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snoozepotato · 5 months

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Well, I got a bit carried away with this one... (つ ͡ꈍ ͜ʖ̫ ͡ꈍ )

I've heard a picture is worth a thousand words, so I wrote a short passage of the scene I had in mind while drawing this.

Also on AO3 + Wattpad

word count: 1,003

Genre: hurt/comfort

Warnings: violence, injury, blood, you get the picture (lol sorry)

I hope you enjoy <3

Although the estranged world of Demos had slowly grown on Alaris, the place that lay dormant below still induced a sense of dread. The infested tunnels, a living tomb of otherworldly creation. Damp and suffocating as the walls undulate around, leaving the sensation of spindly tendrils beneath the skin as the stagnant heat drapes over the environment. A place she rarely dared step foot herself, but with him she found herself a touch more courageous.

With Umbra she wasn't alone, the connection they shared was dissimilar from the other frames she’d piloted. For his mind lies at the surface of his being and not ensnared within the infested consciousness. Moving without aid, pulling her back from her missteps with a guiding hand. A companion in her regularly programmed solitude, there even when the fear reared its crippling head and accepting of the scars that define them. Like shattered seriglass imbued with restorative veins of gold, perfectly imperfect.

Not unlike the quirky place around them, with its ever-mutating splendor. Viborent in alarm for your impending peril, an ever-expanding labyrinth of dead ends. Where one must always remain vigilant, turn away for even a moment and the world keeps churning around. Beings manifest within the hollow walls and strike without mercy.

Something felt before it's seen.

Like an edge piercing the dulled rumbling of Umbra's restless mind, a silent cry across the rift that tethered them to one another. He turns to catch sight of the vile beast that's struck her, an overgrown tumor of meat and teeth that's emitting a sickly green glow. Alaris staggers backward as the putrid haze envelops her, a visceral cloud of living spores that's coated her lungs. Leaving her momentarily defenseless to the onslaught of infestation if not for her sentry wolf.

In an instant, the hostiles are eviscerated in a wisp of inky smoke, left in pieces scattered in every which direction; His divine blade making quick work of whatever unfortunate being dared to stand in its path. But his attention is trained elsewhere, a crumpled mass on the ground before him, and all he can see is red. Different from the writhing flesh of their surroundings, the red of Alaris’s blood, a fading warmth as life slips from the gash in her side. He kneels before her to press a guarded hand against the matted remains of her tunic, desperate to staunch the bleeding.

“I’m okay,” she tries to reassure his tilted gaze but the words come out as a distorted rasp. Coughing violently as a pained look consumes her features, composure siphoning away. Instead attempting an optimistic smile but it comes off overtly strained as her brows knit together, creases of sharp anxiety set between them. She reaches a small hand out to him but it lacks the strength to maintain grip, instead slipping down his face before going slack at her side. Looking up at him but with a dewy gaze already half empty and wishing nothing more than to be pulled back by the void’s song, but with the viral decay snarling and twisting around them, her mind's eye is clouded.

The link wavers.

Umbra’s giving her that hard stare, mutual understanding that she should retreat but she won't. Doesn't want to leave him here alone, for abandoning him in this wretched place is more than she can bear. Her fogged recollection is left pondering why they had come here in the first place. In hindsight, anything seemed minuscule to merit such a fate as this, but the thought fizzles out. Jarred back into focus by the gurgled chorus of snarls echoing down the corridor, an ominous reminder of their current plight.

Alaris turns back to him, looking for some sort of reassurance in his gaze but finds his attention also trained down the far passage, tensely awaiting the next confrontation. Her heart all but drops into the pit of her stomach as Umbra's grip leaves her to redraw his Nikana. More than certain he's about to jolt from her side to eradicate the oncoming enemies, but he doesn't. Instead sinking the blade into the fleshy ground before them. Conjuring up an ark of swords that cast forth and through the frenzied infested, lancing them into the cavernous walls.

Their wretched shrieks of agony echo down the passageway before reciprocating back with sharp refrain, a call for reinforcements. His hand returns to her side as she stiffens back a pained whine at the contact. Venting her growing frustration, Alaris grasps out with a strained hand. But without the conduit of her amp to filter the attack, it erupts from her palm untamed in shards of raw energy. Strong enough to maim but lacking enough malice to stagger the reinforced mutations slowly encroaching on them.

The appendage drops once more as her breath slows to a shallow murmur. Leaning against Umbra to feel the low rumble that's begun rapidly building in his chest. The offendingly loud howl he produces sends out a wave of pressure across the surrounding area, stunning the near-constant onslaught. Keeping the hostile beings at bay, if just for the moment, and blanketing Alaris’s nerves in unexpected solace.

His grasp wavers, glancing down at her weakened form with that sharp gaze of his. A wordless plea, a clear opening for her to leave before things take an uglier turn. Her features soften, eyes basked in familiar clarity before the air begins to crackle with charged static. The space before him shifts, warping around before she's lost to sight, here and not in the blink of an eye. And although he knows Alaris now lies in the safety of her transference chair, it never gets any less jarring. Watching powerless as she evaporates in a twinkling array of sparks, the void granting her safe passage. Melting away the pesky wounds as her corporeal timepiece rewinds, a gift and curse all at once. She would be okay, for he could still feel her caress in the back of his mind.

The link is stable.

#my art <3 #testing the waters sharing this here #might delete l8r

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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“You're home”

Couldn't help myself, fic art for UNDONE...

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns + female anatomy

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)

Part 14

~UNDONE~

You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.

Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!

You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.

Fuck, you're a wreck…

A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.

Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.

There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.

You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.

“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.

“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?

“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.

“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.

“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.

Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.

“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.

You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.

“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.

“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…

“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”

The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.

“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.

“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.

His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.

Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.

“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.

“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.

The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.

“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.

Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.

It's overwhelming.

Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.

Icy doubt licking at your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.

“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.

You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.

“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.

“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.

Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.

“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.

Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.

A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.

“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.

“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.

“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”

Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.

Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.

“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.

His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.

You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.

The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.

The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...

But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask…

What a fucking tease.

“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.

Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.

You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.

WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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BabyGirl is growing! 🌿

#plant #houseplants #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #spiderwart #purple spider wart #skull #portal #portal 2

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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Enjoy a Ghost art WIP when I work on the next chapter of the fic!

I just think he’s neat… (≖ᴗ≖)

#art wip #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost #cod fanart #fanart #fanfic fanart #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x y/n #kinda creepy #skull #blorbo #my art #digital art #drawing #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -13- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: awkward, embarrassment, love confession, kissing, teasing, FLUFF

Masterlist

Summary: After finding out Ghost is leaving for a while you accidentally confess your feelings, let's say he's more than a little pleased. ( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵)

Part 13

~STORM~

When he showed up today offering to walk you back to your room, the gesture seemed a bit unusual. It’s just that you’d been seeing a lot of him today, not that you were complaining. You’d finished up a bit early so the halls hadn’t quite cleared out yet, but walking beside his grim figure you felt at ease.

Ghost’s never been the most talkative guy, but something seemed off today. Besides an initial greeting, he had said little of anything, and you’d been mulling over the potential causes the entire day. In moments like these, you wished your social skills were a touch sharper. Instead, you’re just quietly sauntering off toward your room, the air thick between you. Words tumbling around your brain but lacking the audacity to just spit them out.

You’d been studying him out of the corner of your vision, how his pace slowed well before your door came into view. This rather standoffish demeanor, despite clearly wanting to be near you, you just wished he would tell you what was wrong. Your thoughts are halted as he turns towards you, dark eyes catching yours.

There’s a storm raging within them.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” There’s a long pause. “Leaving asap,” the last bit spoken quieter.

“It's alright, I would have probably figured it out after a few days of not seeing you.” Having spent more time pondering the situation than choosing your phrasing, the statement comes out rigid. As though you’d plucked the wrong cue card from your clutter-filled head. Though true, you hadn’t meant for it to sound so disinterested.

He doesn’t normally tell you this kind of stuff…

“Thought you’d wanna know,” he says in an earnest tone that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

This unanticipated hurt erupts in his eyes, and you're left clawing through your mind for something to atone for the unforeseen damage of your words. That 1000-yard stare of his drifts off down the hallway, far away. Panic-stricken, you blurt out the first thing strewn from your thrashing heart.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to the people I love telling me when they’re leaving.” It slips out before you even realize what you’ve done.

Dread setting in and your gaze becomes wide and fixated on the ground in front of you. Lips still parted, internally mortified by your untimely confession. Feeling as though all the heat had drained from your body in one fell swoop. Cold with shrinking fear, before color slowly starts blossoming in your face, radiating outward to envelop your chest in a gripping fervor. Heart puttering away as embarrassment seeps through you.

After recovering from the initial blow of your own confession, you fumble to unlock and open the door. He’d relayed his message, maybe if you retreated quietly he’d forget this and you could scrape by with a shred of dignity. Your thoughts race as you reach out to flick on the light in your night-shaded room. Anything to break the unbearable tension of your own doing, but he’s now standing right in front of you.

“Don’t shut me out this time,” he asserts, breaching the entryway to take a slow step forward, backing you into the room. Locked in his gaze, you’re starkly unaware as he reaches past you to flick the light back off.

The storm had cleared in his eyes.

As you’re plunged into darkness, stunned and disoriented, his solid form collides with yours. Mask bunched up over his nose to capture you in a brief but heated kiss. You’re lost in him, mouth hot against yours, his hand buried in your hair. Just barely out of the hallway but concealed behind the wall of his back. There’s that fleeting itch again, to draw him further into the room.

But it’s gone in an instant, as he pulls away.

“So embarrassed when you let your heart do the talking,” he tuts, heated breath against your cheek. Parting from your disheveled form, as you stand there flustered and breathless.

Caressing the top of your head as he withdrawals, you catch a fleeting glimpse of his lingering smile before he’s shrouded once again.

“See you in a few weeks, love,” his closing words before he disappears into the hallway as if nothing happened.

“Be safe,” you hastily call after him.

After THAT, this felt like some kind of cruel payback… Left standing alone in the quiet of your room, releasing a heavy breath as the overwhelming pressure slips from you.

“RUDE,” you grumble, turning the light back on and shutting the door. Sitting down at your desk and slumping forward onto the surface, face buried in your crossed arms.

You’d never felt so touch-starved in your life.

Thanks so much for reading, kiss kiss fall in love, am I right?!

(˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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It's almost like he's stalking you...

Dumb art from part 12

#dumb art #my art #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #blorbo #cod fanart #fanfic fanart #fanart #stalker #creep #kinda creepy #scuffed art #reader #oc

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -12- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: lil creepy, stalking, swearing, FLUFF

Masterlist

Summary: It's cold working in some of the other server rooms, Ghost finds you trying to warm up and gives you his sweatshirt.

Part 12

~PLUSH ARMOR~

Generally speaking, you don't mind the cold, but today was an exception. Currently, they have you stationed in the basement, for some that might mean dealing with loads of paper documents. But not you, for you this meant the clean room.

The COLD room.

They keep the temperature low because the sensitive machines down here put off so much heat, computers and heat don't mix. It's not that cold, but combined with your bad circulation once you get cold you tend to have a difficult time warming back up. This kind of work really makes you appreciate the lax atmosphere of the old server room upstairs.

You had been wearing a ‘bunny suit’ all day, you get the purpose, but you're beyond grateful to finally be rid of the protective gear. Despite being back upstairs you can't seem to warm up, and regretfully you hadn't thought to bring anything warmer to change into.

Frustrated, you decide to grab a cup of tea and make sure everything is situated upstairs before turning in for the night. It's been a long day and you're exhausted, but thankfully the areas pretty much cleared out due to the lateness of the hour. After making your tea you head off towards your usual room, and can't help but take notice of the eerie quiet atmosphere of the hallway.

The sense that you're being watched.

Pace quickening in the slightest, you're all too grateful to finally arrive at your destination. Scanning your badge and leaving the door slightly ajar, with no intention of staying for very long. Reaching over to flick on the first of two light switches, illuminating half the lights, basking the room in a dim glow.

Heading over to a server console and skimming through the menu, checking to be sure everything is running smoothly. A shiver runs up your spine and you grumble in frustration, quietly cursing the basement work that felt like punishment. At least you had your tea to look forward to, you ponder as your attention is suddenly drawn to the other side of the room.

Looking up from the console to find the silhouette of a massive figure standing beside your desk. Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach at the sight of the intruder. Before they slowly lean forward into the light casting down from above. The warm relief spreading through your chest as those dark eyes of his catch yours.

Ghost

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim, the initial anger washing away as you let out a stiff laugh, shooting him a weary smile.

how did he know you’d be here?

“Noticed the light was on,” He retorts as if he conjured the question in your gaze. The sight of his imposing figure lurking in the muted light, it's almost like he’s stalking you.

“Sorry,” you apologize for your sudden outburst, taking a moment to rub your hands together in an attempt to defrost the chilled digits before going back to typing.

“You alright? you look-,” he pauses, looking away like he's contemplating something.

“Ya, I'm fine, just recovering from working downstairs in the cold room,” you interject before he can continue. Marginally warmer hands back to typing as your gaze returns to the screen.

“Done for the day but I can't seem to kick this chill,” you murmur thoughtlessly, fingers clicking away on the keyboard as you input the last of your data into the console.

His lack of response draws your attention from the screen. Looking across the room to find the masked man has vanished. He must have slipped out while you were distracted. You part from the servers to make your way over to your tea, but something seems out of place.

Peering around your desk you find Ghost’s sweatshirt slung over the back of your chair. Your gaze is fixated on it a moment before reaching out to rest a hand on the worn material, it's still warm… He seriously just took it off and left it here for you without saying anything?

Glancing around the room suspiciously you pluck the garment from your seat, slipping the sweatshirt over your head without much thought. It's enormous, you’d been expecting as much but hadn't quite grasped the scale. You were swimming in it, absolutely drowning in fabric. But, oh my goodness is it warm. Hiking up the sleeves to free your hands, you grab the mug off your desk and head off to your room.

You'd say you were happy no one was around to see you like this, but what you were sporting earlier was far worse in comparison. The quiet of the hallway seems a little less sinister now. There's still that sense of being monitored, but it subsides the moment you're shut behind the safety of your door.

Setting the tea down at your desk, and dressing down for the night. You turn off the light and nestle into your bed, completely ready to surrender yourself to sleep. Still clad in the oversized garment that keeps you warm despite your thin blanket. You lazily slouch down against your pillow, head sinking below the collar, taking in a deep breath.

‘It smells like him,’ you mentally muse. Rolling over onto your side, as warm color pools in your cheeks. Drifting off into a pleasant slumber, the plush armor shielding you from the nightmares that lurk in the shadows of your subconscious.

Your tea long forgotten.

There's nothing better than a giant sweatshirt, thanks for reading <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

For the fic but mostly just self service…. (,,>﹏<,,)

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -11- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: FLUFF

Masterlist

Summary: You've fallen asleep at your desk again, but Ghost is more than happy to carry you back to your room.

Part 11

~REWARD~

It's every so often that Ghost will stumble upon you fast asleep at your desk in the server room. How you manage with the constant noise is beyond him. He can't help but wonder if you have hearing damage from spending so much time in here, alone, with nothing but the droning buzzing of fans to accompany you. At least for once you appear to be wearing your headphones. Reaching over he gently slips the gear from your head, and you don’t so much as stir. You're out cold, so he easily scoops you up and heads off toward your room.

You weigh nothing in his arms, sleeping soundly against his chest. It's quiet in the morning's predawn hours as he makes his way down the hallway, with your boots slung over his shoulder. He's been glancing down at you every few steps, taking in your soft features nuzzled against his shirt. He's certain you will wake at any moment and fumble out of his arms, like usual… He can't help but sigh, even so, this was too rare of an opportunity to just pass up.

“You could just leave me to sleep in the server room, young lad.” He hears you mumble tiredly before he starts to feel you shift in his arms. Eyes narrow at the term, he is not a lad.

“You’ll be grateful for the backache I’m saving you from” he grumbles, carefully lowering you to the ground. Your sock-clad feet making contact with the hall floor, all too soon. These interactions never seemed to last long enough, the two of you are at your door already.

“Thanks, lad, for carrying this achy old gal to her room,” you mumble back awkwardly, parting from his grasp, and reaching for your door. There you go using that word again. Mildly annoyed he crosses his arms over his chest, posture straightened. Your boots were still slung over his shoulder, out of your current reach.

“Lads expect rewards for their favors,” he drawls sarcastically, his brown eyes half-lidded, murky, demanding.

You turn from your door to peer up at him, silently cursing his height. Reaching out to him with a small hand, bringing him closer to place a lingering kiss on his masked cheek. He feels your warm lips press into the fabric close to the corner of his mouth. Savoring the close proximity, his fingers brush your elbow, desperate to draw you in closer, completely lost in the moment.

“Good night, Simon,” you whisper, reaching over his shoulder and retrieving your boots, finally pulling away. Suppressing the urge to yank him into your room, heat building in your chest.

Turning from his smoldering gaze, and quickly closing the door to your room in his face. Backing away from the barrier until your legs hit the bed, knees buckling and crumbling into it. Internally screaming at your childish behavior.

“I’m ridiculous,” you breathe, hands raised to cover your heated cheeks. Falling onto your back, legs left dangling off the edge of the mattress. Releasing a frustrated grumble, this man would be the end of you.

Ghost is left standing in front of your closed door smiling to himself. He can feel his pulse in the tips of his fingers, that was something… His broad shoulders droop as he lets out the breath he’s been unknowingly holding.

For a long moment he contemplates breaking down your door but heads back to his room giddy, it best not to push it. The feelings were mutual, that much was clear, and it's enough for now.

Thank you so very much for reading, this is one of my favorites <3 <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -10- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: eye contact, embarrassment, fluff, tattoos, scars

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up to visit and finds you wearing less than usual, and finally gets a nice view of your tattoo.

Part 10

~HEAT~

These days you’ve been getting used to the idea that you're in a relatively safe environment. You didn’t have to be in a constant state of high alert in the fear that someone from your past might be waiting outside the door. Not just anyone could get on this base, you suppose working here has its perks.

It’s becoming normal for Ghost to visit you during his uncommon downtime. Though you were often busy working it's usually in one of the older data storage rooms, one without special protective gear requirements. This allows him to casually visit, whether that be with tea or just a chat. It wasn't a quiet space, the loud hum of old cooling fans driving away the silence. You seemed to prefer it to the chatter of the break area, during mid-day you wouldn't step foot into that place. Always giving the same excuse of ‘Too many people’ and shooting him a dejected look. But it's not like he minded having you all to himself.

He'll be heading out on a mission in the next few days. It's not something he directly tells you, but makes a point to visit before leaving… Admittedly it started as his way of getting some sort of peace of mind that you would be here once he returned. But these days he wasn't too worried about you just up and vanishing. He trusted your words, they gave him something to hold on to.

The door was left unlocked, something you'd started doing when you were sure he was on base. A clear sign of your presence in the room, he makes his way over past your desk. Scanning the area before spotting a pair of legs sticking out from one of the many racks of equipment. Making his way over to stand beside you, gently nudging you with the side of his boot. Startling you was unavoidable but you've been getting used to his interruptions.

Small hands emerge to part the unruly waterfall of cables enclosing your form. Gripping the edge of the sturdy shelf above, pulling yourself from the small compartment to sit on the floor in front of him. Looking up to Ghost's looming figure reaching out to you with a gloved hand.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, very grateful for the assistance.

Reaching up to catch his grasp, he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. Letting out a short huff as you brush the dust from your bare arms. His heavy gaze traveled up the exposed appendage to rest on your naked collar. What a sight you are, standing there in a sports bra. He's not being very subtle, it's not like he hasn't seen a woman before… But this is different, he's never seen this much of you before.

Taking his silence as a cue, you quickly start to explain your current state of underdress. Taking a step back, afraid to catch his dark stare. Suddenly feeling very exposed, your body chilled in a cold sweat.

“The room itself might be cool but these bad boys put off some serious heat, working under them is hot,” you mutter awkwardly, eyeing the machines beside you. Anything to keep yourself from meeting his predatory stare.

‘You're telling me,’ he thinks, internally frothing at the mouth. You're such a tease without realizing it and he's drunk on it.

“Did you need something?” You ask, turning to walk past him and over to your cluttered desk, snatching your sweatshirt off the chair. Quickly pulling the material over your head, but not before flashing Ghost a rare view of your tattoo.

It's larger than he expected, the white ink that snakes down your back, as if bones have risen through the surface of your skin. Spine that emerges at your hairline extending down the entire length of your back, before disappearing into the waistband of your pants.

“Just seeing what you're up to,” he murmurs, but his eyes are glued to you, scanning over your exposed form.

Upon his inspection something else is revealed as well, the plethora of scars that marred your flesh. It’s gone in an instant, safely hidden under your sweatshirt and out of sight. He's curious but doesn't dare press the subject, your reservation is clear.

Even so, his question from some time ago has finally been answered. Your tattoo, it does go all the way down. The image now lives rent-free in his mind.

Thank you very much for reading <3 <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #x reader #female reader #cod x reader #no beta read #angst #death #slow burn #slow build

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -9- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: PTSD, angst, hostage situation, torture mention, death, killing, night terrors, eye contact, lil fluff

Masterlist

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare you run into Ghost who confronts you about your past behavior.

Part 9

~GRIEF~

Looking up from a blinding screen, groggily trying to make out the warped masses in the surrounding dimly lit room. Your vision is blurry, as though you've just awoken from a long nap. Overworked hands aching from their resting position on the faded keyboard before you. How long have you been here in this desolate place, you can't seem to remember.

Suddenly words are berated at you in a language you don't understand. Vision blurring as you're snacked harshly across the face by a gloved hand. Eyes reopened, recovering from the blow now adjusted to the dark, making out the silhouette of a figure. A man sitting beside you at the desk, keeping watch with a hand resting on his firearm.

Your focus regained, back to work... This is how you stay alive, you're useful, you have to remain useful. The sheer terror of your situation often brings you to a standstill, ending in a violent awakening like this one, often worse. You have the scars to show for it, payment for your biggest mistakes. So you never forget just how fragile you really are. Wounds I may heal, but the scars will always remain, visible and invisible alike.

Doing your best to concentrate on the screen in front of you, but no matter how hard you try you can't read any of it. No amount of blinking deciphers the gibberish you're desperately scanning. You adjust yourself, hands back to resting on the keyboard, desperately trying to keep calm.

It was this or death, none of your attempts at signaling to the outside world had gone anywhere. It's not like anyone was looking for you. Your cohorts were already dead, no one else even knew where you were. This is what happens when you fly too close to the sun, like a bug flying into the zapper, you brought this on yourself.

‘I'm on my own,’ Words like sparks ricocheting around your brain.

Your watcher's hand suddenly parts from his gun to answer the frantic voice coming through the static of his walkie. The few others in the room are suddenly racing for the door. Your brain feels as though it's short-circuited like you're missing some of the data and are rubber-banded forward through darkness.

The gun is held firmly in your hands now, pressed against the offending man's skull. The walkie slips from his hands, and you pull the trigger before the communicator clatters against the floor. Stepping over his lifeless body you make haste to the exit.

‘It's this or death, I'm on my own.’ you need to get out of this dying place or your next, the frantic thoughts, your motivation to keep pressing forward.

A foggy distortion begins to creep into the corners of your vision. You tightly shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath. Until a searing pain shoots across your sweat-drenched back, salt in the wounds that lie beneath your filthy clothes. Opening your eyes to find yourself now standing at the end of a seemingly endless hallway. You run towards a distant light but no matter how hard you push, it never seems to get any closer.

Until… You're unsure if this is your rescue or the end of the line. Your path is blocked by a group of soldiers, the gun falls from your tired grasp to clatter onto the floor a distance away. Hagering forward you attempt to raise your hands in defense but collapse from exhaustion. Turning to yell for them but the words never escape your lips.

Your vision is stricken RED

You watch desperately as a man holds his hand up, signaling for the others to halt. Still steadily approaching, rifle held firmly in his grasp. Your vision flashes white, followed by sharp pain as your head is abruptly kicked to the side by a combat boot. You can see his face now, cold and void of emotion at the sight of your pathetic crumpled form on the ground. Sharp eyes pierce through you and into the darkness.

it's your brother

You try to scream out in desperation as you watch mortified, consumed by paralyzing fear. Shifting his weight back, obscuring your view of his face, his rifle filling your vision instead. You wanted to scream out to him that you're scared, you're sorry, but he never hears you. He pulls the trigger and you're brought back to this world sobbing in your bed. Initially unable to move, gasping in terror against your damp pillow.

You knew it was only a nightmare, that this wasn't how the story ended. That you were safe in your cot at task force base and no longer held captive. The nightmares weren't uncommon, you just normally wake up before things got that far. It's been years but you can't seem to shake them. The outcome varies, sometimes it's Ghost who guns you down in the hallway. The thought leaves you dry heaving again.

You lay restlessly in your bed for a few minutes, desperate for sleep but too scared to let it overtake you. The overwhelming fear of your dream continuing or god forbid replaying is enough to keep you awake. Swinging your legs over the edge of the mattress, you stare at the floor contemplating the next best course of action. Shakily rising, you slip on some shoes and head over to your desk. Grabbing your mug and tea tin before leaving your room and heading off towards the break area.

Thankfully the base is pretty quiet this time of night, no one to stop and question your glassy eyes. A short walk and you're looking down at a cup of scalding water, reaching for your tin you toss a bag into the steaming vessel. No sugar right now, you didn't need to add to the jitters of your already caffeinated beverage. Leaning against the counter your mind drifts, hands still loosely wrapped around your soothingly warm mug.

With the blatant gaps in your memory, you feel like a corrupted drive you can't repair. The inability to remember everything that happened those years ago is your stupid brain's way of coping with the trauma. Sure you've seen the redacted footage from the security cameras, body cams, the dreams... Even so, you’ll never truly know the extent of your panic-induced stupor, and this knowledge might always haunt you.

This wasn't the first time Ghost had caught sight of you having a quiet cup of tea in the late hours of the night. Generally, he takes you in from afar and then heads off on his way, not looking to bother you. It's only when he focuses on your ragged form slumped against the counter does he realize something is very wrong.

Hastily making his way over he takes in your dazed expression looking off into the distance past him. As though you don't see him standing there right in front of you. Keeping a careful watch he takes a spot beside you, your weary face still void of a response to his intrusion. He reaches over carefully to grip the rim of the mug still loosely held in your grasp. Easily pulling it free from your hands and placing it beside you on the counter.

The sensation of losing your grip snaps you out of your daydream. Taking in the sight of Ghost next to you, when did he get here? You're now very much regretting having left the safety of your room.

“Sorry…” you wanted to say more, to tell him about the nightmare but the fear is still lingering in the back of your throat. Overcome with the sudden urge to flee you push off from the counter, with the full intent of abandoning your tea and making a break for your room. Except for the large hand firmly grasping your wrist.

“Bug,” he calls, “Tell me what's wrong,” his words urged for an explanation.

You make the mistake of looking back to meet his gaze, dark eyes wide and alert. Pleading for something, but right here in this moment you have nothing to give. You just feel empty like everything inside worthwhile has already spilled out.

“I’m fine,” your voice small, his grip loosening as your hands begin to tremble again.

“Bullshit,” sharp words rasped at you as he releases his hold altogether.

“Running away from your problems won't make them go away, you have to grieve.” His words grip your chest, anger rising from within you as you turn on your heel to shoot him a narrowed glare.

“I did my grieving, made those people pay dearly for what they took.” You knew this would happen at some point, the repercussions for your selfish behavior.

“Could have done it together,” he presses

“I’m a big girl Ghost, more capable than I look, you should know that.” you attempt to brush his comment off.

“Showing you give a shit ain't weakness, no one has to fight alone.”

you wanted to bark back at him that he didn’t understand. That you wouldn’t risk jeopardizing his career over your selfish vengeance. Taking a step towards him to thrash out again with hateful words but your rage escapes you in a frustrated cry.

You would’ve felt so lost if not for those large hands of his resting on your shoulders, grounding you in the moment. He pulls you against him, enveloping you in the solidness of his arms. Your sense of vulnerability is overthrown by the sheer warmth radiating from him, flowing through you.

“I need you to stay this time,” his quiet words murmured against your ear.

“It’s not like I can leave,” you wanted to laugh, to break the overwhelming tension but it would be of no use, he's not backing down.

“We both know that’s not stopping you,” his words are firm like his hold on you, solid but not painful.

“Everything I have left is here now… So you're stuck with me,” you murmur into his shoulder. Releasing a sigh as you rest fully against him, letting go of your pride. You're holding onto him like a lifeline, even if you weren't ready to tell him everything yet, you knew he would be here when you were.

Thank you very much for reading <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -8- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: eye contact, fluff, dirty thoughts

Masterlist

Summary: Because of your inability to go out with them off base, Ghost gets to know your schedule and starts bringing you tea.

Part 8

~MORNING TEA~

Your time thus far on base has been a lot laxer than you were expecting. Setting up servers and being a glorified IT department for the most part, it was relatively easy work. They know you're capable of much more, but you couldn't blame them for not trusting you to help with anything overly important. The trust would have to be built, which isn’t really your strong suit.

What you weren’t expecting was for Ghost to start showing up regularly with two cups of tea in the morning. You suspect it’s because of your inability to go out with them off base, his way of making you feel included. The man must have memorized your schedule. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t brighten your day, not that you'd tell a soul.

There’s still this awkward air between you, no one has spoken about your brother since your return. For this you are actually kind of grateful, seeing as you're not really sure how to approach the subject yourself. It's become this constant weight in your chest, some days it’s easier to bear it than others. Not that loss was something new, this was just different, like there’s a void inside of you. Most of your nights are plagued with nightmares, waking up exhausted has become the norm.

But the sight of that mountain of a man waiting for your arrival puts you at ease. Standing patiently beside the door of the old server room, a steaming mug in each hand. You just hope he hasn’t been waiting long, seeing as you were running a pinch late.

“Good morning,” you greet him while reaching for your fob to unlock the door. Tired eyes peering up at him, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“Mornin.” murky copper orbs catching yours a moment before you push the door open. You could have sworn he looked pleased with himself to have beaten you here, with that half-lidded stare of his.

Making your way over to sit at your desk located near the entrance of the room. Technically you're not supposed to have food or drink in here… but in all honesty, you’re the only person who steps foot in here. It’s not like Ghost is gonna rat you out, at least you hope not.

Most days you just sit and sip your tea till he has to head off to do something or other. It’s never a very long interaction but it’s by far the best part of your day. An escape from your duties, you can't help but suppose Ghost enjoys this for a similar reason, the feeling of normality even for just a moment.

“Thanks for the tea, I needed it,” words muttered softly as you brought the mug up to your nose, taking in a deep breath. The robust scent of black tea calms your toiling mind, memory of your nightmare washed away in a cloud of fragrant steam.

“Earl Grey, hope that’s alright,” he mutters from his seat beside you. Gaze trained on the mug clasped between his large hands.

“More than alright, it's my favorite,” you muse, taking a sip of the still piping hot beverage. Letting out an audible breathy sigh, this was just what you needed to start the day.

He glances up just in time to take in your blissed-out expression, thankful that it’s his doing. Mind wandering to a much less innocent image, that near moan of yours didn't help. He swallows thickly, pants suddenly feeling a little too tight. You were something else, but in these moments you were all his. This private time spent with you was well worth the effort.

Soap’s been watching with mild amusement as Ghost heads out of the break area most mornings with those two cups of tea. He wasn’t a complete idiot, there was something going on between the two of you. Ghost’s been acting stranger than usual now that you were on base. There has been this tension between the two of you lately, but how long has it been more than that?

Thank you very much for reading! the fact that yall are enjoying my little story warms my heart <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -7- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: eye contact, killing mention, criminal activity, anxiety

Masterlist

Summary: After finishing up your work underground you are assigned to work for task force 141. It’s been over a year since your departure, how will you be greeted by your old friends?

Part 7

~CONTACT~

You hadn't planned on stepping foot back here after the stunt you'd pulled, disappearing again off the face of the earth. Leaving behind everything in your pursuit for revenge.

It’s been over a year… Without contact, often on the move to avoid being tracked by friend or foe. Dropping hints to the military like breadcrumbs leading a trail to your targets. It was a mutually beneficial effort, all of these pitiful humans had it coming. Your rage was a relentless force, seeking to destroy each and every enemy who played any part in your brother’s death.

Until, you're finally satisfied with your work ‘underground’ and reported back to your superiors like a stray dog, tail between your legs. Sure they wanted you back but there would be stipulations. Consequences for your rash and selfish actions, which you more than willingly accepted. Anything is better than a prison sentence, well most anything.

It was worth it, you knew what you were capable of this time around, and they knew it too. Somehow they still wanted you around despite your faults, probably to keep a close eye on your activities.

So here you were, standing in front of the place you ran from. It would have seemed like a cruel joke if you hadn't requested the transfer yourself. In all honesty, your handler was probably happy to make you someone else’s problem. You wouldn’t lie, you're more trouble than your worth. But you have experience in a field that's on the rise in the criminal world. It's pretty nifty having someone on your beck and call who knows how to find and minimize your digital weaknesses.

There was a certain relief in arriving at the task force base while most of the members you knew were off on leave. No reason to stress about them out in the field, plus Price told you they would be back relatively soon. This gave you time to quietly move into your quarters and learn your way around, while also getting acquainted with your regular duties.

You weren't entirely sure when Ghost and Soap would be returning. Much to your dismay the duo promptly left for a mission shortly after their arrival back, you hadn't even seen them yet. You secretly wondered if they were angry with you, couldn't really blame them after what happened. This is why you don't have friends, no one likes grasping at smoke as it slips through their fingers.

The loud hum of electrical equipment drowns out all other ambient sounds. Concentrated on untangling a long group of cords while seated at a small desk. You were in the process of doing some much-needed cable management in an old data storage center… A long process. In all honesty, this kind of busy work you didn't mind, dumping your full focus into it was kind of therapeutic.

The gentle squeeze of a large hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your trance. The mess of cables dropped into the desk thoughtlessly as you nearly topples backward from your chair, if not for the firm hold on you. The motion brought your gaze upward to meet a looming figure.

His grip on you is unwavering, the sickening feeling that if he lets go you might vanish. But this was real, Price had told him you were here on base. This wasn’t a mirage in the streets of some foreign land like so many times before. By some stroke of luck, you had returned to them but it still didn't seem true.

“Your here,” short words escape masked lips. He looks agitated, dark eyes wide, bewildered at the sight of you before him like a waking nightmare.

“So are you, I've been waiting around for you two bozos for the last three weeks,” you laugh awkwardly, standing from your chair as a grinning Soap makes his way over to join you.

“Weren't we here two weeks back mate?” soap interjects

“YES,” Ghost growls, there's the agitation you caught in his eyes bearing its teeth.

“I got here while you were on leave,” you state plainly, trying to cool the rising anger evident in his tone.

“Didn’t tell me, I woulda come back early,” the second half spoken quieter. He still hasn’t let go, grasping at the smoke so it can’t escape again. This wasn’t something you had anticipated, the clear longing in those murky eyes.

“It woulda been an unnecessary distraction, you were busy,” you mumble, gaze dropping to the mass of cords on the desk in front of you. A good analogy for your frazzled brain.

“Bug.” those dark eyes of his, intense stare boring into the top of your head. Giving your shoulder a firm squeeze, an attempt to coax your gaze back upward to meet him.

“Ya wanna join us at the pub lass, shoot the shit,” Soap interjects breaking the verbal silence in the otherwise noisy space.

You let out a stiff laugh, leaning against the side of the desk. Breaking the hold Ghost has on your shoulder in the process. Reaching down to grip the fabric of your pants, tugging upward to reveal a small black box strapped just above your ankle. Sighing, you release the cloth and push off the surface.

“Have fun kiddos, maybe when I’m not under house arrest,” you state with mild amusement, grabbing a parcel off the adjacent table before making a bee-line for the door.

“I’ve got plenty of work anyway, unlike you fellas this cyber-criminal still has to prove her worth,” you announce with false confidence, anything to escape the masked man’s prying gaze.

The duo exited the room and watched you scurry off down the hall, out of sight. Ghost made a mental note to ask Price about it later. He knows a GPS tracker when he sees one, but why are you wearing one?

Thank you for reading <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -6- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: I almost called this part LOSS, but I knew better… I'M SORRY!

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: ANGST, death, anxiety, panic attack, abandonment, hostage mention

Masterlist

Summary: Upon receiving terrible news you come to the realization that you’re truly on your own and go off the grid. Ghost and Soap go to your flat looking for you but you're long gone.

Part 6

~SHATTERED~

Something seemed off when you were asked to report to the task force base. No specific reason given besides that it was urgent. Going as far as to send someone to pick you up, needless to say you were already on edge.

So here you were in the office of your brother's Captain with someone you don’t recognize sitting beside you. Attempting to calm your raging nerves with a deep breath in, waiting for the man across from you to speak.

The breath leaves your lungs as the words leave Price's lips. Your brother was gone and they couldn’t even bring his body back with them, They left him behind… The breath didn’t return, feeling as though the room had filled with water, your chest clenched painfully, you were drowning.

Wondering if this has any parallel to how your brother felt learning of your capture those years ago. All the times he told you of the fear, the irreparable fear of loss, and now the tables were turned. The suffocating feeling of the world caving in around you, helpless to do anything.

There's a split second of silence before it begins, deafening static slowly building deep in your skull. Numbly watching Price's lips moving but unable to make out the words.

Static still building, the room suddenly feeling all too bright as the back of your eyes ache. Not this again, not now, exhaustion beginning to overtake you, senses overloaded. You need to get out of here, to regain your breath before it all becomes too much.

Quietly excusing yourself to the bathroom with all the energy you can summon in the moment. Catching fragments of pity and regret spark in Price's eyes as he gives you a curt nod.

You make your way out of his office, heartbeat in the back of your throat, hands shaking. Catching sight of Ghost and Soap leaning against the far wall, you can’t bring yourself to meet their painful stare. That in itself would send you plunging over the edge of your oncoming panic attack.

Eyes meet the gray of the bathroom door, a sanctuary for the moment. You can feel your pulse building again, the tightness of holding back a sob ready to erupt from your throat. Shakily grasping a sink and turning on the water, desperate to wash the sweat from your trembling hands.

You freeze, gaze snapping up to your reflection in the mirror, a nightmare staring back at you, eyes brimming with tears still barely breaking through.

Weakness, so much weakness, suffocating weakness engulfing you.

Then comes the anger, tightness burning in the backs of your bloodshot eyes. The desire to scream, to attain some sort of release from this unbearable pain. Letting go of the cool porcelain of the sink, arms slack at your sides for a moment.

“I’m not done yet, I won’t let this be for nothing,” you murmur breathlessly, slowly pulling the phone from your pocket. The cold metal rests in your hand, eyes trained on the device momentarily before coming to a bleak decision.

Abruptly tearing the back off and ripping out the SIM card, tucking the chip safely into your pocket. Tossing the phone at your feet, the discarded electronic clatters into the floor.

Grasping the edge of the sink with one hand to retain your balance, you slowly bring your knee upward. Swallowing down any possible regret before slamming the heel of your boot into the device, shattering the phone screen. You repeat the action twice more before turning off the water and silently readying yourself to leave the bathroom as if nothing has happened. This would have to be good enough, giving you an untraceable head start.

You hold the handle for a few moments, letting the brushed metal cool your clammy hand. Before building up the courage to pry the door open, reentering the cruel world.

Turning in the opposite direction from which you came and refraining from looking back. Leaving the base without another word, without a goodbye. You're on your own from here on out, you couldn’t bear the thought of bringing anyone down with you. This wasn’t a game, there wasn’t time for that anymore.

They won’t know what’s coming before it tears them apart at the seams. The sorry excuse for human life responsible for your brother's death. There’s bound to be someone else out there mutually hungering for your target's demise, more than willing to dirty their hands if necessary. A little Bug just has to point them in the right direction.

There’s this part of you that wants to just keep your head down like a good little dog, but the rage snarls in your throat. If you did nothing you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself anymore, hell you barely could as it was.

Ghost and Soap are left leaning against the wall, on edge waiting for you to return. To tell you they were sorry for your unimaginable loss. Ghost notes as Price's head looks up from his paperwork to the clock on the wall. He silently wonders how long you've been gone, how long is appropriate to collect yourself in the loo?

“Think we should check on the lass?” Soap questions, eyeing Ghost from his spot beside him. The reaper's half-lidded gaze stares intently down the hallway, unwavering.

Grumbling in response, he pushes off the wall and briskly walks towards the direction of the restrooms with the Scotsman on his tail.

Soap clears his throat awkwardly as the two men stand in front of the door. A moment passes and Ghost raps on the surface with his fist a little too forcefully, creating a startlingly loud knock that rattles the door on its hinges. Soap grimaces at the assumed reaction from the other side of the barrier, but there is no response. They wait a few seconds before repeating the action… a little less forceful this time, still nothing but silence greets them…

Ghost is suddenly very alert and reaches for the handle. Opening the door and glancing inside, initially thinking it’s empty. His dark eyes scan the room a moment before snapping to the floor, his heart drops.

your phone lay shattered into pieces, this kind of damage was obviously intentional. Ghost turns on his heel abruptly, making eye contact with Soap.

“She's running,” he growls as the pair make their way to the parking lot. Off to your apartment in the hope of heading you off. They needed to find you before it was too late.

Arriving to find the door is already open, the pair are on high alert. Breaching the entryway, eyes scanning the disheveled apartment. Like a tornado had ripped the place apart, cupboards and drawers left hanging open.

“Bug, you here?!” words shouted into the space.

The two part ways to scour your flat, the hope of finding you quickly leaving the realm of possibility.

Ghost makes a bee line for your office, pushing open the slightly ajar door. He’s only seen glimpses inside before now, the once-controlled chaos ripped apart. Carefully wading through the countess demolished electronics now littering the floor.

The wall of empty server racks, stripped of their drives, cables ripped from their sockets and strewn in every which direction. You had taken or destroyed anything of importance, a very bad sign.

Ghost feels the well of fear pooling in the pit of his stomach. Remembering the drunken request of your brother, asking you not to leave again. But he's gone now… Was he really the only thing tethering you to this place? Was it selfish to think you would stay, for who, him?

In the midst of his frustration he nearly missed it, a post-it stuck to the monitor left abandoned on your desk. Reaching down he plucks the note from the screen, taking a moment to decipher text hastily scribbled in red pen.

‘Off the grid, do not come knocking’

You didn't want to be found… Ghost can't help but feel distraught at the notion. What was your plan here, did you even have one? All he had was this little piece of paper, no way of contacting you.

“You find anything, mate?” Soap calls to him from the living room. He considers showing him the note but decides against it, knowing full well it was meant for him. After all you trusted him, at least he hoped you still did.

“Negative,” Ghost murmurs, stuffing the paper into his pocket.

Thank you for reading <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -5- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: This is one of the parts that inspired me to write the series, I really hope you enjoy it.

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: alcohol, eye contact, hostage mention, killing mention, angst, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Celebrating your birthday, things take an unpleasant turn and Ghost keeps you company.

Part 5

~TRUST~

Today is a day you had planned on spending in the privacy of your flat, away from others… Not that you didn't already spend most of your days doing just that… Today is your birthday and you hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but much to your dismay your brother spilled the beans to pretty much anyone in earshot.

With the help of his task force friends, they are successful in coaxing you out of your seclusion for a few drinks at the pub. It's a surprisingly good time, your chattier with a little booze in you.

Soberly a very private individual they pry some basic information from your tipsy lips, a background in computer engineering and coding, hence the nickname ‘Debug’ though you'd rather not get into the details.

Drunken feet stumble through the entryway of your residence. The lot of them are back at your flat, a pit stop to drop you off before heading back to base. You're grateful to be home, having had more than enough social interaction for one day. Stumbling forward, your brother grips the top of an armchair, he is piss drunk… Lightweight.

“You were gone for sooo long, just disappeared,” he drones on.

“Well, I'm your problem now, better be pleased with yourself,” you laugh, also still pretty toasted.

“No seriously, after they took you, I thought you were dead, I missed you,” he wines collapsing onto the seat.

“I missed you too, but it’s fine now so relax,” calming words deflecting his statement, your mood taking a downward turn. This is why you didn't drink with him, you might be a chatty drunk. Your brother on the other hand spews dirty laundry like word vomit, in this case, yours.

“Please don’t leave again,” he murmurs, eyes misty. Clumsily getting up in an attempt to reach for you. Ghost grips the back of his jacket to keep his unstable form upright. You give your brother's hand a tight squeeze before turning your attention to Gaz, who was kind enough to be the designated driver.

“Are you guys ok to take him back, I think he needs to sleep this off,” you mumble rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to sober up yourself.

Thankfully the party agrees to head back with your nearly unconscious brother. You can’t help but notice Ghost and Soap sharing a few hushed words out of the corner of your eye. The group wishes you a few last celebratory words before departing, leaving you and Ghost standing in the entryway. His gaze taking in the expression on your face soften in the slightest as you let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping.

“I'm gonna shower, you can head out too if you want… I'll be fine,” you mumble, walking past him and disappearing down the hall. Overcome by a desperate need to wash all of this off.

You emerge a short while later. clad in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, damp hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of your head.

Momentarily startled to find him leaning against the counter of your small kitchen, a kettle on the now-lit stovetop. Walking over you stop beside him, reaching to open the cabinet he is nearly blocking with his massive shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches you pull out two mugs and a tin. Before joining him in leaning against the thankfully very solid surface.

“You stuck around,” you voice with mild surprise. Less giddy than at the pub, the shower definitely helped sober you up.

“Gotta make sure you're alright, birthday girl,” husky words uttered, catching you off guard. The realization that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with this man. Expecting the nerves to return but his presence puts you oddly at ease.

Leaning forward the collar of your shirt drapes in the back, exposing the bare nap of your neck. Through a half-lidded drunken stare, Ghost takes in the sight. White ink creeping up your skin like smoke filling the outline of vertebra. Traveling up the back of your neck before fading into your hairline.

‘Does it go all the way down?’ the rogue thought slaps him.

A piercing whistle cuts through the nocturnal stillness of your flat, pushing off the counter you make your way over and turn off the burner. Turning to retrieve the mugs only to collide with a very solid body.

Apologizing despite being the only one affected by the sudden contact, an old habit of yours.

“Gonna burn yourself,” he murmurs and you let out a quick breath, a laugh.

“You're probably right,” words spoken softly almost to yourself, maybe the alcohol hasn’t fully lost its grip. You step around him returning to the mugs on the counter. Opening the tin beside them you retrieve two bags of tea and toss one into your mug before pausing, the second bag still held between your fingers.

“It’s Earl Grey, I hope that’s alright, I have-“

“More than fine Love,” quick words cut you off and you can’t help but smile, tossing the second bag into his mug.

‘Bold words from a tipsy man,’ you think, he's used the pet name only a handful of times previously, alcohol usually involved. Stepping aside, Ghost fills each cup with the scalding water before placing the kettle back on the stove. The pair of you go back to resting against the counter as you were before, tea steeping behind you.

“The things my brother said before,” you pause a moment, “I got myself into some serious shit, don’t think I’ll ever live it down,” you say stiffly, hands grasping the edge of the counter, knuckles white.

“You don’t gotta tell me,” he cooly remarks but dark eyes watch you intently.

“I trust you,” the words make his heart feel the tiniest bit lighter as they hurriedly fumble from your still-parted lips, but you can't bring yourself to look at him. You weren't even sure how much you could bring yourself to tell him, it wasn't just his pity you were afraid of.

“I was stupid, wanted to make a difference so badly but went about it the wrong way, trusted the wrong people,“ you pause. ”Guess working for The Man is better than doing 20 to life for cyber terrorism, at least that's what I tell myself,” you muse with slight humor before a somber tone washes over you.

“Thought I knew what I was capable of… I was wrong and ever since it’s felt like everyone else can see it too,” words a quiet confusion

“I killed people,” you murmur, head further downcast.

You weren't expecting him to laugh, deep and gravely. Turning your gaze on the towering man, eyes narrowed, cheeks heated and lips pressed into a thin line ready to be offended. But the sight of him stops you in your tracks, his stare, why was he looking at you like that?

“So have I, countless more I’m sure, your silly games don’t count Bug,” he affirms, laughter subsiding. He smiles at you from beneath his mask, you can see it in his eyes. Shoving him lightly you can't help but chuckle.

The seriousness in your statement was clear, the laugh wasn't mocking your trauma or regret. He found humor in your fear of his judgment and wanted you to lighten up.

“Thank you Ghost,” you murmur, staring down at your sock-clad feet.

“...Simon,” he says carefully, watching the soft smile spread across your once somber expression, gaze remaining downcast.

“Thank you, Simon,” looking up to briefly cross that murky drunken stare of his, the words are like fire on your tongue. Suddenly very aware of the close proximity, a large hand resting against yours on the counter. forcing your attention elsewhere.

“Teas probably cooled down,” you utter staring blankly into the darkness, and he can't really place the look on your face.

You politely avert your gaze as he sips his tea, mask pushed up over his nose. Dark eyes watching you from his place beside you, does he want you to look?

They arrive to pick him up a short while later, your tea long finished. You wave them off from the doorframe, about ready to pass out. Collapsing onto the armchair closest to the door. letting out a frustrated grumble, that man's eyes do something to you…

The ride back is quiet, Ghost playing your words back to himself.

“I trust you,” he hopes you meant it.

Thank you very much for reading <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -4- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing, anxiety, jealousy, video-game violence

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost gets jealous and reaches out to you in an unexpected way, people often care more than they would like to admit.

Part 4

~GIFT~

Your brother and Soap sit on the sofa like a pair of giddy schoolboys, eyeing their new toys. A near-constant inconceivable stream of what you have to assume are thanks spewing from them both. Neither of them knows how to stop talking sometimes…

The two of them have been bickering endlessly over your game console while they were at your flat, it was exhausting to witness. It's gotten to be unbearable, so you took it upon yourself to put an end to it. Building them each a handheld console out of salvaged parts, and ‘upgraded’ them. This way they can play video games together and No More Fighting, Problem SOLVED!

Ghost eyes them begrudgingly from his seated position on the adjacent armchair. Feeling secondhand embarrassment, these were trained soldiers, grown-ass men, he came here with them of his free will, why were they acting like muppets..?

Despite this an odd weight sits heavy in his gut, you gave them gifts. Johnny's has the Scottish flag on it for Christ sake, you made it for him. Ghost wants a gift… Mentally paging through all the times he made a stink about them playing their ‘stupid games’. He shouldn't care about this one bit, but it bothers him nonetheless.

Lounging on your couch you sit at the game's main menu, character standing idly by themself. Meanwhile, completely distracted by something on your phone.

It's been nice being able to play with people who cooperate for the most part, your brother and Soap are much better than most of the random people you play with… Dropping in solo is always an option, though it gets very tiresome taking out teams by yourself.

You glance up a moment only to realize you are no longer alone, your stomach clenches. Soap's character is standing next to yours in the menu, a marker already above his head indicating he is ready.

“How long has he been standing there?!” You grimace, filling with dread for a moment at the thought of leaving him waiting. Slowly letting out a deep breath to expel some of your building anxiety. You ready yourself up and the two of you are quickly loaded into a match.

Things start off a bit rocky, with multiple enemy teams landing near you. Soap seems a bit off his game, and does down as you get ambushed by a third team. Despite struggling with your lackluster gear you pull it together, reviving him behind some cover before finishing off the assailants.

The rest of the game goes smoothly, the pair of you picking off a couple of teams as you circle the map. Skirting the edge of the soon-to-be shrinking ring of death that draws you closer together, until it's just you and the last squad.

You make quick work of the first enemy with your trusty P90 at close range. Turning around to catch sight of their partner in the distance, they get off a lucky shot as you're ducking into cover. A high-velocity sniper round rings through the air and plows straight through your temple, leaving you downed instantly.

Soap peaks from behind his cover and lobs a grenade in the sniper's general direction, a distraction?

He makes a break for your position and goes for the revive, you have cover and the sniper is too far off to get there before he is finished pulling your injured body from the ground. Gone in an instant, sprinting forward toward the terrified sniper's obvious cover. He might have bludgeoned them to death with his fist, you're too busy sitting there stunned to notice.

‘YOU ARE THE CHAMPION’ the bold white script illuminating your dim apartment. You set the controller down on the couch beside you, the gears in your head turning.

You've played with Soap and your brother long enough to know their play styles. The two think it's funny watching your ‘downed idiot ass’ crawling around on the ground while they finish off enemies, thanks to your brother's bad influence. It was all in good fun, in the end you knew this. Somehow this is less toxic than a lot of the behavior you witness from strangers…

Soap would have just gone for the final kill on his own, he knows it's just a game. Who the fuck are you playing with right now?!

A week later your brother hands Ghost a package in passing, mumbling that it's a gift from the ‘elder’. Wordlessly returning to his quarters, somewhere private as he's unsure of its contents.

Heading over to the desk at the far end of the small room, he takes a seat in the chair. Peeling back the tape enclosing one side of a black paper bag and slides the rigid contents out onto the surface. Blinking a few times incredulously at the sight before him. It's a handheld similar to the ones you'd built for your brother and Soap.

It's a gift, ‘she made me a gift,’ he thinks to himself, pulse picking up steadily. Realizing you must have figured out he had borrowed Soaps to play with you… And here he was thinking he was so slick for the last week.

Hunching over in his chair to get a better look at your handiwork. Predominantly matte black, simple but the paint has this pleasant toothy texture to it. He turns it over in his hands and freezes upon catching a glimpse of the back.

The top portion of a skull depicted in stark white, streaks dragged down from the teeth and fading just before reaching the edge of the casing.

‘Like my mask,’ he ponders, carefully placing it on the desk and just staring at it for a long moment. Feeling that odd weight in his gut again, having mistaken it for mere jealousy but this was something different.

He's definitely caught feelings…

Thanks very much for reading <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999

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