#simon ghost riley x python

[the-whispers-of-death]

Transfer Him (Or Not)

A/N: For context, here is Python's introduction Ghost. And here is Python's basic info post.

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It took Ghost two days of putting up with Python before he stomped towards Price's office. He practically threw open the door, glowering at the captain for what he has had to put up with from the American medic.

"Transfer him." Ghost growled out as he stalked towards Price's desk.

Price looked up from where he writing a report. "'Him" who? Be more specific, there's all men here in this task force," he replied, amused with his own joke. He chuckled for a bit before turning serious, raising a brow at his lieutenant. "Is it Soap? I thought you liked him now."

Ghost scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms. "I do and I was talking about that bastard American medic," he grumbled.

"Python?" Price couldn't help it, he burst out into laughter, which only made Ghost more irritated. He had his laughing fit for a whole minute before he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, his smile forming on his face. "You want me to transfer Python?"

"Yes," Ghost said gruffly, not understanding why Price found it so funny.

"No."

"What? Why not?"

Price's amusement was gone now, his hands moving around some paperwork on his desk. He waited until he was sure Ghost was seriously asking the question. "Ghost, I can't transfer Python," he explained, his words careful. "For one, I didn't transfer him to us in the first place, Laswell did, and secondly, a medic would be good for us. You and Soap barely made it out alive in Las Alamas. So he's staying, no matter how much you don't like him."

Ghost growled at that, very upset by Price's logic. "I don't trust him. The last American we trusted was Graves, and we all know how that turned out," he said.

"Do you trust me, Ghost?"

"Without question."

Price smiled at that, knowing he could always count on his lieutenant to trust him. "Then trust that I know you'll end up liking Python," he replied. "Besides, you don't even know him well enough to hate him. He's only been here for two days."

Ghost grumbled again. "I know him enough to know he's a mysterious bastard."

"Ah, so you two have that in common," Price said, his smile widening into a grin at the playful glower Ghost threw his way for that comment. He chuckled. "Just... Try to be nice, okay? You wouldn't want to piss off a medic, Ghost. Trust me."

Ghost nodded and then left the office so Price could get back to work. He decided to head to the base hospital, heading out of the building he was in and making his way over to the base hospital.

He walked inside the base hospital and made it to the office that was designated as Python's. As he walked there, Soap came out of the office with Gaz in tow, Soap having his hand bandaged.

"What happened to you?" Ghost asked, frowning at Soap's bandaged hand. He went to grab it to get a closer look but Soap pushed his hand away with his good one.

Soap gave Ghost a cheeky grin. "It's nothing, mate. A simple second-degree burn from a cooking accident," he told Ghost nonchalantly. "I just went in to see the doc to get it bandaged."

Gaz interjected, rolling his eyes. "I brought him to Python," he explained his presence there. "Soap wasn't even going to treat it and I had to drag him to Python's office."

"You're such a tattletale, Gaz," Soap complained, his voice almost a whine. He then turned to Ghost, a curious glint in his eyes. "Why are you on your way to Python? Injured, aye?"

Ghost playfully pushed at Soap's chest. "My business is my business," he said, warning Soap not to push for details.

Soap merely smiled, used to Ghost's evasiveness. "You and Python are similar in that respect. A pair of men who want to remain as mysterious as possible."

Ghost rolled his eyes and bid goodbye to Gaz and Soap, Gaz playfully dragging Soap back to the barracks. He watched them leave before walking up the office door, knocking, and entering.

"You injured?" Python asked as soon as Ghost stepped in, lifting his head up from where he was putting away the bandages and gauze back into the drawer of his desk. "And on a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?"

"You know, most medics are less harsh when it comes to asking how bad an injury is." Ghost couldn't help but have a little bite in his voice, feeling annoyed whenever Python was in his vicinity.

Ever since he met the man, Ghost had this need, this itch, and he could only assume it was because they were so similar that Ghost hated it with a passion. And yet, Ghost found himself wanting to be closer.

He pushed down that sudden urge, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Anyways, I'm not here because I'm injured," he said, eyeing the taller man.

Python finished putting away the bandages and gauze back in the drawer of his desk, closing the drawer before giving Ghost his full attention. He still had on that damned mask and balaclava that made Ghost all that aware of how similar they were. "Okay, why are you here then?" he asked, moving around his desk to sit on the edge of the surface of said desk.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm... I'm going to try to get along with you," Ghost blurted out awkwardly, at a loss for words. He was never a talker anyways.

"Okay," Python said after a minute of waiting for Ghost to say more.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?"

And there Ghost was, getting irritated with Python all over again. It was like there was an inferno in his chest, an emotion he couldn't describe but was so intense that it made him so irritable to the way Python was so cagey.

"Bloody hell," Ghost exclaimed, unable to help the rush of emotions. He threw his arms up in the air in a "I give up" gesture and turned away from the infuriating man. "It's like talking to a wall! Fine, keep yourself locked away, see if I care."

With those words, he stomped out of the office, slamming the door shut. Despite his irritation, Ghost's lips couldn't help but twitch into a small smile when he heard Python curse at the door being slammed shut.

So the medic does express some emotion, Ghost thought to himself. Interesting.

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A/N: This was longer than I thought it would be. But have this, Ghost not understanding what emotion he's feeling. He doesn't like his questions being brushed off by Python, but he doesn't understand that he too does that to others. But also, what was Python supposed to say in response, Ghost, huh? I still love Ghost, it's fine.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[sonnenflamme]

This might be a bit niche, but oh well:

Complaints to @spicy-enshulada for encouraging me >:)

[caffieneaddictt18]

All the Good Girls go to Hell

"With all due respect sir, I think I'm going to keep with my previous answer: No, but thank you for the opportunity. My team needs me here." Even as I decline, for the third time, Price still looks like he's expecting a yes.

"Let me know if that ever changes to a 'yes', Sergeant." He pats my shoulder and turns around, the team flanking him, walking out the doors of the gym.

"It won't, sir." I firmly stand at rest, my squad gathering around me now. Price looks and sees my face, a face of wrought determination, and the recruits building around me.

"We'll see." The Captain waves goodbye as he leaves. His lieutenant eyes me as he leaves. I return it with just as much ferocity as his distaste.

"Sergeant? What was that about?" Geller speaks up from my right.

"Don't worry about it. Hit the showers, all of you. We'll finish sparring tomorrow." I turn around, addressing the entire group, before heading to the mat to grab my personal training gear.

I gather it up in my duffel and head out to my barracks room.

"Hey, lass!" A Scottish voice booms from behind me.

"Sergeant Mactavish." I nod in greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"Laswell says she needs us in briefing room 203 by 1400 hours." I look at my watch, seeing 1:40.

"That's in twenty minutes. I'll be there." I try to shoo him off so I can enter my barracks room and at least get changed back into my regular clothes.

"Okay. But can I stay with you? I don't want to have to run back." Soap requests. He is either not picking up on the clues that I want to be left alone or he doesn't care. Either way, it's frustrating.

"Are you just going to stand outside my door until I come out if I don't let you in?" I inquire, cause if he is just going to wait outside then what is the point of not letting him in.

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiles, seemingly knowing my answer.

I sigh, "Fine. You can come in." I turn around and unlock the door, letting both Soap and I into the room. I drop my duffel on the floor, and go straight to my closet. I look back to see Soap looking around amazed. "What's that look on your face for?"

He straightens up quickly, snapping our eye contact together. "Oh. Nothing."

"Uh huh... I don't have time for this. Shut the door and sit down somewhere." I walk into the bathroom, regular clothes in hand, and shut the door, locking it behind me. I'm not about to have some man in my room and not lock the door. I rush through the freshening up process: new deodorant, quick brush teeth, and putting on my regular clothes of a 3/4 sleeve dark grey shirt tucked into a pair of black standard issue cargo pants.

I come out with ten minutes till 1400, rushing straight to the door. "Soap! Come on! 10 till!" I rush putting on my boots and open the door, unlocking it. Soap comes barreling out, not realizing the time. I rush out and shut the door behind me, locking it, before following his long strides to the briefing room with 2 minutes to spare.

I open the door breathing harder than normal. "Cherry," Laswell's calm voice breaks the silence, "Didn't know if you'd get here in time given your teams PT just ended 20 minutes ago, but I am pleasantly surprised."

"Thank you, Chief." I nod and sit down in an empty chair, taking in who else is here. Laswell, Ghost, Gaz, and now Soap and you. If I squint into a dark corner, I can see an outline that vaguely looks like Price. And my hunch is confirmed as he comes out of said corner.

"Right. We got a mission."

"A group of terrorists is running an underground fighting ring to hide their arms dealings." Laswell beings up the picture of our target. "Ruzar Alessio. He's the person who runs the arms deals. We need to stop his dealings now, before they get bigger."

"Has he made any indication of moving onto bigger arms dealings? Missiles?" I look through the file we were all given, flicking over his record.

"When Hasan was alive, Alessio contacted him. We intercepted the communication and found that Alessio was trying to buy missiles. Unfortuantely for Alessio, Hasan died before any business dealing could go through. We kept him on the radar and now we have intercepted a new communication from him, asking a new person for missiles. We believe that the business dealing will happen here," the projected map zooms in, "in Columbia. For now, there have been no communications for the fighting ring to move from the abandoned warehouse in Sri Lanka. But they will move, probably to some place close to Columbia, or even in Columbia." Laswell finishes her info dump as Price takes over.

"Here's the plan. Two of you are going undercover: one as fighter, other as sponsor. The rest of us will do what we can to get to Alessio before he can go through with the dealing, preferably before he even gets to Columbia." He leans on the table, bracing himself with his hands.

"Okay, but if this is an underground ring, they aren't just going to take up two random strangers. We're gonna need- undercover comes with backstories... right." I shake my head as Laswell looks at me like I grew another head.

"Taken care of."

"So who is going undercover?" The men of the table look at each other before looking at me.

"Whoa! When was this decided?"

Laswell speaks up, seeing my quick reactions. "You have the best PT quals for sparring besides Ghost, and he'll need to be on John's team to get to Alessio."

"I may be going up against men two times my size!"

"I don't remember that being an issue for you, Cherry." Laswell raises an eyebrow, leaning on the table. "Or do you not remember Peru?"

"Of course I fucking remember Peru." I hiss out.

"Good. Then this should be easier." Laswell stands at her full height again, letting Price take over again.

"Soap, you'll be with me and Ghost. Gaz. You'll be undercover as Cherry's sponsor. A promising female fighter entering the ring backed by a rich bloke with ties to the underground."

"Sounds good, sir." Gaz agrees, Soap nodding with him.

"Cherry?" Price singles me out. I can feel everyone's stare, boring into the side of my head like a bullet.

"Sure. Why not?" I toss the open file onto the table, where a picture of Alessio, sitting at a table with a man who is obscured by milling people, sits on top of his record.

Chapter two of this little idea. Seems to be chuggin along. If you like it, feel free to leave a comment. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Bye Bye for now! Heres the (playlist)

[jandthecrow]

The Snake

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

SUMMARY: Morning after cracking a few open with the boys you wake up not alone in bed

CW: fluff, in love Simon (unbeknownst to reader), fem!reader, caring!simonriley, gentle!simonriley, smut?, nakedness

Sweet dreams of the library fade as you wake, the soft crinkling of books and the smell of worn leather leaving your senses. Light spills from the curtains, a dark grey heavy cloth. The sheets around you are warm, dark maroon and soft worn down cotton.

It takes you a moment to stir, your head pounding and body aching, you don’t even remember much of last night. Only cracking a few open with the team, laughing at Gaz’s jokes while Soap ticked off Ghost. Price silently watching the encounters while you all drank after a successful mission. After that it’s all a blur of laughter and pure happiness then nothing.

You roll over in your sheets, body heavy and tired. A hangover sitting in the back of your skull, deep throbbing pain but nothing some Ibuprofen and a glass of liquid IV can’t fix. You catch sight of someone’s back as you roll over, wide and muscular, bearing red scratches and light bruises where nails dug into the skin hard. Scars trace down his left shoulder, jagged and unsteady, probably from some sort of combat knife.

Racking your brain of last night, trying to figure out who is in your bed? Who had the pleasure of fucking you and staying the full night? Instead of being kicked out about a hour after, like you usually did with one night stands.

With a sigh you sit up and put your legs over the side of your bed, pain shoots up your core. A sure sign you had a good time last night, hickeys cover your lower stomach and inner thighs. You don’t look for more, not wanting to try and rack your brain for something you couldn’t remember happening.

As you massage your stiff shoulders, you feel the sheets shift and mattress dip slightly. *The mysterious guest must be waking.* you think to yourself. You look back and furrow your eyebrows a little thinking your mind must be playing tricks on you, cause there is no way Simon Riley is in bed with you… naked and looking just as confused as you are as you stare at each other.

A beat of silence passes, two, three, five, a minute. You just stare at each other shocked and confused and speechless. His chest is worse this his back, deep purple hickeys line his collarbones, a bite mark on his shoulder that is red and raised but the skin not broken. Hickeys trail up his neck, smudged lipstick stain his skin from his face to his stomach, as low as you bring yourself to look with his gaze on you.

Simon POV quick switch

He watches you as you watch him, he rubs his mouth and chin, taking note of the hickeys that line your neck and breasts. Light bruises on your hips, your front still turned away as your upper body is turned to look back at him. Simon can’t see any more signs of whatever you guys did last night but it was apparently intense.

He studies you still, taking note of your body. Plush thighs and slight rolls on your stomach, most of your body made of muscle from the intense military training while stubborn fat clings. Your breasts aren’t too small but aren’t too big, average sized you usually think when you see your naked body - perfect in his eyes. Tattoos litter your skin, and unsurprisingly the skeleton snake tattoo he always saw in training when your shirt rode up. The tattoo starts from your right lower thigh and goes up your leg, the head of the python on your stomach only a few inches right from your belly button. He looks back to your neck trying to keep some form of privacy even when you both are as naked as the day you came into this world.

Simon feels a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that your relationship will no longer be a simple camaraderie anymore. He searches his mind for any memory of last night but only comes up with drinking more than he should’ve at the hangout and little flashes of intense pleasure and moaning from either him or you, he can’t tell.

Simon mentally kicks himself and his eyes wander around your room on base. Deep maroon cotton sheets, and two matching oak side tables next to the bed. Black heavy curtains blocking out the almost blinding morning light. Two dressers against the far wall near the door. The bed on the other side of the room is bare, you have no assigned roommate. Besides that little tells him about you, only a pair of shark slippers and a bathrobe hanging on your open bathroom door. It has a little dinosaur stitched into it over the heart. A dinosaur he doesn’t recognize like you would a t-Rex or stegosaurus. Meaning you probably have a great interest in paleontology.

Clothes are strewn over the floor, his and your own. His clothes are nearest the door while yours are only near the bed, you were more eager than him or he was more passionate. Simon runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat. “Well good morning.” He mumbles more to himself than you.

POV switches back

As he speaks you feel a wave of calm and slight annoyance, something that isn’t familiar to you. You’re known for your discipline and honesty but not your lack of self control that his body clearly shows. You nod back silently turning your back to him again and continuing to massage your shoulders. You feel his eyes on you.

“You remember last night?” Simon asks slowly and quietly.

“No, you?” You mumble as you work a kink out of your left shoulder

“Nothing, only a lot of drinking.”

It’s silent after that, the sound of fabric and the clink of his belt fill the room as he gets dressed. He sits back down as he slides his socks and boots on, tying them up tightly.

After a few beats of silence he gets up heading to the door and slips out of the room. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A twinge of annoyance and loneliness bleeds through your heart. You push it away standing up and collecting your clothes. Your clothes are more neat than his, seemingly having fallen off the bed instead of being thrown off. Tossing them in the dirty clothes bin you head to shower.

Turning on the light of the bathroom you barely look at your reflection as you start the shower turning the water to hot. You step in feeling the comforting warmth of the water pelting your skin. Pouring shampoo in your hands, you lather it up until it bubbles and massage it into your scalp.

A few minutes into your shower routine, your bedroom door opens and you startle. Your bathroom door is left wide open, leaving whoever just entered your room the option to enter. Heavy boots sound against your bedroom floor, and the smell of food and coffee fill your senses. The heavy boots walk over to the open bathroom door and you peek out behind the curtain, it’s Simon. He knocks on the door looking at something in your room not noticing you already see him. “Lass, got us some food.”

You pull your head back into the shower, and sigh finishing scrubbing your arms. “Ok” is all you say before he walks away and sits somewhere in your room. You turn the water off and towel dry, you wrap it around yourself and close the bathroom door for privacy.

A few minutes later you leave the bathroom wearing a new set of clothes. A black long sleeved shirt and black sweatpants, a dinosaur stitched in over the heart - a different one than your robe. The sweatpants have a matching dinosaur stitched in over the left hip, you wear black ankle socks and your shark slippers. Glancing around your room you notice he’s changed your bed sheets into black ones. The maroon sheets sit in the dirty bin, Simon has the curtains open as he sits on the ground in clean clothes. He doesn’t glance up as you walk over and sit across from him, he pushes a to-go box in front of you as he eats out of his.

The food is good as you both eat in silence, not looking at each other. Not speaking or moving, the atmosphere is relaxed but a little awkward. You clear your throat “Thanks”.

Simon nods and you feel the need to fill the silence. “Thought you weren’t gonna come back, surprised me when you came back with breakfast” you say as you bite into a pancake.

“Why’d ya think that?” Simon mumbles.

You pause for a moment thinking if he’s really that dense. “Ya left without saying anything, so I figured- ya know.”

He nods and glances up. “Woulda been rude to leave a lady hungry after sleeping with ‘er.”

“Yeah I guess. Speaking of: you can forget about it, a drunken mistake happens every once a while.” You say finishing up your pancakes.

When you say that he just looks at you for a moment, his face twisting slightly in an emotion you don’t recognize on him, due to the lack of never seeing his face before this. “What if I did’n want’a forget this?”

That makes you pause and look back up at him from your food. He just stares back silently waiting for your response.

“Guess I can’t tell a grown man what to do” you say back still looking at him a bit confused at his seemingly sudden interest in you.

But in all reality if you would’ve paid more attention to your surroundings, you would’ve noticed that he’s always been interested in you. Watching out for you on missions and making sure you take care of yourself. Making sure to get you breakfast on mornings you’re too busy to eat. You seem to lack the awareness when someone is interested in you. One of the qualities that make him feel warm and fuzzy when he thinks of you.

He holds his hand out for yours, you place yours in his hesitantly, he brings it to his mouth. Giving each of your knuckles a kiss.

“Guess you’re stuck with me lass.”

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 13

THIRTEEN: THE SIMPLE TRUTH

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X FEM READER

Summary: Perspective is everything. Time for Simon's POV.

Tags/Warnings: profanity, angst, gaslighting and manipulation, obsessive/possessive behavior, allusions to stalking

(Notes: consider this my act of contrition for the last two chapters of heartbreaking angst. 🙏🙂‍↕️)

divider & banner: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

-

"It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.”

― Ian McEwan, Atonement

-

It's rare that Simon Riley is ever caught off guard.

He prides himself on being prepared for any situation. Always thinking three steps ahead, always has a backup plan. Yet he finds himself completely unprepared for the visitor that turns up on his doorstep that morning.

He's already up and moving at the sound of the door chimes, then starts cursing under his breath when he hears you unlock the door. He's told you a thousand times to let him answer it when you weren't expecting company, that it's not safe to open the door to strangers, but you never lis—

"Hey. Simon around?"

Simon freezes in shock when he hears her voice utter his name. Even as he tells himself it can't be her, that primal, animalistic part of his brain has already stirred awake, sensing potential danger.

There's a stunned pause of silence before he hears you reply, "Excuse me?"

You sound wary, confused... Upset? Why would you be upset? You don't know that's his name.

Do you?

Easing closer to the sitting room doorway, Simon peers around the corner, and his worst fear is confirmed. It's Peach, the last person he ever expected or wanted to see again.

Bloody fuckin' hell...

She's standing just outside the front door, towering over you, with an imperious expression on her face. She's trying to intimidate you, but you're standing your ground, blocking her way inside.

Peach smirks, tossing her long, black braid over her shoulder. "Simon Riley. Big, grouchy blond guy, about the size of a tank. Ring any bells?"

Simon grits his teeth, seething. She shouldn't even be here, shouldn't know where he lives. She sure as fuck shouldn't be the one giving you his bloody name, dammit! This is bad, her turning up like this. She's tracked him down for some reason, and it doesn't bode well for him or you.

He sees you tense up at her condescending tone and knows that doesn't bode well, either. "And you are...?" you bite back.

This encounter is about to go south, quick. You're not about to take any guff, but Peach is conniving and, worse, she's dangerous. As much as he wants to avoid her, he has to intervene.

"Peach," he murmurs, drawing her attention away from you. His stomach churns, his breakfast threatening to come back up.

Her smile goes wide as she removes her shades and hangs them on the neckline of her tank top. "Long time, no see, Ghost man."

Simon inwardly cringes. Peach doesn't know Simon Riley. She only knows Ghost, the skull-faced demon of the SAS. She's here looking for that man. She wants to reunite with the hard-nosed lieutenant who took her under his wing and taught her the skills to become a trained killer. She's looking for her mentor, her hero.

Her creator.

"Bloody hell," he breathes, stepping forward.

You shuffle out of the way, looking between them, but startle when Peach suddenly throws herself at him. He doesn't expect it, either, swaying with the impact as she collides with him. His first instinct is to push her off—she makes his skin crawl, but he can feel the desperation in her clutching embrace, can now see the madness teeming in her eyes. He goes very still, not taking his eyes or hands off of her.

Peach laughs, the sound shrill and manic, tightening her limbs around him like a constricting python. "Did ya miss me?"

Yeah, like a fuckin' toothache, his mind snarls, but he holds his tongue. Petty insults won't gain him anything. He needs to find out what she's doing there and how she found him.

Simon feigns amusement at her deranged behavior and sets her down, holding her at arm's length. He pretends he's chuffed to see her to keep her calm, get her talking. "Whad'ya doin' in the UK? Heard ya cycled out an' turned civvie."

She shrugs then nods. "I did. I work in private security now; I get paid to babysit a Hollywood starlet. Had to fly over for some movie premier she's starring in, so decided to give Soap a call. Had to laugh when he told me where you had moved." She wrinkles her nose, points her finger, looking sly and crafty. "But don't get pissed and beat the shit out of him for tellin' me. He knew you'd want to see me."

That's a crock o' bullshit. Johnny knows how Simon feels about her; he's made no secret of it. She's managed to dupe the big eejit, somehow, probably stole his intel straight from Johnny's cell phone.

Simon shakes his head and grunts. "Still shoulda kept his gob shut," he mutters, but he keeps his anger on a tight leash. He can't afford to set Peach off, not with you standing so close.

But, dammit, he's pissed. He'd warned Johnny about her when he learned the sergeant was still in contact with her. He'll be having a few words with Johnny once this cock-up has been dealt with.

Simon becomes aware of you watching them, and his gut drops. From the corner of his eye, he can see that you're struggling, trying and failing to hide your hurt and confusion. Yet he doesn't even look in your direction. He can't; he won't. It's too dangerous.

It galvanizes him, thinking about what Peach might do to you if she realizes he has feelings for you. He has to protect you, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. He won't risk Peach going into a jealous rage and attacking you. Christ, he needs to get you away from her, somehow.

Then, you present him with a golden opportunity, as if you had just read his mind.

"Um, sorry to interrupt, but I've got to get to work."

Peach turns her attention to you, and Simon can feel his hackles rise. There's a sadistic gleam in her eye, her grin saccharin sweet.

"Is this the live-in housekeeper Soap was tellin' me about?" She grabs your hand, and Simon flinches, his heart racing. "Deedee, right? Don't mind me and Si. We go way back." Her expression turns sly, her grin wicked. "We used to sleep together, didn't we, big guy?"

You blanch at her words, and Simon wants to throttle her. First, she's calling you his bloody housekeeper and next she's insinuating that load of bollocks? But, truly, it shouldn't surprise him. This is classic Peach.

She's loves playing her fucking head games, which is what she's doing now with the both of you. She's fishing for reactions to suss out your relationship, throwing her half-truths out like bait, waiting for a bite.

Yeah, he slept with her—for warmth in freezing safe houses, from exhaustion during long transports, but it was never sexual. The conniving bitch is making her play with a false claim, daring him to deny it, because it will confirm her suspicions, that he cares about you and what you think of him.

"Fuckin' hell, Peach," he growls, pretending to be only mildly annoyed, but he doesn't call her out on her bullshit nor does he look your way to gauge your reaction. He keeps his focus on her and pretends indifference.

"What?" she giggles, staring him dead in the eye, still prodding, still testing him. "We did sleep together. And I still miss my big teddy bear keepin' me warm at night," she coos at him, pushing him, but he doesn't break, doesn't react.

Getting nothing from him, she sets her sights back on you again, and Simon's gut tightens. Peach laughs at your stunned expression, no doubt savoring the moment.

"We actually used to work together," she tells you. "Believe it or not, this big lug here trained me to be a pretty decent sniper." She nudges him and grins, and Simon's hand twitches with the urge to choke her out. "When we weren't cuddling under the blankets, that is."

She's toying with you. He's convinced her there's no feelings for you on his end, so she's rubbing your nose in it now. She's like a mean girl torturing a wallflower with her crush. She's as petty and cruel as she ever was.

"Oh... I see," you murmur softly, and the defeat in your tone makes him want to howl in fury at his own impotence.

He can barely look at you, guilt consuming him. "Gotta go up an' shut down my PC, then I'll take ya t'work."

You glance up at him, and the betrayal burning in your eyes nearly brings Simon to his knees. He waffles for a split second, but he knows Peach is watching, observing every little tic and muscle twitch, looking for the slightest change in nuance of his expression. So, he does the only thing he can do, he gives you back a blank stare and turns away.

Then Peach says something that makes his scalp prickle in warning.

"No worries, big guy. Let me take her. My rental's right out front." The way she looks at you, Simon knows she's not done playing with you yet. She wants to see you squirm. "Your work's not far, is it?"

You look so bloody helpless, caught in her snare as you shake your head. "No. I work at the pub by the green. The White Dog."

"Yeah, saw it on my way in." Peach whacks Simon's arm, and he bites back a growl. "Hell, I'll be there and back before you even get your boots on, stud." She throws her arm around your shoulders, and he fights the urge to rip it off. "C'mon, cutie. Grab your shit and let's go."

Simon tries to act unaffected, that he simply doesn't want to put her out. "No, wait. I'll take—"

"Ah, stow it, big guy. We're already out the door," she calls over her shoulder, hustling you outside, eager to get you alone.

His only solace is knowing that, for now, she won't harm you. She'll pump you for intel, rub more of her verbal salt in your wounded ego, then she'll let you go. You're no threat to her, you see, you're just a plaything, a punching bag.

He sees you glance back at him as he watches from the open doorway. He scowls, frustrated, but doesn't stop Peach when she herds you into her rental. It kills to watch you leave with her.

But it's the look of disappointment on your face that breaks him.

>>>>>>>>>>

Pushing down the urge to follow you, Simon takes advantage of the few free minutes he has before Peach returns and starts making phone calls. He'll need help dealing with her if he wants to avoid bloodshed.

His first call is to Price. The Captain knows Peach and what she's capable of. He knows Simon's history with her, firsthand.

Peach had been assigned to Ghost for stealth and sniper training when the 141 was still working with Shadows. She was excited, eager to work with the mysterious Ghost. She called him a legend, told him she had idolized him since first hearing about his exploits from the other Shadow operatives.

Even then, she knew how to stroke an ego.

While training, Peach was allowed to assist on a few missions with the 141. She got to witness what Ghost could do when things went sideways. She saw what he was capable of when backed into a corner and fighting for his life.

And she'd loved it. Reveled in it. Worshipped him for it.

Her devotion to him turned fanatical. No one spoke ill of Ghost in her presence, otherwise they found themselves pinned against a wall with a knife at their throat or flat on their back with her boot on their neck. Reprimands didn't phase her, since Graves always let her slide. She was too much of an asset to his team.

Peach became infatuated with Ghost, was always looking for ways to please and impress him. That is what ultimately led to her downfall. She became reckless on missions, ignoring directives on the battlefield, taking unnecessary risks. It not only caused disruption during the mission, it also endangered herself and her team.

Laswell was the first to bring it up during evaluations, but it was Price who strongly suggested to Graves that Peach be re-assigned. Ghost was too much of a distraction for her, she became too volitale when they worked together. It was best to separate them, was Price's advice. Laswell backed him up.

Of course, Graves didn't like that idea much, not after all the time, money and effort he'd spent on her training, but even he couldn't deny that Peach had become a loose cannon, a liability. All three of them agreed, she had to go.

Peach soon found herself re-assigned to another team back in the States. Ghost avoided her until she was shipped out, and Price made sure she was never brought in to work with the 141 again.

Ghost cut off all contact. He thought by removing himself from the equation that it would end her obsession with him. He came to realize that they were bad for each other, fed the other's darkness, and Peach had become addicted to that, to him.

He told her as much during their one and only phone conversation that she had instigated, stressing that they would be better off apart—permanently. Then he'd encouraged her to seek out professional help and rang off.

Ghost assumed that would be the end of it, but he should have known better. Peach might have been forced to retreat, but she was never the type to surrender.

>>>>>>>>>>

Peach is ebullient when she returns. Thank God Ollie had already confirmed that you had reached work safely or Simon would have assumed the worst.

Ollie was none too pleased with the state you were in, though. With little time to explain, Simon simply asked that he keep an eye on you and not interfere. Ollie made a disgruntled noise and agreed, but demanded a sitrep ASAP.

For now, Simon has a part to play. He has to keep Peach occupied until Price can come through with more intel and a plan to safely neutralize her without harming her. It's obvious the lass is broken and in need of professional help, and Simon is not so cold-hearted that he can't empathize. He's been there himself, after all.

However, Simon won't hesitate to snap her neck, shared history or not, if Peach makes any sort of threat to physically harm you. His empathy only goes so far, and Peach is already testing his patience.

The woman won't keep her hands off of him. She's constantly in his space, in his face, running her spidery hands all over him while chattering on with her insane nonsense. She told him that she fancies them as soulmates—twin flames or some such bollocks.

She's already tried several times to get in his pants, but that's where Simon has to draw the line. He's not crawling into bed with her, no matter what her delusions have led her to believe. That part of him, she can not have. That belonged to you—or it would belong to you as soon as he could make it happen. He's done mucking about. As soon as this is over, he's staking his claim. Your his, he's yours, and that's all there is to it.

Peach is determined though. She wants to solidify their imagined bond, and he can see she's getting frustrated with his avoidance. If he continues to reject her advances, things could get ugly.

Price advised him to go along with her delusions to keep her calm, but no way in hell is he fucking her. So Simon sets out to distract her with a different form of intimate contact: sparring.

They fight in the back garden under the sweltering August sun until they're both drenched in sweat and panting for breath. Peach is exhausted but grinning, having enjoyed the close contact. She follows him back inside, docile as a lamb, when he calls for a water break.

It's too bloody hot in the house, even with all the fans going. Simon chugs down his water in three big gulps, then goes back for another.

"Dunno how you Brits live without A/C," Peach fusses, leaning into one of the fans. "We should grab a shower then go get something to eat. Preferably in an air conditioned restaurant. Whad'ya say, big guy? My treat," she cajoles.

Simon jumps at the idea. Getting her out in a public setting would keep her in check, at least. Actually, the longer they stay out and about, the better. An idea pops into his head.

"We could go tuh Blackheath. Plenty uh restaurants there. Plenty o' shops, too," he adds, casting his lure. He knows Peach is a shopoholic. The bird could spend an entire day in a shopping mall.

Her eyes lit up with glee. "Ooh, that could be fun." Her smirk turns salacious. "Do ya know if there's a lingerie shop? You could help me pick out something special to wear for you tonight," she purrs.

Simon tries to appear intrigued, but it's a struggle. Thank Christ for his face mask. "Uh... yeah, there's a few shops that sell it. We could check 'em out after we eat."

"Excellent idea," she drawls. A sly look comes over her face before she can mask it with an innocent expression. "You should probably call Deedee, let her know our plans, in case we're late gettin' back. You still pick her up every day after work, right?"

Her words make Simon's insides curdle. Peach wouldn't know that unless she'd been watching them, keeping tabs on their movements, their routines. That means she's been planning this supposed impromptu visit of hers for awhile.

Christ, how long has she been watching us?

"Yeah," he croaks, his gut twisting. "Guess I should call 'er."

Simon's not sure if he can keep this charade up if he has to talk to you. He slumps down on one of bar chairs at the kitchen island and makes the call, his body wound up tighter than a piano wire as he waits for you to answer.

Peach sidles up beside him as he listens to your voicemail recording start. She gives him a wicked grin as she starts pawing at him, fucking with him. Batting her hands away, he hears the beep prompting him to leave his message.

Holding the phone away, he growls, "Get off me, ya muppet. 'M try'na leave Dee a message."

Peach giggles, a mean little twist on her lips. "Tell her I wore ya out this morning, so I'm takin' ya out to feed ya. Gotta rebuild your strength for round two later."

Yeah. Keep dreamin', ya crazy bitch, Simon thinks, huffing a laugh. "Shuddup..." he scoffs, shifting away from her, then presses the phone closer to his ear.

"Oi, Dee. 'Me an' Peach 'r goin' out f'lunch in Blackheath. She's wantin' t'check out some uh the shops, too, so we'll prob'ly be there all bloody afternoon. Should be back in time tuh pick ya up after work, though."

He glances up to see Peach staring at him, looking miffed. 'Play along... Keep her calm...' Price's voice echoes in his mind. Simon grits his teeth, then adds, "Oh, an' Peach is gonna spend the night. Thought I'd warn ya. Later."

He ends the call, a sick feeling souring his stomach.

But Peach? Hell, she's bloody ecstatic.

-

prev. << | >> next

[rcehb-art]

canon event. source: trust me bro.

- monty python and the holy grail

[the-whispers-of-death]

New Guy

A/N: Python's introduction to Ghost!! Note that this OC will eventually be with Ghost.

*****************************************************************

Ghost finished up his workout in the base gym, grabbing a towel and wiping off the sweat on his neck. He waved goodbye to the few soldiers he knew, heading out of the base gym and towards the barracks.

As he walked, he heard whispers of an American joining one of the task forces as their medic. Supposedly it was because the task force needed a medic and there weren't any SAS medics who could be spared.

He huffed at the thought, wishing a silent good luck to the task force that was unlucky enough to have an American medic.

Ghost opened the door to the barracks which were assigned to everyone in the 141. As he entered the barracks, he expected it to be empty since he knew the rest of the 141 were away training or doing paperwork. However, as he stepped inside, it wasn't empty.

There stood a tall, shirtless man who had to be no taller than six-foot-six and had light brown skin that seemed to be covered in tattoos. With his back towards Ghost, he was in the process of putting on a shirt, his head covered by a black balaclava, and Ghost could see the full sleeve tattoos of snakes on his arms and a large tattoo of a snake spiraling up the man's back. The man was burly, muscular with a thick layer of fat on top of the muscles.

Ghost snapped out of his stupor, remembering who he was and clearing his throat. "You're in the wrong barracks, mate," he said, annoyance lacing his voice as he stared at the irritatingly mouth-watering man. "These barracks are for the Task Force 141."

The man finished putting on his shirt, somehow managing to do so without disturbing his balaclava and mask, before he turned to face Ghost. He had on a black hard-plated mask which had gold etchings of a snake coiling all around the mask.

"No, I'm in the right barracks," the man said, Ghost noting the American accent and the way the man's voice was deep but harsh. "Captain Price showed me where to go."

At that words, it clicked in Ghost's head that this was the American medic he had heard about on his way to the barracks. The task force that got said medic was the 141. Great.

"So you're the medic that has the whole base alight with gossip," Ghost grumbled, stepping closer and eyeing the man. His eyes settled on the man's mask and it ticked him off how much they looked similar. "Why do you wear a mask?"

The man seemed unperturbed by the way Ghost was eyeing him warily, as if he was bored. "For the same reason you probably wears yours. For anonymity," he replied. "Call me Python."

Ghost raised his eyebrow underneath his mask, not that Python could see it. "Python?" He tested the callsign on his tongue before huffing in annoyance. "That's a mouthful."

"Yes, but it's not like I chose the callsign myself." Python lifted up his duffel bag with ease and set it down on the bunk that wasn't being used. He definitely sounded bored. "Any other burning questions?"

"Why do they call you "Python"?" Ghost asked, ignoring how rude Python was being. It wasn't like Ghost was being nice either.

"You going to tell me why they call you "Ghost"?" Python shot back, turning back around to face Ghost and crossing his arms.

Ghost scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms as well. "Don't do that, don't be cagey with me." His irritation was rising steadily. "I'm the mysterious one in this task force."

Python surprisingly laughed, his laughter deep and lacking any actual amusement. He stepped closer, making Ghost step back instinctively. "I guess you're not the only mysterious one here anymore, Ghost." He sucked in his teeth. "Deal with it."

Python then turned away from Ghost again, the sharp change of movement making his medical bag clack against his uniform, drawing Ghost's attention to it.

"You have a shitty attitude for a medic," Ghost muttered underneath his breath, glowering at the man in front of him now.

"I didn't think the great and all-powerful Ghost would cower at a little bit of attitude thrown his way." Python taunted, glancing back at Ghost before unzipping his duffel bag to take out something. He then took a big sniff of the air before making a sound of disgust. "You should shower, you stink."

He zipped up the duffel bag again and then moved past Ghost, leaving the barracks to go God knows where. One minute he was there and the next, Ghost was alone, staring at where Python had been.

Ghost blinked once and then twice, his eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to have Price transfer him," he grumbled to himself before making his way to the communal bathroom.

*****************************************************************

A/N: I didn't know this OC x Canon relationship would be rivals to lovers (I don't think we can classify them as enemies, not even sure if we could classify them as rivals really), but as Python likes to chant in my head, "Stone might be a bigger bitch, but I'm still a bitch!" (I don't know why he likes to chant that in my head.) So um, this is just how Python is, I guess.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

COD OC "Python" Masterlist

This is a masterlist for everything for COD OC "Python". He will eventually be paired with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

New Guy

Basic Information on Python

Transfer Him (Or Not)

Python's Feelings

"He's so Infuriating!"

Give Me Something to Work with

A Date? No, a Hang-Out

Aliases

This is not a complete list! It will be updated as time goes on!

[the-whispers-of-death]

Give Me Something to Work with

A/N: If this is the first post of Python's series that you're seeing, read this masterlist first to get the full context.

Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact!! While this post is SFW, my blog isn't!!

*****************************************************************

Python entered the base gym at four in the morning, having gotten there extremely early so no one else was there. He needed privacy, craved it even if he was in the military.

It was hard to have privacy in the military, which would've made the military a terrible fit for someone who was as paranoid as Python, but he wanted to serve his country more than he wanted to hide away from the world.

He walked over to weights section of the gym, starting his workout by lifting weights. He kept his mask and balaclava on, simply in a tank top and shorts, huffing and puffing beneath his balaclava as he lifted the weights.

Python was just about to switch to the bench press when Ghost walked into the gym, stopping short at the sight of him. He figured Ghost might just flee at the sight of him, but instead of leaving, Ghost walked right up to him.

"You going to the mess hall for breakfast later?" Ghost asked Python, surprising the other man.

Python shook his head, glancing at Ghost before focusing on putting his desired weights onto the bench press bar. "No, I already ate breakfast."

It was a lie, he never had anything more than a protein shake before working out and always had a hearty breakfast afterwards. But he didn't eat with the rest of the 141, to keep his identity anonymous.

Ghost saw through Python's lie, his jaw clenching beneath his own balaclava. "Come eat with us after breakfast, the rest of the guys will be up by the time we finish our workouts," he said, his words soft like he was trying to gently coax Python to open up to the 141, but Python didn't understand why.

"I don't eat in the mess hall anyways," Python muttered, feeling his paranoia spike at the thought of eating around all of those people.

"Then we'll all take our food back to the barracks and eat there," Ghost replied, adamant about Python eating with them.

Python scoffed, looking down at Ghost. "Why do you care about me eating with you all?" He couldn't help himself as he laughed, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and a smirk spreading beneath his mask. "Aw, do you already have a soft spot for me, Ghostie?"

While Python couldn't exactly see Ghost's scowl, it was evident from the way Ghost's mask creased that he was indeed scowling at Python's words. "No," he answered, his words harsh. He stepped closer to Python, squaring up to the taller man. "I don't have a soft spot for you, because you haven't let me in enough for that. I know how hard it is to trust others and I don't trust you like you don't trust me, but you're our medic."

"We're supposed to trust you," Ghost continued, on a roll now. "We have to trust that you, as our medic and a fellow soldier, have our backs in the field. You're there to patch us up, something that requires a great deal of trust on our part. So for fucks' sake, give me something to work with! Give me a reason to trust you with my life in the field or transfer yourself to somewhere else. Because we'll never trust you if you don't first try to trust us."

Python was taking in Ghost's words when Ghost started to walk away, probably to workout in another section of the gym.

"Ghost!" he called out against the seed of doubt in the back of his mind, his paranoia begging him to keep himself locked away from everyone else. He waited until Ghost turned back around to look at him to continue. "Spot me? I need a spotter... and I want to try and trust you all."

Ghost's brown eyes flickered with an emotion that came too fast for Python to register and he nodded. "I can be your spotter, sure," he replied, walking back to where Python was.

Python took a deep breath, trying to quell his growing paranoia before moving around the bench press. He sat on the bench and laid back, waiting until Ghost was in position behind him before lifting the bar.

As he did each rep, he saw Ghost out of the corner of his eye, ready to catch the bar in case it fell, and the sight of Ghost so diligently standing there made Python's paranoia slowly drift back in the abyss of his mind. Seconds ticked by, Python taking breaks in between reps until he was finished.

"Thank you," he murmured, getting up and off the bench. He then shifted on his feet as he started getting sheepish, the first sign of emotion Ghost had ever seen on the man's body language. "I could spot you too if you want to bench press as well?"

Ghost was shocked at the offer and he took it graciously. It led to them working out together, not really talking, at least not about anything personal, but it was better than the irritation that had enveloped Ghost when he had thought about Python days before.

There was still a long road to go before they both could trust each other and then like each other, but it was a small step forward. And that was all Ghost asked for.

*****************************************************************

A/N: Python's a softie underneath all of that bravado, which is the case with most, if not all, of my OCs. I have a type of character I like to write, okay?

Ghost being able to melt away a little bit of Python's paranoia makes my heart go brr. Also yes, I did find myself clever for having Ghost say the title of this post.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

*Python in the recreational room, so blatantly staring at Ghost who is trying hard not to stare back* Price, walking over: So I hear you and Ghost have a sort of rivalry going on. Python, furrowing his eyebrows beneath his mask and balaclava: What? Price: You and Ghost... rivals? *realizes that Python is still confused* You aren't irritated with Ghost? Python: Why would I be irritated with Ghost? Price: Because he's being as mysterious as you are? Python: ... The man's entire shtick is that he keeps his identity anonymous, mysterious comes with the territory. Besides, I quite like that we're both mysterious. Price: Then why are you staring at him so intensely? Python, shamelessly: Have you seen the man? He's HOT. Price: ... what?

*****************************************************************

A/N: In case it isn't entirely clear, because it's written a little weirdly (my fault), Ghost and Python's "rivalry" is one-sided. Ghost is terribly irritated by Python and Python's just annoying him for shits and giggles. Also yes, Python is the one that falls first (though he hasn't yet fallen in love, he just thinks Ghost is hot).

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

A Date? No, a Hang-Out

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT!!

A/N: If this is the first post of Python's series that you're seeing, read this masterlist first to get the full context.

"Have breakfast with me."

Python paused in the middle of wiping the sweat off his tatted arms, both him and Ghost finished with a workout at the base gym. He stared at the man who had managed to worm his way past Python's defenses enough to become Python's gym buddy for the past month.

"What?" Python asked, wanting to make sure he had heard Ghost correctly.

Surely he couldn't have heard Ghost asking him to have breakfast with him, right?

Ghost didn't seem amused by Python asking him to repeat himself but he merely huffed in annoyance before leaning forward, as if that would make Python hear him better.

"Have breakfast with me," he repeated before adding, "Please. You can't keep avoiding eating with us."

Python's eyebrows furrowed beneath his mask and balaclava and he was about to reply when Ghost interrupted him.

"You said you were going to try trusting us. Don't worry, I won't make you eat breakfast with me in the mess hall, yet. Today, we'll just take it back to the barracks with us."

Python could just tell Ghost was smug underneath his own mask and balaclava. Somehow, despite not even knowing what Ghost looked like, he could just see the smirk that must've been on Ghost's face in his mind's eye.

He was silent for a few seconds before rolling his eyes. "Fine, I'll get breakfast and take it to the barracks," he answered. "But you better not look at me while we're eating."

"Scouts' honor," Ghost said with a chuckle, giving Python a little salute.

"You were a boys scout?" Python's curiosity piqued at that, despite his insistence to himself to still have Ghost at a distance.

Ghost shook his head, the two of them walking out of the base gym to go to the mess hall. "No, I couldn't afford the fee to get into the boys scouts." He let the heaviness that came with his honesty before turning to glance at Python. "Did you do the boys scouts program?"

Python turned his head away to look at the woods that surrounded the base before looking back at Ghost. "Nah, I've always hated the wilderness."

It was something new, something personal that he told Ghost. The first personal thing he had ever told Ghost.

"Hate the wilderness?" Ghost asked, puzzled because he had never met anyone who didn't like nature. "How can you hate nature?"

"I just do."

Python's words were clipped and the facial scar beneath his mask pulsed with phantom pain, reminding him of the day he got the scar. His hands rolled into fists at the reminder before he then took a deep breath, uncurling his fingers.

Their trip to the mess hall and then the barracks was in silence, Ghost knowing that Python didn't feel like talking more.

They both got to the mess hall and got their food rather quickly. They then headed towards the barracks, heading inside to find it empty of everyone else in the 141.

Python's lips quirked into a smirk beneath his mask as he saw it was only the two of them. "You know, if you wanted to go on a breakfast date with me, you could've said it was a date. Didn't have to browbeat me into it by saying it was for building the trust between us," he teased as he sat at the table in the corner of the barracks.

Ghost rolled his eyes, frowning beneath his own mask as he took in the way Python slipped back into his dodgy attitude he had before. Seemed to him like it was a defense mechanism, which was interesting.

He sat at the table as well, purposefully sitting next to Python so he was in his personal space just to get him back for the tease. "It's not a date," he replied, leaning forward to pull up his balaclava just enough so he could eat. "We're just hanging out, sharing breakfast together and bonding as teammates."

"You tell yourself that, Ghost. But one day, you'll admit that this was a our first date."

Python took off his hard-plated mask so he could roll up his balaclava enough to eat, causing Ghost to look away so he could honor Python's wishes about not watching him eat.

"Wait, first date?" Ghost was perplexed at that specific phrasing. He took a bite of his food. "As in there'll be many more dates?"

Python chuckled and smirked, happy that Ghost couldn't see his smirk since he was so kindly looking away. "Of course, you're going to be hooked and need to keep coming back for more dates with me." He took a bite of food on his fork and started eating.

Ghost briefly glanced at Python, making sure to just look at the upper part of his face which was still covered by the balaclava. "Cocky bastard," he grumbled playfully.

"You're cocky too, if Soap is to be believed." Python chuckled. "He said that you told him that you were "quite the opposite" when he asked you if you were ugly underneath the mask."

"And I stand by that." Ghost could barely focus on anything other than the fact that Python had chuckled, a chuckle with actual amusement. "I'm not ugly under here."

Python ate another bite. "So we're both cocky bastards."

"I suppose we are, Python. I suppose we are."

They both kept eating their breakfast and talking until they both finished and had their masks and balaclava properly on again. Python went to get up so he could come with to take their trays back to the mess hall, but Ghost settled his hand on Python's shoulder.

His touch doesn't make my skin crawl, Python thought to himself, confused at the revelation.

"I'll take your tray back with mine, stay here," Ghost murmured, his brown eyes soft after their little banter. He squeezed Python's shoulder before pulling away to grab Python's tray and stack it on top of his. "We have little time until the rest of the 141 come back to the barracks, might as well enjoy the peace. Especially since Soap most likely will barrage you with questions about workout tips when he comes."

"Okay," Python found himself saying, still in a daze from how warm Ghost's hand was on his shoulder. He cleared his throat. "You're right, Soap will be his talkative self when he gets back. I don't know why he wants to get even bigger, he's already strong enough for the military."

Ghost chuckled and shrugged before leaving the barracks.

Python stared at where Ghost was, his heart still racing from the touch. Realization that he was starting to grow softer, to fall for Ghost hit him like a ton of bricks.

He reached up to massage his temple through the balaclava. "Here I was thinking Ghost would be the one hooked and coming back for more dates," he murmured humorlessly to himself.

Separator made by @une-femme-de-lettres

A/N: Half of this was me winging it. I never have a set plan for my posts. I'm just glad I finally got back to writing these two, even if I'm not entirely happy with it.

This is the moment Python fell first and I think that's funny.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

Aliases

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

A/N: If this is the first post of Python's series that you're seeing, read this masterlist first to get the full context.

Python was just changing out of his blood-stained uniform, making sure as he undressed in the barracks that he kept his mask since everyone else in the 141 were undressing too.

The hairs on his body stood up as he heard movement from behind him, his paranoia kicking in on instinct. While he was used to the 141 members and had even taken to eating with them (though they always brought their food back to the barracks to eat because he still was wary of eating in front of others not in the 141), he still couldn't stop the way his paranoia spiked when they came up behind him.

Because of this, he turned around on his heel and his hand shot out to stop Ghost's hand from touching his shoulder. His grip on Ghost's wrist was tight, Python's eyes searching the barracks for any threat. Once he realized it was just them in there, he relaxed.

"What did you want, Ghost?" he asked before letting go of Ghost's wrist, trying to not think about how good it felt to have Ghost's wrist in his hand and how nice it was to feel Ghost's pulse beneath his fingers.

It was just a crush, it'll go away, he thought to himself. He needed to push his feelings for Ghost down, that's all. It would go away on his own.

Ghost's eyes shone with worry, but it was quickly gone as he spoke. "Why do they call you "Bear-Whisperer"? The group of Marines we worked with on this mission called you that while referring to you. Why?" He was so curious about it, wanting to know more about the man in front of him.

Python had to stop himself from visibly shivering at the word "bear", trying to remind himself that it was just a word. A word for the animal he hated most in this world, but a word nonetheless.

The facial scar hidden beneath his balaclava pulsed with phantom pain. He really should get that checked out, since it kept reminding him that it was there.

He opened his mouth, glad Ghost couldn't see the way he had to lick his lips to soften his dry mouth. "I know a lot of bear facts and I guess it's a known fact about me," he replied, clearing his throat and putting on a fresh shirt. "So I got the nickname "Bear-Whisperer", because the Marine squads I was with thought that my knowledge about bears would help the bears like me. It was a stupid nickname."

"Do you like bears?" Ghost asked, not minding the way Python glared at him for prying.

"No."

"Then why— Oh, you're scared of bears, aren't you?"

Python was ticked off that Ghost could easily tell that Python was scared of bears. But his annoyance was slightly tapered with how Ghost was understanding in the way he had asked for confirmation about the fear.

Someone knowing about his fear of bears, a prominent fear of his, should've made him tense. His paranoia-filled brain thought if someone knew about his fear, then they could use it against him somehow.

However, it soothed Python's paranoia to know it was Ghost who knew. He trusted Ghost not to use his fear against him. And that was something new for him, trusting someone with his fears.

Python glanced at the others, hoping they weren't listening, before he turned back to Ghost. "Yes," he said with a soft voice, practically breathing a sigh of relief at finally admitting his fear to anyone who wasn't himself. "I'm scared of bears."

Ghost took in that information, mulling it over in his mind. "Why?" His voice was softer now, mimicking Python's as if they were conversing in secrets.

"My..." Python shook his head, the words dying in his throat.

No, no matter how much he trusted Ghost right now, he couldn't bear to tell him about the incident. Not now, not here. It didn't feel right and just thinking about the incident made Python's skin crawl.

"It's okay," Ghost murmured, stepping closer but not too close to overwhelm Python, just close enough to give the taller man comfort. His brown eyes bore into Python's, grounding him in reality. "You don't have to tell me the details. Just... Is your fear of bears why you don't like nature?"

Python nodded his head, having gone quiet in his attempt to not let his memories take over. In his need to be grounded in reality, he too stepped closer, stepping into Ghost's space on accident. The memories that haunted him fought to surface in his mind, like a tidal wave intent on drowning him.

Surprisingly, Ghost didn't seem to mind the lack of space between them.

"You're not back wherever your mind is taking you, Python. You're right here, with me," he whispered, his voice growing even softer. He reached over with a gentle touch, letting his hands settled on Python's shoulders and gently pressing his thumbs into Python's collarbone so the touch could remind him of the reality he was in.

By now, neither man realized the others had left the barracks. They didn't realize they were the only ones left there, in their own little bubble.

Python took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering at the touch. "Devaraj. My name is Devaraj," he said, whispering back to the man.

"Devaraj?" Ghost tested the name out on his tongue, liking the way it sounded to him. "Call me Simon, Devaraj."

"Simon...."

"Shh, I'm here. I'm right here, I got you."

They stayed like that until Python felt himself settle back into his own body, present in reality once more. He looked down at Ghost, letting out a small, awkward chuckle.

"Thank you," he said. "I needed that."

Ghost pulled his hands away from Python's shoulders, letting his arms fall down at his sides. "Any time, Devaraj." He couldn't stop saying Python's real name, it felt like he was meant to say it.

Python regained his bearings fully with the sound of his name, clearing his throat awkwardly and finishing to put on the rest of his clean clothes. "I... I should check on the base hospital, see if they need help," he murmured, needing to get away from the charged energy all around him.

Ghost watched as the taller man practically ran out of the barracks, barely managing to not trip on his way out.

"How odd," Ghost murmured to himself before finishing dressing himself.

Separator made by @une-femme-de-lettres

A/N: Per usual, Python had a mind of his own and told Ghost not only of his fear of bears but also his real name. Classic OC stuff, honestly.

It's been a couple of months since I've written these two, but I hope everyone who enjoys these two, enjoys this new part in the series. Even if I didn't know where this was going exactly, I had fun writing this!

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (SFW requests only at this time, please and thank you.)

[the-whispers-of-death]

Ghost, staring at Bear Hybrid!Reader trying to court Python: ... But he's going to be mine.

Stop giving me bullets if you don’t want me to load the gun 😭🫧

Python falling in love with Simon and having to come to terms with the fact that he’ll have to accept the polar bear hybrid that Simon’s already in a relationship with. Python eventually falling for the reader too and it keeps him awake at night.

Load the gun, bestie.

Python is just like "How did I get here, in this point of my life??"

But then he sees Simon and is just like "Okay, I'm in love." And then he looks at Polar Bear Hybrid and it hits him, "Oh shit, I'm in love with him too."

[the-whispers-of-death]

hear me out on reader x ghost x python……bouncy, cheerful ray of sunshine whose made it his life goal to annoy pythost until one of them smile

I can see this going one of two ways:

Python helps you annoy Ghost because if anything, the man loves to annoy Ghost (he's living up to "I'm a bitch" comment).

Or

Python and Ghost are endeared to each other because they (very affectionally) bitch about how cheerful you are.

Either way, they end up falling in love with you and each other. So win-win.

[caffieneaddictt18]

Chokehold Cherry Python

"Gotta be quicker than that!" I call out to the pair of recruits on the sparring mat, circling them.

"We're moving as fast as we can!"

"Then the enemy will be faster than you! And you will die." I approach the two sparring. "Take a water break and come back."

"Yes, ma'am." They both nod and run to their water bottles, chugging it like it's the one thing keeping them alive.

"Let's practice footwork until they come back." I tell the rest of the squad.

"Ma'am? We've already done that." A man says, standing away from the forming line to start footwork exercises.

"Okay? And you can do it again. If you are anything like those two, you'll need it." I turn to face the recruits running the course.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I am much faster than those two." The same recruit protests. I turn my head to look at him.

"Do you want to put that to the test?" Venom collecting in my mouth as I hold back from completely spewing it.

"Hell yeah." He lines up to run the course.

"Oh no," I grab his arm, "We're sparring."

His eyes get big at that. "But- Ma'am-"

"I thought you said that you were 'much faster than those two'. Prove it. Spar with me," I check his name tag, "Jackson." My eyes hold his, a challenge.

He bristles before straightening up. "Fine. Let's spar."

"Recruits!" I start walking back to the mat, taking off my jacket, "Jackson here has volunteered to do a demonstration on why footwork is important! Especially in hand-to-hand combat, should you ever find yourself in such a situation." I throw my jacket onto a bench, and square myself for sparring. "Jackson? Would you like to start us off?"

He stands on the mat, rolling his shoulders. "Sure. Why not?" He throws an obvious punch, his stance giving him away. I easily sidestep the hit and get under him, hitting his ribs, moving away just as fast as I moved in, circling the man.

"To make this a fair fight, I am allowing you to get punches in. Whether they hit or not is up to you." I tell Jackson, stopping in front of him.

He looks at me with determination in his eyes, swinging his legs out, trying to trip me. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite reach and leaves him open. I put my foot as a stopper against his leg. "Never do that again. It left you wide open. Try again."

His venom starts to gather in his eyes... interesting.

He gets up and gets back into his stance, following my movements. He takes a deep breath, and takes a punch with his non-dominant hand, straight for my face. What? Next thing I know, while I am dodging his non-dominant hand, his dominant follows closely behind it, hitting my cheek.

Well fuck...

I'm on the floor, looking up at him. He looks cocky now. Too soon.

I dart around his feet, throwing him off balance and then launch myself at him, wrapping around him like a python, my legs tight against him. I wrap my arms around his throat in a chokehold and throw us, so he lands on his stomach, taking the brunt of us hitting the bouncy, carpeted flooring. Obviously, I don't want to kill him, so I make sure to move my hands to his back once I notice us going down, so he won't die when we land.

I grab his flapped-out arms and twist them behind his back. "Tap out, Jackson." He quickly starts yapping, "Uncle, uncle, uncle!" tapping me. I get off him, letting go of him.

"And that is why footwork is important! Footwork is not just for being quick but helping develop muscles in your legs you didn't even know were there. That move? The launching move? Dubbed 'The Python' buy your senior squad mates." I stand with Jackson gathering himself a few feet in front of me.

I squat down so I am at eye level with Jackson. "Now, when I say to run the footwork drills, just do it. They do help." I get up, holding his gaze. "Run the drills three times, and Lee, please take Jackson here to the medbay. He's gonna want to get checked out."

"Yes, ma'am." Lee, a male recruit, comes over and supports Jackson, guiding him to the medbay.

I watch the rest of the squad finish filing in line for the drills, and just so happen to see the 141. Fucking assholes...

"Start! Three times!" I bark the directions at my recruits, and head over to the men standing there.

"Hello, gentlemen. Can I help you?" I stand at rest.

"Why do you train your recruits so hard?" The man with the mohawk, callsign Soap, asks, looking concerned for my recruits.

"Recruit Jackson has been arrogant through all of training. Unfortunately, he chose to run his mouth in my court, so to speak." I move my body, so I can see my recruits doing their second round of drills. "Keep it up!"

"In your court, huh?" Skull mask, callsign Ghost, inquires. Clearly looking for more information.

"Yes, sir." I don't give him any.

"Care to elaborate?" Ghost sounds irritated. This is no longer an inquiry but an order.

"A while back, I started doing this launching move. My squad mates dubbed the move 'Python' as I already had my callsign." I explain the bare minimum.

"Ah. So that's what you did to him." Price's voice rumbles from his chest.

"Yes, sir. I am afraid that I went overboard, but nothing was broken when he left, sir."

"No worries, Sergeant. I'm not here about that." Price holds a hand up, stopping me from further explaining.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you here for, sir?" I look at him seriously, breaking my field of vision away from my recruits. Him and his team are getting on my nerves...

"What I've been asking for a while now...

Are you ready to join the 141?... Cherry."

Yippee! I have an idea! Just a small one, but it's gotten me to write this so far... leave a comment if you liked it! Bye bye for now!