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thewulf · 22 days

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The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job. He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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ficmashup · 5 months

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Caretaker

A/N: I should probably put summaries on these, but I'm terrible at brevity. Clearly. But wow some people actually like this and I'm blushing and kicking my feet. :) Thanks for interacting! Sorry this one is a bit more team-based than Price-based, but honestly the way to that man's heart is through his men. He's such a dad and I love him for it.

Warnings: Vague SA references or similar trauma, stabbing, harsh language, f!reader, talk of being shot, wound care.

Word Count: 3.8k

Feral Masterlist

What really puts the team and I’s tenuous connection to the test is when Soap gets stabbed.

We’re two months in. I’m just a soldier and medic today, on the ground with the rest of the group as we clear a warehouse storing some enemy supplies that we’re…appropriating. My focus is razor sharp, easily directing my hyperactive fight or flight instinct into looking around every corner and keeping a sharp ear out for any noise. Soap and Ghost are on the other side of the building doing the same, Price pulling up the rear.

Gaz and I both hear the scuffle and stop in our tracks before Ghost’s voice comes over coms. “Soap’s hit. Eastern corner.” We start moving immediately and I slide my gun wrapped around my body to my back as we reach them, the boys already forming a circle around Soap as they watch his back. I’m on my knees at his side the second I reach him, my hand pushing down hard on his thigh as I take in the handle sticking out just above his hip.

His body is held taut and his jaw is locked, clearly trying to stay quiet and still. “Alright, Soap, I’ve got you.” I murmur while Price gives orders to the boys. Gaz and him split up, more than likely going to clear the rest of the building while Ghost stays in the shadows next to me to watch our backs.

Soap grunts. “Good to know, G.”

I guide his hand to my knee and press it there so he can squeeze when the pain gets too bad. It helps my patient and gives me a good indicator of their pain levels. My fingers are ginger as I rip his shirt a bit more, moving it and his tac vest up enough to see the wound. “Didn’t hit anything vital, you lucky bastard. I can patch you up here, then treat this properly at camp.” I’m already doing it as I tell him, my med-kit open on the concrete floor beside me. I gather two pills in my hand and reach up, tilting his chin to look at me. “Swallow.” His eyes widen a touch and he lets me slip the pills past his lips before his throat flexes as he swallows. “Good. Those will kick in and take away some of the pain on the walk back, but I can’t wait until then. So, I need you hold onto me because this’ll hurt like a bitch.”

I hold his gaze, making sure he knows I mean it and he nods. With gauze packed around the blade, I yank it out without hesitation and Soap chokes. “Fuck.” He curses and his fists clench, his fingers digging into my thigh while I move quickly to staunch the blood flow. Price and Gaz return, nodding to Ghost to give the all clear. The warehouse is empty except for us.

“And here I was thinking Scots were more creative with their cursing.” I goad him a bit to distract him and he huffs a laugh.

“If you wanted me to teach you curses, lass, you should have asked.”

“Think I just did. You going to disappoint a girl?”

Another dry chuckle leaves him and I glance at his face to see a crooked smile despite the pain. “Ah, well, awa’ n bile yer heid is Ghost’s favorite. Means go fuck yourself.” The aforementioned soldier grumbles as he slides through the shadows to settle a few feet from Soap’s head.

“Shouldn’t have gotten him started. Now he won’t shut up.” Gaz comments good-naturedly from my left, he and Price watching as I work. That’s exactly my plan. If Soap’s talking, he’s not thinking about the pain.

“Definitely seems like Ghost’s favorite. Does he hear it often?” I’m nearly done now as I make sure the bandages are as tight as I can safely make them while holding Soap’s gaze again, drawing his attention with a direct look.

He takes a sharp breath, but grins through the pain. “Often enough, eh, LT?” He teases while glancing towards the Lieutenant.

Ghost doesn’t budge from where he watches us. “Couldn’t say. I only pay attention when you speak English.” Soap chuckles at that before I rest a hand on his shoulder and glance at Ghost, tilting my head to his other side. He moves there instantly while I look into Johnny’s eyes again.

“Time to get up. Lean on us and remember that the meds will kick in. Just keep moving for me, yeah?” My voice is calm and firm. I ease him up into a sitting position while he grimaces, but nods. Ghost and I share a look as we move simultaneously to get Soap up onto his feet. He groans and I brace a hand against his bindings to make sure they hold fast. As soon as I meet Price’s eyes, he nods and we start moving out.

Gaz moves towards me to take Soap, but I give him a sharp look. I’m the medic, the sick and injured are my responsibility. I keep Soap’s arm around my shoulders and push ahead with Ghost on his other side. The whole time I keep him talking quietly, distracting him and verbally poking him to keep his mind occupied. A single mention of his favorite football team sends him on a rant for five minutes straight and I don’t think I mistake seeing Ghost’s mask twitch as he smiles.

Gaz and Price are quiet as we make slow progress forward, letting me do my work, but I feel their eyes on us every now and then. Especially on me. Things go a bit easier when the pain pills I gave him kick in and Soap is practically back to himself by the time we get back to camp. Ghost helps me lay him down while everyone else packs up. We were planning to leave tomorrow, but tonight serves just as well.

Gingerly, I help Soap out of his tac vest and shirt before taking a proper look at the wound. “How’s the pain, soldier?” I set his hand on my knee again as I check to see how much blood has seeped into the gauze.

“Three. Barely twinges.” He responds and I give him a critical look as his grip on my leg tightens just a touch as I check my work. But I don’t call him out on it.

“It’s not too bad.” I tell him honestly as I remove the bandages, taking special care to clean the wound this time even as Soap winces. “As long as it’s kept clean and the dressing changed often, you’ll heal in no time. Hope you don’t mind my company because you’ll be seeing a lot of me for a while.”

He shakes his head, a little smile on his face. “Wouldn’t mind it a bit, G, but I can look after myself.”

“Not a chance.” My voice is firm and I make sure to stare into his eyes, placing a hand with blood smeared over my fingers on his shoulder. “That might’ve been how you did it before, but I’m your medic now. No one touches these bandages other than me. Especially not you. Understood, soldier?”

He swallows, then his smile grows as he gives me a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” I nod in return and finish wrapping the wound again while his eyelids droop. “Thanks, lass.” My hand lightly pats his shoulder before I lay his shirt over his chest while I stand.

“Sleep. Move a muscle and I’ll have you strapped to the inside of the car.” He hums his acknowledgement while I stand up and walk over to the men lingering around the back of our jeep. “He’ll be fine. It’s not too deep and didn’t hit anything that’ll cause problems later. We can move out whenever we’re ready.”

Price nods. “Let’s head out then. The sooner, the better.” He receives a chorus of acceptance from me and the others. I’m quick to pack up and slide my bag in the back along with the others before we get Soap in the jeep. Price drives, Ghost sits in the passenger seat, then Gaz and Soap sit on either side of me in the back.

“How are we doing, Soap?” I ask softly as we drive across the landscape, not exactly keeping to roads and worn paths.

He grunts with a hand braced against the wound. “Really enjoying the bumps, Cap.”

“We’ll reach a road in a few minutes. Stick it out, Johnny.” Price responds and Soap curses as he hits a particularly deep crater. My hand moves Soap’s to my knee again, holding it there as a touchstone. I’d rather not give him any more pain pills to avoid him getting drowsy, but I don’t want him incapacitated with pain. Keeping his hand there will help me know if he can handle it.

“This can’t be the worst you’ve had, Soap.” I poke a bit of fun at him and he half-smiles, scoffing.

“Not a chance. Being shot in the leg was a fucking bitch.” He shakes his head before leaning it back against the headrest. His eyes slide to mine. “What about you, G? What’s your worst?” I blink, hesitating as I consider the question. Price hits another bump and Soap hisses while Gaz tries to hide a chuckle as a cough. “You fuckin’ aiming for them, Cap?” His accent gets a bit thicker and I glance up at the rearview mirror to find Price’s eyes already on me. I shake my head slightly. Soap’s question is fine.

“Depends on what you consider worst. The most painful or the one that left me the most fucked up?” I offer and interest flashes in Soap’s eyes. I’ve got him distracted, at least. “I got shot in the left shoulder, then had to fend off an assailant in hand to hand. Worked the bullet deeper into my muscle since it wasn’t clean through. Took forever to heal and it’s a miracle I still have full movement. Couldn’t raise my arm above my shoulder for months.” The men nod or grimace, understanding and easily relating.

“Thought I was going to go stir crazy every time I’ve been put on bed rest.” Soap grumbles and I don’t bother telling him that he’s going to be on bed rest as soon as we get back to base.

“That’s because you can’t stay still for five minutes.” Gaz teases and Soap gives him a grin and a half-shrug to say he’s not wrong.

“Drives most medics crazy. Hope you’re up for it, G.” Ghost comments from the front and I look pointedly towards Soap.

“He’s not going to be difficult for me, are you, Johnny?” I ask expectantly and he shakes his head immediately. The men chuckle while I glance at Price in the mirror and fight a smile of my own. There’s a new edge in his eyes, a soft one, and I find that I like seeing it there.

Gaz shifts in place, a grin on his face as he stares at Soap. “You’ve already got him purring like a cat, G. What were in those pills you gave him?”

“Shut it, Gaz. You heard her threaten that guy in the bar. I’m trying to keep my balls where they are.” The car rumbles with laughter again, mine included, although it’s too quiet for anyone else to hear. We finally reach a dirt road and the ride becomes a fraction easier. Soap eventually falls asleep while I watch over him, my hand still on top of his where it sits on my thigh.

* * *

After a brief argument when we get on base, I force Soap into the med tent to stay overnight for observation. There’s a nagging feeling in my gut. I wait for him to finish taking a shower after I carefully wrapped the bandages so they wouldn’t get wet. He quirks a brow when he finds me waiting for him and I wave him into bed so I can take a look at the wound one last time before everyone turns in.

“This isn’t my first, you know.” He quips as he lets me check it again.

I give him a placating look. “After so long in the business, you learn to trust your gut. Better to be paranoid and wrong than careless and miss something that kills you.” That shuts him up promptly and my lips press together as I look at the wound. It looks a little red, almost inflamed. I replace the bandages before digging through a cabinet nearby, then come back with a bottle of water and pills. “Antibiotics, just to be safe. If there was something on the blade and it’s infected, then you’ll probably get a fever in the night. It’ll get worse from there depending on the infection.”

He takes the pills and swallows them, blinking at my words before remarking sarcastically, “Great.”

I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll be here. After I head to my room for a bit, I’ll come back with food and you’ll be stuck with me for the night so I can keep an eye on you.”

Amusement creeps back into his eyes as he sits up a little in bed. “They do have people here whose job it is to stay the night. I know you’re just as worn out as I am after the mission.”

I toss the bed’s blankets up over his legs with a firm look telling him to stay put. “Pretty sure I already told you that the only one touching those bandages is me.”

He hums, his smile widening a bit. “You know, I like this possessive side to you, G.”

“Uh-huh. You’ll like it even more when I zip-tie you to the bed if you don’t do everything I say.” I return sweetly and he swallows as I pat his foot, then head to the door. Surprise flits across my face as I see Price waiting for me and I walk over, stopping beside him and turning to look at Soap just like he is.

“Not being too obstinate, is he?” Price asks and he keeps his voice lower than usual while nurses file in and out of the tent while they take care of their own charges.

I heave a breath, but shake my head. “He’s been a good patient so far, but we both know restlessness settles in a little later.” He nods with the corner of his mouth lifting. I hesitate a moment before leaning a shoulder against the wall behind us and turning my body towards him. “My gut is telling me that it’s infected.”

Price turns towards me as well and his expression turns serious. He’s been in this business longer than me and he strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t disregard his gut either. “Plan of action?”

My eyes cut to Soap idly tying knots with a lace pulled free from one of his boots. “I’m leaving him to have some time alone. We won’t know whether I’m right or not until late into the night, anyway. I’ll come back in an hour or two and keep an eye on him.”

He nods, pressing his lips together before he looks at me. “Alright. Keep me updated if he takes a turn for the worse. And don’t neglect yourself either.” Price gives me a pointed look that I respond to with a small smile. It’s getting a little easier to give those out, recently.

“Understood, Captain. I plan on spending an hour in the shower.” I get him to smile too as I salute him playfully, then head out to my room.

* * *

I keep my promise. Well, mostly. I spend a long time in the shower, then change into a tank-top and comfortable pants. My skin is still hot from my shower and I cool off a bit as I walk to the mess hall and get some food as promised before heading back to the med-tents. Soap shoves every morsel of food I give to him into his mouth and I shake my head while eating my own a tad slower. He crashes soon after and I take the time to set everything I might need on the small table next to the bed.

After that, the only thing to do is wait. I curl up in the chair next to him and get as comfortable as I can in the uncomfortable chair. There are one or two other nurses that mill around, but otherwise it’s quiet. Eventually, I find myself falling asleep. I’ve slept in worse places in my military career. I’m still on the cusp of sleep when I feel something settling over me. My eyes flash open and I look up in an instant to see the culprit. His hands freeze and his eyes widen as I find Ghost draping his jacket over me.

I sigh in relief and relax back into the chair, my eyes shutting a moment as my heart thunders in my chest. “Ghost.” I greet him with a scratchy voice before looking towards Soap and moving to get up. “Everything okay?” He puts a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place.

“Everything’s fine. Just came to check on the stubborn bastard to make sure he wasn’t causin’ too much trouble.” He says quietly, his voice gruff and low. “Didn’t expect you to be here, G.”

I relax back into my chair with his jacket tucked snug around me. “I’m here for the duration. Just to make sure everything goes okay.”

His brows furrow. His usual skull mask is gone to leave only the black fabric he wears under it. It’s nice seeing more of his face even if the skin around his eyes is still painted black. “You expectin’ something to go wrong?”

I shrug a shoulder. “It’s just a precaution. A gut feeling.” My lips purse as I look at Soap, slack-jawed and snoring softly. “It could be infected. Or I could be paranoid.” I sigh again as I lean my head back against the chair and Ghost’s mask twitches.

“Either way, thanks for looking out for him.” Ghost crosses his arms and leans a hip against the end of Soap’s bed.

I raise a brow at him. “It’s my job.”

“No.” Ghost shakes his head, eyes crinkling just a touch as I think he smiles again. “This is going above and beyond your job, G. And I’m grateful. So’s everyone else on the team.” I blink as I take in the compliment and his jacket tucked around me. It’s sweet. Terribly sweet.

“I’m glad to do it, Ghost. You all have been pretty welcoming and I know I don’t come off the warmest, but I appreciate it.” Discomfort swirls in my chest at admitting it, but he took a risk thanking me. I can return the favor. “You’re my team.” It’s a claim and a promise. I’ll be loyal, dedicated, treat them like family, as long as they’re just as loyal to me.

Ghost nods, seeing this and understanding. He understands more than the others, if I had to guess. “And we’ve got you just as much as you’ve got us, G. Even if it takes a while for you to see that.” I smile as I pull his jacket a bit closer around me. I’m coming around to the idea.

* * *

I fall back asleep after Ghost leaves, but not for long.

Soap’s peaceful snores fade and I wake up when I hear a grunt to find him half-sitting up with his blankets tossed off. He gives me a weak smile when he sees my eyes open. “Sorry, lass. Afraid I’m not feeling great.” I lay Ghost’s jacket over the back of my chair and I’m up in an instant. My hands smooth over his cheek, then his forehead.

“Your skin is hot.” I murmur, knowing he has a fever.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Always knew I was hot.” The corner of my mouth lifts as I help him sit up a bit more and take his sweat-soaked shirt off, then wipe away the sheen covering his chest, back, and forehead.

“It’s going to be a rough night for you, Johnny, but the only way through it is straight.” I set the small towel aside before gently pushing him back down to lay on the bed. Next, I grab two other washcloths I have set aside and head over to the sink to soak them before coming back.

“You certainly don’t sugarcoat things, G.” He chuckles as I lay one cold cloth over his bare chest, then fold the other as I pat his face with it before laying it over his forehead.

“You want me to tell you pretty lies?” I ask softly, aware of the few other patients still sleeping around the room.

His head shakes. “Never said I didn’t like it, lass. Think it’s refreshing.” He takes a deep breath and I rub the cool cloth over his chest before wetting it in cool water again and returning it. “Reminds me a little of Ghost.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a little surprise in my voice, but I suppose I was just thinking that Ghost understood me more than the others. “He was here earlier to check on you. Based on what he and Price said, I expected a little more resistance from you.” I reach up and flip the washcloth on his forehead so the cool side is against his skin.

He gives me a crooked grin despite the fever, pain, and exhaustion I’m sure he’s feeling. “I’m a sucker for a gentle touch, lass. And I’m a little bit afraid of you.” I chuckle and his eyes light up a little. “Am I delirious or was that a laugh? Can’t wait to tell Gaz I got you to crack first.”

“It was barely a laugh. Hardly counts.” I tease and his eyelids get a little heavy. “Sleep if you can, Johnny. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

He hums in lieu of a laugh. “Good thing I’m not tryin’ then. In fact, think someone would have to pry you out of the team’s cold, dead hands to get you away from us now.” His eyes fall shut as he speaks and I keep gently dabbing his face with the cold washcloth. I let the words sink into me along with Ghost’s earlier, feeling them tether me to the team and the men that create it. But it doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels like a life preserver, buoying me over the waves I’ve been fighting against for a while now. Finally, I take a breath without worrying about whether I’ll take on water.

“Yeah,” I whisper, resting my hand on the cloth on his chest to feel his heart. “I’m getting pretty fond of you all too.”

Taglist (oh my gosh, hi people! Thanks for wanting to be tagged, I love you. Hope you enjoy. If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk):

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #soap #gaz #price #captain price #TF141 #codmw2 #codmw3 #fluff #angst #f!reader #reader x price #price x OC #comfort #ghost #simon ghost riley

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thoughtsandbones · 7 months

Text

The way you ease my trepidation

Kyle 'Gaz" Garrick x F! Black OC (Clarissa Edwards)

Because I keep seeing posts on people excluding our guy Gaz who's LITERALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER YOU PLAY IN MWI and MWII!!!!!

The storyline follows my main fanfic from Part 15 II - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Profanity, fluff, medical inaccuracies (because all my knowledge regarding medicine comes from Grey's Anatomy and that one stint I did as a first aider)

A/N: This is my first time writing a black character, I've heavily used @writingwithcolor as a guide to ensure I am doing my best to represent the characters. Please do let me know if there are any issues!

Song inspo: 'No Blame' - Christina Chong, Move - Milo Greene, Maan Meri Jaan - King and Nick Jonas, Phantom Studies - Marcel Dettmann and Ben Klock

As Kyle made his way to the RAMC building, Soap's voice echoed in his head.

"Can't feel my legs"

"Lt I'm not gonna make it"

He tightened the grip he had on his vest that he still had not taken off, tainted with Soap's blood when helped Ghost with packing the cellox into the gunshot. Checking his watch it was 12:15pm.

Doc should be done by now he thought to himself as he walked through the double doors, walking past all the medical personnel and straight to reception.

He was met by an empty desk, and looking around the wards he could not see the Doctor nor any other authority figure. Kyle slid his hand into his back pocket retrieving his keycard.

The ambush from AQ when they were in Al Mazrah was something they had not expected, especially not with the kind of hardware they were carrying. State of the art machine guns, snipers, RPGs and up armoured vehicles. All this reeked of Makarov's doing.

Squeezing his fist tighter at the thought of Makarov's smug face made his blood boil. He smacked the reception desk hoping to release some of his built up anger, but it didn't help.

It was then he noticed the big whiteboard behind the desk on the wall and moved closer to it, scanning down the list of patient names until he found John MacTavish, his eyes slid across the row and saw Dr Hari Kaur and Dr Peyton Marie as surgeons assisted by Nurse Clarissa Edwards, Nurse Jenny Mao and Nurse Mikey Way. He then saw he was in the ICU bed 12. Looking down at his all-access keycard, Kyle grinned slightly and made his way to the double doors where the sign pointed ICU.

Once he arrived at the ICU, Kyle made his way to bed 12. There he saw Soap, laying on his back, eyes still closed and intubated. Cables where attached to Soap which were connected to the machines surrounding him, beeping rhythmically. The pipe coming out of his mouth was so unnatural an uneasy sick feeling settled in Kyle's stomach as he stepped closer.

"Soap?" He said, hoping that somehow the Scotsman could hear him and wake-up.

But no answer.

"Jesus" He whispered as he rested his hands against the bed where Soap laid. "You gotta wake up mate" He said nudging his left hand slightly.

Still no response.

Kyle sighed and closed his eyes, running his calloused hands through his hair and scratching the nape of his neck.

"Excuse me, what are you doing in here?" A voice behind him said sharply. Kyle turned, his eyes met a nurse dressed in baby pink scrubs that made her deep sepia skin glow, there was a green stethoscope wrapped around her neck that was crowned by black braids that swayed as she moved closer to him. In her hands she carried a tray with a big bag of liquid with a long thin pipe coming out of it.

"Err.. came here to see Soap" Kyle said, trying to remain cool, straightening up to appear more authoritative

"Dr Marie said I could see him" he lied, hoping she won't pester him...

"Really?" She said, her brown eyes widening, a grin appeared on her face. "When did you speak to her?" She asked moving over to Soap setting aside the tray on the overbed table, and then checked his charts that was in the folder hanging on the end of the bed near his feet.

Kyle cleared his throat. Gotta bullshit my way out of this he thought

"Few minutes ago in reception" He said, smiling at the nurse, trying to look at her keycard to identify her.

The nurse looked up from the chart and at Kyle, and raised her left eyebrow.

"Now, that's a lie as Dr Marie is currently snoring her head off in the on call room."

A wave of guilt and anxiety rushed over Kyle as he was rumbled.

"Err-" Kyle stuttered as he looked around the ICU, shifting his weight before looking back at the nurse who was still giving him a cautious look.

"I'm sorry I lied, just needed to make sure he was okay" Kyle admitted, looking back at Soap.

The nurse slightly relaxed, putting away the charts back in the folder and looked at Kyle as he gazed upon Soap. Her gaze met his and his eyes wandered back to her, she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Alright, five more minutes, I need to give him some meds so you can stay here with me." She sighed moving towards the alcohol gel dispenser, squirting the foam on her hands before rubbing them together.

"Thanks Doc" Kyle said grinning at her

The nurse laughed "I'm nurse Clarissa Edwards, not a doctor" She said "Doctors wear blue scrubs, nurses wear pink or green" She added putting on a pair of pale blue gloves.

"Ah okay, that makes sense" Kyle said, now remembering Dr Kaur always wearing blue scrubs "It's nice to meet you Clarissa, I'm Sergeant Kyle Garrick"

"Nice to meet you too Sergeant" Clarissa said, giving him a big smile. Kyle watched as she moved over to the tray on the overbed table, grabbing the IV bag and hooking it onto the IV stand, and then moved to Soap's right hand, taking the stopper out of the cannula on the front of his hand, inserting a syringe with saline to flush the cannula.

"What's that you doin'?" Kyle asked curiously, peeking over to see what Clarissa was doing

"Just doing a saline flush, making sure any residual medicine is pushed into his vein, and prevents infection." She said, briefly looking over at Kyle's curious face.

"Ah I see" Kyle says "Did the operation go well?" He asked

Clarissa looked up. It was natural and normal for fellow soldiers to be perplexed about medical procedures, especially when their teammates were involved.

"The op went well, Dr Kaur and Dr Marie did their best" She said, not taking her eyes off the cannula as she attached the line of the IV bag.

Kyle hesisted a bit, his left leg began to shake rapidly, the heel of his boot making a rapid tapping sound against the vinyl floor. Clarissa looked down at his foot and then back up to Kyle's concerned face, sensing the oncoming trepidation.

"He got shot in the back" Kyle blurted without thinking, looking at Clarissa, who narrowed her eyes and then returned to the cannula, using an alcohol wipe to clear up the dirt between Soap's fingers.

Kyle wanted to smack his head against the wall. Stupid thing to say, of course she knew that he thought, turning away from Clarissa he rolled his eyes and brought his right hand to his face, running his forefinger and thumb across his brows.

Clarissa took her gloves off, and took a deep breathe in through the nose before exhaling through her mouth.

"The bullet was removed, there was a bit of nerve damage, but Dr Kaur did a neural graft. We won't know the full extent of any damages until he wakes up" She said to Kyle who still had his back to her.

Kyle turned back around

"He said he couldn't feel his legs on the helo" Kyle said, eyes glazed with tears as his mind took him back to the moment in the helo when Soap said those exact words to them.

Clarissa moved away from Soap and then walked around the bed, facing directly towards Kyle.

"You and your team did the best you could, the cellox was a great call, it definitely saved his life" She said, placing her hand on Kyle's shoulder.

Kyle felt a ripple of warmth wash over him as she placed her hand on him, he gazed at Clarissa, who smiled at him, he was struck by her striking beauty and kindness.

"It will take time, at the moment, it is a bit too early as he needs rest to aid recovery" Clarissa stated, smiling at Kyle. "We are keeping an eye on him, and we have the best doctors and nurses around in case anything happens" She added

Kyle's anxiety eased as she continued to reassure him that Soap would be okay.

"I suggest you also get some rest Kyle, I'll give you a call when he wakes up" She said

The continued reassurance and smiles that Clarissa gave him additional comfort. Kyle felt at ease.

"Thanks Clarissa, I'm sorry for barging in and lying" He said, looking guiltily at her

Clarissa laughed and smiled broadly which made Kyle's heart flutter as she gently tapped him on the the shoulder.

"Better get going, don't want to get in trouble" She said

"Ah I won't get in trouble don't worry" He said smiling back as he headed towards the door.

"Not worried about you! I'm saying me! Only authorised personnel are allowed in the ICU, especially not those covered in blood and dirt... no offence" Clarissa said, winking Kyle.

"Shit," Kyle said, realising he dragged his dirty combat boots into the ICU, breaking the clean protocol, he hurried to the door and opened the door, allowing Clarissa to walk through first who had whispered a thank you to him as she passed.

They walked out down the corridor back towards a now busy reception area.

Kyle turned to Clarissa who moved behind the reception desk, grabbing a whiteboard pen before scribbling the names of medicine and time administered on the row where Soap's name was. She turned towards Kyle who was still standing by reception.

"Thanks again Clarissa, you were really helpful" He said, smiling back.

"No problem Kyle, I promise to call you when he wakes up and when I get proper authorisation from either Dr Marie or Dr Kaur" She said, laughing slightly as Kyle widened his eyes at the mention of Dr Marie.

"You won't tell her-" He began

Clarissa's eyes widened and she shook her head as she noticed Dr Jones walk in behind Kyle.

"Clarissa, I need you to check on Miles in ward 3" He said not making any eye contact with her and moved towards the board.

"Yes sir" She said looking at him cautiously as he scanned the board "I'll speak to you later Kyle" She said finally before walking off. Kyle watched on as she walked off

"Bye Clarissa!" He yelled at her and laughed as she turned and gave him another wink.

Kyle walked back out the doors of the RAMC and basked in the sun that shone down on base. Relief washed over him as he took a big inhale through the nose. Checking his watching it was 1:36pm, he had been up for over 24 hours, and decided to take Clarissa's advice of getting some well deserved rest as he headed back to his quarters.

He hoped to see that dazzling smile soon.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x oc #fan fic ideas #modern warfare fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw soap #modern warfare #cod mw2 gaz #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick fluff #kyle gaz garrick mw2 #thoughtsandboneswrites #thoughtsandbones #cod fluff #cod mw gaz #gaz x f! oc

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rileyslibrary · 11 months

Note

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

“Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

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soapybutt17 · 19 days

Text

Labour pt.1

Summary:A mission has gone sideways, you find your husband compromised alongside Gaz and because of it you were tasked with handling most of the mess that came after. What you didn’t expect was to be chewed out and spat on by one Philip Grave. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Philipp Graves. Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. OC Children (Joey, Katherine). Price's mother (Beatrice Price). Word Count: 2,160 Chapter Warnings: Misogynism. Sexism. Graves is being a complete peace of shit here. Angst. Reader is literally breaking down here. Only hurt no comfort until the second part. John is being a little bit of a POS here. Author's Note: Song Inspo is this

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part II

You tried you best, you truly did but it was not easy to keep a straight face as you were notified that both your husband and Gaz were compromised because of wrong intel. It was hard not to scream at Laswell because it was her intel that left your husband wounded and barely awake as the doctors were tending to his and Gaz’s wound. It was even harder to reassure both Ghost and Soap that everything would be alright even if it wouldn’t be.

“What the fuck happened?”

No, this was actually the hardest for you as you stared at the obnoxiously arrogant bastard of a man named Philip Graves. He was blaming everyone else but himself. His shadows all nodding along with his rant while you sat in the meeting room. You kept silent. You wanted to wait until he let out all of his steam before you began. But it doesn’t seem like he was stopping any time soon.

“We followed Laswell’s Intel. Someone might have caught wind of it and attacked first.” It was Ghost that decided to cut the ranting.

It’s been a long and far too tedious mission for everyone and it’s coming close to a year now since you and your husband have returned back home. Close to a year since you’ve actually seen your son and daughter and missing out on most of their milestones because of it. You were at your breaking point and men blaming you want not helping in the matter.

“Laswell’s intel was perfect it was the execution your team made that ruined the mission.”

You took a deep breath as the anger grew ten folds because of the man.

“Are you done?” You inquired knowing it was time to talk since the conversation was going nowhere.

As the man shuts up, surprised even with your calm tone even with the stress of the failed mission. You gave both Ghost and Soap a warning look. It was all they needed from you to know you could deal with this.

“The intel was perfect a day or two before we headed out for the mission. No one here would realize that their movement and plans would change.” You explained. “We will do our best to fix this.”

“I don’t fucking need you to do your best to fix this!” Graves spat slamming his hand on top of the table that separated the two of you. “I want you to fucking do your job! Or has motherhood and becoming Price’s wife turned you into an incompetent soldier?”

You blinked, genuinely taken aback by the man’s words. In the years since you and your husband had finally allowed everyone to know about your relationship and marriage, never once had anyone say something as malicious as the man did in front of you.

“I am the best soldier before I became a wife or a mother.” You spat raising from your chair to look at the man straight in his eyes. “Do not use my family for your sick plan to hurt me, Commander. You are not the one in control of this mission, you are merely a pawn that we will more than happily discard once the mission is over.”

“Then act like it.” He spat.

You cracked your neck counting to ten trying to calm the bubbling anger fighting to come out. You still had your resentment and apprehension for having Graves participate in the mission. More than just how he and Shepard has betrayed your team back in Las Almas, you never truly trusted a man that had openly admitted that a woman like you did not truly fit in the military. This moment has cemented it.

The meeting was eventually dismissed and you made a beeline towards your husband’s office—rather, your temporary office while you handle most of the paper works while he was unavailable. You had ensured that the door was locked before the first line of tears had fallen from your eyes.

It was frustrating, to have everything you had worked on since an early age and every single sacrificed you had to make for the family you had created with your husband to be wasted by such words. You were reduced to just being your husband’s wife and the mother of his children. You were not acknowledged as the Lieutenant that had spearheaded in Makarov’s capture all those years ago, not acknowledged as the best sniper in your generation, not acknowledged as the best medic of the team. You were nothing more than a woman that served her husband and children.

Your phone dinged and the sight of your mother-in-law sending you a video of your son taking his first step further broke you as you fell to your knees and wept. Everything was falling apart all at once and you didn’t know how to navigate everything on your plate without being questioned.

The moment John had opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of his beautiful wife sitting beside where he laid. You were buried deeply in what he assumed were the mission report.

The first thing he had noticed about you were your puffy eyes that weren’t just from the lack of sleep but for tears that he was uncertain what had caused it. Even in the pain that came from his wounded shoulder, his moved his arm gingerly and held onto your hand taking you by surprise.

“John!” You gasped placing the paper work you were signing on the opposite chair that was your impromptu table while you stayed with him. “How are you holding up?”

“Alive so that’s good news.” He tried to minimize what had happened. “How long was I out?”

“A week now.” You answered looking at the clock above the bed. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

He shook his head, not wanting to deal with a doctor just yet. His time with his own wife was more important than having to deal with the coats.

“What happened while I was out?” He inquired knowing it was better to know what was wrong than having himself second guess and annoy you.

“Mission was completed with the few hiccups with what happened to you.” You began with a sigh. “Had to do the debriefing with Graves and Shepard while making sure to keep Soap and Ghost in a tight leash and stop them from lashing out.”

John tried to decipher the deeper meaning from your words. There was something more you weren’t telling him. It was always like this with you, you always try to minimize what hardship that rested on your shoulders even the lashing that was thrown at your direction at the expense of your own feelings.

“What happened?” He repeated hoping it was enough to have you telling him the truth.

“Nothing you needed to worry about, Captain.” You avoided but how you called him Captain when it was just the two of you.

John tried. He truly tried not to worry but even after he was discharged from the infirmary and he continued on with what you had left off from his paper works he noticed the distance that had wedged itself between the two of you.

No longer did you try to stay in his office longer than you usually did. You didn’t even try to approach him unless there was someone else present. Yes, he truly did try not to worry but it was hard when he knew something was certainly wrong.

“What happened during the debriefing?” John couldn’t help himself any longer and the first opportunity that he had caught sight of both Soap and Ghost without you present he took his chance.

He watched the shared look between the duo.

“Still hasn’t told you what happened?” Soap inquired.

“I wouldn’t ask if she had, would I?” John quipped right back.

“Just some misogynistic bullshit being spewed by Graves.” Ghost was quick to end the to and fro that was evidently happen when it comes to Soap.

“Thank you.” John nodded and a plan was already formed in his head for what needed to be done.

“My darlings.” You couldn’t help but almost be in tears at the sight of your children in the airport with your mother-in-law.

With the mission over and done with, you and your husband were finally allowed to be home for the next few months—more so with your husband still recovering from his injuries.

You had wrapped your three year old and nearly one year old into your arms peppering them with kisses as your husband greeted his mother. You took a good look at them, so pained by how grown they were in the seven months of not being able to see them.

“Mama!” Your son, Joey mumbled at you with his small hands gripping onto the collar of your shirt.

You heard your husband grunt, bemused by the fact that your son’s first word was you instead of him. Turning to your mother-in-law, Beatrice, you gave her a quick hug appreciating her help with keeping the fort up for you and your husband. You owed her a good vacation with your father-in-law.

“Hope John would be alright now that he’s back. You know how he is with injuries.”

You peered at your husband that was forced by the doctor to wear a sling for the next few weeks while his shoulder heals. You definitely know how much of a baby the man could be every single time he’s injured. He would do anything but rest and heal. You just hope your children could keep him busy for the mean time.

“I’ll deal with him, Mum.” You reassured her with a smile. “Now, what don’t we go and treat you and Dad to some boogie five star dinner like we promised?” You inquired earning a peck from your mother-in-law in the cheek.

Eventually after dinner with your family, you had drove your husband and children back to your home. John had been becoming moodier as the minute passed, with the pain finally kicking in. Now you had to deal with three children that were getting uncomfortable being confined in the care for more than an hour.

Your patience was already laying thin with your husband not helping with your children crying at the backseat. With your children both in the confinements of their car seats and not being able to move as much, they were no help to your growing fouler mood. Your husband was silent in all of this, living in his own world dealing with his own discomfort for having to deal with the bullet hole to his shoulders and his refusal to drink painkiller to deal with it.

“John, the kids. Please.” You finally spoke, hoping he could finally take the hint.

“What do you want me to do?” He snipped and your felt your blood boil and ready to snap and before you could even do, the sudden ring of his phone interrupted you.

He moved slightly from his seat beside you to pull his phone up and immediately answered a call from Laswell, disregarding your request to keep the kids quiet and talked to the woman with your children crying in the background.

Once again, you felt so alone in this situation. It felt so unfair. So fucking unfair to you having to deal with both children, hoping and praying that bribing them with ice cream or sweets would appease them both, but it only made things worse and John demanding you to shut them up was enough for you to stop the car in the middle of the road.

Without another word, you turned the car off, unbuckling your belt and leaving the car slamming the door shut finally silencing both your husband and children.

In the middle of the deserted road, with the cold breeze of the midnight skies you screamed at the top of your lungs. You punched the closes tree that you could see. Punched the fucking trunk over and over as everything you had bottled up has finally overflowed and you were genuinely worried if you were finally going through a psychotic breathe because of it.

In your screams and punch, you halted as the wetness finally fell against your cheeks. You were truly losing your sanity as you sobbed over and over again for everything you had to deal with in the base and mission. Graves’ words that were meant to belittle your incompetence as a soldier dug through your heart more than you had ever thought it would.

You were tired. Just so tired.

When you could barely feel the tears falling anymore, you let out one last pained scream before finally wiping your tears and making your way back into the car. The silence in the car was a relief as you turned the car back on and continued driving.

“Darling…”

“Don’t, John. Just fucking don’t.”

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la-petite-lapin · 3 months

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Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #double the love #angst #romance

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raffe156 · 1 year

Text

Your Captain

Pairing: John Price x f!reader OC Tank

Warnings: mutual Pining, fluff, smut/nsfw, 18+, unprotected sex, mentions of violence, bullet wounds, injury, Shower sex, theft, slight dom Price, age gap in my head Price is 41

Summary: Your exhausted after a mission and need help from your Captain getting out of your gear.

A/N: written after coming across an anon ask to @yeyinde and @irnbru32 Shower Price, please as always comments and feedback welcome

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

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The mission went better than expected, but what did you expect you where in the company of the best.

You got back to the base, exhausted and weak. Everything ached, all your gear felt 10 times heavier. You lay down on the cold concrete floor the solidness of it grounding you. You really couldn't be bothered making it back to your quarters, leave me here you thought as the other walked past you laughing. Gaz bending down offering his hand to help you up. You declined shooing his hand away closing your eyes.

Price walked back to were you had crashed yourself down.

“Can’t stay there all night, Kid” - he grumbled at you. You opened your eyes to find him crouched over your head. His face just as ruddy as yours but he wore it well, better in fact. His eyes crinkled by his smile. Your Captain. You owed him more than you could ever offer and all he asked for in return was you come back to him safe and in one piece, but he asked that of all of you the whole of the squad…you weren’t special but he made you feel like you where.

“Leave me here Sir…I’ll sleep in my tact gear” - You close your eyes again the image of his bright blue one’s burned in your lids. You felt him shift the smell of tobacco, gun oil and dirt waved off him. You were taken by surprise when your felt his heavy hand loop under your tact vest to get a grip of the shoulder strap. He began to drag you across the floor muttering something about if the mountain won't come to Muhammad…

“Captain?…what…wait i'll get up!”- You were laughing, but you couldn't hide the slight hysteria in your voice. You sounded giddy you felt giddy, maybe it was just the head rush of getting to your feet or was it the way his eyes watched you like a hawk to make sure you didn’t flop back down on the ground.

There that’s what he wanted to hear your laugh, it was infectious and one of his favourite sounds to hear on cold nights.

“Come on you need to take a shower and get your head down, you did well today”- He patted you on the back, but it rested there. You were thinking too much into it. You nodded in agreement rubbing your cheek you must have smeared dirt across your face more. Price laughed wetting his thumb to rub it off for you, you let him.

“I'm not doing this to the rest of you…that’s what a shower is for…” - He cleared his throat , you caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, maybe it was the same thought as yours…If he offered, you would let him clean the rest of you with his tongue…you let the thought swim round in your mind for a second before you realised he was still stood in front of you watching you noticing your glazed look and how your cheeks go red under the grime and dirt.

You turned but the blood was elsewhere and you stumbled forward, before your body went into action Price already had his arm around your waist. Your Captain.

“Think I need help to the showers Captain…” - You looked up at him sheepishly. What were you saying? He looked at your for a moment contemplating. It was innocent he thought you were tired and needed help it wasn’t any different than helping Gaz or Soap, except maybe it was?

“Come on then…don’t say I don’t do anything for you” - He smiled tucking you into him, your hand finding a free loop on the back of his tact vest to cling on to as he steered you over to the locker room you all shared. He sat you down on the centre bench and started removing his own tact vest first, pulling at the Velcro and straps, he pulled it over his head. You watched dazed at how his body flexed when he moved, when he twisted you noticed the slight hitch in his breathing…he was sore, aching oh how you wanted to make him feel better…Your Captain.

“Your turn, lean forward” - He huffed going to work on your Velcro and straps. He was rough but what reason did he need to be gentle with you? You were a soldier, you were made of more, you weren’t a lover he was undressing in the night. You were his soldier. He began loosening the holster on you thigh. You hissed, you knew you had set it too tight, but when your running for you life under gun fire who has time to think is this too tight?

“I’ve told you not to do these so tight…”- He gruffed at you easing it open rubbing his thumb over the indent in your thigh trying to get the circulation back. You let out a small moan it was out before you could even think, you hope he hadn’t heard it, but he had and it pulled at something he knew he needed to keep in.

“Arms up kid…need to get this over your sleepy head…” - He was gentle with his words almost whispering now, you complied lifting your arms up they felt like lead weights. As he pulled the vest up the velcro got caught on your T-shirt lifting it off with the vest, but he didn’t stop to comment he just pulled the T-shirt off the Velcro and placed them both on the bench next to you.

“Boots next…here put your foot on my leg” - Price crouched down patting his thigh. Your boots were covered in mud, but then so were his jeans, you placed your boot on him as he unlaced them you studied his face how his lashes fanned on his cheeks from this angle, his dark brown hair wet and sticking up from the day and removing his vest, you wanted to run your fingers through it, to touch his beard to feel it tickle your lip as you kissed him. The closet you got was training when he was guiding you to do a long range shot with high wind “Keep yah head still…no quick movements…Good girl” he had whispered in your ear his beard tickling your face as he stood with you aiming your body to match his. Your Captain. He was done unlacing your boots and began pulling them off for you. When you thought about it you could have done all this yourself really maybe the tact vest would have been a struggle but you usually asked Soap or Ghost to help pull the few straps at the back you couldn't reach.

“Think you can unbutton your pants for me? I’ll pull them from the bottom your roll from the top, nothing worse than trying to get wet pants off when your knackered…trust me!”- He smiled at you that crinkle eye smile that made your heart bang and your stomach do somersaults. You nodded leaning back to unbutton your pants. you could feel his eyes on you it was his turn to study you now. He cast a quick glance over your torso he told himself he was looking for any signs of injury, it wouldn’t be the first time you had hid a bullet wound from him only for him to find you at 3am trying to stitch it up yourself with a needle a thread from a hotel room in Columbia. Your body was littered with scars from your life as was his. There he spotted what he was really looking for. Just below your right collar bone a small scar from a bullet meant for him, but you had took the brunt of it by stepping in front to push him out the way…it still went through your shoulder and into his but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been as a result he had a matching scar on his right shoulder just an inch to the right.

You had unbuttoned your pants and where rolling them down your hips when you noticed him looking at your shoulder. Your little twin scars. You gave him a weak smile. There is was again that pull of something more, he needed to focus. You had been here before.

“Right…you roll them down and i'll pull…”- He waited for you to roll your pants down your thighs, then began pulling them the fabric wet and clingy to your damp muddy skin. You suddenly felt very aware that you were sat in just your bra and underwear in front of your boss. Your Captain.

Price folded your pants up and placed them on the bench next to you. He took a quick glance over your body, perfect he thought. When he really got down to brass tax you had always made him feel a little light headed. Had danced this dance before. The way you lit up a room, He admired you, was proud of you, cared for you the whole team meant a lot to him, but you were different…always had been you gave him the feeling of nostalgia…even though there was nearly 15 years between you. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this again but he couldn't help it.

You looked over at him stood just a few feet away from you, his gaze dropping to your pile of clothes. You willed him to touch you…to tell you he felt the same…that he also thought about you night and day. Though your body was tired from the day your heart was raring screaming at you to shoot your shot with your Captain.

Before you changed your mind you stood up unhooking your bra and wrapped your arms around him burying your face in his chest. You took a deep breath he smelt so good, earth, cedar, smoke and kerosene.

“I think I love you John…” - You mumbled with a sigh into his chest, you wanted the words to sink into his skin to be absorbed into his body and into his bloodstream.

Price stood with his arms slightly raised, he was in shock. You loved him…had he heard you right or had years of gun fire and missile strikes finally done his hearing in? He lowered his arms down to cup your face pulling it up to meet his gaze you struggled and he realised why you had gone bright red. He smiled. There was that light headed feeling, but he had to be realistic He was your Captain, you his soldier he thought, he knew it was wrong a bad idea but he didn’t care. He wanted you to pull on the thread that tied you to him. He loved you too. Always had.

“Same kid…I think I love you…always have” - He had said it, it was out of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you up into a kiss. His beard tickling your face. When you pulled away you remembered your bold tactic of unhooking your bra the realisation causing your skin to chill making goosebumps all over your skin.

“I think we need to get you into the showers…you’ll catch your death out here…” - Price rubbed his hand up and down your shoulders to try and warm you up.

“You joining me? I'll wash your back you wash mine?” - the words tumble out of your mouth, one kiss and your bold as brass? Price raises an eyebrow a smile creeping across his face. He doesn’t even need to think his top is off over his head, his belt unbuckled he has to untie his boots. Fuck he crouches down fighting with the laces.

“I'll go get the water running Captain……hurry up” - You walk off round the corner to the shower cubicles. You could hear him swearing his boots not coming off quick enough. Your heart was racing,you left the light off, the white tiles gave off enough light. You found the tap turning it to the middle. It sparked to life the water crashing over your body as you stepped out of your underwear and fully immerse yourself under the shower head.You heard footsteps behind you.

“Room for one more?” - Price pressed himself up against the back of you, dropping his head to kiss your neck, his hand coming up to grab you breast. You leaned back into him allowing his other hand to slip in between your thighs. A small gasp as he slide his fingers over your clit. The water was hot but his skin on yours was like a branding iron.

He couldn’t help himself he was hard just from the feeling of you against him, your skin wet and slippery. He wasn’t going to lie he had thought about you a few times while in the shower, had wanked himself off to how you would sound under him, crying out his name as you came. Little did he know you had done the same buried your fingers in yourself at the thought of him ordering you to cum, him calling you a good girl.

Price could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and it was driving him wild.

“I need you in me Sir…need to feel you” - You were gasping for breath. He didn’t need telling twice he wants to give you whatever you want. He removed his hand from you and lined himself up bending you forward slightly to get a better angle.

“You ready sweetheart?” - He was already nudging his tip in. You gave him a Mhmm pushing your hips back.

“Feisty for someone who not 20 minutes ago was too tired to undress herself…” - He was teasing you now.

“Please sir…” - You were begging him. The Sir gets him going. He thrusts into you, he can feel you adjusting to his girth can hear the slight sting in your voice. He wraps his forearm around your neck gripping your shoulder to anchor you to him. He slams into you, your wet bodies crashing together. You have to hold on to his arm with both hands. You can’t help the panting with every thrust his cock feels like it splitting you apart, stretching you in all the right places. You can hear how wet you are when he pulls back even over the sound of the shower. Your moan comes out choked but loud.

“Shhhh…shhh…you can take it, can't you baby be a good soldier for your captain” - His head resting on yours you can hear the strain in his voice, Price is grunting and groaning as your walls clench around him.

“Your so tight love…fuck my perfect little soldier…”- Price grunts his thrusts getting sloppy and it pushes you over the cliff. His perfect soldier. Your Captain. You cry out in pleasure. If the squad hadn’t heard you both before they had heard you now.

Price feels you falling apart around him as his own release builds. He pulls your face to the side sliding his tongue into your open mouth it’s desperate rough and greedy, your gasping for breath as he fills you up.

You both stand there still attached like one entity, catching your breath his arm still around your neck. Price kissed your lips again softer, then kissed the top of your head.

“Sorry the first time was a quickie love…next time…” - he trailed off, did you even want there to be a next time? He pulled out from you turning you to look you in the eyes.

“That’s if you want there to be a next time?” - he was searching your face for an answer. He might not be able to give you all the things a man half his age could, but he would look after you and love you till the universe said otherwise. He owed you more than he could offer, he was your captain and you his soldier.

You could see the look in his eyes soft, searching but hesitant. oh how you loved him. Your Captain. You answered all his doubts with a simple kiss, pulling him to you under the water. You traced your hand over his chest and felt the tissue from your shared scar. He smiled.

“I'll take that as a yes…now onto our earlier agreement…I think you said you would wash my back and I’ll wash yours or would you like me to use my tongue?” - Price pushed you back into the tiles, his hands either side of your head boxing you into the corner. So he did have the same thought earlier? The dirty dog. He had a wicked grin on his face. You contemplated it.

“Maybe next time Captain…Ill swiped the fancy body wash Gaz hides behind the sink” - you laugh stepping out of the cubicle making sure not to slip, you felt light headed and wobbly and in your starry state didn’t realise the two figures stood near the shower room entrance.

“Honestly Gaz needs to find a better hiding spot for this…I think he knows I’ve been using it…” - You called back to Price pulling the shower gel out from behind the basin. You jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat…your head snapped round to see Ghost and Soap stood staring at you. Soap was smiling from ear to ear Ghost had his arms folded across his chest…Shit…you don’t even think to cover yourself up, you just hope Price doesn’t…

“Right this water is getting cold now…I wanna see you all soaped up love” - Price leaned out of the cubicle grabbing your hand to pull you back in, when he noticed your head was turned to the entrance…shit…he looked over to see Ghost and Soap now starting at him in shock…

“Captain…you owe me a tenner Sergeant” - Ghost nod's in his direction he uncrossed his arms and put a hand out to Soap who was rifling through his pockets for something.

“Christ sake LT…I was certain it was Alejandro…” - Soap handed Ghost the money. You shot Price a look who beckoned you back into the cubicle he realised you hadn’t remembered you where naked, he chuckled when he seen the cogs turn in your brain. You scrambled in behind him using his body to shield you. You knew for a fact they had all seen each others dicks, they all showered together, you had also heard the drunken arguing over who’s was bigger one night you had refused to be the judge.

“Now that’s settled…we’ll wait till the showers are…free Captain…Tank…come on Johnny” - Ghost turned but Soap remained.

“Sure you have enough soap lass?” - Johnny was pushing it now, Price scoffed.

“We’ve got plenty mate…”- He said pulling the curtain back on you both. You both waited for the footsteps to disappear before bursting out laughing.

“Right where were we?” - Price said snatching the bottle of shower gel from you giving you that eye crinkling smile of his. Your Captain.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Cult of Vagabonds MasterList

NAVIGATION

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

OVERALL WARNINGS: Familial trauma, PTSD, anxiety, trauma responses, angst, character deaths, gore & violence, kidnappings, interrogations, self-deprecating thoughts and actions, addictions, eventual smut, etc. (More specific warnings will be listed in every chapter)(18+).

DISCLAIMER: While not an OC, the Reader will be given a backstory that will be seen throughout the fic and intertwine with the plot. Taglist is full. All images found on Pinterest.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I: Landless Gull

CHAPTER II: Snail & Thrush

CHAPTER III: Banshee Bluethroat

CHAPTER IV: Finch's Frenzy

CHAPTER V: Copper Talons

CHAPTER VI: Storm-Flying Petrels

CHAPTER VII: Devil Birds

CHAPTER VIII: Polluted Marrow & Hollow Bones

CHAPTER IX: Talk To The Doves

CHAPTER X: A Crow's Carrion Comfort

CHAPTER XI: The Call of A Foreign Swan

CHAPTER XII: Owl-Eyes

CHAPTER XIII: Flight of the Warbler

CHAPTER XIV: Gray Grouse

CHAPTER XV: Sins of a Laughing Skylark

CHAPTER XVI: Vultures

CHAPTER XVII: Red-Wing Blackbirds And Dark Dahlias

CHAPTER XVIII:

CHAPTER XIX:

CHAPTER XX:

CHAPTER XXI:

CHAPTER XXII:

CHAPTER XXIII:

CHAPTER XXIV:

CHAPTER XXV:

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz garrick #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #x female reader #x fem!reader #gaz x you #gaz x female reader #cod mw22

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ghouljams · 9 months

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Cowboy Gaz

Loves a Mrs Meet Cute First Date Jitters Bug Babysitter Shipping Out Holding Up Dirty Thoughts Halloween Party Sneaking Off Courthouse Wedding Black Eyes Daddy Gaz Trick or Treat

1870s AU

Jail Bird

#kyle garrick mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz x oc #gaz modern warfare #cowboy!Gaz #master list #x oc #gaz x f!oc

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thewulf · 24 days

Note

Hey love this might be a dark request. But one I've been needing however feel free to not write this or write it in a happier version for yourself. Who this fic is with I'm torn between John price, gaz, or aragon lmao. But let's get to it. Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts. "maybe it was my fault" "maybe I'm being sensitive" "it's my fault". How I came to terms of it being sexual assault was due to my mother and best friend telling me it was after I came to them about it. I just need comfort you know? Despite my family knowing, like most my issues a lot of things are brushed aside and I feel invalidated, which causes me to seek validation getting me into such problems. So I just need a hug and confirmation that I have someone. Even if fictional.

Have a lovely month hun, you deserve good things❤️🤗

Aww love I'm so sorry that happened to you :( people can be so cruel... but I can certainly write something comforting/sweet for you.

This one is giving big John Price energy. Idk he always seems like such a big teddy bear for the right person. Here's what I'm thinking - feel free to message me if you don't like the direction!

Captain Price has always had a soft spot for you (I'm thinking reader is 25-30 while Price is 35-38). You'd joined TF 141 a few years prior as their tech specialist (kinda like Penny from criminal minds!). You went on missions with them but didn't always go into the field. There so happened to be a mission you weren't required to go on so the guys packed up and shipped out. When they got back Price noticed something off with you immediately. Shying away from him and his usual touches you loved so much. Kinda keeping your head down when he/the guys are speaking. Not speaking up or bantering them as usual.

After a week of your odd behavior he finally decides he needs to talk to you. He catches you after a training session and the comfort insues. Kinda feel like reader has to breakdown and he builds her back up kinda thing. Hella heavy but supppper comforting/sweet at the same time.

Thank you for trusting me with your request! <3

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writeforfandoms · 7 months

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Captain John Price

One shots

The Shape of You - John Price x f!reader - you're having awful cramps and can't get comfortable at all. Fortunately, John knows a way to help. SMUT. On AO3 only.

Glitter and Gold - John Price x f!reader - As the princess, you always knew you'd marry for power and politics. What you did not expect was to be married to the dragon.

Bartender - John Price x f!reader - You work as a bartender. The one night the 141 is in your bar happens to be the one night some jerk causes trouble. Price steps in to help.

Fear Not This Night - 141 x f!reader poly - Being part of the 141 pack meant you watched out for your boys, always. As their medic, it meant you sometimes flew into danger for them. When someone uses that knowledge against you to separate you from your pack, you pay the price.

Call Me Little Sunshine - John Price x f!reader - established relationship. You've had a bad day, but even from a different country, your husband knows how to make it better.

Let It Snow - John Price x f!reader - John Price is your neighbor. Just your friendly neighbor. Nothing more. At least, until the heat in your flat dies.

Series

Puppy Love - John Price x f!reader - Gaz decides to get a puppy, and drags Price along for the ride. Also, the breeder is cute. And single.

Fall Into Me - Fem!OC x various - After the betrayals and the lies, TF141 and certain members of Los Vaqueros start up a private security business and settle down. There’s a lovely coffee shop on the ground floor of the office building they’re in, and it doesn’t take long for bonds to start forming between them and the owner, Rose.

Waking Lions - eventual John Price x f!reader - You’ve been working as an independent intelligence agent for a long time. You like your life - you choose your own hours, you have your own clients, and you get to go wherever you want, whenever you want. Very little pins you down. You never expected this to change, least of all because of one man.

Born for Greatness - John Price x f!reader - As a liaison, your job is often interesting. Your newest job is to help a PMC pack, the 141, to prevent any further Incidents. But there's something about this pack that is different from others you've worked with...

Shadows - part one, two, three - John Price x f!reader - Zombie AU. About a year and a half after the end of the world, you're unexpectedly rescued by a group of four men. Time to find out what you can make of life now.

#john price x reader #john price x you

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sofasoap · 10 months

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Sofasoap's Call of Duty Fic Rec

Always wanted to make a list of my very subjective CoD fic rec list, and also I promised my good buddy @groguspicklejar ( famous author of Beloved series) a list of fic recs, let me list some of my beautiful mutual's and some amazing writers and artists so they can go binge read.

Edit : I'll keep adding artist/writers on as I go. When my brain cells is functioning.

@saltofmercury -Let's start off with the mother of my Mini MacTavish. The one who made me fell in love and hit the nail in the coffin for CoD fandom.

If you are into König, her " Break-in" series is a must read. check out her Soap fics too :) Masterlist

@floral-force - My bestie! delicious Simon/Ghost fics.

American Hospitality is my favourite. Or honeypot is guarantee making you crave for more :)

Check out their Mando fics too :)

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - You want slow burn? check out lovely Bear's "The Roommate Series". Wonderful progression of relationship between Simon and his room mate. Your Friendly Neighbor Soap and Shy reader, OH SO CUTE.

@deadbranch - Spy and Cold war style fics? You are in the right place. The killing moon and Dying sun series. Gut wrenching.

or check out the light hearted None Taken ( personal favourite!), threesome fics? Goth style Reader? Check out their MASTERLIST for full list of goodies.

@brewed-pangolin The president of "Soap Squad" club.

Fireside Whiskey - personal favourite. Soft and thoughtful Soap is just heaven. Kati's page is full of wonderful Soap deliciousness. check it out if you want some Soap fun.

@writeforfandoms - Jen jen jen jen jen. Multifandom talent. AU Prodigy. But let's focus on the CoD here, Puppy Love - Price and puppy? can't go wrong with that. Born for Greatness and Howlin' For You Shifter!AU is my latest obsession here.

@random-thot-generator - Kris, The princess of Thotland and Thotlandia. Their latest work: A Patient Man - had me all hot and bothered. Sweet sweet Rudy. OH how can you be so sexy.

@jynxmirage, Jynx!!!! the one I blame for falling into Top Gun fandom. but that's not the point :P

Communication is Key - my current obsession :) Soft caring Price, oh give me this Captain price any day...

@as-is-above-so-below - Oh Gezez, Simon X OC ( Freya ) fic The Captain is utterly brilliant. Angst, suspension, Thirst, smut... you name it, you get it.

@roosterr - my Fellow Nikolai fanatic, check out her "guardian angel"

series, action action action and of course, love story :)

@siilvan - another one of my fellow Nikolai fanatic, Aqua Regia

series , Nikolai the flirt, sexy flirt , complete with smut * smirk *

@homicidal-slvt - How can I forget the spark to my Lastochka series?

and one of my biggest supporter.

Check out their creative CoD Headcanons and full list of CoD works that will guarantee satisfaction.

@nrdmssgs - to round off my Nikolai fanatic club , and also brilliant artist, A heart full of pity series is one of my latest obsession featuring good old Nikolai.

@captainpriceslover - my crack fic inspo buddy ( miss you a lot!!!). the one gifted me ideas of Soap dispensers lol.

aiaigasa (相合傘) - featuring our TF141 sweet boy, Gaz, had my heart melting.

@starstruckmiraclekitty - You want H/C and scenarios? * falling out of the bag * here is the place to go. :)

@random0lover - you want soft fluffy Soap? Hot Chocolate & Hoodies, you want angsty type of story? Open Wounds and War Paint

you get all with Kat!!!

@lethalchiralium , how can I forget Keri! ( I knew I forgot someone.. argh )

@namedlunagoddess - another 3Drender goddess. OH CHECK OUT HER Sowa Team fic if you are into Gromsko, its HOT SMUTTY DELICIOUS FIC.

The Happiness series, don’t let the title fool ya (well it does bring you happiness reading such talented writing) this story is like washing machine, throws your emotions all over the place, let you grip onto your chair, wanting more.

@mistydeyes so many awesome stories to choose from! My current favourite is "choose your flowers, carefully" Good old Gaz x reader story, and one of my favourite trope - childhood to lovers 🥺 please go check it out!

Now , Some brilliant artists:

@shkretart - This utterly utterly talented person, Price and Nikolai and Simon, will have your nose bleeding within 0.1 seconds.

@ave661 - out of this world 3Drenders always have my eyes popping out of the socket.

@nrdmssgs - mentioned once, should mention again, beautiful art :)

@wombywoo - TF141 boys in their dress uniform? YES PLEASE.

@loneghostwolf oh, another wonderful 3D render artist that bless us with wonderful food of the CoD boys

@hffhifjou - You want rugby boys? You get rugby boys :) and football. and all sort of deliciousness :)

@lululandd - FROGGY CoD boys!!!!!!!! and wonderful fics too, please check THEM OUT MASTERLIST

I am sorry If I miss out anyone. after 13+ hours at work I am exhausted.

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maryangelex · 9 months

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To Be Alone With You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Original Character

A/N: Hello!! This is my first time writing fanfiction ever and I'm so obsessed with Ghost I thought I'd give it a shot. This is written with an OC in mind, but I'm writing it with nothing descriptive so it can be read as reader-insert, only mentions callsign "Angel" and some character background for plot purposes. Unless y’all would like to read about my OC! Anyways, enjoy, and let me know what ya think!!!!

Summary: A new member gets added to task force 141, and Ghost can’t keep himself together for long.

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Third-person POV, Smut, p in v sex (fantasy), masturbation, strong language, horny ass pining, descriptive language, combat injury, blood, military inaccuracy, game inaccuracy, OOC Ghost (?), not proofread, first fic

The 141 Task Force was a well-established team, led by Captain Price, Lieutenant "Ghost" Riley, and Sergeants "Soap" MacTavish and "Gaz" Garrick. As a team, they dove head-first into danger, every risk necessary to be taken, and they did a damn fine job every time. Regardless, Laswell thought this new mission in Las Almas called for new additions to the force.

"She goes by 'Angel'", Laswell states, sliding a file across the table to Price.

"Right," he responds, opening the manila folder with extensive records and information on the new member. "I can see why with a face like that. Looks like a sweetheart," he scoffed.

"She was top of her class in the Naval Academy and a Navy SEAL, one of the handful of women on the job," she started, "She's just as skilled as your boys Garrick and MacTavish, maybe better. She's taken down guys the size of your Lieutenant"

Laswell would've only noticed someone with actual talent, and Price knew this, he trusted her well enough to know she was a no-bullshit kind of woman. And given the information in the file in his hands, Angel sure was an ironic callsign.

"I trust you, Kate, so I know this dove's not gonna disappoint", he said glancing up at Laswell.

A lot of hope and expectations laid on her shoulders on Price’s behalf. Ghost had been notified about the new member upon his arrival with Soap in Las Almas. The two of them emerged from the evac and touched down on their new base. Friendly introductions were made between their other two new members for their time being in Las Almas, Rudy and Alejandro; then she came along, introduced by Price to the task force.

Soap looked like a kid on Christmas morning, fawning over her all giddy and jovial. It was like he’d never seen a girl before, she thought. He made multiple charming and flirtatious remarks at their first introduction, no shame in that one that’s for sure. But she liked the amicable dialogue, she knew they’d get along with him bringing some light to being in the suck.

Meanwhile there was Ghost, stoic and rigid. He shook her hand and gave her a cold yet approving handshake and introduced himself. Of course she already knew all about him, or at least what the gossip and folktales about him said he was; a direct, quiet, intimidating bloke that could kill with a glare and had an arsenal of skills, absolute killing machine with only his whit and sick dry humor saving him from being nonhuman. All she did was gawk at all 6’4 feet of him and get sucked into his expressive yet mysterious eyes. She’d never been so starstruck by a man before yet she kept her composure in front of him. Yet her mind couldn’t help but wander like a high school girl catching the first glimpse of her crush.

Ghost was a man of few words in general, but especially with people he’d just met or started working with. He kept it professional and distant, mainly because he never knew how long they’d last in a mission, so he kept his expectations low for everyone. Angel was an exception though, she piqued his interest. He had read her file handed over to him by Price prior to meeting her, and they both shared the same interest in her and her skills on the field: sharp sniper, close quarter combat expert, trained medic, the list went on with what she was capable of. The difference was how much more intensely Ghost had looked at her file. He would never admit it, but in reality he was captivated. In a professional level of course, nothing else.

Missions together went smoothly. She proved her skills and more time and time again. She made a good pair with Soap since they were out to work together the most often. Same as her with Gaz, they were a match made in heaven when it came to recon and agility missions. The three of them were insufferable, though, pestering and bickering with each other like triplets both in the field and off duty. Ghost was being driven mad, he already had enough with MacTavish annoying him through the radio, now he had to deal with Angel adding fuel to the fire. She did make him smile, though, sometimes even made him hold back laughs but God forbid anyone in the team knew he was a bit keen on her. Thank God for his mask hiding that away from everyone.

The team was cohesive with her as a new member for the months to come. Ghost didn’t think much of anything, not much of her besides quiet admiration and camaraderie, especially since she mainly worked with Soap. No big deal.

Except, after a mission gone awry and things getting sticky making the team struggle to get out alive, and Price having to chew out Angel and Soap for being careless, he decided it was best to change partnerships. Now, Soap was assigned to work with Price, and Angel with the Lieutenant, to teach her a thing or two and keep both of them in check under better supervision.

This is when shit hit the fan for Ghost, when he first stepped into the murky waters that were his feelings, the ones he didn’t even know he had.

Working with Angel was odd to him. He expected for it to be like how he worked with Soap, coordinated with the occasional friendly and comical banter they shared over radio. And it was like that with Angel in the beginning, the two made an amazing pair given their similarities in skill, traits, and resourcefulness.

It was too good of a match, though. Things were starting to get heavy for Ghost. He was starting to care too much about her, to get too protective of her in the field, the distance was getting shorter between them each mission.

On a supposedly easy intel mission, shit had gotten ugly really fast and really badly for them.

“Fuck, L.T.,” she panted, the two of them hiding behind a column of the building they were trapped in, getting shot at from all directions. “I’m hit, get my med pack will ya?”

“Fuckin’ hell, kid, you’re the medic, not me” he growled, rummaging through her gear for the first aid kit.

“No worries L.T. it’s not even that bad” she said with a breathy chuckle. The wound was oozing and spurting blood from her abdomen, her hand pressed against it keeping the pressure as best she could. She looked up at Ghost, who was fumbling with the kit finding a bandage to replace her hand on the wound with. He returned the gaze but his was colder and reprimanding, as if saying this is not the time to fuck around.

He pressed his much larger hand on her abdomen and although not visible he was concerned, a bit scared even. What the fuck was this? He’s never been this scared about a partner. He’s lost enough to not care as much anymore, to be used to it by now. So why was he so breathless and shaken by this girl’s injury?

“I’ll guide you, Ghost. The bullet went through. It looks real ugly with all this gushing but it hit my flank. See? Nothin’ important got hit” she said to him reassuringly, lifting herself up from the floor and lightly twisting to show him the hole the bullet went through on the right side of her waist. The two meet their gaze, his softened by her reassurance.

The two made it out of the building and back to the evac. Angel had guided Simon to tend to the wound and patch her up, and in return he basically carried her out of there.

That night back in HQ had Simon stressing, not because of the mission, not because of Angel’s injury, but because he was so god damn confused about what was clouding his mind so much. This new feeling he had. He felt restless and dazed by it. He felt like he failed that mission entirely by allowing Angel to get hurt, a new instinct to protect awoke in him. That night he couldn’t sleep, no amount of cigarettes out the window of his dorm calmed him down or made him make sense of these newfound feelings and fears.

From then on he was her shadow, and their distance became shorter as a result. Cheeky remarks, overly friendly banter sometimes escalating to flirty insults and jokes. Then came the light touches between the two, accidental of course. And his symptoms got worse each day.

His sleepless nights went from worries and memories of the battlefield to that of what a teenage boy would worry about.

He wanted her, and it was so hard for him to admit that to himself. He wanted her closer to him, he wanted the light touches between the two to become more comfortable, heavier, needier. He wanted her carnally. He thought about the times she was paired up with Johnny, how the two of them clicked and it sent him into a spiral. What if she laid awake at night the same way as him, but thinking about Soap? Or Gaz? Hell, even Price? Or none at all, and he was just horny and pining for her like a creep.

He thought of the softness of her skin when they touched, when she tended to his wounds how feathery her fingers felt in comparison to his calloused ones or the cold ones of any other nurse back at the base. How he hair swung in a braid when he was watching her back during missions. How she smelled when she was close to him, she smelled womanly with the salty tinge of her sweat from busting her ass on the field. It made him feral to think of her at the hands of another man, but he felt so stupid for it because it was the most plausible thing to happen, more so than for her to reciprocate his feelings, or at least for her to let him fuck her, at least once to get it out of his system.

Simon’s new nightly routine was of pacing around HQ finding something to busy himself with like paperwork or a smoke outside. He made his way back to his dorm after enough busywork and attempts to tire himself out. When he went to open the door to his room, she was there, leaning against the arch, and standing there as if waiting for him, with a sly smile plastered on her face.

“Can’t sleep?” She questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing”, he said, standing parallel to her.

She moved from the door as if inviting him to open it, which he complied with.

“Maybe we can help tire each other out”

Next thing he knows she’s sitting naked on his bed, baring herself to him. He’s standing at the foot of the bed looking down at her, admiring the sight in front of him. She’s putting on a show for him, caressing her breasts, down to her stomach and the space between her legs.

“Open your legs, sweetheart,” he says huskily “I know you want me to see.”

She spreads her knees, exposing her soaked cunt that she tenderly and slowly strokes. He’s salivating at the sight, as she slides her fingers through her folds, teasing herself, with her other hand massing her breast, taking a nipple between her index and middle finger. He watches her moan and throw her head back as she circles her clit, slowly, applying the right amount of pressure that sets her body alight.

She goes at it for some time before dipping her fingers in her hole, saturating them in her slick before reaching out to his unmasked mouth which he takes in with a low hum at the taste of it.

Except none of that actually happened, which is proven by Simon waking up alone in the darkness of his room in a cold sweat. He’s in pure terror, his face hot and red under his mask. Fuck, did he just dream that? He’s even more mortified by the tent his rock hard dick is pitching under his sheets.

Fuck, this can’t be fucking happening.

He gets up from his bed immediately, beelining for his en-suite. There’s no fucking way he’s caving into dreams like that, he feels like that’s disrespectful to his teammate, like his body’s betraying him. He removes his mask, turns on the cold shower and steps in, ice cold water hitting his scalding skin. His head sinks between his shoulders, hands placed against the wall in front of him as he lets the water hit from above, as he looks down at his erection.

It’s not helping, it’s not going down.

All he thinks about is the image of Angel sat pretty and baring herself to him in his bed. Of her hands traveling over her body. He brings two fingers to his lips, imagining hers, imagining how sweet she must taste. He closes his eyes and he’s taken back to his dream.

Fuckkk, he thinks. Now it’s not just his body that’s betraying him it’s his whole damn self, he’s giving in completely as he wonders what’s next. As he wonders what would happen if he took those dainty tender hands with those pretty painted nails and wrapped them around his thick throbbing cock. What would happen if he let her stroke him slowly with a mix of her slick and his spit.

Simon brings his own hand in the shower down to his cock and he strokes himself with that scenario playing in his mind behind his closed eyelids. He relishes in the feeling of his hand stroking himself, slowly at first like he pictures Angel would, then increasing the speed.

He thinks about what it would be like to have her mouth on it instead. Oh her full juicy lips, red and smooth, how they’d stretch around his girth, inching down from tip to base.

“That’s it, pretty girl”, he whispers with his eyes still shut and his hand still relieving his cock in the shower.

He thinks about her gagging on his length as he’s encouraging her to take more and more in until the hilt, until it’s encapsulated by her throat. He squeezes his dick thinking about it as he strokes it some more, picturing her bobbing her head at the same rhythm and speed as he’s using on himself. He’d put his hand on that braid she’s always got and grasp it firmly as he commands her head and dictates how deep and fast she can suck him off.

He’s a mess in the shower, moaning lowly and groaning to himself. He lets his head rest on his forearm against the wall, the water running down his back and his hand squeezing and pulling at his cock. His mind wanders some more and now he’s picturing his spit-covered cock lining himself with her pussy, slowly spreading her open, loosening up the tightness of it, molding her to his length. She’d make the cutest noises, they’d drive him insane. Her moans and mewls shooting straight to his cock, making him twitch inside of her. She’d feel so warm, wrapping his dick in her sopping cavern, making him feel whole like she’s a missing piece to his puzzle.

Simon’s stroking himself faster now, panting under the water, cupping his balls with his other hand as he imagines pounding into Angel, imagines the sounds he can pull from her and thinking of the sight of her splayed out under him as his dick is buried deep inside of her, then pulled out and rammed back in, keeping up the speed of his hand.

He’s at it for a few moments more, moving his hips and thrusting himself into his own hands as if he was fucking her. Until he starts to feel that burning pressure at the pit of his stomach, as his balls feel tighter with his release about to happen. And then he snaps. White hot ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, dripping into his hands and out onto the tile of the shower, flowing down the drain. He’s gasping and groaning, cursing at himself as his thighs vibrate from his orgasm. His mind a haze but fuck, he feels good. Like a moment of catharsis.

Now the struggle is gonna be looking at Angel without thinking of his late night activities. Now he’s given into his desires and carries more of the burden of wanting her without being able to have her.

A/N: WELP… Please leave some thoughts if you got this far, thanks for reading <3 divider credit to @cafekitsune

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la-petite-lapin · 14 days

Text

Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #angst

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