how many more days until he was gone. When he said he was leaving or that the deployment was a certain day, he found that it made it feel real. That it made him feel worse when he left.

Your hand patted your daughter’s back, the other still squeezed his arm. Your eyes fell to the ball chain around his neck, the ID tags hidden by his t-shirt. He could spot the disappointment in your face and it felt like a punch to his gut; he was also used to waking up in the same bed as you, watching you stir awake and kissing your face.

“Just two more nights?”

He couldn’t stand the way your eyes looked back up to his, fear of him not coming home was a look he could never get used to. He merely nodded, feeling Mellie squirm on his chest. Two more nights before he really became something you had never known, the monster caged in his center.

“We’ll have a good night with them,” He whispered, moving forwards to hover his lips above your forehead. “Let me savor my time with my family.”

“I wouldn’t ever say no to that.” You murmured, your hands now dipping into the muslin tied against his chest - taking your baby into your grasp as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

He pulled away, hand coming to gently smooth down Mellie’s hair as she smacked her little head into your shoulder. He gazed down at you, seeing your face light up when Mellie gazed at you.

“I’ll come home.” He spoke, his voice certain.

You nodded, beginning to bounce on the balls of your feet as you whispered, “You better bring those boys home too.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the dining room, it burst the bubble of sanctity between you and him - yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. You kept your girl against your chest, gazing up at your husband.

“I don’t want to skip a place setting for our family dinners.”

“LT!” There was a knock on the doorway of the kitchen that led to the dining room, he turned to look over his shoulder to see Gaz, a smile on his face. “Could I steal the little one? Trying to prove that I’m the favorite, not Soap, sir.”

He turned back to his wife, who handed him his daughter before turning back to the food on the stove - you were smiling. He then moved towards Gaz, the little baby curiously staring at her uncle as he said, “Told you not to call me sir in my house.”

Gaz held out his hands towards Mellie, she giggled a little before reaching for him. Gaz took her in his arms, settling her on his chest as she tried to reach for his hat. “You gave me my nieces, sir. So I respect you as my superior and as my brother.” He took off his hat, eyes still on Mellie as he handed it to her.

Simon, who stood onto a couple feet away, was caught off guard. It was a silent understanding that the four of them were like brothers, at least between him and Price, but hearing it come from Gaz? A man with an opinion that Simon also valued? His cold heart thrummed with a warm sensation. “Get back in there.”

Gaz glanced to his lieutenant, a smirk on his face. “Yes sir.” And he disappeared back into the dining room.

Simon turned back to you, gazing at the small smile on your face as he walked back towards you. You were faced towards the food, his hand came to rest on your lower back again. “He’s such a sap-“

“Do you want another baby?”

You turned to face him again, looking up at his face with a small smile. His entire brain seemed to vanish, only blinking at you. He can’t keep manifesting these things. “You’re not pregnant.”

You rested your hands on his chest before looking back at the pans on the stove, humming, “Well, I think I am.”

His hands grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him with a large smile. “You’ve only had a few months to recover, and-and I know that we-“

“We don’t have to keep it if you’re not okay with it.” Your hand moved up his chest, feeling his ID tags through the thin t-shirt. Your fingers tapped the metal, hearing the two tags clinking together. “We both have to be ready.”

“No, no,” He pressed his forehead to yours, his heart battered against his rib cage like a baseball bat. “I’m ready. Are you sure?”

Rubbing his collarbone, you murmured, “Two tests. One was negative but the next one was positive. It’s more likely that it was a false negative since there was a positive.”

“Call the doctor in the morning,” He pressed his lips to your forehead, arms moving to hold you to to his chest. “I’m ready. I promise I’m ready.” One of your hands rested on his shoulder, your head moved to slide into his neck - a perfect fit against him.

You thrummed your fingers against his chest, hearing his blood rush through his neck and speaking, “Let’s just enjoy the company tonight, okay? We’ll tell them when I get past two months.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Your arm pressed between your chest and his moved to wrap around him, you murmured, “Of course.”

“Stay safe while I’m gone.” He pressed a kiss to your head before he moved away, moving his hand to graze the side of your stomach. “Promise?”

A smile on your face, nothing but hope in your eyes for him to come home safe and sound.

“I promise.”

But sometimes promises are hard to keep.

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#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon riley mw2 #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x wife!reader

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Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader

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mikhailwrites · 2 months

Text

Waiting for Connection 15 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

AN: It's a short chapter, but... just think of the exciting things to come from this!

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost was right, of course. When they do the rematch, he gets his ass handed to him. First, Alejandro and Rudy flush him out of his hiding spot with outstanding teamwork. They don’t discover him, but it’s a close call. While relocating, Ghost runs into Roach, who’s been waiting and ready, and there’s nothing close about that encounter. It’s a quick and clean vendetta.

All the while, Soap takes out some AI enemies and gets to the holding cells. By the time Roach is putting a bullet into Ghost, John is well on his way to the RV. It wasn’t entirely fair since it’s been basically four-to-one, but Ghost did his best to make it harder. The truth is, he’s not sure he would be able to win this round even with Gaz, so it’s a well-deserved victory.

Just like the last time, they reunite after the match, and predictably, the mood is much lighter. There’s not much for Ghost to comment on as to future improvements; they really did well this time. Apparently the most challenging part was to get the AI-controlled VIPs to RV since they sometimes got stuck or the follow command stopped working.

“I swear I almost wanted to shoot them myself,” Soap says as he tells them of his little jungle adventure.

“Then the mission would fail. In any case, it couldn’t have been worse than escorting civilians for real,” Ghost replies, earning a hum of agreement from Alejandro. It seems he’s had his fair share of experience. Not that it surprises Ghost. He might not know what Alejandro did prior to joining the task force, but that doesn’t mean Ghost doesn’t have at least some idea. The man is clearly skilled, well-trained and experienced, and that, paired with the accent and some off-handed mentions here and there, paints an interesting picture. Special forces, most likely, and from that part of the world? That says a lot. Ghost had some joint operations in South and Central America. In Mexico, too, of course, but he would rather not go down that particular memory lane. In any case, he always respected his counterparts.

They talk about the mission a little longer before Rudy changes the topic. “I was thinking… It’s my birthday next month, and we wanted to hit the pub and have a few drinks. Wanna join us, Ghost?”

Simon sits back in his chair, thinking hard. He appreciates the offer. It’s just that it sounds like a lot of people at once.

“Come on, Ghost, last time I went to visit you, it’s time you returned the favour!” Soap joins in with a very low-blow argument. Technically speaking, it was John’s idea to visit him in the first place, but Simon happily agreed.

“I… I’ll think about it,” Ghost relents eventually because he has to give them some answer. It’s noncommittal; he can always refuse later.

“Great, we’ll hold a spot for you in any case. Just let me know if you want me to arrange a room on the base for you, it shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll need a little heads-up,” Soap's voice betrays a smile. He wants Ghost to come, and Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again.

They say their goodbyes and good nights, Simon takes off the headset and sighs. Sergeant appears out of nowhere, jumping onto his lap with an inquisitive meow. Simon scratches the cat on the neck, letting it sit. “What do you think, should I go?”

Stripey starts to purr, closing the big green eyes as his human continues with scratching.

“Some help you are,” Simon inclines his head but smiles softly at the creature. He should really start thinking about what he’s hoping to achieve with all of this.

#Simon Riley - master of rhetorical questions #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2

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dragon-kazansky · 7 months

Text

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Not much Izzy and Reader interaction, because, ya know. However, you will be bonding with some of the crew, so yay!

Chapter Six - Out in the open

♡♡♡

You didn't sleep at all. Neither did Izzy by the sounds of it. He spent the rest of the night clearing out his cabin and packing what little he had.

As the sun began to rise and the darkness faded, you stood beside Edward looking down at the dingy below. Izzy was standing in it looking up at you.

Your expression was cold. The light in your eyes was gone, he noticed. Izzy could sense your pain from this.

It hurt him too. To leave you behind was not his plan, but you refused to come with him, he wasn't going to force you. If only he could look you in the eye and be honest with you.

"So, is this it then?" Izzy asks Blackbeard.

"You shouldn't have duelled him, Iz! We could've worked this out."

"You will rue this day, Edward. You will rue it long, and you will rue it hard."

Roach comes up beside you with a smile. "Hey. Made you a sandwich for the trip."

You take the sandwich from his hand and look down at Izzy. It's going to seem childish, bit at least you can get one last insult in. You throw the wrapped sandwich at Izzy with no intention of him being able to catch it. Instead it hits him in the head and bounces into the ocean.

Izzy stares up at you. You ignore the way Edward is side eyeing you too.

"I would've eaten that," Ivan says.

"A fucking pox on all of you!" Izzy growls.

"Well, that's that," Edward grumbles, walking away. Ivan soon follows him. You remain standing at the railing with Roach, watching Izzy sit in the boat and row away.

"Not for nothing, but that guy really is a dick, huh?" Roach says.

You sigh softly, letting Roach leave.

"But he was our dick..."

♡♡♡

Lucius hands his severed finger over to Fang. You watch from the other side of the ship as they throw it into the water.

You were amazed to find out that Lucius cut off his own finger in a moment of hysteria during last night's fuckery. It was disgusting, but also kind of impressive.

Pete had whittled him a wooden one to wear, so all was good in the end.

You walk last Stede to go sulk for a while. He is still stabbed into the mast.

"You alright?"

"I'd very much like it out," he says, looking a little worse for wear now. He'd been there most of the night at this point.

"I'll go get someone."

"Thank you." He sounds rather appreciative. You carry on walking.

As you go below deck, Edward is waiting for you. You smile as you go to pass him, but he holds up his hand, stopping you. You take a step back and look up at your captain.

"He didn't stay."

You didn't have to do much thinking to understand what he meant. "No. He didn't."

"Did you talk to him?" Edward asks.

"Course I did. You know I did."

"And still he left..."

"Ed, I can't force Izzy to do anything. You know him better than I do. You what he's like."

"Nah. You know him better than anyone," Ed says to you. "I figured he would fold if you spoke to him. Assumed you would be his reason to stay, even after that duel."

"Why? It's probably for the best. I unintentionally left you all behind 6 years ago. He's intentionally leaving us. Let the man do what he wants," you sigh.

"You left him 6 years ago." Edward looks at you with stern eyes, his head tilted forward slightly.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind." Edward walks away leaving you confused and dazed.

♡♡♡

A couple days pass. Edward and Stede grow closer and closer. Edward has been a little down about Izzy leaving, but Stede always know what to say or day to bring his mood back up again.

You, however, feel like a piece of you is missing. From the moment Izzy left, the ship has felt incomplete.

You have spent the last couple nights in, what was, Izzy's cabin. He had taken the few thing he owned with him. You sat on the bed and stared at the empty desk. The little wooden sparrow was gone. He had taken it with him. You're not sure what to do with that information, but it was comforting in a way.

Still, there wasn't anything left behind for you to hold onto.

Roach rushes past the door as you're sulking. You look up just in time to catch him flee past. Figuring there is no use in depressing yourself over the loss of your friend, you decide to go figure out what that was all about.

Turns out there are no oranges onboard. Oh, and the Swede has scurvy.

Roach had used most of them for a fucking cake that Stede had asked for. You stare at the gentleman pirate in disbelief.

"You had him make you a cake?"

"It hardly tasted of oranges." Stede says. Roach looks offended.

"So it was a waste." You sigh.

"Well, not completely. I still ate it."

"Either way, we need more oranges."

The crew start fussing as the topic of the Swede having scurvy come up again. You let out a long sigh as you look at this group.

"Let's just accept the fact that, due to Roach's immorderate use of the citrus, we now have to go grocery shopping."

Roach scoffs.

"St Augustine's full of oranges, and we're right near there," Frenchie says.

"Oh! Anything exciting to do there? Maybe something that might impress a world-weary, adventuring type?" Stede asks.

"No! It's boring and awful, and the humidity? Do you understand what that'll do to your hair?" Jim says, standing up.

"So?" Olu asks. Jim walks off.

"I'll wear a hat," Stede says proudly.

"Anyone else's fingernails falling off?" The Swede asks. You groan and leave with the rest of the crew.

♡♡♡

Stede had gone to St Augustine with Lucius. You remained on the ship with the crew. You were sitting in the captain's quarters with Edward. You were stretched out on one of the couches, a book in your hand. Edward was examining one of Stede's robes.

"Are you missing him?" Ed asks.

"Hm? Who?" You ask, not looking up from the book. It was a page on the legend of Blackbeard. You were fascinated by the way people viewed the man in front of you.

"Izzy."

"Oh." You still don't look up from the book.

Edward looks over at you. You had become a lot quieter since Izzy left. "You've been sleeping in his cabin. I've seen you."

"The room's available now. Might as well make use of it."

"Right. Yeah. Sure." Edward says, not so convincingly. He walks over to the coach you're perched on and plants his hands firmly on it, looking down at you.

"I'm fine, Edward."

"You don't look fine. What are you reading anyway?"

You snap the book shut and look up at him. "Just a book!"

"Alright. No need to get antsy."

"I'm sorry," you sigh. "I'm just worried."

"About Izzy?" He asks.

"Yeah. When I left, it was unintentional. I literally couldn't get back to you. He left because of some stupid duel and wouldn't stay when I asked. He would rather honour dueling rules than..." You gasp for breath. "Than stay with me."

Ed places a hand on your shoulder. "Mate..."

You shrug his hand off. "Forget it. I'm being stupid. I just... I just thought Izzy was my friend."

"Yeah, me too, mate."

However, Edward wanted to say more. It just didn't look like the best time. The moment is broken by Stede strutting in with Lucius behind him. He's waving something around in his hand.

"Look at what I got!"

Edward leaves your side to go peer at the item Stede was gushing about. Lucius sends you a look that tells you he was mentally drained. You chuckle softly.

"A treasure map!"

You and Edward share a look.

"Read it and weep, my friend. Adventure awaits."

"Look, mate, I hate to be a downer, but people just don't bury treasure. It's just not done." Ed explains to him.

"Well, why make a map?" Stede asks.

"He's saying the map's not real," Lucius chimes in.

"Yeah, the whole burying treasure thing is just a tale," you add in.

"What? Course it's real! Look at it. Tatty edges. It's burnt. It's been around, it's seen things."

"You got scammed for money," you say plainly.

"If it were real, why would she have sold it to you?" Ed asks. You nod. "Why not keep the map herself, and find the treasure herself?"

"Oh, Strong question. Love that." Lucius says.

"Scam," you add in again.

"Maybe she's just lazy. I mean, she works down at the docks selling maps, for God's sake."

"Best of luck to you, mate. I'm taking a nap." Ed slumps down on the coach you're on and plants his legs over your lap. You glare at him softly.

"Last I heard, a ship only has one captain, and the captain of this vessel says, 'On your feet!' We're having a day." Stede says standing up. "Once I've changed."

Stede leaves to get dressed. You turn your head to Edward.

"Now you have to go."

"If I'm going, you're coming with me," he says, giving you a light glare.

"Fuck that."

"I'm your captain. Orders are orders."

You stare at him in disbelief. "Oh, that's mean."

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face.

♡♡♡

Within the hour Stede had changed into more 'appropriate' attire and you all went ashore. You continued to give Blackbeard a death stare as he rowed the boat over. He just grinned back at you.

However, once on land, he became self conscious about his very being getting caught on the island. After all, people know of Blackbeard. Scary murderous pirate can't be caught treasure hunting of all things.

You found amusement in this.

"So, we're either here, or possibly here." Stede says, looking at his map. You were walking on one side of him, Lucius on the other. Ed was on the other end.

Edward was trying to hide his face every time he walked past someone.

"Why are you hiding you face?"

"He's freakin' Blackbeard. He can't be caught treasure hunting," you say, returning the shit-eatkng grin back to your captain.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. No one's gonna recognise you." Stede says, looking at Ed.

"Hey, Blackbeard! Treasure hunting!" A resident calls out. You give Stede a deadpan look.

Edward threatens the man. "Shut the fuck up, OK? I'm not Blackbeard. Fuck off, get outta here! Move."

The man hurries off.

"Right, Ed, you go stand over there under that tree, and Stede, you figure out which way you wanna go, okay?" You say, taking matters into your own hands.

Edward walks off to hide under the tree.

"Now look, we're going to have fun today, and that's an order," Stede states firmly.

"You can't really order people to have fun, but..."

"Well, I just did. Guys like Blackbeard, they live for adventure. It's like nourishment for them. So we're going to have an extremely fun, memorable, deeply cool adventure.".

You can't fight back the smile from listening to Stede. Was he trying to impress Blackbeard? Okay, that's cute. He's being cute.

"Now, do I have your support on that?" Stede asks Lucius.

"Yeah, OK."

♡♡♡

Stede takes the lead. You walk with Edward behind him a little ways. Lucius is following behind you both.

Edward seems to be slowly growing more agitated the further this goes on. He swatting violently at the flies buzzing around your heads. You have to duck a few times to avoid getting a snack across the head.

"Well this is fun," you mutter.

"Shut up," Ed spits out, clearly not having fun.

"Might as well make the most of it. We're both stuck here."

Edward sighs and glares at you. "Stupid treasure hunting."

"I say let Stede have his silly fun."

"Would you have agreed to do this if it was Izzy?"

"Izzy wouldn't be caught dead treasure hunting," you say. "He'd have killed the man who dared ask him to."

Blackbeard swats away more flies. "You still upset about Izzy?"

"You mean since we spoke about him last like 2 hours ago? Yes, Edward. I'm still upset the bastard left."

"Sensing quite a bit of tension here," Lucius says, coming up beside you. You roll your eyes. "What's the deal with dizzy Izzy anyway?"

"It's just Izzy," you warn him. "Izzy is... was, my friend."

"Doesn't seem like the type to have friends."

"Hey, he's my friend too," Ed says.

"Is he though?" You ask, looking at Ed.

"What does that mean?"

"Izzy had been trying to talk to you for days, and all you did was brush him aside to go hang out with Stede. You didn't even stop to hear him out."

"I knew what it was about."

"Still, you didn't stop to listen," you say, watching where you were stepping.

"It amazes he even has friends," Lucius says. You glare at him. "I just mean... he was very intense."

"Yeah, well, that's just Izzy."

"Kinda cute really."

"What is?" You ask, eyeing him.

"How much you care for the bastard."

"Shut up."

Edward swats away more flies. Stede had gone on so far ahead, you had lost sight of him.

"Fuck off, flies!" Edward yells.

"They're not that bad. They really a full of blood, though, aren't they? Like little flying grapes." Lucius comments. One then flies into his mouth and he starts choking. "I think I just swallowed one!"

"At least you got lunch. I'm fuckin' starving." Edward sighs.

"Guys! Come quick! I've found something!" Stede calls out.

"Thank God," you mutter, hoping he had found his treasure and you could all go back to the ship.

Stede turns around with an insect resting on his finger. You groan quietly.

"Dryocampa rubicunda, or the candied melon silk moth. A very rare specimen. See? We're already finding stuff."

"Great, you found a bug. Cheers." Edward is less than impressed.

"And who says treasure maps are useless?" Lucius says. You all turn to look at him. "I wasn't being sarcastic, that's just how I talk."

"Laugh at you want, but without the map, we wouldn't have found this little guy, so it's already paying dividends." Stede remains positive.

"Suppose it is pretty interesting, for an insect." Ed says, looking back at the moth. He the goes back to fighting flies. "Fuck this. I'm going back to the ship."

As Edward marches away, you follow after him.

"Oh, come on! We're having fun! You know what your problem is? You just have no idea how to relax!" Stede calls out. "Does he Lucius?"

"I mean, you are kind of intense, like... all of the time," Lucius says.

That's 2 people he has now described as intense.

"It's a running theme with Blackbeard," you say mindlessly.

"You're not intense." Lucius looks at you.

"Give me time."

"I know how to relax." Edward leans against a tree. "See? I'm actually quite relaxed right now."

A snake falls from the tree into Ed's open arms and he starts to fight it, smacking it onto the ground and then stabbing it violently. "Die!"

"According to the map, there are snakes in this area." Stede stands there, looking at Edward. "So, just be careful."

You run a hand down your face and sigh deeply.

♡♡♡

The snake becomes lunch. You set up a campfire and Ed cooks the snake. You sit on the ground beside Lucius while the two captain share a log.

"Is this what Blackbeard is usually like?" Lucius asks you.

"It's how I remember him. But he softened up a lot since Stede it seems..."

You both gaze at the captain's. They're babbling on about Ed having a restaurant where he could serve snake and have a gift shop. You wonder how it came to this point.

"Must have been impressive sailing on his crew." Lucius takes a bite of his snake.

"Yeah. They were good old days."

"What was it like?"

"Probably about what you expect from the stories, to be honest. A lot of raiding and death. But we were also close as a crew. Kind of. Blackbeard as our captain, Izzy doing every little thing that was asked of him. Fang and Ivan working their asses off to please both Izzy and Blackbeard."

"Sounds kind of... well, intense. Doesn't really sound close. More like everyone just working hard to please the others. What about you?"

"Me? I did what I could to keep everyone happy. To keep... Izzy happy..."

"You must really like him. Like, really like him." You jab Lucius with your elbow. "Ow! Okay, sorry..."

"Izzy works his ass off. Yeah, I get it, he's a dick and it's very hard to like him, but he's not all bad. He's just... stressed beyond belief, and the one man he tries so hard to please barely acknowledges it!"

Lucius glances at Blackbeard. "Oh."

"Look, I won't deny it. I have a soft spot for Izzy Hands."

"Yeah, I noticed."

You give him a gentle shove with your arm.

"Well, he's gone now. Maybe you can find some relief."

"Relief?"

"Yeah." Lucius shrugs. "Maybe you can move on. Let that part of you go."

You look down at the bit of snake in your hand. Let Izzy go? Is that possible? Can you do that? You hadn't once let go during the 6 years you were apart of him. But had he? After all, he thought you were dead during that time.

"Maybe make Izzy a ghost of your past," Lucius suggests.

"A ghost...?"

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Stede helping get snake out of Ed's beard. You and Lucius stare at the two. The conversation about Izzy being put to the back of your mind.

"Oh my God, this is happening," Lucius mutters.

"Wow," you whisper.

"What?" They look at the pair of you.

"Nothing."

You turn back to Lucius who gives you another look. Yeah, it's happening.

♡♡♡

The map caught fire. It was a total accident and was bound to happen, but alas, there's not much of the map left.

Stede sits on his knees as he tries to fix it.

"There's still a few scraps that didn't completely burn."

"Ah, give it up, Stede. All adventures have a natural conclusion, and this one's more than fitting." Ed says, watching him.

"No, I think I can fix this. Come on, the day's not fully ruined."

"God, he'll probably be moping all the way back to the ship." Ed groans.

"You don't have to be a dick about it," Lucius says softly, frowning.

"What?" Edward turns to him, his voice sharp.

"He said don't be a dick about it." You look Edward in the eye. "He's put this whole thing together just for you."

"For me? Why?"

"Look, you're very cool, and you wear leather, OK, so maybe you won't understand this, but everyone is worried all of the time whether they're interesting or adventurous enough for you." Lucius tells him right off the bat.

"That bizarre little man over there likes you very much, and you like him." You state plainly to your captain.

"If you can't get over yourself long enough to realise that, you're going to end up another lesther-clad, middle-aged sad sack dying alone in a puddle of his own piss." Lucius carries on angrily. "You can stab me in the face now."

Edward glances at you. He can tell from your expression that you agree with Lucius. He walks quietly over to where Stede is.

"It's hopeless. We might as well head back to the ship," Stede sighs, defeated. "You were right. It's a stupid idea. I... I don't know why we're here."

"I'm actually a little disappointed," Edward tells him. "I was startin' to have fun."

Ed gestures for you and Lucius to come closer. You both go to stand beside him. Ed points to piece of the map. "That little bit there on that lite scrappy bit of paper, that looks like a tree, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, no, definitely does to me," Lucius says. You just nod.

"And the other little squiggly bit. What's that look like?"

"Like a road, or a river." You might as well join in and make the most of this.

"You know what? I think, just with this little bit here, we could probably sort this out."

"Yeah?" Stede asks full of hope.

"They're all the pieces we need."

"Shall I prepare the shovel, or..." Lucius goes to grab it.

"We didn't come all this way to not dig something up!"

"Right!" Stede stands up. "That's the spirit. OK. This way." Stede marches onward.

"That was sweet," you say, turning to Ed.

"Don't, or I will stab you in your face."

You laugh and follow them as they head off further into the trees.

♡♡♡

"Is this how you felt with Izzy?" Edward asks, walking alongside you again.

"What do you mean?"

He gazes at Stede and motions between himself and the other man with his hand. "This."

"Are you implying I was in love with Izzy Hands?" You ask. Edward nods. "What? No! Izzy was my friend. He needs friends, Ed. If anything... no, forget it."

"What?"

"No, nothing. You're not ready to hear that.

"You two were so close, ya know." Edward shrugs his shoudler lightly. "Kind of envied that."

"Envied it? Izzy was your friend too."

"Yeah, but, like, not in the way you were friends. You too had something. He still wears that ring around his neck."

"The ring on his necktie? He's always had that. What's that got to do with anything?" You ask, confused by Edward's words.

"No. Not that. He has a chain he wears under his shirt. There's a ring on it."

"Huh?"

"Izzy found a ring on that ship that night. Pretty little ring. He didn't say anything for a while about after the night we lost you, but eve actually I had to ask. I caught him looking at it as it hung around his neck. Told me he thought of you when he saw it. He was gonna give it to ya, but... well, you know."

You look at the ground, brows knitted together in thought. Hearing Izzy like this was so soft and gentle. He was sentimental.

"Why didn't he say anything?" You ask. "After my return."

"Perhaps he can't bring himself to. You know what's he's like. Doesn't trust easy, for starters."

"He lost trust in me?"

"We thought you were dead," Edward says softly. "Don't forget that. For 6 years you were dead in our lives."

"Fuck..."

"Listen, mate. Don't feel bad. Things didn't turn out as planned and a lot of shit happened. But we're cool. You're back and everything is gonna be okay."

"But Izzy is gone. The bastard left... he left me behind! If... if I meant anything to him, I..."

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down."

You take a deep breath. "Sorry."

"It's all good. What's done is done. Just don't hate the man, okay?"

"Hate him...?" You fall quiet. "I couldn't hate him."

Ed keeps an arm around you as the group keeps on walking. Eventually the adventure comes to an end. To get this over with, Lucius and Ed guide Stede to an old dead tree.

"You sure this is the right tree?" Stede asks.

"Yeah, definitely."

"Oh, undoubtedly, mate."

"It looks just like the one off the map."

"Plus, pirates are ways burying stuff at the base of trees," Ed says.

"See, now I feel you're patronising me."

"What are you doing to my family's tree?" Jim asks, standing behind Bonnet.

"Good timing. I'm just about to unearth some treasure," Stede replies happily.

"We, er..." Ed goes over to Jim to speak quietly behind Stede. "We're just letting him dig for a bit, get it out of his system."

"I found something! What do you think it could be?"

"A rock." You, Lucius, and Jim all said at the same time.

"I've got it." Stede holds the item up. "I think it's a rock."

You sigh. "Yeah, too bad."

Stede tosses the rock over to Edward. "Yeah, sorry, mate. That's usually how these things go. Just end up finding a rock, or dried-up piece of shit."

Ed uses one of the water tankers Lucius is carrying to rinse the rock.

"Well, I guess the real treasure was our day spent together, am I right?" Lucius smiles.

"Lucius! We spend every day together." Stede puts his hands on his hips.

You laugh a little. Ed looks at you with a smile.

"Treasure is the real treasure."

"Hey, look at that. It's an orange." Edward holds the 'rock' up. "Petrified." He tosses it back to Stede.

"Old tree will had some fruit to give after all." Jim looks at the tree fondly.

Stede offers the orange to Jim, since the fruit came from their tree, but Jim tosses it back. It's Stede's treasure.

"OK, back to the boat," Ed says, turning on his heel. You do not hesitate to catch up. You've had enough adventure for one day.

♡♡♡

Edward joins Stede in his quarters after you all return to the ship. While Lucius smiles and listens to the other party's adventure on getting oranges, you sneak past them to go hide in Izzy's old cabin.

Lucius sees you though.

You sigh as you stand in the doorway and look at the bed. It doesn't feel right without him. You sit down carefully and rest your head back against the wall.

"Where did you go, Izzy?" You whisper. "Why did you leave me?"

A knock at the door startles you and you turn to see Lucius standing there, now without all the gear he had been carrying all day.

"Hey."

"Hi."

He looks at you with a kind softness. "You want some company?"

You sigh softly and nod your head. Lucius comes over and sits beside you on the bed. He rests his head back too and looks at you, planting a hand over yours on your leg.

"You know, I kind of miss him yelling at us all, in a weird kind of way."

You laugh.

"Yeah? You get used to it after a while. Sorry he was such a dick to you though." You apologise.

"Nah, forget about it." He waves his hand as if to brush the apology off. "He definitely had a soft spot for you."

You shrug. "So people keep telling me."

"But it's true. I saw the way he looked at you." Lucius smiles.

"Shut it."

You both chuckles. A moment of silence passes before you sigh and speak again. "I just wish I could apologise to him some more. I want to see his stupid face and know that he trusts me again."

"Blackbeard said he closed himself off after I "died." And I don't luke the idea of him suffering alone in silence."

Lucius gives your hand a squeeze. "Things will get better."

You look at him. "I kind of like being on this ship. It was weird at first because it was so different from other ships I've been on, but it had grown on me."

"Yeah get kind of used to it."

You both smile at each other.

"Thanks for checking on me, Lucius."

"Any time, sweetheart," he grins and winks at you. You laugh and give him a gentle shove. "You ever been sketched?" He asks.

You try to bite down your smile, but to no avail. "No."

"Wanna be?"

You laugh.

It felt good to laugh again.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana -

#izzy hands x reader #spirit of the sea #ofmd #our flag means death #dragon writes

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diejager · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Cw: canonical violence, blood, death, injuries, Soap throw boom boom, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 994

Series masterlist

The flash grenade Soap threw into the room left a ringing in his ears, lasting while he stormed into the room in duos to shoot down the - momentarily - blinded AQ soldiers hiding within the small, mountain village. Walking in a line, Price - Bravo-06 - led the way through the windowless, mud houses and out on the streets.

They spread into two when Price sent half of the squad to the other side of the village, wanting to infiltrate the place on both ends from the darkness of the night. Laswell had briefed them that the villagers were driven out, fearful as they left everything to the invading AQ cell in the Urzikstan village. It made their duty simpler, not having to watch out for civilians or hostages.

Ghost directed the second squad, left to the one Price led, into a house, kicking down the door with his rifle raised as he quickly shuffled through the entrance to let Soap and Roach follow behind him, along with the five other corporal and sergeants. Swiping left and right, they moved quickly around the space, taking down men - double taped in the torso or once in the head.

He called over whenever they cleared an area, Price doing the same to let them know his progress. Over the sound of gunshots and screams, he realized that he hadn't heard you once since they started. It was radio silence, but he wasn't worried, he'd seen you train with them the first few days of your arrival. Though silence was expected from you, being the assigned sniper in this mission instead of Ghost.

You jumped off the carrier, sniper slung over your shoulder as you saluted, smiling at them. You'd have to trek up the mountainside from what Laswell and Price told you. Ghost watched you walk off, steps strong and steady up the rocky terrain at sundown. His eyes followed your figure until it disappeared behind a wall.

"I'm all set up, Cap," you called after a while, letting them know that they could leave.

Giving Nikolai the signal, they took off. When Ghost gazed through the window, he saw your position from the corner of his sight. You laid stomach first, one leg straightened and the other bent to stop any recoil, elbows supporting your upper body and hands around your sniper. A sleek, black bolt-action sniper rifle that you called your “Baby” before you boarded the aircraft.

They met back before the walled mansion, probably the house of a rich family that decided to live on the farther side of Urzikstan. Ghost walked behind Price's group, rifle cocked and alert, they made their way through the open gate.

Bang!

A body fell from the roof.

Bang!

Another one crashed to their feet, weapon clanging to Gaz's left.

"Winter, how copy?" Price rasped, his eyes - along with the others - straining through the night vision goggles.

"Cover, Cap, there are two more 'round the corner," you finally spoke, voice low and monotone.

If it weren't for their current situation, Ghost would've been shocked, the change in your tone drastic. Your shots were unpredictable, and random at times but they always made their mark. If you weren't talking to them, you were sniping off men, quick and efficient, opening up a passage for them to bust into the house.

"Asset's on the second floor, sir, east wing, " your voice entered the line, scope focused on the man they wanted to capture. "Four guards, armed to the teeth."

They spread out, one on one while they stalked down the hall and up the stairs in a concentrated frenzy, arms ready to shoot down armed guards in the base. Reaching the last door, Price counted down before he pushed in, the guards clamoring to protect their boss.

Bang!

The window cracked, shattering around the entry when the guard standing before the window fell. Your shot made their target more panicked, fumbling around for his gun. Within a few minutes, it was over, the AQ target slumped down after being shot in the thigh.

"Target acquired, " Ghost announced, head tilted to his right. "Meet at exfil, Winter."

"Rog, Lieutenant."

When they reached your location, Ghost watched your stiff figure, keen eyes steeled for any movement outside of yours and the aircraft. The usual soft calmness was replaced by an uncanny state of indifference and coolness - how fitting, Ghost thought, your sudden change and actions were unpredictable, all changing as winter, from mild to freezing in a day, changing winds drastically even after being warned.

Your head bobbed at them, sitting on the nearest seat, which happened to be left of Soap and Roach, not too far from Ghost's little corner in the dark. Once the hangar door closed, Nikolai flew up, back to their safe house until they were able to go back to the British Isles.

"Quiet, aren't ya, Winter?" Soap suddenly pipped up, facing you with a lazy grin. "All cold and dead, 'ts almost like L.T.," his shoulders shook with a loud chuckle that he shared with Gaz.

Ghost grumbled lowly, sending a glare at the Scot and Brit that were jabbing you about your resemblance to him, however, when you blinked, lashes fluttering, light drifted back into your eyes, bright and gleaming as a teasing smile reached your lips.

"Don't be an arse, Soap, L.T still has feelings."

"She's right, Soap, don't be an arse, " Gaz returned your mischievous look, snapping at Soap who sat between you both.

He gasped, whipping his head from you to Gaz, squinting his eyes with a mock of a whine: "Aye, ya gangin' up on mae!"

Ghost closed his eyes, sighing silently as you returned to your previous energy, smiling and chuckling with the rest of TF 141, ignoring the disapproving frown from Price, Roach's attempt to hide his laugh, and the rest of the momentary team.

Tag list (reply here if you want to be tagged): @lauraliisa @iirosietumbles @thefairybird @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @tayaisback @deadpoetsandhoney @ghost-reine @raidenmylove @sollucifer @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @mandythemint @static-knight @suzuyamitsuki @rk111 @shuttlelauncher81 @discowizard88 @v1naco @imjustabebeh2003 @tbrfic @hotchlover @mstosi @beakami

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 1 year

Note

would love to read more from that recent soap ghost roach angst, the pain !!!

soap slowly realizing that he really won't be enough for ghost, he won't ever amount to what ghost and roach had... the pain he feels when he finds out ghost kind of blames him for it, and he just feels helpless and he understands that's why he just stays away now... No use being aroung ghost and trying to make him happy if he's really not the one ghost wants :((

I can't 😭 it's such a good idea for angst, unrequited or one sided ghostsoap never misses!

I saw this, had intentions to respond and then completely forgot about it and I’m so sorry. But!

Soap would be fucking devastated if he ever caught on to the fact that Ghost blamed him for Roach’s death. He’d be beyond heart broken that the man he loved, his best friend, blamed him for something that was beyond their control. Wished that it was him that had died instead of Roach.

And knowing Soap he’d start wishing the same thing cause all he ever wants is Simon’s happiness and his team’s safety. They’re all he has left and it absolutely kills him to know that he’s the reason one of them is hurt, even if it’s not a physical wound.

So he stays away. At first just around base and during missions but he finds himself unconsciously following the man more often than not. He can’t help it really, it was their whole thing before… well. Price has been trying to help him and Ghost get through it in his own way, Gaz sticking by his side and also trying his best.

It’s a bit of a difficult situation tho cause while Gaz and Price can see that Roach’s death was the result of a shit mission, they can’t convince Soap and Ghost of that. And it hurts them to see their friends hurting themselves and each other over something none of them had any control of.

#fic prompt #fuck off haters #i’m looking at you die hard cod players #johnny ‘soap’ mctavish #fic #prompt #call of duty #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghost #response #reply #ghost is a bit of a dick in this #one sided ghost x soap #previous ghost x roach #poor soap #ghost blames him for roach’s death #Gaz and price are trying their best

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thelaisydazy · 2 months

Text

Mama's Boy - Chapter 5

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Petra "Mama" Mayfield

Previous Chapter ┊ Next Chapter

Petra had been left on her own on base for almost a week before Laswell showed up. She was there to observe the medic’s training while the task force was gone, as well as fill out the paperwork that would inevitably need to be completed upon the team’s return.

Kate had told Petra that Price, Gaz and Roach went to Mexico following a loss of contact from Ghost and Soap. It turned out that General Shepherd and a private military company - Shadow Company - had turned on them and the pair had been on the run. Thankfully with the whole team together, it hadn’t taken much to get them home safely.

Now the group was sitting together at a local pub. Petra was seated between Gaz and Roach, Price and Laswell to Gaz’s left and Soap and Ghost to Roach’s right, the seven of them taking a booth in the corner of the bar. Price and Laswell talked quietly amongst themselves while the sergeants all chatted enough to make it difficult for the medic to hear anything besides them.

Gaz shook his head, laughing as Soap recounted a joke Ghost had told him on the previous mission while the lieutenant brought back another round of drinks.

“I came across ‘is big dog in a crate, an’ Ghost tells me to shoot if the big geezer barks,” Soap chuckled. “An’ then the sick bastard goes ‘What’s got two legs an’ bleeds?’ Ah begged him no’ tae tell me and he says ‘Half a dog.” He turned to look at Ghost. “Ah asked ye no’ tae tell me.”

“Kept you sharp Sergeant,” Ghost replied flatly, pulling up his mask enough to drink his bourbon. “No worse than your jokes.”

Soap rolled his eyes and looked at Petra. “Mama,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Why don’t shrimp share?”

She sighed, knowing she’d regret asking but that he’d just tell her anyway if she didn’t. “Why?”

“They’re a little shellfish,” Soap grinned at her as she groaned.

“Gary, help,” she whined leaning back in the booth. Roach just grinned at her. “No help.” She picked up her drink, taking a sip as she looked around the booth.

Soap was continuing his tirade of awful jokes, half of which he claimed were straight from Ghost - who made no effort to defend himself - Roach was laughing and on Petra’s left Gaz was scrolling through his phone. At the end of the group was Laswell and Price, talking quietly together. Petra couldn’t hear what they were talking about, though she could guess it was about the last mission. However, she could see something weighing on Laswell’s conscience.

“Well, we’ll find him.” She thought she heard Price mutter over his whiskey.

Kate shook her head and replied with something that made Price raise his brow at her. Both officers’ body language changed as they spoke, Laswell looking almost distressed.

Petra glanced briefly at the rest of the team, needing to know that she wasn’t the only one seeing the interaction. The sergeants didn’t seem to notice, but at the end of the shared booth, she could see Ghost had been watching them as well, he shared a fleeting look with Petra, confirming his own concern.

“Kate, this is over,” Price said firmly, turning back to his drink.

“No… It’s not,” Kate shot back, refusing to back down. The harshness in her tone finally caught the attention of the rest of the team, who all looked over with interest. “They’re working with someone new.”

“Who?” Price asked, now intrigued.

Kate reached into the inner pocket of her puffer vest and slid a photo across the table to Price, who picked it up with a stony look on his face. “We don’t know his name,” she said.

“He’s not new..” Price growled as he placed the photo back on the bar and slid it over to Gaz, who also looked at it. Petra leaned over to get a peak at it but Roach reached over her and grabbed it before she could. He then passed it along to Soap and finally Ghost. The boys exchanged knowing looks with one another, grim looks. Ghost slowly turned back to the group, a fire in his eyes Petra didn’t recognize.

“Who is he?” Petra asked, knitting her brows together as she looked between them.

“Makarov..” Price said.

---

And just like that the mood soured. A night of celebration came to a screeching halt. They’d paid their tabs and filed out quickly.

Petra was sitting in the passenger seat of one of the jeeps, Ghost was driving back to base and Soap was sprawled out in the back. Soap was furious, he kept mumbling Scottish to himself, making Petra turn around in her seat to look at him as he glared up at the ceiling.

“Ah cuid hev-”

“Johnny.” Ghost’s voice stopped Soap from whatever the sergeant was about to say.

“Nae, ah fuckin’ had ‘im,” Soap continued, now sitting up.

“That’ll do.” Ghost was harsh, raising his voice slightly as he spoke. Soap sat back again, scowling and muttering unintelligible Scottish under his breath.

“Is anyone going to tell me who the hell Makarov is?” Petra butted in, fixing her eyes on Ghost as he drove.

Ghost gripped the steering wheel, his dark eyes focused on the road. “Russian ultra-nationalist,” he said.

“A right bastard,” Soap slurred from the back.

“He’s supposed to be in the gulag.”

“Apparently that’s not enough to stop him,” Petra said. The three settled into an uncomfortable silence, the two men fuming over the news.

---

Back at the base, things weren’t any better. Price and Laswell had disappeared into the captain’s office. Soap was complaining to Gaz about how close to killing Makarov he’d apparently been at one point in time while Roach sank into the couch nearby, head in his hands.

Petra found Ghost outside smoking again. When he spotted her, he held out a cigarette. She settled next to him as the two stood in silence for several minutes, the smell of tobacco hanging in the air between them.

“How bad is it?” Petra asked, breathing out a cloud of smoke. She looked up at Ghost, taking note of the light colored stubble along his jaw and the discolored scar that ran down his cheek. She couldn’t see the upper half of his face though, as he was still wearing his balaclava.

“World War Three,” he muttered.

Petra stared wide eyed at him. Ghost was a serious man, the kind that didn’t take his job lightly. He wasn’t joking around.

His cigarette was nearly burnt out, and judging from the butt already discarded at his feet, it wouldn’t be his last.

“Shit..” she breathed.

As she suspected, Ghost quickly burned through his cigarette and lit another from the pack in his jacket.He inhaled deeply, blowing out smoke as he breathed out. Petra brushed her hair back nervously, her fingers glancing over where her hearing aids sat behind her ears, unaware of how Ghost stole a glance at the way a few stray baby hairs refused to stay in place, curling instead towards her face. She'd been up before the sun today and it was past midnight now. She was tired and her ears ached for a break from the devices that helped her hear the world better.

“You should go to bed,” Ghost said.

Petra huffed out smoke, having been mid-drag of her nearly spent cigarette. “I don’t think anyone is going to actually sleep after getting news like this,” she said, an empty chuckle in her voice. She flicked some ash from the end of the cigarette, watching the soft glow of the embers. “You all dealt with him before then?”

Ghost hummed in response. “Verdansk,” he said. “Bombed the stadium and the airport there. Johnny would’ve killed him if Price hadn’t stepped in.”

“I remember that day..” Petra said. “I was still in Ankara. We were all crowded around the tv watching it on the news..” She flicked the last of her cigarette. “Should’ve known you all were there.” She watched as Ghost nodded. His cigarette was running out too. “How about we head in for tea?”

---

Petra rolled over in bed, her phone ringing on the nightstand. She palmed the phone, not looking at the contact as she brought it to her ear.

“Mayfield..” she mumbled, eyes not yet open.

“Petra,” an exasperated male voice comes over the phone. “Why the hell are you giving my name out to the SAS?”

Petra blinked her eyes open and pulled the phone away from her ear to read the contact. Whip. She sat up in an instant. “Mike!” She was grinning.

“Yeah yeah, it’s me,” Mike said, she could picture him waving off her excitement through the phone. “Answer the question Petey.”

“We need a second medic here,” she said simply.

Mike paused on the line. “Whaddya mean?” he asked. “You resigned. You were getting ya paperwork filled out, then one day you was just gone.”

Petra chewed the inside of her cheek. When she’d been called to meet with Laswell, all she’d talked about with Mike was the thought of going home and going back to school.

She’d gone straight from that meeting to her new home with the 141. She would have let Mike know, but the task force was considered top secret. “Surprise?”

“Petra Mayfield, I swear to God!” Mike shouted, making her pull the phone away from her ear briefly. “I thought you went home! Lori’s been worried goddamn sick about you!”

“I know, I know,” Petra said. “I’m sorry.” She paused briefly. “You said yes though, right?”

She could practically hear Mike roll his eyes before he sighed. “With the money I was offered, how could I not?” he relented. Petra couldn’t help the grin that broke out across her face.

“When do you ship out?” she pressed.

“Soon as I'm done packing,” Mike answered. “Plane’s landing sometime tomorrow afternoon. You still haven't answered my question.”

“You're a damn good medic,” Petra said. “I'll pick you up from the airport.”

“You better tell me what you got me into,” he said. “Lori is going to kill me next time I make it home for this.”

“I'll tell you everything,” she promised. “Text me your flight information. See you tomorrow.”

After they hung up Petra couldn't get back to sleep. 0400 the alarm clock read.. No use in trying to get back to sleep now..

After tossing on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, she walked back to the tiny kitchen in the common area. The room was mostly dark, with just a small light above the sink to see by. She opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a mug before turning to another. She reached up only to realize the instant coffee was on a much higher shelf than she remembered it being on, just out of her reach. Frowning, the blonde medic hopped up and down, but still wasn’t able to get her hands on it.

Had Petra bothered to place her hearing aids back in her ears, she might have heard the footsteps come up behind her. She froze up as she felt a large shape against her back as he reached over her, retrieving the coffee mix for her and setting it down on the counter. It might have been her sleep deprived mind playing tricks on her, but she swore he lingered there for just a moment before backing off, giving her some room. She turned to look at him first, praying the darkness in the room would conceal the pink on her cheeks.

“You’re up early Lieutenant,” she said, glancing back at the jar of instant coffee on the counter. “Thanks.”

Ghost nodded. He reached past her again, picking up the electric kettle and filling it with water. Petra got a better look at him as he stood just a little closer. His mask was askew, like he'd rushed to pull it on. Was he out here without it?

The lieutenant had always been a mystery she’d been discouraged from solving, not that it was a foreign concept to her. Her time with the STALKER team had made her no stranger to military men who kept their faces covered. Still she had to wonder..

A mug of hot coffee was pushed into her hands.

“Hey, you didn’t have to-”

“‘Is fine,” Ghost rumbled, heading back to the couch. His voice was somehow more gravelly, he must’ve just gotten up as well. In the dim light she could see he was wearing a too-tight t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. He pushed his mask up and picked up a mug of his own from the coffee table.

“Are you always up this early?” Petra asked, padding after him. She sat on the far side of the couch, quietly sipping the bitter coffee.

“Was about t’ go for a run,” he replied. He brought the mug to his lips and tipped it back, draining the little bit of tea that remained.

That made sense.. Ghost was definitely the type to get up at an ungodly hour like this and go running immediately.

“Would you mind a partner?” Her words made Ghost turn quickly to look at her, brown eyes searching her face. “A running buddy.” He let out a breath.

“Sure.”

---

Where Ghost was moving at what was probably an easy jog for him, Petra practically had to sprint to keep up. She was grateful, he waited long enough for her to return to her bunk to retrieve a hoodie before they left, as moisture from the drizzling rain mixed with the sweat that clung to her skin.

She inhaled through her nose, exhaled from her mouth as she felt a slight stinging pain on the right side of her ribs. Petra was no quitter though, pressing on until she was stride for stride with Ghost, who only cast a fleeting look her way.

They were outside the base, running on a worn out path in the grass that Petra had to assume Ghost had carved out himself. He seemed like the kind of man to hold a constant routine, a perfect soldier.

“Do you need a break?” Ghost asked, slowing only slightly as he heard her breathing.

“I’ll live,” Petra insisted, stubborn as always.

They followed the path around the border of the small base, and as they reached the start again, Ghost came to a stop. He’d barely broken a sweat, but Petra was out of breath and had fallen a little behind him about halfway through.

“Head inside and hit the showers,” he ordered.

“I’m… I’m fine,” Petra breathed, bending at the waist, hand on her right side. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to catch her breath.

A large hand gently lifted her chin to look up at Ghost, those dark eyes fixed on her, commanding yet soft. “I said hit the showers.” His firm tone made her pulse quicken and she was suddenly very glad the cool morning air had already reddened her cheeks. For a moment all she could do was stare up at him. Had his eyelashes always been that pretty pale yellow?

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #cod fanfic #dazyfic #Mama's Boy fic #petra mama mayfield #petra mayfield #mama

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 2 years

Text

Kinktober 2022

Day Twelve: Exhibitionism

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gary ‘Roach’ Sanderson x John ‘Soap’ McTavish x John Price

This is NSFW, Minors DNI.

Thank you.

The meeting was supposed to have started half an hour ago. Ghost and Roach had arrived on time, but after ten minutes decided to make use of the spare time the lateness was causing. Within what felt like seconds on him agreeing to it, Roach had been stripped down and shoved back onto the table, which was just at the right height for Ghost to fuck his ass.

Roach’s hands were grabbing at Ghost’s wrists uselessly; Ghost’s grip on Roach’s hips was as tight as ever and staying that way until he chose to move it, grabbing one of Roach’s legs and lifting it up, pushing it towards Roach’s chest, making Roach scream. His cock was twitching, precum beading at the tip, when Ghost started fucking him hard again. Each thrust pushed Roach closer to the edge, closer to him pleading, as it got harder and harder to not beg for release. When Ghost groaned over him, panting heavily, Roach thought he’d stuck it out, and Ghost was going to wrap his hand around Roach’s cock, make him cum and then make himself cum in Roach’s ass. Then, the door opened, and Soap walked in.

“Ghost.”

“Hey Soap.” Ghost’s thrusts slowed to a more leisurely pace, certainly good, but not enough to get Roach to cum, making him whine as Ghost rubbed soothing circles over his hip.

“Roach.” Soap was looking down at him now, carefully setting his files aside.

“Hey.” Roach squeezed his ass around Ghost’s dick, earning him a rough grip on his thigh.

“You could at least let him come, Ghost.”

“But he takes being edged so well.”

“I know, but we still need to get on. Don’t we Roach?” Soap leaned over Roach, searching his face for an answer.

“Yes sir.” Roach’s gaze went back to Ghost, who nodded, pinned Roach’s hips to the table and started fucking him harder again.

Roach groaned, his back arching up despite Ghost’s restraint. He was struggling to keep his eyes open as his previous view of an unremarkable office ceiling was now disrupted by Soap’s face, who’s eyes were taking in every piece of Roach’s body, even as he continued talking to Ghost, something about the intel from Amsterdam. Roach was too far gone to give a fuck, especially when Ghost’s hand went around his cock, the few strokes being all Roach needed to cry out, his cum spreading from his chest all down his body, and covering Ghost’s hand.

“I’m here.”

“Hey Price.” Ghost and Soap answered at the same time, neither looking away from Roach as Ghost thrust a few more times into Roach’s begging ass, coming inside with a heavy groan.

Price joined Soap in Roach’s view, gazing over his body as he set his tea aside. “You enjoying yourself there?”

Roach nodded.

Price tilted his head slightly. “What was that, lad?”

“Yes, sir.” Roach swallowed.

“Good.” Price glanced up to Ghost and Soap. “Are we getting started or delaying for him?”

“I think we’re good to start.” Ghost pulled his dick out of Roach, who whimpered, then yelped as Ghost dragged him off the table, leaning against it himself as he put Roach on his knees. “Clean me off.”

Roach obliged, licking Ghost’s cum off his dick, swallowing the salty taste as Price and Soap walked around to be facing Ghost.

“So? What fuck up are we fixing?”

“Should be simple. We’re sending a light squad, clear the place, secure the intel for our American friends, they give us a ride out.” Price was holding something out, probably a photo, it was out of Roach’s sight as he took Ghost’s dick in his mouth.

“Right, because the Americans do simple operations.” Soap muttered.

“Most of it is classified, so we aren’t going to know anything. Just, go and get.”

“Why can’t they do it themselves?” Ghost brushed his hand over Roach’s head, settling it on the back of his neck.

“Host nation isn’t exactly friendly with the US.”

“Hardly friendly with us either.” Ghost’s voice was getting low again, because he was getting hard in Roach’s mouth. Roach cupped Ghost’s balls, only thinking about getting Ghost to cum in his mouth this time.

“But we won’t get caught, because we’re actually fucking competent. Right?” Soap sighed.

“Something like that.” Price glanced down. “You think he’s getting any of this?”

Ghost pushed Roach’s head back, another whine leaving Roach’s mouth. “Nope. I’ll catch him up later.”

“Good.” Price nodded. “Soap?”

“All sounds simple enough. May we?” Soap glanced at Ghost, who chuckled.

“Roach.” Ghost tilted his head back again. “You want Price and Soap to have a turn with you?”

Roach nodded eagerly.

“He’s all yours.” Ghost stroked the back of Roach’s neck one last time, then stepped away from him as Price and Soap each grabbed one of Roach’s arms. They pulled him up onto the table again, this time on his front, his cum sticky between his skin and the wood.

“Fucking hell, look at that,” Soap whistled, pushing Roach’s ass open to watch Ghost’s cum drip out of his asshole. “So full he’s leaking.”

Price chuckled, turning Roach’s head to one side, leaning over him. “His mouth isn’t.”

Soap laughed, and both men’s touch disappeared from Roach’s body as they went to strip, Ghost leaning into his vision instead.

“I’m going to sit just here, right? You keep your eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it.” Roach mumbled, meeting Ghost’s eyes as he sat down, fully hard again, ready to enjoy the show in front of him.

#cod #cod mw22 #cod mw19 #captain john price #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #ghost x roach #ghost x price #ghost x soap #roach x price #roach x soap #soap x price #kinktober 2022 #kinktober

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mayflora-18 · 7 months

Text

I don’t know if you guys could tell from my previous likes so far, but Roach is my favorite character in Call of Duty and most certainly my comfort character.

I don’t know what I find more infuriating: that pornstache Shepherd killed him and Ghost in the original game and then proceeded to light them on fire, or that Roach has yet to make an appearance in the reboot! Grrr!!

Truth be told, the only reason - and I mean the only reason - I got into CoD was because I was scrolling through YouTube looking for nightcore cover songs to role play to and I found one with the background being Ghost when he was talking to Laswell about the missiles he and Soap found. You know, like this:

And since I have a weird fascination with skulls, I was like “hot soldier with a skull face? I must have more!!” After that I found out who he was and fell into the Ghost x Soap fanfic rabbit hole on Twitter where I proceeded to question my sexuality while I was working. I eventually came out the other end at Archive of Our Own, or AO3 for short.

I saw some mentions of a character called “Roach” and thought for some reason that I could find him on YouTube? Anyway, I made the mistake of clicking on the first video I saw, which showed Ghost and Roach getting shot by Shepherd, thrown in a ditch, and lit on fire while Price was trying to warn them over the comms. Not gonna lie, I came very close to crying. I wanted to, but I couldn’t (darn my internet-induced desensitization 😡)

So I was working on my Call of Duty OC and I thought to myself “she don’t need no man!” And then I read “Fire Meets Gasoline” by Red_Clegane on AO3 and I was like “but she’s gonna want that one!” (18+ plz don’t read if you’re a minor)

I thought that before I make something happen between these two, I should at least learn about the man first.

For a while I was kicking myself for being all “it’s not fair that he’s fictional and my boyfriend is a heckin’ saint I’M SUCH A DESPICABLE HUMAN BEING!” I quickly recovered when 1.) I found cute headcannons of roach x reader that made me almost melt and 2.) I realized that since I have made my OC’s personality so close to mine, regardless of who Roach would be with, both of us would be the Mitsuri to his Obanai. And if you don’t know who I’m talking about:

Mitsuri Kanroji ⬇️ and Obanai Iguro ⬇️ (Demon Slayer). ⬇️ ⬇️

So yeah, now I love him.

Thanks for reading guys! Have a good rest of your day!!

Edit: no pressure tag @redclegane

#call of duty #roach mw2 #gary roach sanderson #gary “roach” sanderson #gary sanderson cod #roach cod #gary sanderson #I love roach #I also love ghost #thank you for reading my ramblings #modern warfare 2 #go to hell shepherd #call of duty oc

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

Text

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes.

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better.

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in.

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava.

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for).

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers.

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!”

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John.

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls.

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…”

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased.

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief.

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!”

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin.

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

1K notes · View notes

imhereforthesmutposts · 8 months

Text

|Price x Reader|

He takes care of you after getting black out drunk

1.2k words

Suggestive 🕺💃

“C’mon…we’re headin’ home. No more drinking for you tonight.” Price’s tone is firm, practically in his ‘protective mode’. He’s not going to have his Second Lieutenant become so drunk that they fall…or worse.

“But I ‘ont wanna…” You grumble.

“Y/n… you gotta listen to me on this one. C’mere…”

Price wraps you up tightly in his arms, his touch surprisingly soft. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs to get you out of the bar now. “I’ll take care of you…” he whispers softly into your ear, hoping this will calm you down.

You blush, your eyes widening as you look down. You never expected to see this… gentle side of Price. You didn’t even know he had a gentle side to him. You lean into him in your drunken state as he carries you back to his car.

His arms tighten around you a bit and he chuckles. He knows you might hate him tomorrow, but he can’t let you get into this state after the stress everyone experienced from the previous mission. He carefully sets you into the passenger seat and climbs into the driver’s seat beside you, starting the car and heading back towards base.

You look out the window as you notice the base lights coming closer and closer.

“Almost back home,” Price says. His voice is gentle with you. In his mind, you deserve the care he is giving you. As he pulls up, you see Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and Roach standing outside. There’s a lot of chatter going on between them, and Price knows why. They can all tell you’re not in a very…steady state.

“That bad, huh?” Soap asks, not hiding his smirk. But it dies pretty fast when Price gives him a look.

“Lieutenant, can you walk on your own?”

You try to walk but wobbles slightly. Price sighs and grabs your shoulders. "I'll walk you to your bunk."

You whine and pout but Price is unperturbed. He has no doubt that tomorrow is going to be interesting for him... but today, your safety is his priority.

"Don't give me that face... you know I had to do this..." he says as he leads you inside.

He takes you into your quarters and places you carefully in the middle of the bed, pulling the covers up over you.

"Get some sleep," he murmurs before turning the lights off and slipping back out of your room.

Price sighs as he shuts the door and leans against it. The sight of you asleep in that bed might be the softest he's ever been. He wants to stay there with you for another moment...

But then Price shakes his head and leaves down the hall, closing the door to his own quarters as he exits. Tomorrow, you're definitely going to hate him.

When you wake the next morning, you feel like absolute crap.

Price is nowhere to be found in the common areas, but you see Soap, Gaz, and Roach hovering over you as you groggily come to.

"Hey there, buttercup," Soap says, trying to hide his grin under a look of concern. "How are ya feelin'?"

You flip him off and slump into a chair. "Don't call me buttercup."

Gaz chuckles out loud. Soap quickly tries to cover his snickering with a cough.

"So, uhhh, you remember last night?" he asks you.

"I remember falling asleep in my bed."

Soap looks at you and raises one eyebrow.

"Uh huh... and how did you wake up this morning?" he asks.

"In my bed." You say slowly.

They're acting too suspicious…

Gaz snickers loudly again.

Soap has his hands on his hips now, his eyes starting to glint with amusement. This is a good start.

"And who brought you to bed last night?" he asks.

"Hell if I know. I don't remember shit." You grumble.

Soap smirks wider and gazes around at your other teammates, who are all looking at you, waiting for the revelation you have.

"It was Price," Gaz says. It's quiet for a moment.

Then it clicks.

You feel the blood start to drain from your face as you remember Price... carrying you to bed... like a princess... and- oh my god, this is beyond embarrassing.

You slump deeper into the chair.

Soap laughs out loud, and Gaz snickers.

"Oh, yeah, Y/n." Gaz chuckles, "It was adorable. He was like... so damn caring. He had your head against his chest and everything."

Soap laughs once more while you want to die.

How did this happen…?

You groan in embarrassment and hide your face in your hands.

Soap continues to laugh and Gaz snickers.

"Y'know," Soap starts, "I wouldn't be surprised if he likes you. He's a pretty intense guy, y'know?... it's always the quiet ones like that."

Gaz is snickering wildly again.

"I mean, I'm just saying, he was practically carrying you into your room with-" Suddenly, Soap stops and his face becomes grim.

"Soap, I swear...?" You tilt your head. "What are you looking at-"

"He's standing right behind you, Y/n..." Soap says in the most flat manner possible.

You slowly turn to see Price behind you, towering above you like a statue. His arms are crossed and he stares at you. There's not an ounce of emotion in those blue eyes.

You quickly stand up and back away from Price nervously.

"There's something we need to talk about, Casey," Price starts, his voice surprisingly soft... but there's no escape from the icy stare that he's giving you.

"Come here."

You walk stiffly over to Price and he gently grabs your wrist. He leads you to his quarters and shuts the door.

"Sit down."

His tone of voice changes and there's no softness in his expression.

"Do you remember what happened last night, Y/n?"

You shake your head. "No sir, but Soap-"

"Soap... Soap, Soap..." Price's voice drops to a deep, menacing murmur. "Soap is nothing but a smart ass who never knows when to keep his mouth shut."

His tone is sharp, making you shudder.

"You drank too much to the point where you were barely a functioning person," Price continues. "...And I... decided to take care of you."

You nod and stare at the ground. "Thank you, sir."

"I didn't do it because I wanted to," Price says, though he sounds reluctant to admit it, "I did it because you're a member of my team... and there's no way I'm letting you get into that state by yourself. I care about my people. Even the ones I don't particularly like."

He leans forward.

"You owe me for covering you last night, Y/n. Your ass is mine."

He grins and you're not sure how to take that last sentence.

Your eyes widen as your face flushes with embarrassment. "Captain…"

"I'm your direct superior, Lieutenant," Price says plainly.

He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You never thought you'd see this in him, but it's a…seductive look he gives you.

"Remember this..." he whispers, "there's nothing in this world I like more than a woman who owes me... and you, Y/n, owe me big time…"

-Just left my Grandparents funeral 😍

#cod mw2 #captain price #john price

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