#ending it with price smoking the cigar like he did in the first mission in the first game wHEN HE FIRST MET SOAP JUST UGHHHHHH. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfern · 10 months

Note

ORAL FIXATION WITH GHOST

Always chewing on your thumbs / nails and ghost getting onto you (cutely) and everyone is disgusted by it but you just alwaysss have something in your mouth and one night ghost gets like “fed up” with you hurting yourself by chewing on your nails so he is like “you wanna suck on something?” And you give him the sloppiest neediest head I’m talking tears and mascara streaks and the lewdest noises like just UGHHH

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Damage, Inc.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

[“Damage, Inc” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - you have a thing for putting stuff in your mouth. ghost has something to put in your mouth too lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.1k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [m!receiving], praise, degradation?? not rlly tho tbh, strong language

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You couldn’t help it.

It started off simple. Chewing your nails out of nerves and anxiety eventually gave way to chewing your nails out of habit. You didn’t mean too, it just happened. It’s not that you did it on purpose, anyway.

But everyone else on base still made fun of you for it.

Then, things got slightly more complicated. Putting your fingers in your mouth when you were nervous, or concentrating— just pressing the tip of your thumb to your bottom lip, or rubbing the pad of your index finger against the top of your lower row of teeth. It wasn’t meant to be gross, or strange, or anything like that. You couldn’t help it!

Things kept ramping up. Soon, you found yourself absent-mindedly biting at lollipop-sticks for hours on end, the plastic rolling along your teeth and tongue and giving you something to focus on. Then, it was sucking and chewing on the lid of your drink bottle for literally fucking days during missions.

It was becoming embarrassing, especially when the boys commented on it, joked about you acting like some teething fucking animal. It made you immediately spit out whatever it was in your mouth, and draw back within yourself, face burning. You didn’t mean too.

Gaz and Soap, bless their hearts, joked about it like teenagers. They didn’t mean it maliciously. They were idiots. You didn’t dwell on it too much.

Price tried to help. He noticed the chewing of the nails, first. Noticed the red, raw ring around your fingertips.

“Just dip your fingers in hand sanitiser. You’ll hate the taste.” He suggested.

You gave him a look. That’s not going to work, Price, oh my god.

He laughed. He seemed to understand you the most, though. On base, he carried toothpicks in his pocket, and would roll one across the table to you during rather tedious or nerve-wracking briefings. You’d twist them around in your mouth until you could taste the wood.

On a couple of occasions during missions, he’d hand you an unlit cigar if he had one to spare. You didn’t like the actual smoke inhalation that came with smoking, but the look of it always intrigued you. So, Price would hand you a cigar and you’d happily roll your lips around it, not binding the bitter taste of tobacco. Sometimes, Price would place his hat on your head while the cigar hung from your lips.

Soap liked to do this thing— he’d enter the room after Price gave you a cigar and his hat. He’d act shocked, looking between the two of you with his hands either side of his head in an expression of shock.

“Two Price’s?!?!?!?!”

It was funny, you had to admit.

But, the one person you couldn’t quite crack about the matter was your lieutenant.

He noticed your fixation. Of course he did. Ghost noticed everything.

But he didn’t act weirded out, making jokes like Gaz and Soap. He didn’t even try to offer help like Price.

He’d just make small remarks to you. Sometimes they were somewhat helpful. Sometimes you felt your body grow hot with embarrassment.

Chewing on your nails?— he’d tap you on the head as he walked past you.

Fingers near or in your mouth?— he’d yank your arm away with a shake of his head.

Sucking on the nozzle of your drink bottle for a bit too long?— he’d grip the back of your head and pull your mouth off of it.

Each action made you feel humiliated, to say the least. But, each action also had him speaking to you in ways that made your stomach flip.

Tap on the head = “Quit it, sergeant.”

Arm yanked away = “None of that, thank you.”

Head pulled away = “Don’t make me ask you again.”

Did some of his whispered words make your core throb? Maybe. Was that a problem? Also maybe, but who cares?

This entire thing came to a head one night in base. Price, Soap and Gaz were off doing god knows what, leaving you alone in the rec-room. You found yourself running a finger against your teeth as you stared into space, your most previous mission replaying in your mind.

You didn’t even hear Ghost come in. You also didn’t see him until he was looming over you, a hand clamping around your wrist.

You squeaked in surprise.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” He tutted softly. “You’re hurting yourself. I’ve told you to quit it.”

You looked up at him. “I don’t mean too, sir, I mean it. It just—”

“I don’t care,” Ghost said simply. “Stop it. I’m fed up of seeing you putting shit in your mouth. You’re not a dog.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” He blinked down at you. “I don’t understand? I understand perfectly. You just want things in your mouth, right? That’s what you want, eh?”

You frowned. “You’re making it weird.”

He had a hand on his belt now. When did he do that? It made your stomach flip.

“You want to suck on something so bad? You want something in your mouth?” He was unbuckling his belt before you could reply. “Come on then, naughty girl, open your fucking mouth.”

You gaped at him as he let his belt hang either side of his hips and place one of his gloved hands to his growing bulge.

“Lieutenant—?”

“Well?” He prompted, imprint of his cock right in front of your face. “Come on, sergeant. You want to put things in your mouth, right? So go on. Suck my fucking cock. Open wide and let me stuff this mouth with my cock.”

Oh.

I mean, you weren’t complaining.

But oh.

He peered down at you between long, blond eyelashes. You swallowed thickly, his stare making your entire body grow hot. His eyes seemed to grow darker and despite the skull balaclava, you could imagine his expectant expression.

“On your knees.” He whispered, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.

You did as you were told— clambering off of the couch and sinking to the floor. His hand was still heavy on the back of your head as you propped ourself on your knees. He pushed your head forward, and you caught yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs.

“Come on, pretty girl. I don’t have all night. Take my cock out.” He mumbled, pressing your face closer to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

He lightened his grip so you could lean back. With shaky hands, you unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans. You opened them and proceeded to push down his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free.

“Good fucking girl. Now take it in your hand,” Ghost hissed. “Wrap your hand around it— ah, fuck, there you go.”

You grasped the base of his cock firmly, making him curse under his breath. You squeezed it gently, stroking lightly, and he hissed out, the hand on the back of your head tightening in your hair.

“S’enough of that,” he tugged at your hair. “Open.”

You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. He looked down, cocking a head slightly to the side. Tentatively, you leaned forward and, still maintaining eye contact, pressed your lips delicately to the reddened tip of his cock. The pressure was featherlight, barely a peck, and when you pulled back, you had a small smear of precum on your lower lip.

He grunted, the hand at your head tightening so much that it made you choke on a whine.

“Quit the fucking teasing,” Ghost grunted again. “Naughty girl you are, eh, sergeant?”

You kissed the tip of his cock again. This time, you darted your tongue out like a fucking lizard and swiped it along the sensitive slit across the head. A deep, gravelly sound emitted from Ghost’s throat.

Whoops.

His other hand came down to your face, and he forced a thumb into your mouth. It was cottony against your tongue, his glove tasting like the smell of him. He kept his thumb pressed to your tongue, his other hand gripping the back of your head. His cock was still directly in front of your face. A dribble of pre leaked down the fat shaft of it.

“What’d I just fucking say?” He growled, thumb pressing down harder. “Quit fucking teasing. You don’t want to listen to your lieutenant, eh?”

His thumb on your tongue was making you salivate so much that strings of it dripped from the corners of your mouth. You whined, embarrassed, as your body flared hot with humiliation.

Ghost chuckled, low and dark. “Messy girl.”

He finally shifted his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of your teeth, the rest of his fingers holding your chin. With this, he forced your jaw wider, pushing your head closer with his other hand.

“You want to put things in your mouth? Want to be a dirty girl?” Ghost let go of your head briefly so he could grasp his cock. He brought it forward and ran the sensitive tip across your lower face, smearing your saliva. He shuddered an exhale at the sensation. “Come on then. Let me put my cock in your mouth. Let’s see how dirty you can be.”

He kept your jaw open like a vice as he pulled his cock back and then proceeded to push it into your open mouth. You gagged immediately as he rammed the tip into the back of your throat with a groan.

“Yeah, that’s right. Gag on it,” Ghost groaned. “Fucking gag on it. S’too big, eh? Fuck, I know, pretty girl. But you love putting things in your mouth, don’t you? I bet you love this.”

Tears were welling in your eyes when he removed his thumb from your mouth. He kept a hand on the back of your head, guiding you to take more and more of him.

He was grunting and groaning quietly above you, your cunt throbbing at the sounds. Meanwhile, you continued to wrap your lips around his girth and keep up with the way he was fucking your throat.

He was heavy on your tongue. Velvety smooth, with veins you could feel and drips of precum that you could taste. You moaned around his cock, and he bucked his hips deeper into you, making you gag again. Tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“That’s it, take it,” he muttered, the fat head of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. “Take it all in this slutty little mouth. Listen to these noises, too. Such a filthy fucking mouth.”

The noises were slick and wet. Your saliva, dribbling down your chin, pooled in your mouth as he fucked it. It was sloppy and messy. The sounds filling your ears made your stomach twist in both mortification and excitement.

Ghost was fucking his cock into your mouth like a madman. His thrusts were desperate while he kept a firm grip on your head. He watched you as you took his cock down your throat, grunting at each suctioned drag, eased by the amount of saliva.

His breaths were now coming in pants. “You’re not gonna put your fingers in your mouth again, okay? You want something to suck on, then you come and suck on my cock. Got it?”

You whimpered around him, desperately trying to hold more gags at bay.

He was still grunting and groaning deep from his chest as pleasure built within him. “M-fuck. M’gonna cum down your throat and you’re gonna take it all, pretty girl.”

You whimpered at him again. Your core was throbbing so much you thought you might die.

The grip Ghost had on your head tightened even more, forcing you to take more of his cock until your nose was flush to the thatch of hair at the base. You whined and gagged and it prompted Ghost to whisper your name and cum down your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled as he emptied his load into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, take it, pretty girl. Don’t waste it… don’t waste it.”

He rutted his cock a couple more times before he pulled out. He blinked down at you lazily as you stared up at him, cheeks puffed out with a mouth full of his cum. Cheekily, you poked your tongue out a few centimetres, some of his seed oozing out and dripping down your chin.

“Holy fuck—” He caught himself moaning. “Just— fuck, swallow it.”

You did, and he moaned again. He pulled you up towards him, urging you to your feet by still holding your head. Then, he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to smother the noise of surprise you made.

When he pulled back, he breathed deeply, massaging the back of your neck gently.

“I’m serious, by the way. Stop chewing your nails and sucking on your fingers… please.”

You smiled at him. “I’ll try. As long as I can distract myself by sucking on your cock instead.”

“O’course you can, pretty girl.”

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bruh this sucked i’m sorry 😭

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #captain’smetallica

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yjhariani · 1 year

Text

Warnings: Profanity, angst.

“Again, does anybody have a lighter?” Price asked a little louder this time.

Soap gently elbowed Ghost on the side. Ghost only turned to look at him, tilting his head a little to show his annoyance.

They were almost in the middle of nowhere. At least they had electricity and water. What they did not have was a lighter, thus Price’s moaning. He was going to light up a cigar.

Ghost knew why Soap was elbowing him. Soap was referring to that lighter in Ghost’s pocket. The one he held personally for himself and himself only.

So, Ghost ignored the sergeant. Price had arrived in front of them by then.

“Simon, you smoke,” Price brought up.

“I don’t have a lighter,” Ghost said.

“You pray with it every night,” Soap muttered.

Price and Ghost looked at him. Ghost was practically glaring at Soap. Soap looked like he wished he had not said a word.

“Am I missing something?” Price asked.

Ghost said nothing and now Price was also looking at Soap rather intimidatingly.

“I… Ghost has a lighter,” Soap said.

“I don’t,” Ghost insisted.

Price now turned his expecting glare at Ghost. That got Soap a little confident to proceed.

“As I said, he basically prayed with it every night before he sleeps,” Soap continued.

“Just this once, Simon, I will lose my shit if I can’t get this cigar lit up,” Price said.

Ghost did not react at first, but seeing that the two of them were not going to let this go, he shot a final murderous glare at Soap before putting his hand into his pocket. He held the lighter in his palm and pulled it out of his pocket.

Looking at the captain, Ghost almost did not want to hand out the lighter. However, he ended up opening his palm and revealed the lighter that sat on his palm.

It was as if the whole area turned frozen. Gaz had just walked in and saw the reveal. Even he stopped at his track.

The lighter was yours. It used to be yours. It did belong to you. It did not belong to you anymore. It belonged to Ghost now. You gave it to him before your last mission. The mission that got you killed.

Every thing was fine before that—no, every thing was perfect.

Ghost and you were basically a nightmare couple. A nightmare as in badass motherfuckers who got shit done effectively. Sure, there were flaws such as the constant passive-agressive flirting, recklessness, and tense eye contacts, but, damn… the two of you were great at your job together.

That last mission was indeed going to be your last mission because you decided to not renew your military contract and you both were about to get married. Without telling anyone. However, the others just knew. They always knew that the two of you would end up together one way or another.

Then, shit happened. The worst happened. The irony.

You ended up buried under the ground and became a memory. Ghost ended up here, with these three, more bitter than he ever was.

You always had his heart and it was buried with you. Whatever sentimental left in him, it was out of respect of the memory of you. Of the memory you both were about to make and never did.

Price, Gaz, and Soap never brought you up. Not since the funeral. Price tried and Ghost ended up walking out of the room without saying anything, slamming the door on his way out.

This would be the first time anything about you ever came up ever since that incident. Soap had no idea it was the lighter. Ever. So, his heart did not only stop when he saw it, it would blow up if it could. Gaz used to borrow the lighter to do tricks, so he would recognise it from afar. Price had his cigars lit up by the lighter a few times before.

The four of them were frozen there for quite some time.

“So, we don’t have a lighter,” Price concluded before anyone of them started bursting into either anger or tears.

“Yeah, we don’t,” Soap nodded. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“You know, there’s a stove in the kitchen. You can light your cigar up with it,” Gaz brought up. “I’m about to cook something, too.”

“Right, right,” Price nodded before walking away.

“I’ll help make sure no one’s burning anything down and get us compromised,” Soap stated before leaving the area.

Ghost stayed where he stood a while after they left. He stared at the lighter for some time, thinking about what you might say if you were still here. None of them would be this messy. The four of them would likely be laughing right now of some stupid joke you made.

Maybe you were still here. He might be the Ghost, but you were the ghost now. Maybe you were laughing at them right now.

“Would’ve been nice if you’re here,” Ghost said under his breath before pocketing the lighter back.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 8 months

Text

Duty Over Heart

Pairing: Captain John Price x medic!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff, mutual pining, inappropriate workplace flirting? no power imbalance, f!reader, reader is implied to be American but can be read as anyone

Reader is called "Doc"

Words: 6.1k

Synopsis: You and Lieutenant John Price worked together on a mission in Bosnia, only to find out that your lives were forever changed afterwards...

You are currently reading the prologue to Duty Over Heart

(I guess technically lieutenant Price in this but he’s captain in the rest so)

Price can vividly remember what the day felt like after your first mission together.

It had been a nice day, warm and sunny to the point he wondered if maybe he would overheat if there wasn’t a breeze. To him, he could vaguely smell sea salt and the promise of the fish dinner his mother used to make on Sundays after having dragged him to church earlier that morning. The smell of petrol and the feeling of the warmth from a very particular quilt he had grown up sleeping with.

The feeling, at the time, had been quite odd to him since he had met you far from the ocean and far from Liverpool, the place he had called home up until the age of sixteen before he decided to enlist in the military, but after as many years as the two of you have known each other, he understood why he had remembered those things.

Price had gotten home from a long deployment overseas. Anyone normal would’ve taken the time to settle back within their home, let themselves rest for a moment before they decided to be active again, especially when they had been risking their lives nearly everyday for months on end, but Price was anything but normal.

No one normal killed people for their job, no one normal had to make certain calls that risked the lives of people he would call friends for the rest of the world.

Civilians didn’t see the horrible shit he saw everyday, they shouldn’t in his mind, which was why he had the job he did.

Which was also why he found himself at a football game the day after he had gotten back home.

He didn’t particularly care for the teams that were playing but that didn’t stop him from getting into the game, not when it kept his mind from wandering into places he wished he could snuff out like the cigars he smoked far too often.

A game was a game, he’d enjoy it if it meant he didn’t have to be reminded of his last deployment.

He had been stuck in his own world, engrossed in the football game when someone sat down next to him. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it, it was a busy game and people often got up from their seats and switched them to get better views of the field.

“This seems like a very intense soccer game.”

Price’s face fell into a scowl as he suppressed an eyeroll and he glanced at the woman who sat beside him.

He could immediately tell she was American, not only because of her accent or because she called football “soccer”, but because of the way she looked.

She stood out almost like a sore thumb, wearing clothes that American tourists often wore when visiting London as if she were on vacation but he knew better. She sat with confidence but there was an air of professionalism around her that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else and he knew the moment that she looked at him with a smile his leave was going to be cut short.

“It’s football.” He countered and scoffed. “Americans…”

“I didn’t realize you took soccer so seriously, Lieutenant.” She said and this time he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling.

“I find football to be relaxing.”

She raised an amused eyebrow, most likely because she must’ve been around to hear him screaming very angrily about the last couple of calls the refs had made. However, she didn’t say anything to disagree as the crowd around them cheered from a goal that he had missed entirely.

His attention had been taken from the game only to go back to work, as it always did. He could argue with anyone that his entire life was his work and though that was mostly by choice, at the moment he wished he could have just these few hours to himself.

“Kate Laswell, CIA.” She introduced herself with a smile, one that was polite but had a hidden meaning behind it.

“What do you want?” He nearly demanded, unable to keep the poor attitude that had crept into him since the moment she had sat next to him.

Price didn’t want to be rude, normally he wasn’t but his nerves were still high from yesterday and he wasn’t too happy about being interrupted on his time off, let alone during a football game.

“I need you for an op,” Laswell began and he sucked in his lips. “You’re the best man I know for the job and I can’t afford mistakes on this one.”

“Best man, eh?” He laughed.

It was true that he had gained quite the reputation for himself within the SAS over the many years of his service. He was one of the highly respected soldiers and often the one that many of his higher ups turned to when they wanted the job done. However, it never would’ve occurred to him that he was also considered the best in the minds of the Americans, especially those in the CIA.

For anyone else, they would’ve gotten cocky about it, but for Price, it just meant he worked more often than not.

“I’ll spare you the details right now but I need to know if you’re in.” She said in a serious tone and one look into her eyes, Price knew she meant business.

She was tenacious, he liked that. She didn’t beat around the bush and waste his time with formalities or “politics”. Straight to the point and honest, he couldn’t fault her for that and despite the fact that she wanted to use her silly American words, he was open to working with her.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice if she specifically came looking for him. If the job was that important, then there was nothing that would stop him from taking it, not if it meant there would be lives on the line.

“When?”

“My plane leaves in a few hours, we’ll debrief on the flight and then you’ll be shipped out the day after tomorrow.”

Price nodded and turned his attention back to the game as a long sigh left his chest. He should’ve felt more upset about the fact that he was being pulled away from his home after only being back for less than a day, but he had hardly given himself time to feel at home so it didn’t matter.

From one job into another, that was his life, and yet when he met you everything became so much more than that.

The plane had touched down in Bosnia on a small base that the CIA occupied for the mission. It was a small operation for how much Laswell had built it up but no less dangerous; a war criminal on the loose, the need for capture to bring in alive, a simple job but Price knew better.

Nothing was ever simple.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had a simple mission, one that didn’t require him to be constantly vigilant. He wasn’t sure those existed, he couldn’t recall a single mission where he hadn’t nearly died, though he was sure there had to be at least one.

Everything had blurred together nowadays, days into weeks, into months, every mission became the same in his mind and the only thing that kept his head on straight was the paperwork detailing what happened.

Laswell led him into a small stuffy conference room, one that didn’t even have and instead had chairs set out as if they were in a classroom. It was only the two of them there and Price waited for the CIA agent to start but she didn’t.

Instead the door opened and in stepped you.

Price couldn’t help the way his eyebrows knitted together when he saw you walking in full gear just like him, ready for a mission. He almost hated to admit to himself that the first thought that went through his mind was that you looked far too soft to be in the military, let alone work on high profile jobs such as these.

He didn’t want to make assumptions, he’d much rather do that after he’s been able to watch you work, but he couldn’t help it when your eyes looked bright as you glanced from him to Laswell and a warm smile stretched across your face.

He had to deliberately ignore the way his chest warmed when he saw it.

“Sorry I’m late, Kate.”

“We’re still waiting for the others.” Laswell dismissed you with a smile of her own. “You and the lieutenant can acquaint yourselves in the meantime.”

The others? Price didn’t have much time to wonder or ask before his attention was taken by you as you stood in front of him practically beaming at him with only what he could assume to be admiration.

He found that all thoughts were forcibly taken from his mind as he sucked in his lips, glancing down at your own, and he grabbed the straps of his vest.

Up this close, you were quite beautiful which caused him to mentally kick himself for being strange about someone he hadn’t even spoken to yet.

“You’re Lieutenant Price?” You asked and when he nodded your smile grew. “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir, and I’m excited to work with you.”

It took everything in him to hide the disgust he felt when the word sir fell out of your mouth.

You were being polite and respectful, something that many others who he’s met do and yet he didn’t like the way it sounded in your voice. There was something about it, something that put up a barrier he wasn’t sure he liked all that much, not when you seemed so friendly.

That was a stark contrast to many people who had met before, including Laswell. Everyone always approached him only with professionalism that he had gotten accustomed to the longer he worked in his field.

Was this your first job? This wouldn’t be the first time that someone had paired him up with a rookie and he didn’t have an issue with being the one who would teach you the ropes on this mission if that were the case-

“I’m sergeant L/n.” You introduced yourself and his eyes widened slightly. “I don’t know if Kate has informed you but I’ll be your medic for this assignment.”

Price raised his eyebrows and nodded before he glanced at Laswell. He knew that this was serious but he didn’t realize he would need a medic for it and he couldn’t help but wonder just how bad this war criminal was.

When he glanced back at you, he saw that there was a little more determination in your eyes than before but you still had that bright look on your face, something that he felt was entirely out of place.

You shouldn’t be in a place like this.

“Good to know I’m not working alone.” He gave you a quick smile. “M’sorry I wasn’t able learn more about you before this.”

“I only know so much because of your extensive medical records.” You gave him a playfully stern look that made him chuckle.

“I’ll try to be more careful this time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll patch you up when you aren’t.”

Price felt his chest warm up as he found he was caught completely off guard by you once again. The look of confidence in your eyes didn’t help as you showed him just how much faith you had in your skills which made him feel a lot more comfortable, despite the fact that he hadn’t felt all that out of place before.

Your voice was warm and the smile on your face made him really believe that maybe this was a joke, that maybe you were brought here by accident despite the fact that you seemed to be well acquainted with Laswell.

No other medic had even said that to him. It was a medic's job to make sure their team didn’t die if they sustained an injury and yet you had made it seem that it was so much more than that, even when you had just met him.

He wanted to question you about it, about why you were so friendly, before you excused yourself to speak with Laswell. He was at a loss for words even as two other soldiers came in and the quick briefing started.

You sat next to him and when your knee touched his, he felt himself tense up as he fought back against the weird prickling feeling that came from it.

He glanced at you and for a moment he watched you pay careful attention to Laswell, undisturbed and focused like a soldier as if you hadn’t acted like a completely regular civilian. He studied your face, watching the way you took in the information that he barely processed because he was too focused on you.

As if sensing that he was staring at you, you glanced at him and before he could look away your eyes met. He felt like a creep for being so strange towards you but instead of giving him a look of disgust, you only gave him a shy smile before you looked back at Laswell with that same determined look on your face as before.

His heart skipped a beat and he forced himself to pay attention.

Bloody hell…

Price felt the burn of a bullet pierce his shoulder and he ducked behind the wall of the building he hid by. He huffed, gripping his gun tightly as he turned his attention to the area surrounding him while the sound of gunfire went off around him.

Nothing was ever simple.

Even when he and his group had cornered the war criminal in a small shop on an empty street. He had expected that he would give up when he realized that he was pinned and there was no way out.

Unfortunately, he should’ve expected that the man wouldn’t go down without a fight and that he had his own protection with him.

No one was dead. Any civilians around had left the scene and as far as Price knew he was the only one who had been hit by a stray bullet. His main focus was on the war criminal and making sure that he could capture him without killing him.

Price heard someone duck beside him and glanced back to see you, weapon ready as you provided some cover so he could reload his own.

“Is it lethal?” You fired a shot towards the store window, killing one of the other hostiles and ducked back behind cover.

“I’m good!” He grunted and ignored the pain as he raised his weapon to shoot as well. “We need to flank ’em!”

“Just say the word, lieutenant!”

Price kept his eyes on the war criminal and looked for an opening. That’s all he needed in order to get the job done without getting anyone killed, but currently he couldn’t move without the high chance of getting his head blown off.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the gunfire and just as he was about to give the order to move on the building, something flew through the air towards the both of you.

“Grenade!” He called out and grabbed you on instinct.

He pulled you to cover and hid you underneath him as the explosion went off. His attention immediately went back to the war criminal as he heard tires squealing and saw him speed away in a car.

He cursed and helped you up.

“We’ll chase him, the others can cut him off.” You tugged his vest and sprinted towards the humvee you came in together.

Price relayed the plan into the comms and followed right behind you, jumping into the driver side as he pushed the pedal to the floor to pursue the war criminal. It didn’t take long for him to catch up and he kept his distance as bullets began to ricochet off the hood of the humvee.

He tried to pick up his gun to shoot, but the bullet wound in his shoulder sent hot fiery pain that made him clench his jaw tightly.

“How good is your aim?” He glanced at you as you rolled down the window on the passenger side.

“If you keep us steady, I can get the tires.” You sounded confident and he nodded as he watched you pull your gun up.

You leaned out of the window and looked down the sights of your gun. You took a deep breath and fired two shots, the back two tires of the getaway car exploding with a loud pop before the broken wheels began to spark against the pavement.

The car quickly spun out of control towards the humvee and Price pulled you back inside just as the front smashed into the side of the getaway car.

The two of you were jerked around as glass pieces flew through the air and you smack your head against the dash of the humvee. The getaway car screeched and bent from the crash as both vehicles slipped across the pavement before they came to an abrupt stop.

Steam rose from the hood of the humvee and for a moment everything was still.

Price’s heart was in his ears and he looked to you when you groaned, his eyes searching for any injuries as you held your head.

“You broken?” He asked and when you shook your head he gave out a quick sigh of relief.

“I’m good.” You huffed and swung the door open.

You jumped out of the car with your gun and raced towards the getaway car with Price in tow.

The other from your team showed up just as the both of you rounded to the front, and before anyone in the getaway car could grab their weapons or make a run for it, all weapons were pointed at them.

“Bravo Six to Watcher One, target is secured.” Price relayed the information into his comms as he caught his breath.

“A bird is coming your way for pick up.” Her voice came through the comms and he felt the adrenaline slowly leave his body.

Before Price knew it was back on the small base, watching as a select crew of highly trained individuals take the war criminal to the US.

He stood off to the side of the landing pad as the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. It took too long in his opinion for it to wear off and he could feel himself itching to find something to help ease it as he waited for Laswell to debrief him and tell him he can go home.

Home. It should make him feel better, it should put him at ease and yet his eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw at the thought of having to go back to London. He knew he needed rest, once the adrenaline wore off he would feel the effects of his last deployment and the car crash, but he didn’t want to stop.

Not when there were more war criminals and people willing to harm innocents still out there.

Price huffed and gripped the strap of his vest before he went to make his way to Laswell.

“Lieutenant.” You called out behind him a little sternly and he felt his heart skip a beat. He stopped and turned around, seeing the serious look on your face which had him looking at you confused.

You narrowed your eyes and gave him an incredulous look.

“Sergeant?” He questioned and you raised your eyebrow.

“I’d be a horrible medic if I let you walk away with a bullet in your shoulder.” You told him and his eyebrows widened.

He looked at his blood soaked shoulder, having completely forgotten about the injury until just now. He could already start to feel the aching sensation return and yet he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s alright-”

“Respectfully sir, I’ll drag you in if I have to.”

Price didn’t have the chance to cringe at the use of sir as he was too caught off guard by your threat. He felt a genuine smile pull at his lips as he looked at your face, seeing that you were serious and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

He shook his head and unsure of why he felt his chest warm again before he gestured for you to take the lead.

You nodded and soon you had him sitting on a spare bed in the same infirmary you threatened to force him to on base.

He watched you intently as you methodically gathered everything you needed, taking special note of the way you silently spoke the list of items that you needed to yourself before you instructed him to take his shirt off.

He managed to take his vest off, feeling a little relief that the heavyweight was off his shoulder but the moment he went to take off his shirt, pain erupted from the bullet wound and he grunted.

His shoulder was stiff and just barely moving had him feel as though he were about to rip off his entire arm. He’s had worse injuries, some that had forced him in a hospital bed for days, and yet this one seemed to be the most persistent.

Price tried again but he could hardly move his shoulder at all.

“Can I help?” You offered and he couldn’t look at you as he nodded without a word.

He felt a slight tinge of embarrassment as you helped him pull off his shirt with little pain to accompany it.

Once it was off, he felt a slight chill as he waited for more pain to follow as soon as you started to patch him up. He was used to the way that medics roughly handled the injuries in front of them, it was just the way things were, especially as the adrenaline was still coursing through their veins.

However, instead of being jostled around and manhandled by you, he felt your hand softly press against his wound with a piece of gauze to soak up any remaining blood. You were gentle as you cleaned it up, apologizing for the stinging from the antiseptic and for how cold he must be since he was shivering.

Shivering from your touch, but he couldn’t admit that to you.

Price couldn’t help but feel incredibly confused but also intrigued by you. At first he believed maybe you wouldn’t fare well on the battlefield but then he saw how efficient you were catching the war criminal.

You were the complete opposite now, treating his wound as if he were a child and touching him with a softness that he had left in Liverpool.

You were strange in the best way possible. You were experienced and a hell of a good shot which wasn’t something that came naturally to most, yet you didn’t boast or act prideful. You were back to that softness he had seen just hours before and he couldn't quite wrap his head around that.

You glanced at him, catching his inquisitive eyes and you quickly looked away from him as if you were startled to know that he was staring at you.

He didn’t miss the way a shy look spread across your face again which made his eyes immediately jump to your lips as he watched you work.

“Did I live up to your expectations?” You teased, seemingly having read his mind and his eyes widened.

Price’s frowned. He hadn’t realized it had been that obvious and it almost made him more embarrassed to realize that you must’ve felt the need to prove yourself to him.

He could only assume by the way that your eyes were devoid of that brightness that this wasn’t the first time someone had made you feel this way.

He couldn’t help the anger that boiled inside of him at the thought.

Anger at himself for being the same as the pricks who had most likely put you down your entire career considering you didn’t seem all that phased by it.

How many times have you had to prove yourself? How many times did someone completely disregard you without giving you a chance?

Guilt bubbled up in his stomach and he clenched his jaw. He never wanted to be like them and yet he had done it to a good soldier who didn’t need to have the extra pressure on top of everything else.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat, knowing that his face must be a few shades redder, especially when you gave him a sad smile. “It was incredibly unprofessional of me to make you think that I-”

“Lieutenant, it’s okay.”

Price shook his head despite the sincere look on your face and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He stared into your eyes with a serious look, one that he hoped would change your mind, and found that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

His eyes bounced around your face now that he had a chance to look at you properly, and saw every detail that made you, you.

He wasn’t sure why he found himself studying your face. Maybe it was because this would be the last time he’d ever see you and the thought of forgetting your face made him uneasy.

Though, he was sure he’d never forget you, especially when he noticed a small gash on your forehead he had completely missed.

From the car crash…brilliant first impression, he thought.

You stared at him expectantly but didn’t pull your hand away from him as his fingers burned into your skin. It felt as if you had stepped closer to him for a moment as you swallowed hard and your eyes flickered around his face while you gave him a surprised look.

The two of you stared at each other for a lot longer than what normal people did all because he just couldn’t think.

The more he stared, the harder it became to ignore the way his chest warmed as he drew a complete blank on what he was going to say to you. It took a moment for him to come to his senses, realizing that maybe it was a little strange for him to stare, before he finally cleared his throat.

“Really,” his voice barely above a whisper, soft and sincere. “I’m sorry.”

Price let his hand fall from yours, already missing the warmth of your steady pulse in his palm and sucked his lips into his mouth as he waited for you to answer.

He watched you stare at him as if he had grown three heads, as if no one had ever apologized to you so sincerely and it only made the anger inside of him bubble more. He held it in as you glanced away from him, uncertainty flashing across your eyes before you took a deep sigh.

You glanced back up at him with an appreciative look in your eyes that brought back some of the light that had him letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, sir.” Your voice was soft as you gave him a small smile.

“Price.”

A smile stretched across his face at the confused look on your face. He couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped his mouth when you gave him a look of uncertainty, as if you were trying your hardest to figure out if he was joking or not.

“You don’t have to be that formal with me.” He added and your eyebrows knitted together.

“Is this a test or something?” The corners of your mouth twitched when he shook his head. “We only just met a few hours ago, Lieutenant.”

Price shrugged, or attempted to without injuring himself further, and watched as you gave him a genuine smile.

You were right of course, you were still practically strangers and yet he couldn’t help the feeling in his gut that he had seen enough from you to believe you were somebody he could trust. Somebody who he wanted to see again, to speak to again, and hopefully never have to truly say goodbye to.

He hoped you felt the same but no matter how long he stared into your eyes, the beautiful ones that twinkled with a sort of friendliness that stole his breath away, he couldn’t tell.

All he could do was hope that you wouldn’t be repulsed with working with him again.

“You certainly live up to the stories, Price.” You said as you went back to patching him up with a smile.

“Stories?” He wondered and you nodded. “Hopefully not all bad, I’ve not heard about them until now.”

“They’re not. Promise.”

He was sure the two of you looked like idiots the way that you both grinned at each other. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had smiled so genuinely yet he didn’t mind the ache in his cheeks at all. His attention was on you as you continued to patch him up, completely enthralled by you and your presence alone.

“Shame I haven’t heard anything about you.” He watched you raise an amused eyebrow.

“There’s nothing to say.” You scoffed and he grumbled.

After all he had seen today not only on the field but now as you treated him so gently, he had to disagree.

You had to be one of the best combat medics he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was a disservice to you that no one seemed to know who you were or know about your skills, save for him and Laswell.

You finished patching him up, carefully examining your hand work with a proud twinkle in your eyes that completely enraptured him.

“Then I’ll say something.” He spoke before he could even think.

You snorted and gave him a look as if you thought he was joking.

However, even with the fact that he had let that slip out, he was serious about saying something good about you if this mission ever came up in the future, and gave you a look that showed he meant it

There was nothing that would stop him from letting your expertise be known to anyone who would listen.

“Are you always this nice to your medics?” You wondered as you began packing up your equipment.

“Yes-“

Price stopped you and grabbed the few items he needed before he started to clean the gash on your head.

He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened and the flustered look on your face as he made quick work to patch you up. You opened your mouth to say something and attempted to step away from him, but he quickly grabbed your elbow to stop you, making you forget about any of the words you might’ve said.

His fingertips felt like they were on fire as he touched your skin and he tried his hardest to push down the good feeling that he had in his stomach. He was sure that his cheeks had turned a few shades darker and he avoided looking at you in hopes that maybe you wouldn’t notice.

“-but I think I need to make it up to you for acting like a muppet.”

When he pulled away, you touched the small bandage on your head with delicate fingers and gave him a grateful smile.

There was a sort of fondness in your eyes when you looked at him, something that was a lot warmer than anything he ever could’ve imagined coming from someone he had worked with and it left him feeling lighter.

“You don’t have to do anything.” You told him with a giggle that made his heart skip a beat. “Even if you are a muppet.”

Price grinned at your imitation of him and you had a proud look in your eyes, something that was much better than the sad look you had just earlier. He hoped you were telling the truth or else he was willing to do just about anything to make it up to you.

He slipped his shirt back on, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he did so, before you handed him a few pain meds. He sent you a thankful nod as he took them and that was when he spotted the clock on the wall in the small infirmary.

The smile fell from his face when he realized that he had to go back home soon and that heavy feeling came back. He clenched his jaw and a soft sigh escaped his chest before he glanced at you.

He had a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to say goodbye to you, not yet.

“When do you go back?” He wondered and you gave him a tired smile.

“They’ve got me on a few more assignments before I can go home.” You stated matter of factly and yet Price couldn’t help the sympathetic feeling he got in his stomach. “I wasn’t the one who was rudely interrupted during a game.”

“It wasn’t that entertaining…”

The words were stuck in his throat as he watched you pack up the rest of your items and put them back on your vest as you mentally counted the list of items you still had left.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous speaking to you, why all of the sudden his entire confidence as a leader had disappeared when it came to you, but it made the prospect of saying goodbye a lot worse than it should’ve.

You both were soldiers, that’s how this job was.

“You’re not at all tired?” He wondered and you scoffed.

“I didn’t say that.” You gave him a soft pat on his good arm before you gestured for him to walk with you. “But when you’re one of the most needed people on the battlefield, you don’t get to rest that often.”

Price hummed and nodded, knowing a little bit about what that might feel like considering his reputation.

He followed you outside of the infirmary, trying his hardest to come up with something more to say to keep the conversation going, just so he could talk to you for a little while longer but he couldn’t think of anything.

The two of you made it back to the tarmac and he sighed heavily when he saw the helicopter that was meant for him.

“I find that going on walks helps.” You said softly and his eyebrows knitted when he looked at you.

You gave him an empathetic smile. One that showed a sort of softness that made his chest feel lighter and made him want to prolong his departure even more.

“When you work with injured soldiers you learn the signs.” You explained and he sucked in his lips when he realized that you were actually seeing him. “It’s in your eyes.”

He wasn’t sure how he could feel more compelled to be around you but knowing that you saw John Price and not ‘the Lieutenant Price’, made him feel incredibly vulnerable but in the safest way possible. He was almost relieved that you saw past his ranking and the stories that seemed to travel through the special forces all around the world.

It almost made him feel more at peace.

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, causing him to tense up slightly and step closer to you. He stared deep into your eyes again, studying everything about them so he could hope to remember them when you were gone.

“Walks, eh?” He repeated softly and nodded, causing you to give him a light squeeze. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Doc.”

You grinned and pulled your hand away from him, fidgeting with your fingers as you shook your head with that same flustered look on your face you had earlier.

“You know, strangely no one’s called me that before.” You chuckled and he hummed as he heard the sound of the helo turning on.

“Well, then I get the honor of being the first one.” He smiled when he saw the twinkle in your eyes. “I’ll make sure it sticks.”

“How generous of you.”

Price chuckled and tried his hardest to ignore the pit in his stomach as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop him going home. He could only hope that one day he’d be able to work with you again if Laswell ever needed him to clean up another mess.

Maybe she would assign you with him if that happened. Maybe she would listen to him if he personally requested to have you on the team with him whenever she inevitably did call him again.

“Thanks, Doc.” He nodded to you as he began to make his way to the helo.

“Take care of yourself and don’t get shot! I won’t be there to patch you up.” You jokingly called out to him and he laughed.

Price was done for the moment he laid eyes on you.

Tags: @cathnoneofyourbusiness @lillianastuff @sofasoap

A/N: AHHHHHHHH it's finally out and i'm so excited and nervous. I hope you guys like it because it has a very special place in my heart

#captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #price x you #price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price x reader #cod price #john price #captain price mw2 #price mw2 #john price mw2 #mw2 price

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the-entitie · 8 months

Text

COD men x K-9 Unit male reader

Part 1 | Part 2》》

A/n: I can speak three languages, only one of which borrow German words, so forgive me for shitty translations. I'm from the RSA, so you know. Not any of the boys hometown.

Reader works with a K-9 unit and his partner is called Mutt who is a mix breed of Alaskan Akita and Doberman(Mutt is also a service dog as reader has paranoia and C-PTSD). Readers call sign is Riot. The 141 boys needed help tracing a terrorist and John called in some favors to bring Riot and Mutt into the field. He helped the Los Vaqueros as well.

After the mission back at base, the reader interacts with the men, and they end up interacting with him.

Reader is referred to as you or Riot.

Mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, C-PTSD, war, and / or war related violence. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, past trauma. Death of a family member. Torture, scars, and flashbacks.

Left: American Akita and Right: Long-haired Doberman

John Price: (740 words)

-He met you first, saw you first. Hell, he verified your file so he knew of your old teammates that turned because of the torture, and he knew of the many years you spent MIA. He also knows what you did to get out. So he keeps you close and keeps an eye on you. He's the one who needs to clear you for this recon mission. It will be his fault if another team mate goes rogue. -It only take him a few minutes to see how much you actually relay on Mutt, it takes him days to see its not reliance, no the two of you act in a cemented trust between you two. From the interactions at home base to the way you both move like a well oiled machine on the field, it doesn't take a genius to see that Mutt is a deadly force with training that makes the hound that much more dangerous. Price comes face to face with that realization when he sees just how far Mutt can throw a soldier four times their size. And Mutt came up to his thighs, mind you. -Time and space are all Price really needed to trust you completely. He knew how you acted with Mutt, and therefore, he knew how you would act around a team you trust. It doesn't take him long to see its not only Mutt who reacts to you. You react just as much based on your K-9. Price nearly shoots you when you call out to Mutt because you didn't whistle for the hound. You howled, and he could hardly tell it apart from the wild dogs he's heard out in the desert. He didn't even understand what the fuck you where doing until he heard something answer you, in the same rumbling call. It took a lot more time to get used to those kinds of noises from you. He could expect them from Mutt but not when it's you who makes them -Both of you were exhausted, been about three long days on your feet with little sleep, that's when he asks you how you make the sounds Mutt does. Hell he even starts trying to learn them just to know how you and you K-9 partner work better. "So I just cup my hands and what now Riot? I Grunt?" "No," you laugh at him, he doesn't feel patronized by it, "you hold your hands around your mouth and just bark, makes it echo like a dog." He sounded more like a mountain lion then canine when he actually gave it a try. You teach him how to pitch it up a bit, and how to drag the call out properly. "And you don't use your hand because?" "Because I'm used to it, and can make the 'echo' without my hands. I still do when I howl. Look." A few nights pass before he uses it to scare a tango shitless out side of the enemy base. He doesn't admit it but he likes 'talking' to the local wild dogs with you. He even enjoys hearing you and Mutt go off at each other because it means your both alive and still here. -Out side of the field and when you two go out to roam the town at the dead of night, he comes to see that the canine noises you and Mutt share gives you peace. The kind he used to find in cigars and smoke. He gets it, he knows that some people just have a vice. When you find him smoking alone behind his own home, he shrugs it off and blames it on the smoke detectors. He doesn't say that he stops to make your K-9 more comfortable in his home. He doesn't stop smoking but he tries to avoid it for your sake. You only corner him around a day or so to thank him. He won't admit to the red flaring up on his ears, but he tells you to drop it. -If he's ever the one who finds you when your having an attack, he will guard you. Get you safe and comfortable then he will become a gruff mother bear and be completely over protective of you. He only calms down when he sees that Mutt already does that, and he learns what can help you, what to look out for. He won't admit it though.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: (734 words)

-Ghost didn't like you at first. or well he doesn't like anyone actually but he didn't like you. -You had a dog breed that was originally made for bear bating and he hated that he knew that. Even if you didn't get the hound because of that. Well, that and Mutt is constantly muzzled. It took you explaining it was required by law for him to try and ignore it. -But when he watches how fluidly you and Mutt work together, even seeing the raw fucking power that dog has when Mutt tackled an enemy to the ground, he starts to understand why you have to keep Mutt muzzled. Even if he didn't like it. -Simon has an ex-military dog at home so he knows how to act around an active working dog. He's the best to be around if you don't want people petting or trying to do anything really with your K-9 partner. -when at the base afterwards he sees that the dog isn't just a working dog but acts like you service dog. Everything from crowd control to doing small tasks for you on the daily. To siting between your legs when you have your back to anyone when doing a task to protect you. Mutt will even start doing this quiet sort of 'rueff' sound that will make you get out of where ever you are without any fanfare, you will just disappear. -He only finds out why a lot later. He feel kind of stupid for missing it after the fact. -Its the scars that cross your back and over your shoulders, the hitches of thick skin around your jaw. You are a torture survivor. So suddenly he gets it. Mutt is your safety, the dog wears a muzzle because your K-9 partner is also a person protection dog. -After he realized the why you stick to your partner so closely, he would begin to help Mutt protect you. He would stand ahead of you when Mutt would lay down to create space (crowd control). Ghost would watch your back and react with your partner to help you. -He takes his mask off when you two are either alone or when your are forced to show your scares he shows some of his to help you feel more comfortable. -you start to notice it, and at first you would try to stop him but eventually you just start protecting him back. You become more comfortable around him. Simon notices it to. -One day after a few days straight of being on your feet, both you and Simon end up passed out in his private quarters. Ghost wakes first to see Mutt cuddle against you and draped across him, when ever he tried to move the dog, they would just growl and to his utter amusement you growled back. -After that he gets you to 'talk' to Mutt any time he can, even on missions. - Ghost was the one who told you and Mutt to bark at each other to distract the enemy when on a recon mission. "Copy Riot, we need an in" "Need an in, copy. Any ideas for that L.t?" "Yeah, Riot go off and make some noise with Mutt" "Seriously?" "Yip, get going we need that data" You two got in, and yes you did start howling back and forth with Mutt in the echo trick wolves use. The enemy thought they were surrounded by cayotes. -When you eventually cuddle up with Ghost again, and Mutt yips or growls at you and you make the noise back, Simon will growl at you. It becomes a games between you to, even doing it as call outs outside of coms. Soap complains about wild dogs once and now Simon will get Mutt vocal just to fuck with Soap. -he starts calling you dog related nicknames, your name doesn't exist anymore. Call sign? only when necessary. You are now called with doggie names. He'll call out a, "Heh, Good boy" "Come on puppy you can speak" when you go dark on coms, or just when you don't answer him. Yes he will also say things like, "What ever you say Fido" -He makes you swear to never tell a soul that he also barks back at Mutt when you two are off duty. You caught him coping a growl when playing with Mutt once. -He gets Mutt and his las to meet. Now he also makes dog sounds with you on his down time, even without you much to his old girls delight.

John “Soap” Mactavish: (616 words)

-He loves your K-9 partner from the first time Price introduces you to the team, sure he tries to be professional but the second you let Mutt go off to play out of gear he just wants to give the hound so many pets. They are just so big and have that cute angry tilt to their face! Can you blame him. -when out on the field, he loves running with two of you on missions. The adrenaline and rush and just how much faster you two are than him. He loves it. -You end up doing it with him outside of missions after a while. Hiking out in mountains and secluded valleys, it's the first time he hears you howl with Mutt. The coyotes had started, yipping over whatever they killed lower down the ridge. Mutt, who was a few paces head, had paused to howl, without thinking you howl with them. Scares Soap but he just finds it fun. -Soap being so in love with Mutt leads to just being around you a lot. He starts learning what certain movements mean to you and your dog, how a sharp left with your hand was a call to draw back or how the shift of your stance meant to take the lead. It amazed him how well you read each other. -Then he sees how you act outside of the field, how Mutt still acted like a protector, and you kept mimicking the sounds Mutt made. Especially when you were more tired. He found it cute. Hell, he loved playing with Mutt, so when you made the hound more excited, he also got just as if not more excited. -Soap loves head scratches you find out when you two are off duty and hanging out. He's on the floor with Mutt and the hound he's cuddling wines before you reach down to comfort the dog with head scritches. You miss and pet Soap instead, beside being completely flustered, he asked you to do it again. He just starts asking you to do it more and more before you start petting him the same way you pet over your hound. -Now you start with the dog related nicknames, even over coms. Much to Soaps embarrassment and the teams delight. He nearly buckles the first time you call him a good boy, and he does when you call him a good dog. Blames it on a miss step. -He loves, loves, loves listening to you, and Mutt yap back and forth, loves even more when you go to rough houses with growls and even try pining you down one. He fails, but he doesn't care. -Soap only catches one of your attacks when it's about sun down. You're both at his place standing in the kitchen when your shoulders suddenly hitch, but you continued on as normal. Until Mutt wandered over to you, they stopped dead before making a gruff noise and jumping up onto you. Instead of getting you secluded because, of course, the hound sees Soaps house as a safe space. And Mutt will get you down, force you to sit and lower your head. "Woh, n'er knew em ta jump? Wait shit. ROIT!" He'll be right there next to you, knows what to do because of Ghosts episodes on recons. "What's it, lad? What can I do ta help 'im?" -You don't really talk about it. Sure, you explain what it was and why Mutt did that, but not the why it happened. It takes a while to admit that the scares you hide are the reason for that attack. He gets it he does, and now? Mother fucker will do dumb shit to distract you, or just talk and talk and talk. It helps, he knows it helps.

König: (764 words)

-Being a sniper, he likes the added security, the extra eyes to help watch his back. Sure, he doesn't trust you per say but he tries to be friendly none the less. -He had no idea what Mutt was trained for until he saw the both of you take down someone who made it to his vantage point. He saw how you moved like Mutt was an extension of yourself, that's how you earn his respect. -König didn't know why you had so many commands for Mutt, but most of them were cues or just situational. Most of all, the verbal commands you use are in Russian and Dutch so he can understand some of the tasks you ask Mutt to do . It kind of scares him that Mutt would know which trail was a friend and which person wasn't. He stands by that fear when he watches you set them off on a run away target. -He will only admit to himself that both you and Mutt look way to good covered in the gore from that attack. -You had to explain that that kind of training meant your partner had to be muzzled. You both get to talking that night, swapping stories of close calls, and König shyly showed you the star splattered scar on his jaw. Lifting his hood up just enough to see it before hurriedly drooping it back down. You share a few of the worse days you had as a call in search and riot guard and snippets of the scars covering your throat. -Habits begin forming. König will be a silent wall between you and crowds while Mutt would start alerting to his anxiety attacks as well. You made a joke about borrowing Mutt to him on the days off. He didn't understand the first time Mutt barked at him in a weird gruff tone before jumping up and doing it again. It's when you get him secluded and safe that you explain it to him. "Its called signaling. They can tell you when these things are going to happen or are actively happening. " "So it's to let me know?" "Yeah, for me, it's when I'm going to either for a flash back or when my paranoia forces me into a panic attack." "Flash back?" "Yes, remember that sister I told you about." -It took days for you to actually relay that story to him. How your team abandoned you, how the enemy held your sisters head above your bloody form. You explained how that caused phantom pains or flashbacks and how crippling that can be some days. -He becomes your solace after that. He would be there when you needed it. Keep people away when you couldn't look at anyone. He even began listening to Mutts alerts. He even lets you help him through the easier ones. -König called you one night when you both were off for the next few days. You could tell by the shake on his breath what was happening before he could tell you. That was when you showed him how Mutt does decompression therapy, the hound big enough to help ground him. You stayed that night, even teaching König some of the commands you use to tell Mutt how to help you. He's quick to learn them as some phrases are Dutch that you use so he can catch the meaning of some commands. -You don't call him until a long while later. It's on a mission while you two are hunkered down after a botched extraction. Or well, Mutt calls him. "Riot? Are you, Oh Scheiße! 「Shit」" "wat 「what」, ag. What can I do? Dir helfen 「Help you」, how can I help. Please let me help you. " -He ended up holding how so you couldn't hurt yourself in these attacks. It didn't feel as entrapped as you thought it would. König is so much bigger than you, but it's like he makes a physical barrier between you and the world. He helps your partner make you feel safe. It's hard to explain to anyone why your panic attacks act like that, why your mind needs pain to calm from feeling like you're dying. König will explain how his attacks can feel suffocating, and that's why his jaw and throat are so bruised most days. -Between one mission and the next, you start showing off things you and Mutt can do to him, like Mutt retrieving throne knives or how the hound can trace any sent it knows for miles. -You only bark back at Mutt one night when trapped in a safe house. Neither of you could find each other, and mutt had run off

Alejandro Vargas: (720 words)

-Learning of the terrorist stationed so close to los vaqueros' home base, Alejandro was quick to reach out. The 141 had helped him before, so he was surprised to learn of the newer recruit they called in to help them. Alejandro told Price to just bring you along. They needed the extra help honestly, as much as he refused to trust any of 141 purely on principle. They needed the help. -He met you with Ruddy on the roof of the office building, and he asked the polit to land on. When you dropped from the helicopter with the others. Mutt held to your chest before being deposited on the ground. He's seen how some of the other search and rescue units who have K-9's, but he's never seen anyone who works with their hound like you do. Alejandro is both grateful and terrified to have you fighting with him. -Seeing you and Mutt outside the field was even more intriguing. How the two of you reacted perfectly to each other, he saw a bit of himself and Rudy in the way you two work like a well-oiled machine. He tried to play nice, be kind and calm, but when shit hit the fan? He drops it. Its only been a week before you use the recall command on Mutt to level the man they needed to interrogate. Both of you were forced to hunker down in a safe house, Alejandro making the bound man walk with little success. He asked for your help not long after the son had dipped down. "Think he will talk?" "Not willingly if that file you circulated was true." "Any ideas?" "You aren't scared of loud noises, are you?" "Not really, why?" -When you said you could help, this isn't what he was expecting, but it was working. You had taken to standing behind the tied down guy, and whenever Alejandro could sound even remotely frustrated, you would call out to Mutt before the dog would lunge with a snarl or harsh bark. Scared the man shitless, and he would mumble about 'de-ablo' or 'deamons' on and off. When things got too harsh, or either of you were cornered, he watched in equal parts horror and delight as you let Mutt cull those surrounding you all. Watch as you both kill together just as well as you work together. -It eventually became a joke, the whole you being a dog or sounding like one. Even when the two of you left the safe house. Hell, he started talking to you like he would your dog. Started to tease you with the same command you used on your hound. "Come on, Roit, I know you can beg better than that." "Here, cachorro cachorro cachorro [puppy puppy puppy]!" "Such a good boy, you want a treat?" "There we go, Good perro. Now sit for me." Even saying he kept treats for when you were especially well behaved. If you didn't also start laughing along he wouldn't have kept doing it and actually started keeping 'treats' on hand for you on the late nights you two would just talk on and on about nothing and everything. -Being back at the base and left to your devices, he started asking about everything Mutt could do. He would ask if you could also do the tricks and inquire about the ones you could. "Wait cariño, you can howl?" "Yeah. Wanna hear me?" "Oh more than anything." "hhhm, maybe I'll do it later." "I'm happy to beg you, but I think you would sound better begging me, cariño." "I don't beg Alejandro." "You will. And you'll sound so good doing it." "Try me," -He loved hearing you talk to Mutt. Just waiting up at night to listen to the back and forth of barking and yips that echo across the open land. Whether from far away or not, he loved it. -Alejandro is the worst when either of you get hurt. He is the worst flirt, and he lays the dog related teasing on twice as thick. Not only is Rudy swearing him out in broken Spanish, but you don't help either. Doing anything to help him stay conscious or playing along to distract yourself from the pain. Even Mutt begins to see him as safe.

More COD Boys x K-9 unit reader 》》》》

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maesphantoms · 1 year

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Sunset (Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood. Typical COD violence. Guns, knives, explosions.

Genre: Pure angst…like just so much pain

Word count: 2,445

This was partly inspired by a certain character’s death in Grey’s Anatomy, I won’t say who because I know there’s at least one person who hasn’t seen it and really wants to/is in the process of getting to that episode.

It all started after a particularly hard mission, a mission where you had to get wasted to even hope to get the images out of your mind to sleep. You randomly remembered that there are biodegradable urns that have tree seeds in them.

"And when I told my cousin, he goes 'Do they have walnut? That way, one day if my grandkids are eating them, someone can say they're eating Grandpa's nuts?' And it just made me die laughing."

"Do they?" Soap asked, eagerly. Gaz simply roared with laughter while Ghost and Price chuckled.

"No, sadly. I looked everywhere. But, I did find that you can become a coral reef."

"Is that what you'd want, a coral reef?" he asked, earnestly.

"No..." You paused, taking a swig of your drink. "No, I think... I think I'd want to be buried on a hill. A hill with a gorgeous view. Facing the west... So I can always watch the sunset."

That's about all you remember of that night, other than the drinking contest you quickly got into with Soap and Gaz. Price and Ghost simply sat back and watched, smoking their respective cigars and cigarettes. You certainly got everyone's minds off the horror you all had faced that day. Even Ghost no longer had the screams echoing in his mind as he sipped his bourbon. it was just one of the nights the men were grateful for your presence.

Something you'd never let them know is how terrified you were that they would have to utilize that information. You didn't want to put the burden of having to deal with your death and body on them. The day you would eventually die was coming, you know that. Your luck would eventually run out, everyone does. You've seen your fair share of soldiers KIA'd. The look on their squad's face as they hauled the limp body always filled you with dread. You just hoped that if you did die on the field, your body couldn't be found so that you would never imagine that picture of dread on your squad mates’ faces. Especially the image of Price feeling like he failed you.

This always ran through your mind as you prepared for missions. It wasn't until you were active in the field that your more soldier, focused mindset would take over. You did your best to hide the nerves, but it's hard to disguise your shaking when you got into the plane or helicopter or whatever your mode of transportation would be that day. It was worthless, you knew that, but just the mental picture of everyone’s despair as they covered your body in that damn cloth... No, you wouldn't let that happen.

“Okay, we’re nearly there. We’ll split into 2 teams. Each team goes to a separate floor, then once your floor is clear we meet and go to the basement. Ghost and Owl are top floor. Gaz and Soap, you're with me on the first. This is a hostage rescue so check fire. If you run into any cartel, well.. You know what to do.” Price stood by the door to the plane, holding onto the webbing. “Alejandro and his team are at the other compound, we all attack at the same time.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you could feel your hands shaking as you gripped your rifle tighter. Closing your eyes, you mentally pictured the blueprints of the compound you all were looking at before you left. Alejandro informed you all about the village taken hostage to be forced to work for some cartel, clearly trying to become a notable rival for Valeria. Foolish. You were sure Valeria was keeping a close eye on today. No matter how this ends, she would be one foe down.

Ghost lightly knocked his knee into yours. He knew your jitters would settle once you touched solid ground, but he always tried to pull you out of your mind. Now, he never knew exactly why you did this. Clearly, the preemptive guilt that was permeating from your pores didn't carry across your face, just the nervousness. You would gladly die to protect your small band of brothers.

And just like that, the plane settled and the tremors that wracked your system came to a stop. Ghost watched your face harden into the familiar look of focus and determination he was used to seeing on the field. With one last look, Price and his team ran to the compound. If it could even be called that. The blueprints were old, you knew that, but you didn't expect to see how in disrepair the building was. The walls that once surrounded it had crumbled away long ago, riddled with bullet holes. You could see that the building itself wasn't much better. Entire rooms had already collapsed. One such room provided the two of you with an easy route to the top floor rather than the original plan of running to the stairs inside.

With a tap on Ghost’s shoulder, you pointed to the rubble. He nodded and you both ran towards it. Your ears were helping scope out any noise other than the occasional scuffle of more of the building falling. You two had to be quick if any more of this gave way. In the back of your mind, you pictured their faces again, holding your lifeless body.

“Do you see anything, Gaz?” Price asked over comms.

“No, sir. They must all be upstairs.”

Ghost nodded at you before pulling himself up to the room above, you following suit. The sunlight was just enough to let you see that the room was the remains of a classroom. There were cubbies in the corner and smeared on the chalkboard was the alphabet. Your blood felt like ice. There were children here. At one point or another. Once again, you steadied yourself as you joined Ghost at the door.

He held up his fingers, 3, 2, 1. Slowly, you opened the door and held up your rifle. The door opened up into a hallway. You knew from the blueprints that either end of the hallway lead into another one. The U-shaped building seemed to have the same layout at least, even if it was decrepit. The classroom was closer to the right side, so Ghost pointed for you to take that side while he took the left. This wasn't unusual to you, it was faster to clear this way. Ghost could clear his side and meet you on yours as his legs were longer than yours, and his stride was quicker.

“Price, there's people in here.” Soap’s voice on comms made you jump in the eerily quiet hallway as you slowly headed towards the next door. Why were you so jumpy? Something on the edge of your mind told you you were in danger. Of course, you were in danger, look at where you were.

As you opened the door, you heard a faint scream then Soap’s voice, attempting to be soothing. Leading with your gun, you look around the room and only saw desks and turned-over chairs. Clear. You could see another room before the corner. Same procedure. Walk over, open door. This one was empty, the daylight shining off the dirty floors. It looked like there was dried blood on the floor. Clear. Going back into the hallway, you turned the corner and saw 3 more rooms.

The first room had a long conference table in it and every window was smashed. Clear. Second, a single chair and more dried blood. Clear. The downstairs team worked to get the hostages out of the building, Price calling backup as there were more than Alejandro predicted.

“Left side, clear. There were a few cartels up here. Owl?” Ghost grumbled.

“I'm opening the last door now. Everything’s been empty, so far. They must have hidden them all downstairs and left guards.” Your hand wrapped around the doorknob, “Wonder how Alejandro’s is.”

Taking one step into the room, you were greeted with a horrific sight. 10 children, all huddled together at the back of the room. A man stood in front of them with a sickening smile. He held a button in his hands. You raised your gun at him.

“Fuck, there's kids he-” You were cut off as he hit the button, and you were thrown back.

The explosion violently shook the building. The downstairs team had just walked out with their last hostage who whipped out a knife and stabbed a small woman as soon as he heard the boom. Gaz immediately shot him. Then hysteria burst out of everyone. The woman screamed then cut off into a gurgle before falling silent. The remaining men and women began screaming and crying. Price immediately began yelling for you and Ghost. Then the right side of the building shuddered with another explosion before collapsing.

“Bloody fucking hell! Owl! She's on that side!” Ghost yelled, coughing from the dust that engulfed the entire floor. Price felt a small wave of relief at his voice to be taken over with panic.

You felt heat. Heat and pain. Your head swam, trying to understand what was happening. Distantly, you heard yourself talking about urns and nuts. Then you heard Gaz’s voice.

“Who do you think would cry the most at your funeral?” He grinned.

“Hmm... Probably Ghost.” You pointed to the man who glared back. “I feel like he's a big softie. Deep down.”

“Very deep down.” He scowled before taking another drag of his cigarette, his mask pulled up to his nose.

“Exactly.” You laughed. “And I think Soap would be next, but he'd try to fight it. I mean look at him, all macho and Scottish.”

“What does that have to do with this?” He raised his hands, offended.

“No idea, just had to get a dig in.”

Smoke billowed out of the campfire and into your face. Your lungs burned. You couldn't feel your legs as the laughs fade. Then you could hear voices again. Distant, panic-stricken voices. There was massive pressure on your abdomen and legs. Fuck, everything hurt.

“Can you see her?”

“No..”

“Keep looking, we need to find her before it completely collapses, the fire is moving fast.”

Your eyes finally came back to you, but your vision blurred and spun. Then you could feel control come back to your arms. One was trapped under whatever pressed against you. As you finally broke free of the stupor, a blood-curdling scream was ripped from your throat. Pain was everywhere. Nothing was worse than your abdomen. Looking down, you could see why as blood began to fill your mouth. Fear took over.

“Owl, can you hear me?!”

“Ghost...” You could bring your voice to louder than a whisper. Looking around, all you could see was rubble and smoke. The crackle of flames was somewhere around you. The large slab of concrete on you kept you from moving. Tears began to fall down your face.

“Owl!” He yelled again before pressing the button on his chest again. “Price I can't find her, do you guys see anything?”

Price, Soap, and Gaz dug through the rubble on the ground floor. Smoke billowed out from the broken windows and holes in the building.

“More children... Keep looking.”

You brought your hand to your chest and pressed it, hoping they could hear you that way. “Help...” Was all you could whimper out. You couldn't think rationally past the fear and pain. You didn't want to die, of course not. You just wanted the pain to stop. Quiet sobs began to wrack your broken body, burning your lungs as you sucked more smoke in. All this did was bring more pain.

“Owl! Can you move?” Price demanded.

“No.” Your breath was coming in gasps.

“What can you see?” Gaz attempted to make his voice calm.

Looking around again, you tried to find something that would help them. There had to be something other than concrete. Your gun lay a couple of inches away from you, broken in half. Bringing your hand to your chest, you felt a flare still strapped to you. Turning your head to the right, you could faintly see sunlight through the smoke. An opening.

“Flare. I have..a flare. I can see...outside.”

“Good, use it. Tell us where you are.”

As you ignited and the red light surrounded you, you felt the concrete press further into you as the building shifted again. Another scream. Hopelessness.

Ghost could faintly see a red light through the black smoke. Your scream echoed around him. His heart was racing as he climbed down, slowly. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Your blood was staining the concrete around you. He couldn't see your legs, not that he'd want to anyway. You weren't making it out of here. He could tell.

“I found her.” He felt tears in his eyes.

The sight of Ghost gave you a small spark of hope that immediately fizzled out as he kneeled by you, tears in his eyes. He took the flare and threw it through the opening you could see. Dread. Guilt.

“We see the flare, hold on tight, Owl. How's she look?”

Ghost stared at you. You nodded. “Not good, Captain.” Your tears pick up speed, but your sobs stop.

“I'm sorry.” You needed to tell them, at least once. He shook his head, grabbing your hand. His hands held it so gently.

The end was near. The pain started to slip away.

“A hill.” You whispered. He nodded.

“Facing the west.” He finished.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure in the opening. The smoke started to dissipate as he was joined by two others. The sky behind them was a warm pink. Sunset.

“Lots of flowers.” You were leaving faster than you wanted to.

The other 3 joined you and Ghost. Their hands were on your other arm, trapped under the slab.

“I'm so sorry.” They all shook their heads at you,

“You have nothing to apologize for, Owl. We should've been more careful.” Price’s voice was thick with grief.

You smiled at them before looking at the sky, slowly turning a dark purple.

And so you took your last breath, your smile fading like the lights in your eyes.

They did what you wanted. A hill facing the west. You had the best view, surrounded by so many flowers. They came to visit all the time, always bringing a drink for you as they filled you in on what you missed or as they reminisced. Visiting you was always bittersweet. They missed you. They still miss you.

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arlo1611 · 5 months

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Another side of you (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male Reader) - Part 1

So this is the start of a maybe possible enemies to lovers multiple part series?? Also, Ghost won of a recent pole I did (201 votes) so thats why it's more Ghost - feel free to leave requests in the comments or dm me :)

Word count: 2292

Thank you for the likes on my last post <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TW: Injuries and blood

The 141 had just got back from yet another horrific mission. You'd think by now they would have seen just about everything, but you'd be wrong. It was meant to be a simple mission, at least thats what Captain Price said. Go in, get the intel, leave. Simple as. But realistically, does anything ever go completely according to plan with this lot?

They had been sent into a long term abandoned prison that had recently been taken over by the enemy. They were tasked with finding intel and doing it without raising any alarms, all was going well until Y/N and Ghost so into some sort of argument. It was probably over nothing, but it caused the mission to get compromised and it went from a quiet mission to all weapons free. Not only was the fight hard, but the things seen inside those prison walls made sure each member of the task force would have nightmares about it.

The ride back was utterly silent. Y/N didn't utter a word, he just sat with his head rested against the cold metal frame of the transport van. He couldn't get the imagines of the violent things he'd seen that night out of his head. His face was covered in dirt, grime and blood, which as it dried made his skin feel taught and uncomfortable. To his left, was Captain Price and Gaz (Kyle Garrick). They were talking quietly amongst themselves while Price smoked a cigar. Opposite them, was Soap and Ghost. They were both in silence, since it had been Y/N and them 2 who had seen the worst off it all. Soap's usual relatively outgoing personality was gone, he just sat in a dazed silence as his injured leg began to hurt more. Ghost, well, he's always quiet. A blood splatter stained across the infamous skull mask.

As the transport truck hit a particularly deep pothole, Y/N pressed his hand further onto the right side of his abdomen. He had been shot, and it hurt like hell. The thing was, he had been shot when the fight with the enemy first broke out. No body in his team had noticed it, and he didn't blame them. Things were tense when he got hurt. He knew he couldn't say anything then, because it would ruin the mission and they would most likely have to abort it. They needed that intel, desperately. So, with much effort, he patched himself up as best he could with the shirt of a dead enemy and carried on. It had been at least 6 hours since he'd been shot, with no medical attention the pain was almost fucking unbearable.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, the same pothole that had caused an increase in his pain, had done the same to Ghost. He too, had been shot. However, Ghost had been shot toward the end of the mission. They had the intel and were running to this very transport truck when he got hit. In the chaos, yet again, no body noticed his wound. He, cleverly, had packed bandages and were in a pocket in his tactical vest. He quickly wrapped up his wound and legged it for the truck, causing even more pain. He thought that he would be able to handle the bullet to the left side of his abdomen alone, since he didn't like the attention Soap (John MacTavish) got for just a leg wound. Imagine how people would react to his injury? He didn't want to find out. He had been dealing with the pain for about an hour now, it seemed to just be getting worse.

Y/N looked at Ghost. He saw how weak he was and decided then and there he was going to spar Ghost when they returned to base, despite himself being equally as weak. For unknown reasons, the pair did not like each other. Ever since they meet, almost a year and a half ago (which is when Y/N first joined the 141) they constantly butted heads. Never got on, always argued and constantly 'sparred'. In their heads, it was just an excuse to hurt the other without consequences. The score was 6 wins and 6 loses to each of them, which Y/N didn't like one bit. He winced in pain when the truck went other another pothole.

An hour later, the 141 arrived back at their base. Y/N thought about mentioning the bullet in his side, but after seeing all the drama around Soap... he decided he could handle it on his own. It was only a few moments later that he asked Ghost to spar him, which Ghost immediately accepted. There was only a brief moment of doubt in Ghost's head if he should do this or not, but when he saw Y/N tying his knuckle tape all he wanted to do was beat him too a pulp.

As the two stepped into the ring, they knew something was off about the other. Despite hating one another, due to all the sparring they had come to learn each each others body language extremely well. Something was wrong, they both knew it.

"Are you 2 already sodding sparring again?" Gaz called out, standing at the edge of the ring to watch. "Sure are." Y/N replied, not taking his eyes off his opponent. "This is getting ridiculous now lads." Price said, joining Gaz to watch the match but he was clearly irritated. "Aye, why do you hate each other so much anyway?" Soap asked weakly, as he hobbled over on some crutches to watch the fight as well. "Hate it a strong word. But it's the one I'd use." Ghost announced coldly. And with that phrase alone, the men knew they would not back down from this fight.

Ghost threw a big right hook as his opening move, immediately going for an offensive approach to the fight. However, due to his sluggish movements Y/N was able to predict that and dodge. Y/N grabbed Ghost's wrist, got behind him and kicked him too the floor. Ghost hit the floor with a hard thud, but recovered quickly albeit slightly winded. Ghost, angered by this dirty move, rushed Y/N. Running at him, tackling him to the floor and pinning him there. After a few seconds of struggle, Y/N kneed Ghost as hard as he could in the ribs. Unknowingly striking his bullet wound.

Ghost immediately recoiled in agony and grunted in pain loudly. Y/N realised he was really hurt after just one kick to the ribs, which was very, very unusual. Ghost is normally like hitting a wall, so why was he so hurt? This left Y/N confused and wide open. Ghost took his chance and punched Y/N straight in the ribs as hard as he could. Unknowingly hitting his bullet wound too. "Fuck!" Y/N shouted out of sheer agony. Ghost backed off. It usual took Y/N so many more hits to get that type of reaction from him, what was going on? The 2 men stood up and faced each other, opposite ends of the ring. The spectators where in a stunned silence. The match had only lasted a minute tops, but it was obvious each men were in a lot of pain.

"You alright mate?" Y/N asked, his voice full of the usual coldness he had for Ghost but also a hint of slight concern. His question caught Ghost by surprise. He figured it was some kind of trick, or ploy to make him loose. "I'm fine. Just winded." Ghost snapped back, anger flaring in his voice. Y/N clutched his bullet wound, a small red stain had appeared. "Alright then. You win." Y/N said, his voice growing weak. With that, he swiftly left the ring and headed into the changing rooms. Ghost won that match due to forfeit from the other player. Ghost was utterly shocked, he thought Y/N hated him. So why did he forfeit a match when Ghost showed clear signs he was weak?

Meanwhile, Y/N stumbled into the men's changing room and locked the door. He practically fell down onto a bench and took his shirt off. Blood flowed from the reopened wound and when he took off the self-made bandage, a bloodied bullet clattered to the floor. The sound of it pierced Y/N's ears, something so small was suddenly so loud. He knew if he didn't patch himself up soon, he'd pass out from blood loss. He frantically went through the medicine cabinet, the only thing he could find was rubbing alcohol. The only thing he had on him was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A lightbulb went off in his head and he knew what he had to do. Y/N covered his wound in the rubbing alcohol and lit it on fire. He shouted loudly in pain, tears welling in his eyes but what he was doing (cauterising the wound) was working. Inevitably, he passed out from the pain. When he woke up, at least 2 hours later, he wrapped himself tightly in bandages, cleaned up and headed to his room in the barracks.

2 hours previous, a few minutes after Y/N forfeited the match and bleed across the changing room, Ghost practically ran to his room in the barracks. He sat on his bed and ripped his shirt off, he was bleeding badly from his wound. Thats when he noticed than Y/N's kick had dislodged the bullet that was inside him. He took a deep breath, pulled the bullet out and applied extreme pressure to his now gushing wound. He opened his nightstand and opened up his med kit, inside was medical wire and a needle. He carefully and painfully stitched himself up, it took him an hour and a half. It was even harder when he began tearing up due to the pain. He cleaned away the blood and wrapped himself up tightly in bandages. When it was done he sat on his now stained bed in silence.

A few minutes later, Ghost heard stumbled walking outside his room. Confused at who would be up at this time (it was now midnight), he slowly got up and opened his door. He looked down the corridor only to see Y/N entering his room. The 2 made direct eye contact with each other and since neither had a shirt on, saw the bloody or burnt body of the other. Y/N's gaze softened slightly, he then gestured with his head for Ghost to follow him. With little to no hesitation, Ghost did.

When Ghost entered Y/N's room, he was sat in a chair, back facing Ghost with an empty chair opposite him. The only light that illuminated the room was a small desk lamp. Ghost sat down and for a few minutes they sat in silence. Deep down, they individually knew they had to stop his hatred of each other. The team were growing irritated with their bickering and today it even fucked up a mission, leaving them with severe injuries. With this realisation, Ghost gently removed his mask. Everyone else in the 141 had seen his face, except for Y/N. This was a sure fire way to show he wanted to change things. Y/N showed a small amount of shock at the sight of Simon's face, but it was obvious that Y/N was not judging him. Y/N studied Simon's face and too his dismay, found him quite handsome.

"Why'd you forfeit that match?" Simon spoke up breaking the silence. "Worried about you." Y/N replied, seemingly annoyed he had to admit that. Simon laughed, but it turned into a small cough due to the injuries. "Well when I saw how weak and sluggish your first punch was I knew something was up." Y/N snapped back, making Simon cease his laughing and grow irritated at the insult. "Weak huh? When you kicked my back in, I knew something up too. It usually hurts more. Mate, your kick is what I'd call weak."

Y/N didn't reply, not wanting to start an argument. So, they went back to silence. Y/N's eyes shifted down Simon's exposed chest to his blood stained bandage and body. "Why didn't you say anything about that?" He questioned. Simon sighed. "I got hit toward the end of the mission. I didn't want all the unnecessary attention so I just cracked on." Simon replied calmly, but that response sparked anger in Y/N. "What do you mean 'Just cracked on'? You could've fucking died mate! Shit, leaving that type of wound you'd just be risking further missions!" Y/N said, raising his voice slightly. Now Simon was mad. "Your one to bloody talk! Look at the state of you! All burned up and shit! The fuck happened?!" Simon pressed, wanting Y/N to tell him. Y/N explained what he did with cauterising the wound and it leaves Simon stunned and with a new found respect.

"Can I ask you a question?" Y/N asks after a few more moments of silence had passed. "Why'd you let me forfeit? I've tried to do it before but you always drag me back." he says. Simon suddenly looked embarrassed. "I was, I was worried about you too." He says meekly. "Oh. And... that?" Y/N questions further, pointing to the skull mask in Simon's hand. "I thought I should show my face if we are going to have to be friends now." Simon said bluntly. "We are friends now huh?" Y/N teased, but secretly he was pleased. Simon nodded, a small smile forming on his face.

After a year and half of hating someone, its hard to become friends after just one conversation. However, it's safe to say from then on the pair tried hard to better their friendship. Maybe, it would become something more.

#call of duty #ghost #ghost cod #male reader #simon ghost riley #fanfic #blood #injuries #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x male reader

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hyperfixated-on-cod · 7 months

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✨Smoking with 141, König, Los Vaqueros✨ (CW: cannabis use, 18+)

(This was supposed to be posted like 3 days ago lol but either way…) (the 18+ warning is for a very brief reason but it’s still there)

I got absolutely fucking ASTRONOMICALLY high last night sooo here’s some headcanons😍

John Price

Smoked a little bit here and there when he first enlisted, but eventually quit when he realized he was serious about his career in the military. (I personally don’t think he planned from the start to climb the ranks like he did)

It will take a LOTTT of convincing to get him to smoke with you, and if he agrees, it’s reasonable to assume you’re very special to him.

Goes into it acting like a career stoner… but in reality he hasn’t touched the stuff in about 15 years🙃

If you can’t get him to partake, he absolutely will hang with you while you’re high. All you gotta do is ask.

Prefers edibles simply because “I like having lungs.” Even though the man LITERALLY SMOKES CIGARS😭

Ghost

I don’t think he’s a stoner but like… I also think he does have an edible from time to time, for medical reasons (mostly mental health).

Not many people know this about him; Price knows and helps him plan accordingly for drug tests and makes sure that it’s noted in his file that he uses it for medical reasons; Soap found out on accident.

Under no circumstances does he ever let anybody see him high, so good luck getting him to smoke with you lol

Only gets high when he knows he’s in the clear with work and will be for awhile (so, when he’s on leave). If he feels like he needs to get high (like if he’s just coming back from a particularly hard mission), he goes to Price and asks if it’s okay.

Prefers edibles because he finds it more relaxing and it’s easier for him to take one, and then he gets an hour or so to do other stuff before it hits.

Soap

This man is a stoner. Period point blank.

If he isn’t the first of these men you ask to smoke with you, and he finds out about it, he will be SO offended.

Gets high just to get high. Everything else is a bonus.

Started when he was young, like 16. Quit for awhile as his career was getting more serious, and then he started again.

The whole team knows but nobody really cares because he’s super responsible about it like Ghost is. He plans far ahead of time, doesn’t do it unless he’s off base, etc.

This man is such a giggly bitch and his laugh is so infectious; he’s the first to start laughing and everybody else follows.

Very flirty when he’s high and texts Ghost messages that are just like “��🩷💕💕💘💘”

He is so ridiculously horny when he’s high. Been tryna convince Ghost for agessss to get high with him so they can 👉🏽👌🏽

Gaz

Honestly? I don’t think he’s into weed all that much.. or really any substance. He drinks here and there and is never opposed to having a glass of whiskey with Price, but that’s really it.

He has done it tho, and didn’t have a good experience. I feel like he’s a very logical person, so after his first time he probs figured the first time sucked bc it was the first time. So he did it a few more times but nothing changed.

On the off chance he agrees to smoke with you, he wants “adult supervision” (Captain Price lol) just in case he has another bad time.

Makes sure the environment will be 100% controlled. Comfort of his own home, lays out rules and boundaries with you and the Captain (“don’t let me do too much,” “here’s what to do if…”), soft music playing, pillows and blankets everywhere.

König

Again, you’re lucky if you get him to do it with you.

His giggles are somehow worse than Soap’s and significantly more adorable😂

His munchies are SOOO bad. Like, he may plan ahead of time and lay out some snacks to prepare… but he ends up not wanting any of them and stumbles to his kitchen for something else.

He’s a big guy so it takes a bit to get him going, but once he’s there he’s there.

Alejandro

Doesn’t partake. Never has and probably never will. He’s been curious, but just never felt the need to act on that curiosity.

He’s cool about people close to him doing it tho, and will also hang with you while you’re high. Provides some of the BEST snacks.

Rudy

He does do it but he’s… pretentious about it. In a good way.

Oh, you’re bringing him gummies from the dispensary? No. He’s making homemade edibles but not like brownies or cookies; he’s making pasta with infused olive oil or some other type of meal.

He’s super careful about his measurements and makes sure that the product he’s using is as high quality as he can get it.

If you wanna get high with him, go into it on an empty stomach bc he’s gonna make sure y’all eat a damn good meal in the process.

#cod headcanons #john soap mactavish #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #konig mw2 #alejandro vargas #rudolfo parra #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #cod modern warfare #captain price #ghost cod #smoking #cannabis

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Flying Circus | John Price x m!reader

Anonymous asked: The new prompt list is so cool! Can I request m!reader x Price with the prompt "You didn't tell them we're married?", where reader and his men are helping 141 on their next mission, so Price takes this opportunity to introduce his husband to his team but they are like... really surprised

Sorry if it doesn't make much sense ♡

summary: it turns out that the 141 know a lot more about Price's husband than they would have guessed.

tws: mentions of war/death, swearing, smoking

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Soap, Ghost and Gaz were lounging in the office when Price had left them, waiting for their backup that the Captain seemed all too eager to greet; his husband, his beloved and feared husband, was just about to land, and he was more than eager to greet him. There was just... one small hitch in the reunion, though.

Due to the nature of your job, as part of the infamous Squadron Number forty three of the RAF, you spent a lot of time away; between helping to train new recruits with the commanding officer, Cohen, and going out on flights, you had never really had time to meet Price's task force. They knew that Price was seeing someone, but they had no idea that he was married to one of the RAF's best men.

An aerial ace, your exploits were often the talk of the town, a Captain yourself, you had risen through the ranks fairly quickly; with eighty confirmed victories under your belt, and your plane painted bright red, you were infamous. Yet the one four one never would guess that it was you who Price so lovingly called his husband. You were the best of the best, but fame and glory didn't matter that much to you; as long as you could come home to Price at the end of the tour, you were happy.

Price was waiting on the tarmac with baited breath, puffing on a cigarette as he watched the skies, searching for a bright red plane amongst the stunning pale blue; you would be easy to spot, and fuck, he was ever so glad when he did catch you. He was always so impressed by the amount of control, amount of concentration and discipline that it took to man an aircraft like that; he loved to watch you fly, a dopey smile on his lips as he resisted the urge to tell everyone that that was his husband up there. That was the man he adored so, so much.

You were quick to land, even quicker to exit the plane, legs moving quicker than your own mind as you bolted over to him; his cigar fell to the ground when your arms went around him, pulling him close as he smiled and eagerly held you for a moment. He didn't care about the cigar, all of a sudden.

"Red," he breathed out, pushing you away enough so that he could get a good look at you. "Just as handsome as the day you left me."

You scoffed, doing your best not to roll your eyes at him. "Always the charmer, aren't you, Cap?"

"I think I could say the same about you," Price chuckled, letting you step away from him. "I still haven't told them yet mind, Red."

"You didn't tell them we're married?" You asked, furrowing your brows.

Price shook his head. "You've never had time to meet them, so I wanted you to be the one to say."

You sighed, then smiled as you nodded. "Alright, I suppose I can live with that."

"You ready to meet the lads?"

You shrugged, taking a quick look back at your plane. "You don't think they'll notice him?"

"Probably not," he admitted. "They're still in the office."

You laughed softly, thinking that maybe they would recognise your plane and the others; yours was the most prominent, crimson red, but the others were yellow, green, and blue. A whole circus. You smiled, offering your arm to your husband.

"Let's get this circus going, eh?"

"Gladly, Captain," he smiled back as he eagerly fell into step beside you.

Soap was the first, nearly halfway through the door, excitement in his eyes as he barked and howled enough questions to make your head spin at first; but when Price told him to calm down, he did, and with a grin that contained little else than childlike wonder, he dared to ask:

"You're the Red Fighter Pilot, aren't you?"

You nodded, holding back the urge to scoff at the name as you shook his hand. "Please. (y/n) will do."

"I'm a huge fan of your work, Sir," Soap admitted, still more than excited as he beamed. "Honestly, you and the flying circus are fuckin'... you're great! And the way that you always manage to come at them from the direction of the sun? Fuckin' genius!"

You smiled politely, subtly searching for Price's hand and holding it, feeling your shoulders drop their tension; you never did like talking about what you did on the battlefield. You weren't you out there, you were the leader of pack hunters; you weren't Price's husband, you were the ringmaster of a flying circus.

"Thank you," you said, nodding at him. "But, uh, can we get inside?"

"Oh, course!" Soap backed away, still grinning. "We're real glad to have you here, Sir. Honest."

Price nearly got you to his office, nearly managed to make it all the way, when Gaz came bounding out, nearly skidding as he came to a halt in front of you.

"Holy shit," he was panting heavily, "you're the Red Fighter Pilot!"

You bit back the urge to frown. "Yes."

"Sir," he laughed softly. "I mean this with all due respect, but you're an absolute fucking legend!"

You clenched your jaw a little. "Thank you."

"Price," Gaz looked to him with wide eyes. "How'd you manage to get the flying circus out here?"

"Get Ghost and Soap," Price told him with a sigh. "Tell them to meet us in the main bit, yeah?"

Gaz did exactly what he was told, and it wasn't even half a minute until you were all gathered around; Price sat in his chair with you stood beside him, your hand on his shoulder as you pulled down your navy blue cap enough to hide your eyes a little. Gaz sat on the bench beside Soap, nearly buzzing at the fact that you were even in the same room as them, while Ghost stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest; he didn't show it, but he couldn't believe that you were in the same room, either, and he was excited.

"I got news," Price said. "Your lovely Red Fighter Pilot-"

"He shot down four in a day!"

"During a training exercise, he took down eight Americans, Captain, he-"

"Captain Price is here with us," Price growled, causing an uneasy silence to fall heavily. Confusion. "Because we need aerial support, and the flying circus are the only ones brave enough to do that for us. You should be thankful that he's here, and treat him with respect."

"Wait," Ghost cleared his throat. "Captain Price?"

"We're married," you grumbled. "Have been for years."

"Married?!" Gaz gawked at you, then turned to Price. "You didn't tell us you married him!"

"Never really got the chance," Price admitted with a shrug.

"Your bum's out the window," Soap scoffed. "This is a joke!"

"It's really not," you chuckled. "I've been married to your Captain for... about six years, nearly seven years now."

There was silence again, but this time it made you want to laugh; they were all so shocked, you could even see it in Ghost's eyes from behind his mask. It was like they couldn't believe that Price had somehow managed to marry the most infamous and elite fighter pilot that the RAF had to offer; a man so decorated that wearing your dress uniform made your chest feel heavy on one side. So celebrated that you couldn't visit any bases without being mobbed.

"Technically, our ketubah was signed seven years ago as of yesterday," Price pointed out. "We stood under the chuppah two days after because the rabbi was sick, if you remember."

"Details, details," you chuckled, shaking your head. "Either way we're still married."

The men cleared their collective shoxk as best they could, shaking their heads and scratching their noses as they stared at you and Price in utter disbelief.

"But you're the best pilot the RAF has," Gaz said. "How'd you make it work?"

"I dunno," you shrugged. "We just... kinda do."

"Yeah," Price agreed. "We always have done, ain't we?"

You nodded in agreement, and although you had at first been reluctant to be overly affectionate with him, you soon found yourself sitting in Price's lap.

"Just don't ask me any more questions about my career," you told the boys with a sigh. "I fucking hate talking about it."

Price glared at them, the same kind of stern glare that a disappointed father would give as a warning to his naughty children. "You make him feel welcome while he's with us, lads. I'm not having any fucking about, that clear?"

"Do we have to call you Captain Price, too?" Ghost asked.

"No," you shook your head. "None of that formal shit."

"Noted."

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blnk338 · 1 year

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COD HEADCANONS 3

COD HEADCANONS 1

COD HEADCANONS 2

REAP WHAT YOU SOW | GHOST X READER ON AO3!

Price:

Generally grew up with a pretty dull family life; parents were distant, especially his dad

Made a vow that he would not only be a good father, but he would remind those around them that they are watched over, whether they liked it or not

Dad taxation like it’s the end of the fucking world.

Oh you got a little sweet drink? Better not look away, he’s taking a sip

Buy candy at the gas station? His arm’s already careened around the side of the driver’s seat, asking you for some

Big on movies, but will absolutely fall asleep while watching them, then shoot up and tell you not to change the channel when you even touch the remote

Struggles a lot internally trying to deal with the fact that every mission might be his last with his boys, mulling over the loss of Alex, wondering if the same will happen to Gaz

Genuinely sees Garrick as the son he never had and knows that the kid admires him

It’s not often Price gets a hug or a pat on the back, but it’s hard for him to hide the wide smile that spreads across his lips when one of his team wraps an arm around him or pats his shoulder.

Survivor’s guilt to the max, man. Every mission is a mental preparation for the worst, and the very idea that he could be responsible for any one of the 141’s deaths weighs on him like all hell

Couldn’t decide if he wanted to get ordained or be the best man at Laswell’s wedding, so he did both. He sobbed as he read out his lines, then threw dad ass during the after-party.

Has a habit of calling his team, especially Gaz, “son” and has just gotten so used to it that he’s stopped correcting himself, and not a single member has brought it up seriously (aside from gag gifts for the holidays)

The warmest, most loving hugs out of the entire 141. The other's hugs are great, but there is so much genuine care put into every single bear hug of his. Each embrace holds you like it's your last, enveloping you in warmth as he mutters a few words of comfort, thanks, or both.

Wishes he could be a better father to his own daughters, but continuously finds reasons to stay in the military

Because of that, he is the absolute worst at discipline when he's on leave. He can scold as much as he wants, but his kids know he’s not being serious. Spoils them to not end.

His daughters also love Gaz and see him as an older brother

Gaz:

Like Price, there’s a lot of internal blame for everything.

Maybe if he shot first, or got to the site faster—maybe if he was better... those soldiers, those people, could’ve been saved.

Sees himself often as a shield, a hand in battle, and with that, sees himself as expendable. If it means seeing his team come back alive, he’d do anything to make sure that they’re okay.

Selfless to a fault. He’s taken more bullets, more stabs, and more punches than anyone else on the team during TF-141’s active timeframe. Price worries like hell over him because, on most missions, he comes back with at the very least a swollen cheek.

Considered smoking to take the edge off, but hates the taste of cigarettes and cigars, and prefers edibles over it all.

Even with that, he still tries to handle it “naturally,” insisting he’s alright and doesn’t need anything to cope, that the stress and anxiety will just pass eventually.

Refused therapy for a long time because he was afraid of getting worse, but eventually started going and has overall enjoyed his time

Was a parkour kid and then just… never lived it down.

Because of this, it’s nearly impossible to get away from the guy. Soap’ll pull pranks on him and have the guy in a dead sprint across base, leaping and vaulting off of boxes, crates, and other soldiers just to catch the Scotsman.

Bit people when he was a kid, too

Says “bruh”

“A woman? The only woman in my life is Joann Fabrics.”

Knows how to sew, patches up his clothes all the time, stitching his initials into the tags.

What can he say? He likes to keep his stuff to himself (plus with all of the stuff that Soap steals, if he doesn’t put a label on ‘em, they’ll be right in the lost and found)

Bit his nails pretty far down to the point where they hurt, so he tried out different nail polishes to keep himself from biting. When on the field, if he feels like he needs to bite them, he just sharpie’s them in (it works well enough for the guy)

Is completely content with drinking things right out of the fridge, regardless of who’s home. The milk you got yesterday? He’s just takin’ a quick swing, no worries, no really, it’s fine—just a sip, JUST A SIP—

Soap:

This guy plasters on a smile to cover up his crazy anxiety and intense paranoia; the responsibility he feels for his team, especially his lieutenant, is fucking crazy

He’ll take a bullet for everyone, but he’s more than willing to take whatever is needed for Ghost or Price, knowing they’re a higher rank, therefore sees them as more important. He holds Gaz in the same way, but he can't act the same because he's supposed to see him as equal; yet he would willingly take an RPG for the kid

Loves giving himself and his teammates spa days; face and hair masks, deep conditioning, threading eyebrows

Big on physical affection, but really relishes in the idea that he can do things for the people he cares about instead of hugs if preferred

The guy’s filled with so much love, it’s hard to contain, but he’s really really good at waiting and holding back for those who aren’t as into touching.

Like he knows Price loves hugs, so he’ll take any chance to pat his shoulder or include him in the fun, wrapping an arm around him, engaging him with the rest of the team’s shenanigans

Gaz loves the silly stuff with Soap, so they’ll pretend to make out or make fake moaning sounds, smacking the walls to make it seem like they’re fucking or something just to mess with any poor bystanders on base; adores how much shit he can pull with Gaz, so at the drop of a feather, he’s up and ready to fuck around and find out with the younger Brit. They are responsible for thousands of dollars in property damage.

Quality time with Roach is a big thing for the two of them since Roach seemingly always has something he has to do, and Soap can’t always help him (paperwork and such); just sitting in the same room, making light conversation, or doodling on the scratch paper while his fellow sergeant files papers is enough for him.

He knows Ghost isn’t huge on physical affection, so all of his touches never go past a short, half-embrace; usually landing on things like a clap on the shoulder or punch to the arm. Otherwise, Soap’ll run around doing tasks for him, helping him with the privates for the day, and other mundanities for his lieutenant. If it makes his life easier, Soap would tell him to consider it done before he even starts.

Sometimes wonders how good the team would be without him; if it all came down to it, what would he need to do to make sure that the 141 could manage without his support?

Big overthinker. Spends hours sometimes just cleaning the same knife over and over again, staring off into space, eyes blank as his mind tries to click puzzle pieces together

Thalassophobia

Still calls it a “slumby” instead of a slumber party

“It’s not a slumber party”

“YES IT IS WERE HAVING FUN AND WERE STAYING THE NIGHT IT’S A SLUMBY”

Its an abandoned warehouse in the middle of no where, there’s leaks in the roof, and the ground is damp.

Ghost:

Was a really anxious kid that ended up trying to cover it all up in his teens. Was actually kinda popular in high school; athletic, good-natured, and genuinely tried his best in his courses. There was always something sort of off about him though, he’d sit in class with a faraway look, spacing out, sometimes coming into school with eyebags for days.

Bit people as a kid

Wanted to go to college for computer engineering, but was highly discouraged and ended up getting into the military instead (as well as other reasons)

Still sometimes wonders about working with tech instead of using firearms, but those are just dreams, nothing more. He has a job to do now, it’s useless to think about anything but that.

Trusts every single member of the 141 (eventually Alej and Rudy) with his life. Is absolutely terrible at actually saying it, but would take a tank to the teeth to make sure they all end up alive. He isn’t willing to let them be selfless—he isn’t willing to give anyone up.

Milk drinker

Raw egg eater

Likes almonds, does not like cashews. Has never given a reason why.

Does not care for bugs.

“Why are you screaming, it’s a beetle.”

Doesn’t really get the whole deal about insects because they're usually so easy to take care of, but will remove them once everyone quiets down, taking a little piece of paper and cup, scooping up the little thing, and placing it outside. If someone's got a fear, he respects it and will take care of it, but he does it all with a neutral look on his face.

His main party trick is that he can swallow a cup of jello without blinking.

Just bottoms up, down the hatch, and done

Soap tried to do the same thing once and it ended up with him making a HOUGH sound and the jello, still fully intact, shooting across the room and splatting against the wall

Likes to write down jokes he thinks of on his arm; carries a pen everywhere

On that note, his arm and hands are his notepads. You can easily find random numbers, dates, a few mismatched words, and a small grocery list all on his non-dominant hand

Feels like he can’t ever get married or have kids because he’s so afraid of what happened to his parents will happen to him, and he never wants to do that to anyone, especially someone he loves

Still struggles with a lot of self-worth, denying the idea of a family or a stable future. It’s easier to not think about the future when you aren’t sure if you’re going to make it through the next mission

Is Normal British Guy #81 in his civvies, unless with the 141. He’ll wear a scarf or a mask for hunting or for winter, but he genuinely doesn’t wear shit during normal hours. If he's with one of his teammates, he'll wear a face mask of any sort.

One time, Soap was down south to pick up a specific brand of coffee he likes (yes, he’s particular), and Simon, who was getting some last-minute groceries, just stared at him for a good nineteen seconds before walking to the back of the store.

Soap didn’t know it was him.

... and he never will because Ghost’ll never tell him

Nosey nelly, this one.

Knows everyone’s info, for some reason.

He knows your address, and your social security number, oh, tell your mom “happy birthday.”

The team’s gotten used to it because he’s gotten better, but they all know that he’s seen their files.

it's all precautionary, doesn't intend for it to be creepy

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #soap mactavish #call of duty #mwf2 headcanons #headcanon #cod headcanons #yes these all apply to Reap What You Sow #rwys ff #rwys #rwys soap #rwys price #rwys ghost #rwys gaz

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ifreakforicecream · 9 months

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COD MODERN WAREFARE 3 Predictions

Disclaimer: I have never played the games I am just doing this for my own enjoyment (I don’t have 70$ lying around) I am going off of cutscenes, the wiki and other people’s head cannons. I kind of wanna see how this list plays out once the new missions come. (This barbie has to draft 30 sheets of site analysis for a presentation but is doing this instead) I will probably update this with coloured text as it goes

also, lmao mw3 getting revealed by monster energy drinks has the same energy as the previous installments being revealed by Dorito Chips or when hero movies get early reveals from toy/action figure patents.

Graves does come back but only as an operator for the multiplayer games. Conversely, He could be an illegal arms dealer but in hiding (think MacAfee before they found him). Shepherd has a higher chance of going in that direction in my books. Update: he comes back completely unscathed and going by the new trailer he's siding with Farah and Alex? oooo this gonna get messy (28/7/23).

Price, Laswell, or Gaz dies. Sort of a riff off from the originals I’m guessing the writers are trying to find some form of subversion but this is where it's at (oof)

Farah or Alex dies and neither of them finishes what they started. My money is on Farah tbf.

Gaz dying makes sense in the way that he started with wanting to do right by people when he first met and would probably die that way too. or this being a red herring price jumps in for him and dies and then takes his place which seals his fate as the MC of this installment.

Laswell goes out of the way of aiding a mission when she was expected/advised not to.

Laswell gets a protégé that will replace her in a much later installment. It has a shot at being Gaz man just collects good intel.

more female ops? I like to think COD writes them pretty damn well. (at this point my standards are must pass the Bechdel test. which is not a bad benchmark considering its flaws but not great either)(this is also where I found out the first installment of Twilight passes the Bechdel test. go figure)

Gaz replaces Laswell and Ghost takes Price’s place.

Price dies while killing Makarov. or we get him smoking a cigar as he is introed making it a full-circle moment once more.

Ghost trades bullets with shepherd but only shepherd dies. Many have said the reboot plays it safe so I am going off of that assumption here slightly but ik a lot of og gamers of the previous titles would find that satisfying.

In the wiki, it states that the shadow company is disavowed but that might change. I didn’t check the established title (Like if it was private or public) of such a company but there might be a line of succession here. for what they have in assets it seems too big to be disavowed.

we get a partial face reveal of the ghost. It could be something mundane as smoking or a teasing jump cut. it’s just like barely there.

everyone gets promoted: It happened after the mission in the ghost's origin story. It’s a hefty mission they just survived. I would be surprised if they didn’t. with shepherd gone this swings either way. or gets buried under the rug as it is a mission hidden from the public.

Roach gets in the picture. he also wins the IDGAF wars or is second to Price in that regard.

regional operators? They were all over the place in past titles and with las almas this seems the least farfetched. (hoping for some Indian or Nepalis operators woo)

someone from 141 or affiliated gets kidnapped or “killed” but it’s that “lucky death” situation that COD likes to pull like it did with Alex. This happens towards the end or at a start of a mission season.’

Shepherd is the actual villain and they kill off Makarov pretty quick as a subversion of the original title. Again moot, if you consider the potential monster energy leak his face is in red behind price.

price dies, Gaz finishes the job.

this is more of an anti-prediction: the price isn’t gonna be the main character but the most prominent. (also going by the monster leak) ghost was the last game’s MC I don’t think they were married to his POV all that much even though it played a huge role.

ghost dies, and Soap finishes the job. “you wanna be better than me Johnny” or Johnny dies saving Ghost in the final moment.

Makarov operates the no Russian mission remotely and he acts as a clean nationalistic politician, making him more dangerous and will cause international trouble when apprehending him. (a lot of opposing politicians or figures “fall out of windows” in the process.

The ghost team carries over to Russian soil.

141 gets bigger and possibly with pre-existing operators within the game.

shepherd gets murdered by a more evil boi/girl

ghost’s tattoo design has a canonical refresh/update. The grey fleece jacket comes back.

Soap recovers while Ghost hunts for Shepherd solo. (this happens right after the final mission or the bar scene)

Every now and then a COD title comes out with a new game mechanic or a way to play. In this installment, I am predicting laser sights for night missions.

Heavier lean on digital/informational warfare.

we don’t get much about ghosts. RalphsValve said there might be a spinoff personally I don’t this will ever happen but it’s a tossup considering the original investor report saying mobile makes 40% of revenue but the Microsoft acquisition may change things ( also wonder where product collaborations are at on that investor report probably not that sizable but still worth a look). Conversely, he’s ghostie has become a character favorite and the market landscape has changed drastically in the last 10-20 years and he already has source material. BTW I read that Origin comic That poor fucker can’t catch a break. Brother looked so red-eyed when he hit the tarmac when he met Soap.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #mw3 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #kate laswell

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer III: Justice

I opened my eyes to a dimly lit space. I was hooked to an IV.

As soon as I turned my head, I saw Chisei in a white shirt and black pants. In front of him was a table of munitions. The man looked rough, a hollow of his former vibrant and frightening self.

He looked at me briefly. “You’re awake. Good. You’ve already started to heal. I need to return you to your teammates.”

Return me? I sat up, wincing against the bandages under my shirt. My ruined dress was gone, replaced by a thin white top and a bright red hakama. “Where am I?”

“We’re back at the shrine. It’s far from Tokyo and the only safe place now.”

I watched him as he pulled a gun holster around his waist.

“Chime?”

“Resting. I’ll be sending him and Erii away, out of Japan. It’s the only way to be safe.”

“I wanted to tell you, the King controls Chime with a woodblock...”

“He told me...” He glanced at me and slipped throwing knives into the sides of the holster.

“You’re still going back to the city?”

He paused, eyes narrowing, full of hatred. “You think I would leave after hearing something like that? I’m not leaving until the King is dead.”

I gripped the blanket covering me. “My wish is for you to get out of here alive. You wanted to be free from Hydra, right?”

“You had the chance to leave as well didn’t you? You didn’t take it.” He replied.

“How do you know that?”

“I heard you and the owner of the Takamagahara talking.” He tossed his trench coat over his shoulders and smiled at my open mouthed shock.

“You were there!”

“I was there for a while. And I am free from Hydra. Turns out that the King had planned for this. I’m not sure how he got the location of the White King. But he attacked as soon as she started her rampage. Immediately after the tsunami, he had forces in place to take us down in the chaos.”

He pulled black gloves over his hands. “Minamoto Heavy Industries was taken. Kaguya is gone. Yasha is dead. We lost Fuma in the escape... Hydra is completely defenseless. I thought we had won the war. Turns out the Devil Clan never cared about their own deaths or loss of territory. They had their ace in the hole... all our efforts were useless.”

He stopped. “Had I known I never would have....”

“But you didn’t know.” I said, raising my voice. “None of us did! This is all complete... insanity. The only person who had any clue about what was about to happen was Lu Mingfei! And I need to tell you something! Listen!”

He finally turned to me.

“I believe Lu Mingfei has been having prophetic visions. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But he told me he’s been dreaming about something terrible happening to Erii. He said first with water... and now with fire. Did he say anything about that?”

From the way his eyes shifted he seemed to be recalling something. He answered. “When he was with me, he did have frequent nightmares. About the sea and an unseen enemy. He said it was a dream of the future.”

“Now he dreams of fire.” I whimpered. “And Erii...”

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll get her out... Immediately.” He walked to me tucking under my arm to lift me up and carry me out to the waiting helicopter. It was still dark outside.

“Where are we going?”

“Anjou put out a call for you all to meet him at the Tokyo Meteorological Institute.”

“And what will you do? Are you going to come fight with us?”

“Heh. Unlikely. Anjou probably has his own ideas. For all I know he’s here to get you out.”

“No! I won’t leave here-”

He gave me a sympathetic look. “He’s already taken over Tokyo at this point. You don’t have a say in anything any more.”

My heart sank even as helicopter lifted. He was right. As we soared over the landscape, we stayed silent. I realized that he was saying goodbye. It was unlikely that we would see each other again, at least, not in a dragon slaying capacity.

“Keep in touch. Please? Don’t delete my number.”

“Why?”

“There’s so few people who are like me. Even surrounded by other hybrids, I feel lonely. And Mingfei will worry about Erii.”

He didn’t answer. I got the feeling he wanted to leave everything behind and that I was part of a past he no longer wanted.

Tokyo was a city becoming a ghost town. Lines of cars were backed up and people were abandoning them and walking with whatever they could carry. I felt a deep sense of failure. I was supposed to prevent this. I was sent here to stop this very thing.

I leaned my head against back of the seat, too miserable to even cry about it.

We landed. Chisei got out with me. I found I was already able to walk on my own, though it was still very painful to do much else. We went slowly to the elevator which we took down to a hall that led to a large conference room.

As soon as the door opened, I saw Anjou with Johann and Nono. They were sitting around a table discussing something. Turned out I was late to the meeting.

A man I didn’t know was saying. “I will contact the chief executive now, but he was out of contact and being evacuated. I'm not sure of his status.”

“I only need the coordinates!” Anjou was saying. “As long as he’s still alive let him talk to me. That arrogant bastard has already messed things up. That’s the least he should be able to do to help!”

I scowled. “Hey!”

They all turned to me. Johann stood up, eyes wide. “Meixiu!”

Chisei chuckled and squeezed my shoulder. “I am indeed and arrogant bastard who made a mess of things.”

Johann approached and I easily swapped Chisei’s arms for his. His hug hurt and I grunted in pain.

“You’re injured!”

“Is just a flesh wound!” I tried to joke, but the pain in my eyes said otherwise.

“Water storage well number 13, Design code Red Well, in the mountains near the Tama River. Here are the coordinates.” He handed the seething Anjou a piece of note paper.

“Principal. I’m sorry, I tried I really tried...” I pulled away from Johann.

“I will not accept any apologies from you young lady.” Anjou’s cold eyes brooked no argument. “Your mission was very simple and became... very complicated!”

I’d never seen Anjou so furious, gazing at Chisei who took it with numb indifference. But the man had lost everything and I couldn’t stand that Anjou was going to take his anger out on him.

“I won’t testify against him! He was only doing what he thought was right!”

Anjou cut me off. “You’ll be permitted to stay in this room so long as you don’t say another word.”

Johann’s hand squeezed my shoulders. “Easy...” He whispered, guiding me to a chair.

Anjou handed the note to a man behind him. “Johann, Nono, let me talk to these two alone.”

Johann left me and walked out. Nono glanced at me but looked away before I could read her expression. The door shut.

For a while, no one said anything while Anjou gathered his thoughts.

“When I came to Japan,” He began. “...you were one of the few people I wanted to meet. But you kept refusing to meet me. This is the first time I’ve traveled abroad to meet a former student and have been repeatedly rejected. You even received my scholarship, only to waste it.”

“It is my pride as a student to be able to get the principal's scholarship... it is my prerogative as a patriarch to refuse to meet you.” Chisei said quietly. “Unfortunately, I am not a good student and I have not learned the most important things from you.”

Chisei then looked at me. “I am not a competent patriarch. Those people who believed that I was the coming Amaterasu died for me. and I failed to give them a brand new future... and now my clan is at its end.”

I didn’t want to hear that from him. But I wasn’t allowed to talk any more, so I avoided his eyes and silently brooded.

“And after so many years, you’re still being pursued by your past, Chisei.”

“You mean Chime? Someone told you?”

“You told me.”

I looked up at Chisei.

“You forgot? You told me years ago, back when you were at Cassell. We were drinking together when you told me this story... only you talked about it like it had happened to someone else. At that time you were asking about the cost of justice.”

“I... have forgotten. I thought I would never tell anyone that story.”

He told me. Perhaps I’d grown closer to him than even he realized.

“Then you forgot what I told you about justice?”

Chisei looked a little sheepish. “Can you... please tell me again?”

The atmosphere had relaxed quite a bit. My ears perked up.

“You remember Benedict’s book?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“He talked about an ultimate justice. That so long as this person obeys this justice, then the world will never reject him. Because it’s above the individual.”

He pulled out a cigar as this was a very long lecture for him. He lit it, letting the smoke curl over both sides of his face.

“However, there is no justice that can exceed the individual. For some people, revenge is justice. For others, protection is justice. If your brother’s happiness is he most important thing in your heart, then you should be willing to take on the entire world for him. You think you paid the price for ‘justice’.”

He turned to look at Chisei. “But the justice you obey is not what you really want. The Justice you obey is taught to you by others. It is not your individual justice. So now, even though you did what you thought was right, you’re tormented by your conscience!”

Chisei glanced away, looking all the world like a scolded child. “For you... revenge is justice, principal!”

“It is! Haha!” He laughed. “My life has been summer and it has been winter. When I met my friends I was lonely and poor in life. But they turned it into summer. I belonged. I had true friends. And then... the dragons took that all away. The remainder of my life is growing shorter. There no one else like me in the world. No one shares my experiences, my memories. I am truly utterly alone. My revenge is all I have left. So... it is my justice.”

He took a long drag on his cigar and I lowered my head. I’d never thought of the Principal as a lonely person but who else had lived as long as he did?

“But,” He’s voice brightened. “...it is not the only justice. Let’s take our genius, Carli here for just a moment.”

I gave him a deer in the headlights look.

“Chisei, you and your organization have left her life an absolute misery! You destroyed everyone she loved. And you pursued her with the intention of killing her. And yet. I say one word against you and she leaps to your defense! Do you know why?”

Chisei shifted, uncomfortable. “I...”

Anjou’s expression changed to one of bewilderment as he gestured to me. “It’s because she has no concept of hatred! It’s not in her nature, not even a little bit!”

I looked at Chisei who avoided my eyes.

“She’s the only one I’ve ever met like this. At least, to this extraordinary degree.” He puffed his cigar. “Now... some would look down on this. After reading the reports, it was clear that she was slow to act to escape from the Takamagahara. She took unnecessary risks in attempting to align with the people pursuing to kill her. Things could have easily gone another way.”

“It took another man’s hatred to finally move things forward. These are facts. However...” He took another puff.

“It’s also a fact, that had Chu Zihang been leading, your brother would be dead. You probably would be dead as well. The mission would have succeeded on a mountain of death. Had Nono been lead, likely similar circumstances with perhaps a lower body count.”

“Many would say, Carli’s route was much more difficult. Much more fraught with danger. Much more risky. Slow! However, unlike her loved ones, your loved ones are still alive.”

Chisei didn’t look at me.

“Carli?”

“Yes... sir?” I asked hesitating.

“Do you regret anything you’ve done here in Japan?” He looked directly into my eyes with a laser like intensity.

“Um...” My eyes shifted a bit, thinking. After that moment’s consideration, I answered. “No sir.”

He turned to Chisei. “Do you see the difference?”

A memory popped into my head, Johann Chu at my bedside. My voice saying: Don’t tell me what to do!

I lowered my eyes again, examining the grain of the wood on the table, chewing my lip.

Chisei took a deep breath and let it out. “After this many years, it’s great to listen to your lectures again.” He said.

With that Anjou ended his lecture. “From this moment on, the control has been transferred to Cassell College. You have a good rest. I hope we can all see the sun rise tomorrow.”

“You’re using the space based kinetic weapon on the White King?”

“I no longer need to discuss the White King with you, Chisei. I know you wanted to stop it on your own, but you failed.’

I looked back up again.

Anjou gave me a hard glare, that was dampened by a smile that appeared after it. I was still not allowed to talk.

Chisei took the rejection in stride. He got up, slowly bowed to Anjou and left through the long corridor. I stood up and pursued him. “Chisei!”

He paused.

“Please... be safe.”

He turned away, walking back to the helicopter.

I turned away to find Johann who had been waiting on the other side of the hall. I threw my arms around him.

“Are you alright?”

“Neither of us will face consequences.” I looked up at him. His expression was blank but his eyes were kind. I was happy to see him. I stretched up to kiss him and then flinched. “Ow.”

“The lounge is right over there. Go sit down. I’ll get you something for the pain.”

#Chisei Gen #Anjou #Johann Chu #Nono #JUSTICE #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

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captainfern · 1 year

Text

Heart-Shaped Box

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price gets injured during a mission. you help him feel better lol. • rating - 18+ [mdni] • wordcount - 3.7k • warnings - fem!reader, a bit of sub!price, unprotected piv, praise kink [price is called a good boy], oral [m!receiving], orgasm denial? idk probably, riding, mentions of threesome, strong language, a bit of violence/blood

that gif makes me fucking feral

i want him and his silly hat

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

The taskforce had been separated, having each pursued completely different targets. Comms were down and that left you hauntingly alone.

You had hunted down your target. Piece of cake. But now, leaving his body submerged in a flooded ditch, you walked aimlessly though the long grass of a sprawling paddock.

Every few minutes, you tapped at the communication collar around your throat. You called to your comrades— Ghost, Soap, Gaz— but no one responded. Static filled your ears.

With an angry huff, you switched the device on and off again, before giving up entirely. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and you did not want to be stranded alone in unknown countryside.

Up ahead, a woodland. It was shadowed, tall trees brushing the dusky blue sky. There were no houses in sight, and you were beginning to grow tired.

When you reached the tree line of the woodland, your comms erupted in a burst of static that made you flinch. A patchy voice filtered into your ear, and you clawed desperately at the buttons on your collar in a poor attempt to improve the quality.

“Sergeant? You copy?”

It was Price. Well thank fuck for that.

You felt like you wanted to sob, throat stinging as the deep vibrato of his voice soothed something within you.

“Copy,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”

“At one of the safe houses. Are the boys with you?”

“No, no, it’s just me.”

You heard Price curse, then: “So you’re alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, tell me where you are. Describe your surroundings for me.”

You did as you were told. The sun was setting in front of you. There was a darkening woods in front of you too, with rolling green paddocks stretching to your left and right. Behind you was a desolate dirt track, complete with a flooded ditch, and a dead insurgent.

“Head towards the sun, straight through the woods,” Price instructed. “Cross the stream and keep walking. You’ll see the house.”

Ever the loyal soldier, you did exactly as you were told.

•°•

As the sun began to set, you stumbled through the front door of a small farmhouse, evidently falling apart at the edges. The brick exterior was encrusted thick with lichen, and the wooden window frames were weathered and crumbling.

Price had made himself comfortable inside; lounging on a dusty old couch in front of a raw brick fireplace. He hadn’t lit it, but judging by the smoke, he settled for puffing on a cigar.

It hung loosely from his lips as he turned his head to face you, a newspaper folded across his lap.

“You killed the insurgent?” Was the first thing he said.

You ripped off your comms collar angrily, spitting out a bitter yes before dropping your pack and walking into the kitchen. You got yourself a glass of water and gulped it down, placing the glass into the sink before walking into the main room of the farmhouse.

You slumped onto the other end of the couch. Price watched you, one arm stretched out along the backrest; the other moving to hold his cigar aloft as he puffed out a cloud of greyish smoke.

“I heard from the boys about twenty minutes ago,” Price said, thumbing the waxy paper of his cigar. “They’re an hour east. Together. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

You nodded, eyes drifting closed. The mission adrenaline had run out, and exhaustion was creeping into your bones.

You heard Price chuckle. “Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Get some rest,” he said, tossing the remains of his cigar into the empty fireplace. “You deserve it.”

•°•

It was very, very early when you woke up with a start. It was still pitch black outside, constellations twinkling overhead. You blinked through the darkness of the room you were in, straining your ears as you listened to rummaging somewhere down the hall.

You got out of bed, snatching your pistol from off the nightstand, creeping out the door and down the hall. A flickering light was on in the main room of the farmhouse, and you poked your head warily around the corner.

Price was awake, sitting on the couch. He was sitting in just his work pants; his chest bare and, you realised, smeared with blood. You entered the room and put your pistol on the kitchen countertop as you passed it.

Grunting in pain beneath his breath, Price was attempting to wrap a wound on his shoulder. Dark rivers of blood flowed from his bruised flesh, down his pec and along the soft lines of his stomach.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” You said, approaching him.

“Didn’t think it mattered.” He replied, not looking at you.

You sighed, sitting next to him on the couch. He finally looked at you, complexion pale in the flickering light.

“Can I help you?” You nodded at the wound and, with a small grunt, Price angled his body towards you.

It was a stab wound. Not too big, not too deep, but still enough that blood was oozing continuously. You picked up from where he left it: wrapping fresh gauze around the wound as tight as possible without cutting circulation.

“How does that feel?” You asked, running your fingers gently over the gauze.

He huffed, a breath of cigar smoke and mint. “Good, love. Good.”

You ignored the term of endearment, but suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were to sitting on your captain’s lap: legs brushing, chest just inches from his. His breathing fluttered the baby hairs near your forehead.

You cleared your throat. “Did you want some pain relief? I can check my pack. I should have some morphine somewhere, or maybe ketamine—”

He shook his head with a grimace. “I’m alright. Just… just sit with me for a bit.”

“Oh…” You blinked up at him. “Okay. Yeah.”

He exhaled through his nose, reclining in the chair and closing his eyes. You watched the way his chest rose and fell, strong abdomen moving up and down. It was still streaked with blood, so an idea came to mind.

You pattered into the kitchen, grabbed a cloth and wet it, entering the main room once more. You then began to clean Price’s blood away. Price jolted when the wet cloth hit his bare skin.

“What are—?”

“Just cleaning you up.”

“You don’t have—”

“It’s fine, captain. I really want to help.”

His eyes darkened, but he said nothing else. He just watched you clean the blood out of his skin. Once you disposed of the cloth, you retook your place on the couch beside him. He was appraising you with a curious look. One that made you suddenly shy.

“Is… is there anything else I can do to help you?” You asked, voice quiet.

There were several things you wanted to do for him. Things you had thought about for months. But, he was your boss, your captain, and you should be ashamed to ever think—

“A kiss better would be nice.”

Excuse me.

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and reveal that, haha, it was a joke. Hilarious!

…But he didn’t.

He peered down at you through long lashes, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his lips. You met his gaze, confused. But you could feel your cheeks growing embarrassingly hot.

“You…? Are you joking?” You whispered, dumbfounded and at a loss for any other words to express yourself.

He shook his head gently. “No, this is a serious matter, sergeant. I do believe a kiss would make me feel a lot better.”

You bit your lip, and Price followed the movement with dilated pupils. “Just… okay, just a kiss?” You uttered, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Just a kiss.” He whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what the fuck he was saying.

Steeling your nerves, you leaned in and cupped his face, placing your lips gently to his. He hummed, satisfied, as he kissed you back. After a few thumping beats of your heart, you pulled away. He pressed his forehead to yours and you both breathed hard.

You stared at each other, consumed by each other’s space, presence. You could feel how warm he was. How safe he was.

“I think I might need a bit more than that to really make sure I’m feeling better.” Price quipped, before slamming his mouth back onto yours.

He dragged his tongue along the seam of your lips and you parted them: allowing him access. He deepened the kiss and lifted his good arm, resting a large hand on the back of your head. His not-so-good arm found a gentle place on your hip.

“We shouldn’t…” You gasped.

“You want to stop?”

“No.”

He smiled against your mouth, tongue smoothing against yours. “Didn’t think so.”

You whined into the kiss, and he groaned out in response. Everything about him was warm: his mouth, his tongue, his hands. You were heating up at the way he held you to him. Your mind was hazy, dizzy with lust.

“Shit—” Price pulled back to growl, shifting his injured shoulder away. You flinched, suddenly remembering that he was, in fact, still injured.

“Captain, oh my god, I am so sorry—”

“Wasn’t you, love,” he grimaced, leaning his back against the couch. He took a deep breath. “Just stings a bit.”

“I offered you pain relief—”

“And I refused.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stubborn bastard.”

He chuckled darkly. “Is that any way to talk to your captain?” He then gestured to his lap, urging you to sit. You looked at him challengingly. You were suddenly in the mood to challenge your captain. Great idea, sergeant.

“What do you want?” You asked, faux innocence in your tone. “You’ve got to tell me, captain.”

You expected a snide reply. A witty comeback that would get you all hot and flustered. But instead, he groaned, low in his throat.

“Want you.”

It took a few seconds for you to comprehend his tone. The need in his voice. The whine. You fought a smile from your face.

“Want me? Want me to do what?” You slid closer, a hand on his thigh. “Come on, Price. You’re my captain for a reason. Give me proper orders.”

He was breathing heavily. Panting as he stared at you. His cock was hard, tenting his pants. When he responded, his voice was hoarse, strained with pleasure and tobacco smoke. “Want you to suck my cock.”

You smiled, slipping off the couch and onto your knees in front of him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You mused, shuffling between his spread legs and beginning to unzip his pants. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you used the motion to slip his pants further down his legs.

You leaned closer, running your fingers along the waistband of his boxers, just skimming the solid imprint of his cock. He huffed above you, breathing erratically as he watched you.

“Please, love. Come on.”

You hummed, dipping your hand into his boxers and pulling his cock free. When your fingers enclosed around him, Price let out a low moan, shooting his good hand down to grip your hair.

“Fuck sake—” He choked as you pressed a kiss to his tip, flushed red and already leaking.

You smiled to yourself. He was warm and throbbing in your hand and you realised that you did that. You made your captain like this.

“Use that pretty mouth, love, come on.” Price breathed, pushing your head gently. Your lips nudged his tip again and he sighed. “Want your mouth.”

You obliged, wrapping your lips around him and dragging them downwards. He groaned deeply, fingers tight in your hair as you took his cock deeper into the heat of your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat and you resisted the urge to gag, tears appearing in your waterline.

“So good, so good…” Price was mumbling as you began a comfortable pace; bobbing up and down with his hand in your hair. He wasn’t altering your pace in any way. His hand simply remained a firm comfort.

You felt his thighs flex beside your head, hips twitching as you sucked. Saliva pooled past your lips, down the length of him. You used a hand to smear it around the base. He cursed at that, sending a throb of arousal to your cunt.

“So good, love,” he repeated, pupils blown as he looked down at you. “Better than I imagined. Fucked my fist to the thought of your mouth so many times, jus’ thinking about your pretty lips wrapped all nice around my cock.”

You blinked tears away from your eyes and he moved his injured arm to your face. He wiped the tears with his thumb. He then pressed his thumb to the seam of your lips, feeling where his cock was essentially choking you. You whined up at him, and he smiled back.

“Such a good sergeant, sucking her captain’s cock.” He said, retracting his hand.

He had gained a bit of cockiness, noted. But you smiled internally. That wouldn’t last.

You quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around his cock until you felt it twitching in your mouth. He had gone quiet now— words replaced by airy grunts and groans as he held your head, bucking his hips. He was close, judging by the way his tip flooded pre along your tongue, and how his fingers began to tighten in your hair.

“Love, gonna—”

You pulled away, gripping his cock firmly at the base. He let out a soft gasp, wrenching his eyes open to look down at you. You licked your lips, saliva dripping down your chin. You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

He frowned at you. “What—?”

“Consider that punishment for not telling me you were hurt.” You battered your eyelashes at him as you crawled onto his lap, still holding his cock.

It was wet with your saliva, the tip flushed red. It was hot in your hand, twitching against your palm as both of you looked down at it. Price rested his forehead against yours, breath coming in pants as you lazily started stroking him. Your soft touch, your warmth, your perfume. You were going to be the death of him.

“Need you love, please.” He whispered, shifting his forehead to rest in the crook of your neck. He kissed the skin above your shirt, sucking a hickey onto the sensitive flesh.

You withheld a moan. “Need what? Need me to do what? You’ve gotta tell me, captain. Come on.”

He whined into your neck. Your cunt throbbed at that. Skimming his teeth along your neck, he pulled back, lips flushed and eyes glassy as he looked up at you. He had both his hands on the small of your back, pushing you closer to him.

“Need your cunt,” he whined, low. “Need that tight fucking cunt around my cock. Need to feel it, love, please.”

Who were you to deny your captain of his request?

You slowly, tantalisingly brought your shirt over your head. With no bra, your tits fell freely in front of his face and you saw his eyes light up like a teenage boy. His mouth was immediately on them, sucking bruising marks around your nipples.

You let a groan slip past your lips as you worked your pants off, struggling but eventually managing to slide them onto the floor while still situated on Price’s lap. When you had done that, he was finishing his hickeys on your other breast, chest moving rapidly against you.

“Perfect,” He whispered as he pulled away, moving his hands to cup your tits. “You’re absolutely perfect, aren’t you, sergeant?”

“Only for you, captain.” You took his good hand and guided it down to your underwear. You pushed his fingers against your clothed core, leaning towards him and moaning softly in his ear.

“Feel how wet you make me,” you purred. “I’ve fucked myself so many times thinking about you, your fingers, your cock. Wanted you for so long.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grit his teeth, rubbing your wet core through the cotton of your underwear. He then moved them to the side, rubbing a finger along your slit with a groan. “You’re soaked, love. Want my cock that bad, huh? What would the boys think if they saw how needy you were for their captain? Ghost would be beside himself.”

You smiled, biting back a moan. Your hands were around his neck, careful of his shoulder, and you steadied yourself, rocking gently in his lap. He watched you with a calculating gaze, and he tutted gently at you, still stroking your cunt with a thick finger.

“You naughty girl. You want the boys to know? Want Ghost to know?” He mused, angling his hips so your clothed cunt rubbed against his cock. “Want him to fuck you, too?”

You moaned.

He took that as your answer.

“Yeah? Want your lieutenant to fuck your tight cunt as well?” He ripped your underwear off your body, causing you to gasp, the impact stinging the sides of your thighs. “Want us both? Want Ghost and me? Naughty fucking girl, eh?”

You moaned, your plan to challenge your captain slipping away. But you were desperate to hold onto it. So, with one last shaky breath, you dragged his hand away from your throbbing cunt and turned the tables.

“You’d love it,” you said, sucking his finger into your mouth. “You’d love to watch Ghost fuck me, wouldn’t you? Love to see me come apart on his cock while you fuck my mouth. You’d love it, wouldn’t you, captain?”

You got him again.

He groaned, tossing his head back and bucking his hips to try and bring friction to his cock. But you lifted your hips, your dripping cunt just out of his reach. He moved his finger from your mouth and settled both hands on your hips.

He kissed you, and you let him. His tongue brushed against yours, claiming. His taste was intoxicating.

“Let me take care of you.” You said softly as you pulled away.

He nodded, resting comfortably on the couch with his hands on your hips. You positioned yourself with your entrance above his cock. Gripping him, you ran his tip through your wet folds, causing him to release a noise, a mix between a sigh and a growl.

“Be a good boy, captain, and let me take care of you.” You whispered as you sank down on his cock.

The noise that elicited from his mouth was jaw-dropping. He released a breathy moan, followed by a series of deep pants as you slowly, slowly dragged yourself back up, and then slammed yourself back onto him. He screwed his eyes shut, head tossed over the back of the couch as you moved against him. He was puffing out small moans, deep from his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that—” he whined, gripping your hips harder. “Just like that, love. Fuck, feels so good on my cock. Taking me so— ha—fuck— good, love.”

You were making him a whiny mess beneath you. Mission successful, you smiled as you fucked yourself on his cock. The blunt head of it slammed repeatedly into the spot inside you that made you moan and soak him even more. Butterflies flew around your insides. The insides of your belly were growing hot.

Price opened his eyes, looking down at where his cock entered you again and again. “Taking my cock so well, love. Look at you. So good for me. So good for your captain.”

Your cunt ached around his cock, clit pulsing with its own heartbeat. You were sensitive and needy and really wanted to cum. The sensations inside you were building, but you wanted to try something again—

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Price?” You squeezed his cock tighter. “Such a good boy, fucking me so good. Isn’t that right?”

A beat passed and you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But—

He let out a loud, breathy whine: something that did not sound like it belonged to him. He stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, moaning into your skin, whimpering softly as he rutted into you harder.

“Yeah, love. I’m your good boy.” It was quiet, almost inaudible, but it was there.

Enough so that your orgasm hit you out of nowhere and you came with a moan of his name. You burst around his cock, cum splattering through his pubic hair and up the line of hair on his abdomen.

He groaned into your neck, thrusts sloppy and erratic and desperate. He dragged his teeth along your skin.

“Gonna cum, love. Please— ha, shit— let me cum inside you— hngh— please.” He mumbled against your neck.

Becoming slightly overstimulated— he was fucking you hard, after all— you nodded feverishly. “Cum inside me, Price. Wanna feel you.”

With one last dragged-out moan, he came, your name on his lips.

Ropes of warmth filled you, flooding around his cock as he breathed frantically against your neck. It spilled out onto his lap, making the backs of your thighs all sticky.

Gently, you rubbed his back with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. He groaned lowly, still attached to your neck, lazily sucking another bruise there.

“Feel better?” You asked, holding him close to you as his hands moved from your hips, circling around your middle to push your body against his.

“Much better,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“S’all right. What kind of sergeant would I be if I didn’t look after my captain?”

He finally looked up, giving you a stern look. But you couldn’t take him seriously when his face was all flushed, eyes glossy and lips rouged. You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

A few quiet moments passed, basking in each other’s presence, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Then, Price cleared his throat. “So, you want Ghost to fuck you?”

“You like being called a good boy?”

He went quiet.

You laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He pressed his head back into the slope of your neck. “Deal.”

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captain price x reader #captain john price x you #cod price #price x reader #price smut #captain price smut #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #captain john price x female reader #captain john price #cod smut #fem reader #captain price #captainfern #captain’snirvana

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runephoenix6769 · 6 years

Text

Shattered! Part 2

(Second instalment. Widowmaker Tracer fic. Lena is not overly friendly at first. Will be a collection of one shots gathered together. Multiple POV’s.

Will be edited over time before maybe loading on ao3 and ff)

@call-signtracer

‘Shattered!’

(Part 2. )

When a call for help had reached Overwatch via ancient back channels Winston had long thought defunct, the Senior officers had cloistered themselves in the main office.

Tracer scuffing the tips of her toes underneath her chair observed the various other members of the team that had gathered for the last hour in the nearby cafeteria, each pretending like they weren’t waiting to find out why the sudden clandestine meeting had been called. McCree lounged on the battered sofa, arms casually crossed and his perpetually dusty cowboy boots propped on a nearby chair. Genji, head bowed concentrating on sharpening his sword as D-Va tapped away furiously on her hand held console, the cable of her earphones unconnected and dangling uselessly. Everyone refused to acknowledge each other as view-able through the sheet glass wall behind them, the body language of a heated argument played out.

The palpable silence was suddenly broken as Fareeha, features contorted in rage, exited the room, slamming the door with a bang leaving a string of expletives in a mixture of English and Arabic in her wake as she stormed down the corridor back into the depths of the compound. The sound of whet stone on tempered steel stopped, D-Va immediately collected her things, scuttling in the opposite direction of the irate soldier.

“Wonder what that was about?” Tracer asked in a bid to break the tension.

McCree peered at her from under the wide brim of his cowboy hat, the cigar caught between his lips momentarily pausing before it continued to roll on its journey to the other side of his mouth. He gave the young agent a non- committal shrug.

The Senior officers began to filter out of the room, each going in their own direction. Morrison leaned through the door into the corridor,

“Oxton!” He barked, causing Lena to flinch in her seat,

“Cap?”

“With Angela and Fareeha. Now!” The grizzled super soldier’s gaze briefly paused on the battered cowboy before growling, almost as an afterthought, “Take Genji with you.”

Jumping out of her chair, the Londoner snapped off a salute,

“Yes, Sir!”

Genji sheathed his sword, slowly unfurling as he muttered in his soft voice,

“I would only be happy to assist.”

The small hovercraft landed in the wide plaza of what had once been an Omenic housing facility. Now it had given way to a decrepit slum. Peering out of the window into the darkest recesses of the square, Lena could make out humans and Omenic alike huddled round burning oil barrels in an attempt to stave off the savage winter that had gripped Europe in its unforgiving clutches. Testing the straps of her chronal accelerator and checking her pistols for the second time, Tracer enquired,

“What are we doing here?”

Fareeha grunted in reply as she tightened her flak jacket over her solid athletic frame and slid a knife into its holster. Head bowed and continuing to go through her away mission med kit, Angela answered,

“We have been asked to assist in securing a Talon operative.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know.”

The Egyptian solider ripped open the armoury locker,

“I want it stated for the record, I did not agree to this.”

“Fareeha!” Mercy began softly.

Fareeha forcefully cut her off, shaking her head as she selected a pulse pistol and a number of flash grenades. “Don’t Angela. Just don’t!”

In an attempt to avoid the brewing argument, Lena once more tried to glean any information on the forth coming mission,

“What is the back up from the local authorities? Police? ” No, she thought, by the looks of this place local police wouldn't frequent here unless forced, “Private security?”

Fareeha unceremoniously shoved the pistol in her gun holster,

“You are the backup!”

Lena blinked in surprise, exclaiming,

“What?” Looking between all three of her team mates she took a moment before continuing, “Wait a sodding minute,” She gestured with her hands for emphasis, “Is this even sanctioned?”

The Egyptian soldier cocked her head slightly and quirked her eyebrows as the medic remained mute avoiding eye contact. Tracer began to pace along the galley, shaking her head before whirling round,

“Let me get this straight.” She stabbed the palm of her left hand with her finger, “We are here in a civilian hub to retrieve a Talon operative! ” Her voice angrily raised an octave, “Completely unsanctioned?”

Silence was her reply. Cupping her nose and her mouth in her hands, Lena took a deep breath attempting to stem the bubbling anger.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” She screamed,“Isnt this what got us into trouble in the first place, under cover ops?”

“Exactly my point” The brawny woman replied.

Lena rubbed her face with her hands, sinking into her seat. What was Morrison thinking, sending them in here without authority to apprehend who knows what?

“At least tell me the intel is solid!”

Angela’s eyebrows knitted together as she zipped up her bag, a steely edge to her voice,

“Winston assured us that it came from a reputable source.”

Genji sagely stated,

“There is no such thing as a reputable source where Talon is concerned.”

The Swiss Doctor suddenly snapped in frustration,

“Would you all kindly shut up!” She haughtily pulled on the lapels of her medical jacket “Let’s focus on the objective we came here to do!”

Bristling Fareeha turned about, hand slamming the button for the bay doors to open.

“Genji, reconnoitre the surroundings, eliminate all and any threats.” The cyborg ninja swiftly took off, disappearing under the weak street lights into the shadows. The lieutenant motioned to Tracer, “You take point, Dr Ziegler in the middle and I’ll bring up the rear.”

They moved as a well-oiled unit, ignoring the suspicious stares from the residents they passed. They must have looked out of place in this ramshackle high rise, Fareeha in her imposing black combat gear, Lena in her unmarked blue Overwatch uniform and Angela, a large medical bag embossed with a Red Cross and Caduceus symbol slung over her shoulder.

Concentrating on the mission at hand, they cautiously made their way down a paint peeled hallway, checking every flickering digital number projected from over the doors. The whole place smelt of stale smoke and boiled cabbage over laying others it didn’t bear thinking about. Somewhere a child gave a colically cry.

From behind every door came the sounds of people eking through on the fringes of life, only the poorest of the poor, the forgotten and those that didn’t wish to be found lived here. It reminded Lena of the old high rises that once over had dotted the London skyline. In his last days, her grandfather had lived in one of them, his RAF pension just about covering the basics as rent prices had sky rocketed along with pound signs in the eyes of the slum lords. It had been a sad end for a life lived with honour in service of his country.

How in this modern day with all of the world’s new technology and wealth could people still be living like this? It rankled the young agent’s already fragile nerves.

Stepping over the prone form of a passed out man, Lena whispered,

“What number was it again?”

Bending to check the vitals of the misfortune, Mercy replied,

“215.”

“Righty o, see you in a jiffy.” She blinked forward, Fareeha’s warning falling on deaf ears.

Speeding up small flights of stairs and past mismatched doors, she caught the numbers 210, 211, 212 213 214 216 217, before screeching to a halt. Retracing her steps, she crouched low her pistols in hand as she once again checked, her eyes alighting on the numbers 521 sporadically flickering in no discernible pattern over a non-descript brown door. Light of foot she crept closer checking her surroundings as she reached out with one leather clad hand to warily test the digital keypad only to find it locked shut. She didn’t have long to wait before she was joined by the other two operatives.

Mercy stood back, as the ex-Helix security lieutenant attached a small EMP to the keypad, mutely signing the plan, Tracer nodded in understanding, her muscles bunched and heart thundering in her chest. Fareeha pressed the button sending a small charge into the lock which fizzled and sputtered before clicking undone. Hoping for the element of surprise, the young woman bounded into the apartment pistols raised, closely followed by her teammate. Both women gasped for air and immediately regretted it as the sour stench assaulted their nostrils causing their to eyes water. As they moved further into the apartment, clearing it room by room, the smell became overpowering.

The muffled sound of a shower running caught the ex-pilots attention.

Tracer cocked her head, motioning for the other soldier to follow as she made her way down the hallway towards the noise. A sickly glow reflected off the water pooling against the bowed carpet runner separating the bathroom from the hallway. Cautiously they approached, carpet squelching underfoot as they crept closer. The sound of water drumming a staccato on plastic rang out, no other sounds giving any indication of any occupation.

With Fareeha on the left and Tracer on the right of the doorway, they exchanged a look. Lena nodded to indicate she was ready. Fareeha crouched, back against the wall as she reached out with two fingers pushing the unresisting door open and in one smooth movement Tracer crowded in.

Aghast at the site that greeted her, Lena pin wheeled, her shoes slipping on slick tiles as she tried to retreat, catching Fareeha’s surprised gasp of “Allah be merciful!” before the world took on a blue hue, all movements outside of the slipstream turning to treacle. The ex-pilot passed Fareeha, witnessed the good Doctor entering the apartment and she was pretty sure she saw the back of her own head before hurtling, pale faced into a rickity chair,

From down the hall, she heard Fareeha’s surprise gasp repeated

“Allah be merciful!”

“Don’t!” Lena cried out.

Alarmed, Angela demanded,

“What’s wrong?”

And for the first time the ever talkative Lena couldn’t find her words.

“Lena!” the Doctor touched her shoulders, “Are you ok? Is Fareeha ok?”

Haunted brown eyes looked out of ghost white cheeks as she stammered,

“Bloody hell Ange!” A shaky breathe escaping, “Bloody hell!”

Leaving the young agent alone, Dr Ziegler went to investigate only to rush back, ashen faced to collect her medical supplies.

#longpost #widowmaker #amelie lacroix #tracer #lena oxton #widowtracer #tracemaker #mercy #angela ziegler #pharah #fareeha amari #overwatch #genji #talon #overwatch fanfic #call-signtracer #shattered runephoenix6769

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doctorwhonews · 6 years

Text

The Enemy Of The World - Special Edition (DVD)

Latest Review: The Enemy Of The World Starring Patrick Troughton as Doctor Who With Frazer Hines as Jamie and Deborah Watling as Victoria Written by David Whitaker Directed by Barry Letts Released by BBC Worldwide March 2018 It's out, and it's about time. Some five years after its initial release, The Enemy of the World is once again released this month, this time bursting with the features we've come to expect from a BBC Doctor Who DVD and that were notably absent from 2013. Indeed, even the DVD blurb acknowledges this: "Originally rush released shortly after its recovery, there was little time to complete the extensive Special Features typical of archive Doctor Who releases". Well, quite! So what do we get in what many would say is the "proper" release? Commentary: check. Production notes: check. Photo Gallery: check. An exhaustive making-of: check! The two-disc release also includes an interview with the man behind the rediscovery of this story, Phil Morris, a brief item on the restoration work undertaken in 2013, a tribute to the late Deborah Watling, the Jon Pertwee introduction to the then only existing episode 3 from The Troughton Years, and the original trailer from 1967 that followed The Ice Warriors. You even get a reversible cover so it can happily sit alongside the rest of your DVD collection if you prefer to maintain that consistent look and feel. However, one thing that certainly isn't consistent is the disc's opening menu! If you've been watching a number of DVDs recently like I have, the absence of the 'traditional' Davison opening accompanying the TARDIS 'arrival' into the main menu is quite a jarring shock, with the sequence being dispensed with in favour of a brief snippet of the Troughton titles leading straight to the menu. I guess I'll get used to it - at least the familiar "roundels" menu has survived! For the episodes themselves, the DVD boasts of further remastering with modern techniques by Peter Crocker and MArk Ayres - how much of an improvement in picture quality to the previous release I'm not so sure about, but the story looks and sounds very clean, and possibly as pristine as it'll ever be (and a definite improvement to the 480 line i-Tunes cash-in back in 2013...). I won't dwell over the story itself - after all if you're reading a review then you're probably familiar with the plot(!) - but it is one of those stories that features the change of direction halfway through that transforms the story into something else rather unexpected that I always like in drama. With only episode three as a visual guide for literally decades I hadn't appreciated this change of direction, and it is still a delight to savour now - it's probably no coincidence that the director, Barry Letts, becomes producer of an era full of such twists and turns. The complete serial also allows us to enjoy the characters in all their glory, and more to the point being able to watch the performance of Patrick Troughton in his dual role as hero and villain. I must admit that it still feels like a novelty being able to watch and appreciate the full story, and leaves me eager for more (something that animations can only partially sate!). But seeing Troughton smoking a cigar in episode five as though in competion with Roger Delgado in The Mind of Evil still feels out of place, even though it is of course Salamander puffing away, not the Doctor. How the perception of that enemy of the world's health has changed! The accompanying production notes provide the usual behind-the-scenes essentials, dates, figures, the development of the story from script to screen, changes to planned dialogue, action, etc., plus of course detail of the cast and crew and related observations. Insights include how several inserts made their way into later stories, how the slick action sequences in episode one were more fraught in production with both a hovercraft mishap and the helicopter very nearly following suit. During episode two it is revealed that there is a mysterious scene included featuring the Doctor and Kent that doesn't appear in the production schedules. And in episode five it is revealed how some of the more excessive blood and violence in the script were restrained in production. Though the production of the story can of course now be digested through reading Volume 11 of The Complete History, here the notes are more practical in illustrating what's currently appearing on screen - for example, In episode four, a practical example of the way in which those recording the programme worried less about the edges of the frame owing to on-screen visibility of the time is illustrated. The commentary for the story is initially taken up with a lively discussion between Frazer Hines and Mary Peach, joined by Gordon Faith for the next couple of episodes. All change for episode four with Milton Johns and Sylvia James taking up observational duty, before returning to the original duo for the finale. Discussions across the episodes included acting with helicopters, working with Patrick Troughton, actor-come-director Barry Letts, and the delightful Debbie Watling (of course!), acting in the confines of small studios and limited sets, plus Sylvia's explanation of how the crew approached the creation of 2018[1], some 50 years ahead of time. The commentary was moderated by Simon Harries, who had big shoes to step into following the mighty moderator extraordinaire Toby Hadoke; however he was more than capable of keeping the conversations going and keeping Frazer in check! The main feature on the second disc is Treasures Lost And Found. Unlike the more usual more straightforward fact-based making-ofs, here Toby Hadoke takes us on a "treasure hunt" for new information on the story in his indomitable style, uncovering "clues" along the way in a similar vein to Looking for Peter on The Sensorites - so it isn't surprising that his accomplice on this mission is researcher Richard Bignell[2]! Along the way Toby (possibly) drank his way through innumerable relaxing teas conversing informally with Mary Peach, Sylvia James, David Troughton, Frazer Hines and Sarah Lisemore, plus several inserts on the making of the story from a 2008 interview with Barry Letts and also a 2011 interview with Deborah Watling. The informal approach to the documentary meant that Toby took time to chat to his interviewees about more than just their Enemy-specific memories. Mary's extensive career was discussed, including what occured when she met Marilyn Munroe, and David reflected on life with the Doctor and his father's views of acting in theatre - which also highlighted the perceived nepotism of the time with his cameo as a guard in the story, not to mention Frazer's brother Ian, Barry Letts' nephew Andrew Staines and finally production assistant come influential producer Martin Lisemore's wife Sarah, whose interview at the end of the programme turns into its most poignant moment as the treasure is finally revealed. I did have a couple of niggly issues with the presentation, though: the archive interview of Barry Letts was interspersed with shots of Toby and Richard watching the footage on a laptop, which I found both disjointing and a distraction to hearing what Barry had to say. The other was the "pop-up" message gimmick, which reminded me more of Top Gear style antics (something perhaps not lost on Toby? grin). These were only minor quibbles though, overall the feature is highly entertaining, ably guided by Toby throughout. With this release being a celebration of its return in the anniversary year, it isn't surprising to find its recovery being featured in the extras. In Recovering The Past, Phil Morris takes us through the journey he undertook in his quest to find missing television, and in particular the trail through Nigeria to his eventual find of both Enemy and The Web of Fear in Jos. The passion he has for his job is obvious from the interview, as is his optimism for future finds He also left us with a tantalising hint of what might be in store in the future... Restoring Doctor Who is an accompanying piece which documented some of the process in restoring the story from its original off-the-shelf condition to what we can watch today. Remembering Deborah Watling is a tribute to the actress whose bubbly presence is sadly missed. Featuring Louise Jameson, Colin Baker, Sylvia James, Anneke Wills, and Frazer Hines, Debbie's life and career is followed through the memories of her sister Nicky and brother Giles, with everybody involved reminiscing on her wicked sense of humour, practical jokes, and of course her healthy scream! The package is rounded off with the brief introduction to the then single remaining episode by Jon Pertwee from The Troughton Years, a trailer for the story from 1967, and the usual photo gallery, plus PDF materials. --- So is the special edition worth buying? It does of course rather depend on whether you are interested in the extra features. If you're only interested in the story then, with this version released, if you haven't already purchased it you might well see the original 2013 version drop further in price in the coming months. If you're only after a commentary then an alternative, unoffiicial release from Fantom Films[3] may be a cheaper option (though there isn't much difference in cost between that and this entire DVD online at present!). However, if you haven't bought Enemy before then I would certainly recommend this as the version to get. It's just a shame it wasn't presented this way in the first place! Hmm, with all the extensive recovery articles on this release, what's left for the special edition of The Web of Fear ... ?!! [1] The production discussion places the setting of the story as 2017, but a newspaper clipping seen in episode five shows "last year's date" of 26th August 2017, indicating it is actually set in 2018 after all. [2] I might well be the only person who will laugh out loud at Richard's ringtone! [3] A notable absence on the DVD commentary is of course the wonderful Debbie Watling, who had left us by the time this package was put together. All is not lost, however, as she can be heard on the alternative commentary from Fantom Films (and you can also get your Toby fix as Master of Ceremonies too!). The CD is still available from Amazon etc. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2018/03/the_enemy_of_the_world_special_edition_dvd.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

#BBC Worldwide #DVD #Second Doctor

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