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#john seares riley
vvstar7 · 3 months
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"details from The Young Readers Press First Dictionary by John Trevaskis & Robin Hyman, illustrated by John Seares Riley, Young Readers Press, NY, 1967 (1973)"
source x / x
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ghosts-bandwagon · 10 months
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So, could you do task force 141 + König and whomever you’d like, how they would react to you kissing their cheeks as a dare or something? Idk my brain just thought of this
I love this it’s so cute 😭❤️
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:
He short circuits honestly
He’s sitting there stuck in place, processing what happened
In the short second your lips made contact with the fabric of his mask, everything in his brain went silent
All the chaos, all the worries, all the voices, everything went silent like coming into the eye of a hurricane, there was peace for a moment
On the outside though? He’s deadpanned 😶
You almost feel like you’re in trouble but then he finally blinks and looks at you, you couldn’t detect any anger or resentment so you beamed at him and went about your merry way
As he’s watching you walk away, that kiss is all he’s thinking about. He’s wondering what it would’ve felt like if he didn’t have the stupid mask on, how soft your lips must be, if it was a little wet or not, he knows the feeling of your lips would be seared there for the rest of his life
He’s thinking about that moment of quiet, that moment of peace, and he’s suddenly questioning himself, almost talking himself up to give it a try, to pursue that peace that you gave him, that peace that he could have with you
John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:
Don’t think you’re getting away lightly
As soon as your lips made contact with his cheek, his face went red hot and his eyes were glimmering
He looked up at you with a huge grin going from ear to ear
“What’s that for?” He laughed, when you shrugged with a cheeky smile, he melted,
“Dare you to do it again.” He winked,
You stepped in to meet his challenge but before you could even get close, he kissed your cheek instead
Now it’s your turn to be a blushing mess, and Johnny finds that the look suits you quite well
John Price:
He’s been hearing about the date floating around for a while now and brushed it off
At least until you came into his office under the guise of turning in paperwork, when he heard stifled laughter coming from the hallway
You handed him your papers and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, your lips were so soft as they made contact with his skin, it sent lightning up his spine
He looked at you with disapproval and you felt the cold sweat bead on your forehead
He motions for you to come in close and you do as you’re told, leaning in, bent at the waist, waiting for him to speak. His face was close to your ear, the hairs on his cheek tickling your skin as he leaned in,
“Next time you feel like doing that, don’t hide behind a dare, love.” He sat back with a knowing glint in his eyes, “That’ll be all, sergeant.”
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:
Oof sweetheart, he already knows about the dare that’s been circulating on base, he’s been waiting
And then he sees you walking towards him like the cat that got the cream
He already knows and he’s a little smug about it smh
What isn’t prepared for is how his brain fires on all cylinders the moment your lips pressed against his cheek
It was like a jolt of electricity shot straight through him, like something in him came alive
He’s not one to be rendered speechless too often but he’s dumbstruck
He had a plan of pulling you back in so he could return the kiss but he was stuck in place, slack-jawed with his hand slowly coming to rest on the spot you kissed
He’ll get you back eventually, right now he just needs to process what just happened
König:
Error 404. König not found
He appreciated that you didn’t lift his hood so you could kiss him but in that moment he wished it wasn’t there
He felt the warmth of your skin through the fabric and he mourned not feeling the soft skin of your lips against his cheek
It felt like going outside and feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, breathing the fresh spring air and sitting on a blanket in the park
He started imagining you there, sitting in the park among the flowers, your eyes closed in bliss as you take in the warmth of the sun and breathing the freshness of the air
He wasn’t on an army base in god knows where, he was sitting there in that park with you, mesmerized by your smile, holding your hand in his
He was snapped back to reality when you waved your hand in his face, apologies pouring from your lips
He can barely process the words as he leans in and repeats the action, pressing his clothed lips against your cheek
He can’t help the satisfaction when he sees you short circuiting as much as he was
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sprout-fics · 8 months
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OMEGAVERSE 141 MY BELOVED OH GOD IM GONNA THINK ABT UR WRITING ALL DAY
I do love this idea, so glad everyone enjoys this too!
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Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons
(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)
(Part Four: The First Heat)
Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Heat cycles, Comfort, SoapGaz, Slowburn
Masterlist
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Your heat hits hard
It's not as bad as the one that nearly killed you, but to say it's uncomfortable would be an understatement
You don't notice it at first. You feel off, sure, but everyone has off days. You assume you just ate something bad at breakfast, shrug, and try to move on
As the day progresses you begin to wonder if you're coming down with something. You're parched, too warm, a little shaky. You think maybe it's a cold, that you'll just sleep it off
It isn't until you run into Price later that day that you realize
The scent of an alpha that's scent marked you in the past to help keep other away wafts across your senses, and before you can blink-
It sends you to your knees
Price is alarmed, and reaches for you, before he realizes exactly what's mixed in with your scent. You see his pupils dilatate, see his throat bob as he swallows, but he manages to haul you upwards and slowly helps you to your room
You're sluggish and hazy eyed by the time you get there, leaning your weight onto him fully as your legs refuse to cooperate. You try to apologize, and Price reminds you there's no need, that you can't help it, that he'll make sure you're safely put away
Yet he merely dumps you in your room and extracts himself before he can have a change of heart, quickly texts the others to inform them of the situation
You barely make it into bed, exhausted, feverish, muscles and joints aching. It doesn't take long for you to pass out
When you wake up, it's dark outside, your room is dim, and you feel damp, gross with sweat. Yet there's a little message on your phone from Gaz, letting you know there's a care package for you right outside the door
You manage to crawl over, open the door just enough to slide the box in. Your back presses to the door as you sit on the floor, eyeing the contents
Snacks, water, hygiene items, a little soap bar where someone has taken a blade to redundantly carve the word 'soap' into it, and a black dark hoodie with a scent so heavy that when you hold it to your face you moan.
You notice neither alphas has come to offer their assistance, and for that you're both glad and a little lonely about. The thought is shaken away as you stumble towards the shower, clean off, slide the hoodie on, eat and hydrate, and collapse back into bed
Maybe it won't be a bad heat, you think
You wake up and your world is on fire
There's only hot air as you gasp awake, clawing at your blanket, drenched in sweat, sheets soaked. Your skin itches, and you pull off the hoodie just to get a cool reprieve, only to drag it back on when the ache between your thighs clenches painfully
It feels like you're drowning, like your veins are molten, like you can barely breathe
And between your legs is a searing, pulsing emptiness that makes you clench around nothing, has you buck and gasp and whine in search of reprieve. Yet there's nothing to help. Not even the touch of your scent marked pillow, not even the smell of Ghost's hoodie or water or food
You manage to fumble for your phone, reach and text one single line
"He lp"
It's the middle of the night, you think they aren't awake, and after a few minutes you decide to fix this yourself, pulling yourself from bed towards a cold shower
You don't get far, legs collapsing under you the moment you stand. It's so much, and try as you may you can't seem to drag yourself very far, crying out in frustration and resorting to hauling a blanket from bed to curl on the floor
It's how Soap finds you, curled up and writhing in pain. You see his face float into view, ashen with concern, and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. You take one inhale and whine, arch your neck submissively because he smells faintly like Ghost, like Alpha.
It doesn't take long for him to help you into the bathroom, stick you in the shower with all your clothes on, and turn on the coldest water you can manage
"Yer burning up, hen'." He mutters, eyes cloudy with worry, a hand placed to your forehead. "Need tae cool you down."
He vanishes for a moment, and you whine until he comes back with a clean set of clothes
"Can you get dressed by yourself?" He asks, and you consider, shake your head
Soap is nothing less than a gentleman despite the fact he's already seen you naked before, manages to fumble you dry and get you into fresh clothes before helping you back into your room
It's there that you find Gaz, in the midst of changing your sweat damp sheets, bleary eyed but offering you a smile
You're considerably more relaxed by the time the two sergeants have you fed and hydrated, finally curled up between the both of them on your cot
They're soaked in Price and Ghost's scents, and it's enough to make the need between your thighs relax just enough for you to go limp between them
Your head is cloudy with lust, with need, swimming with low pulsing desire at bodies pressing into you on either side smelling like alpha
It makes you hiccup, tears forming in your eyes at wanting, needing, hoping for them as your blood thrums too warm in your veins, and your voice chokes on their names as if somehow you can summon them the quell the ache
You know, in some distant, logical part of your brain, that Price and Ghost are being more than decent about this, that even if you asked in this state they'd refuse you until your mind is clear
It doesn't stop you from being a whiny, needy, horny mess between the two men that smell like them. Your hips jerk automatically, seeking friction, even as a hand kneads the small of your back to try and soothe you into keeping still. it has the entirely opposite effect, makes your fangs pop out and a low, heady moan tumble past your lips
It aches
Yet then a large, firm hand grasps onto your nape, and you suck in an unsteady breath as someone who smells like an alpha scruffs you, making you automatically go limp and still
"Good omega." Soap purrs in your ear, and you shudder, whine, but remain pliant in his grip, wet eyelashes fluttering as a heavy fog of sleep descends upon you once more, safe in the arms of the two men you trust the most to keep you like this
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ghostandsoap · 1 year
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Call Signs
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader (Ft. John “Soap” MacTavish)
Tags: Angst. Gunshot wound. Blood loss. Shock. Hypothermia. Major injury. Mentions of death. 
Word Count: 4.6k
A/N: So I’m not totally sure how accurate some of this is. Also, I’m not sure if parts of this are canon? Read with caution LOL. 
“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”
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Military call signs. Clever, crafty, and specific to the person they’re associated with. 
There was one main, golden rule when it came to call signs: don’t complain about your own call sign, or else they’ll give you something worse.
Yours wasn’t exactly one that you were thrilled with in the beginning. It wasn’t as badass as you would’ve liked. If you had been given the opportunity to choose, you would’ve chosen something a little more…tough. But once the name stuck, you were stuck with it. You didn’t dare let even a single word of distaste fall from your mouth. If anybody caught wind of you complaining about it, they’d give you something to really complain about.
Over the years, you had heard some good ones — some more creative than others. Depending on the person, sometimes it was easy to tell the reason behind their given name — other times, not so much. You had some friends that you still didn’t know the reason why they were given their call sign.
For example, Soap was just Soap.  
In the time that you had known him, you had begged Soap to tell you where his call sign came from. You had even rattled and poked at Captain Price a bit to get him to give it up. But both of them always gave you the same answer.  
It’s classified. 
With that answer, you refused to tell anyone the reason behind your own call sign. If they weren’t going to tell you about theirs, then you weren’t telling them about yours. It was only fair, you weren’t telling anybody. Nobody knew. 
Well…nobody except–
“Gecko. This is Ghost. How copy?” The syrupy-thick voice seeped through your ear that was still ringing from gunfire. 
You were cold – miserably cold. You were chilled all the way to the bone to the point where your skin was numb to the touch. The sound of rain registered with you. The sky was pouring buckets, which explained why you were so freezing. There was no telling how long you had been passed out and exposed to the elements. Not a single part of you was dry, despite all your layers underneath and over. 
There was pain somewhere. Your groggy state made it difficult to figure out exactly where you were hurt. To be honest, it hurt just about everywhere. A searing sensation settled in your side, but it was migrating all over. Based on the large red spot leaking through that area, you had a really good idea then of what it was.
“Gecko, do you copy?” Another voice spoke that you knew to belong to Soap.
His voice sounded a million miles away, even though it was literally right in your ear. When your eyes opened, you were eye-level with the ground. You were met with a harsh pavement underneath you, muscles trembling with exhaustion and low temperatures. It took a few seconds for your vision to clear, and it took even more effort for you to raise yourself up even to make it onto your elbows. 
When you were able to take a glance around, it wasn’t any less unsettling. The slick streets of Las Almas weren’t very pleasant in the dead of night. Even worse, you didn’t know where Soap and Ghost were. 
It all came flooding back to you. Graves turned on the team. He tried to kill all of you. You, Ghost, and Soap managed to split up and narrowly escape. It was chaos, the kind that shaved about 15 years off of your life.
“C’mon. Where are you, Gecko?” Ghost asked in an aggravated, yet worried way. 
His question was more out loud and to himself more than anything, but it occurred to you that it probably would be nice for him to hear you.
“I’m here,” You groaned, throat dry and scratchy. “Just barely.”
“Oh shit. You’re alive!” Soap replied, and you swear you could feel Ghost relax from wherever he was. 
“What’s your status?” Ghost demanded.
You were not telling Ghost that you were hurt if you could help it. It was certainly against protocol, but you didn’t need Ghost getting all worked up when the three of you needed to find one another and get the hell out of there. You knew how he could get whenever you were hurt.
“Where are you both?” You rolled onto your knees, ungracefully managing to get on your feet.
You felt any and all blood rush from your face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea taking over your stomach. The bleeding in your side was definitely a problem. You stripped your outer jacket off, wrapping it around your waist and tying it as tight as you could possibly stand it. It wasn’t like the jacket was useful any other way, considering it was soaked.
“No fuckin’ idea. I’m in and out of these shops,” Soap grumbled. “I’m soakin’ wet.”
“Me too,” You managed to laugh, but it came out as more of a struggled exhale. “Ghost, what’s your location?” 
“The church. Soap’s finding his way here,” Ghost said. “What’s your status, Gecko?”
You knew he’d ask again. He always knew when you had dodged a question.
“Just a little rattled,” You lied. “Where’s the church?”
“It’s in the square. Navigate through the shops, they’ll lead you there,” Soap said. “Stay sharp. Shadows are everywhere.”
Survival mode has kicked in for you. You had one objective.
Find Ghost. Don’t get killed. 
“Will do. Ghost, I’m coming to you.” You announced, beginning to take the first few steps to get yourself moving. 
There was a brief moment of silence before he answered – and he gave an answer that you knew had Soap raising a brow.
“Please be safe.” 
A shudder vibrated down your back, and it wasn’t from the bitter cold rain. 
Being involved with Ghost was…complicated. It was a forbidden love in a lot of ways. There was a certain disapproval when it came to 2 members dating within the force. It caused drama sometimes, tension other times. Not to mention, it would be painfully awkward for everybody else if the two of you were to break up. 
But the connection was undeniable. It astounded you just how in touch you felt with him. He did everything he could to protect you, to make you feel safe in an otherwise dangerous world. He spent every spare moment with you. He spilled all of his most pressing thoughts to you, knowing his words of vulnerability were safe with you. Talking to him was easy, spending time with him was easier.
Loving him was easiest of all.
Despite your likeness toward each other, it was a mutual understanding that no one was to know. Ghost didn’t fancy all the teasing, and you wanted at least one part of your life to be private. In front of others, you were Gecko and Ghost. When alone, you were Simon and [Y/N]. 
In a lot of ways, the secretive aspect of it was fun. You liked sneaking around with Ghost in the late hours of the night, tip-toeing around sleeping comrades in an attempt at a moment to yourselves. The nonchalant glances…the discreet, yet lingering touches…the whispers of words of affection. It was all something you couldn’t help but get a kick out of. Anybody in their right mind would find it even a little bit entertaining.
But in all honesty, suspicions from the rest were becoming more and more. 
Price had known immediately. Not even three days after you and Simon decided to give it a try, he could sense that something was different. He couldn’t really explain it. He could just see it in Ghost’s behavior that he was preoccupied with something…someone else. Something that had been sprouting for a long time was now beginning to blossom in front of the captain’s very eyes. Price was a respectful man. He wasn’t one to get in the way of something that wasn’t his business. He kept an eye on the situation here and there, more for a status update than anything. 
It took Gaz about four months. He suspected nothing in the beginning. He managed to miss all the signs at first. Who could blame him? He didn’t know he was supposed to even be looking for them. He didn’t catch any real changes in behavior or attitude. In all honesty, if he hadn’t witnessed it with his very eyes – he might’ve never known. It had been a quick gesture. So quick that Gaz might’ve been able to convince himself that he was mistaken if it hadn’t been so blatantly clear.
Gaz had passed by a bit quicker than he normally would, catching a quick glimpse inside the room he hadn’t planned on entering. What he saw was a kiss being planted on the cheek of Ghost’s mask, and a light laugh from the man as you did so. Gaz had stopped dead in his tracks, stunned at what he had seen. He was tempted to turn around and question you, but he knew better. Gaz figured if he hadn’t been told outright, then it probably wasn’t for him to know. He kept it in the back of his mind, however, and after that, he began noticing everything.
And as for Soap, the poor lad had yet to connect the dots. He had heard some chatter here and there about Gecko and Ghost “getting it on.” Soap didn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen it or heard it for himself, so in his mind, the rumors were null. That didn’t mean that Soap didn’t like the idea of his lieutenant and one of his closest friends seeing each other. He entertained the thought here and there. He supposed that Gecko and Ghost had a nice ring to it, and it was something that he liked to snicker about. Overall, Soap didn’t think about it too much. There was no way that “LT” and the infamous Gecko were together. Almost a year into it, and John MacTavish was oblivious.
It hadn’t taken you long to develop feelings for Ghost. Suddenly, you were worried about where he was and him getting hurt more often than not. This was one hell of a career to be in when you were an anxious worrier. This job had changed for you. Before, there was no fear of living or dying. It was just you. It was all you. But when there was someone else in the cards?
That changed things. That really changed things.
That seemed to be the only fight that you and Ghost ever had. It was always the same one. One of you fell ill or became injured, it was due to defying an order, the other was scared to death that something worse could’ve happened, and most of all – you both wished that the other would be more careful. 
“Careful” was a funny word in this business. No matter how careful you were, that didn’t automatically make you safe. 
Roaming the streets of Las Almas while lethargic, unarmed, and bleeding was a definite reminder of that. You followed Soap’s advice, weaving in and out of the stores and getting whatever supplies you could get your hands on. A homemade weapon was better than no weapon, in your mind. Avoiding any and all Shadows was your main goal. There was no chance of you getting out of that alive, if this bullet lodged in your side didn’t kill you first. You hoped that Soap had made it to the church by now. It made you feel better to know that they were together.
The rain showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. You figured it was fine. It wasn’t like you could get any more wet than you already were. It at least made enough noise to conceal your footsteps, which you didn’t have much control over due to the splitting pain in your core. 
You just had to get to the church. Get to the church, get out of here, and get patched up. You’d be fine. You’d survived worse. You weren’t going to-
There was a flash of white over your vision. While brief, it was enough to startle you to a complete halt. You staggered out of the coffee shop, leaning against the back door for support. This was bad. This was really bad. 
“Ghost…” You squeaked.
Breathing suddenly became overly difficult. Every gulp of air was a struggle to get the next one. There was a significant wobble in your knees as you stumbled into the nearest alley for cover, knowing your legs were close to giving out. It was notably colder in the space between the two buildings, but the feeling of your soul being slowly sucked back into the universe made that seem minor. 
“Talk to me. Where are you?” Ghost asked.
That was when you collapsed, landing on the wet ground with a thud. A whimper escaped from your throat at the impact. Clutching your wounded side was all you knew to do. Your jacket used as a makeshift way of putting pressure on it was proving ineffective. 
“The alleyway,” You strained.  “Left of the coffee shop.”
Ghost and Soap both heard the trouble in your voice. Ghost had only heard that tone once before — and it was when something was really, really wrong. 
“What’s your status now?” Soap questioned.
Lying was no good to you now. They were going to know one way or the other.
“I’m down,” You swallowed. “Must’ve been hit at some point when we got away.” 
There was no way you were making it to the church. You were as good as gone as long as there was still a bullet in your torso. Bleeding out in the streets of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t how you had envisioned going out. That was a conversation you had held with Soap more than once. Everybody had their preferred way of dying. You had always hoped that you’d meet your demise in a more memorable way. Maybe in a missile explosion or getting ejected from a helicopter in a hot pursuit.
Dying alone was the part and the possibility that always scared you the most.
This wasn’t what you had in mind. Bleeding to death by yourself in an alleyway in the middle of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t what you had wished for. You knew the day would come…and the day had finally come.
But not if Ghost could help it.
“I’m coming to get you, Gecko. Don’t move,” Ghost remarked sternly, and you could hear that he was on the move. “Soap, we’ll meet you at the church.”
“Copy.” Soap confirmed.
“N-no,” You coughed. “Ghost, don’t leave your location if you’re secure.” 
“None of us are secure. I’m not leaving you,” Ghost said sternly. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.” 
Arguing with Ghost was usually a lost cause. When Ghost was set on something, he was surely going to stick with it. It was a waiting game now, and it was one of the most helpless feelings to know that you were relying on somebody else to save your ass. You knew that Ghost would be there in half the time that it probably should’ve taken him, but when you’re dying, the minutes feel like eternity. 
This wasn’t the first time that you had been in situations like this. Everybody had their fair shares of “I almost died” stories. But this was different for you. This was the closest you had ever been to not living to tell this story. 
Panicking was most definitely not the way to handle this situation. Very rarely was panicking ever helpful in a dire, critical scenario like this. It was the most eerie feeling – literally feeling yourself dying. The blood loss was becoming less, but only because you were running out of blood to lose. Your heart was beating slower and slower by the second. Breathing was now a voluntary action. As the adrenaline wore off and the reality of the situation set in, your anxiety crept over you and infiltrated any room for collectedness that you had left. 
“G-Ghost.” You sighed, a layer of tears pricking at the base of your lashes.
Ghost heard the near sob in your words, putting an even faster pep in his step. 
“Almost there, Gecko. What’s wrong?” 
“I’m…I’m scared.” You admitted, hot tears mixing with the fresh rain water on your cheeks.
Ghost’s heart shattered into a million pieces, catapulting into every vessel near it like the strongest of shrapnel. He couldn’t stand the thought of you alone and scared. 
“I know. Just keep talking to me and Soap,” He breathed, trying to stay calm for you. “I’m coming, G.”
‘G’ was a nickname inside of a nickname. Ghost only used it sparingly, and it was usually when he was trying to be supportive or sympathetic without giving your secret romantic endeavor away.  
It felt silly to say. Generally speaking, you didn’t really have the right to be afraid. It was the pure passion for your job and your own willingness that put you in dangerous situations. It was your own free will, your own decision that you made the same choice on every single time. It was one thing to be scared when you ended up here accidentally. It was another when it was a consequence of your choices and actions. Courage and strength were supposed to be your strong suits. They were the characteristics that you were supposed to fall back on every time.
Yet here you were. Scared to death of dying – something that you had thought about and been preparing for since you started this gig.
“Simon, I-I…I don’t want to d-”
“It’s ‘cause I clean house quickly.” Soap’s voice echoed in one ear and out the other, suddenly and abruptly.
What? 
Even in a near unconscious-like state, you were still well aware of how that needed some clarification.
“S-say again?” You stuttered, the corners of your vision beginning to go foggy. 
“Soap. ‘Cause I clean house and buildings with speed ‘n accuracy,” Soap repeated. “That’s why they call me Soap.”
Soap!
It made so much sense. You were almost embarrassed that you didn’t think of that yourself. You knew it was Soap’s way of distracting you – keeping your mind off of dying. 
“That’s a good one,” You nearly wheezed. “Thought it was because you were a bath man.” 
“Thanks for that image. Won’t be able to unsee that one,” Ghost piped up. “Almost there, Gecko. Hang on for me, yeah?” 
Ghost’s voice was strained as if he were running. Using every ounce of speed and stamina that he had to get you as fast as possible. He couldn’t lose you like this.
He refused to lose you like this. 
“It’s because I’m quick on my feet, and because I can scale a building faster than anybody.” You croaked.
“Ah. That’s why they call you Gecko?” Soap chuckled, and you could hear the amusement in his words.
“Came up with that one myself.” Ghost smirked.
“Some people might even say geckos are kind of cute.” You joked, but didn’t quite have the energy to laugh.
“I’d agree with that,” Ghost countered, and you could sense Soap’s internal confusion from forever away. “I have a visual on Gecko. Almost at the church, Soap?” 
“Affirmative, Lt. Meet you there.” 
Sure enough, Ghost appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a sent guardian angel. Your vision had tunneled, so you couldn’t see much out of your peripherals. He had never seen you so weak and close to going out on him. His eyes behind the mask were wide and dark, focused on getting you out alive.
“Nice to see you, Lieutenant.” You shivered.
“Glad you’re not a goner,” He returned, removing the glove from his right hand and pressing his fingers against your cheek. “Shit. You’re freezing.”
“How bad do I look?” You slurred, and you fought to keep your eyeballs from rolling back into your head. 
“Probably not as bad as you feel. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Ghost said, working quickly to get himself arranged to carry you.
“Did you see any Shadows on the way?” You gulped, eyelids beginning to flutter. 
“They’re everywhere. We need to get going,” Ghost scooped you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing and weren’t dripping wet through multiple layers. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you out of here.”
The journey from the ground to up into Ghost’s arms felt like an airplane takeoff. You were close to slipping out of consciousness.
“We’ll get to Soap and get a vehicle out of here,” Ghost explained, readjusting his arm underneath your knees. “You’re going to be fine, Gecko.”
“G-Guess I wasn’t quick enough this time, huh?” You gave the faintest grin, and Ghost couldn’t help but laugh at your stupid joke.
“Shut up.” 
There was relief in knowing that you were with Ghost. Your chances of dying hadn’t changed, but if you were going to die, this was a better way of going out. 
The fog in your vision became thicker and thicker until you couldn’t see or hear a thing. The darkness surrounded you, sucking you deeper and deeper into nothingness.
⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡                                     
The next time your eyes opened, you weren’t met with the dim streets of Las Almas. There was no smell of rain or taste of blood and sweat. The smell this time was sterile air and cheap (but clean) bedsheets. You couldn’t taste anything due to the worst case of cottonmouth that you had ever experienced. The beeping music of an EKG reader and distant chatter was the real giveaway. 
The muscles in your legs were stiff, mainly because you hadn’t moved them in so long. A grunt was all you could manage as you shifted, a new type of discomfort erupting where you had been shot. It was all wrapped up now (professionally and medically wrapped), clean and taken care of. There was an IV in each arm, one administering fluids and the other what you could only imagine to be some kind of pain medication. The white walls and tan floors were weirdly comforting…a sign to let you know that you were safe for now. 
The best sights of all were the ones seated to the left of your bed.
Ghost’s arms were crossed, ankles crossed over each other, and his head lowered and his breathing steady. His outer skull mask was nowhere to be seen, but his balaclava was clinging to his face as always. 
Soap was also snoozing, but less peacefully and quietly. His head was tilted back as far as it possibly could go, his arms draped at his sides, legs stretched all the way out, and snoring so loud that you were surprised you hadn’t already heard it.
You were gentle as you called to Ghost, considering he didn’t always react calmly when being woken up.
“Hey…” You rasped with a dry throat. “Ghost.”
His eyes snapped open, flickering up to you instantly. A monumental wave of relief visibly crashed over him, filling his veins and relaxing his heart.
“You’re awake,” He leaned closer, taking your hand into his. “You’re okay.”
“What…how long has it been?” You asked, bits of your memory coming back to you.
“A few days…four I think, ” He answered with a nod. “How do you feel?”
Honestly, you weren’t sure. Physically you felt terrible, but better than when you were dying of shock, cold, and blood loss. Mentally you felt fuzzy and groggy from being out so long. Emotionally…well, only time would tell.
“Like shit.” You admitted.
“Not surprised.” He grinned under his face covering. 
There were a few beats of silence. You took a few glances around, getting familiar with your new setting. Ghost, though, never took his eyes off of you. They were a light shade of red, and even his balaclava couldn’t hide the dark circles under them.
“Have you slept at all?” You asked, knowing good and well he hadn’t left your side.
“A little bit here and there,” He said, motioning his free hand towards Soap. “This is the most sleep Soap’s gotten this whole time. He’s been out for about 30 minutes.”
Soap was indeed out like a light. You couldn’t imagine how tired the two of them were. There was another stretch of silence. This one lasted longer and was much more tense. This wasn’t an easy encounter. How were you supposed to act when you had barely scraped by with your life?
“Simon?” 
“Yeah, love?”
“How close was it?”
Simon stared for a moment. No formation of an answer to your question occurred for a second or two. He didn’t like that question. He had avoided thinking about it until now. Ghost knew that he’d have to do his own mentality check in with himself in a few days. He had almost lost the most important person in his life…he’d need to deal with that. 
“Too close.” 
Another silence. Another silent thank you that you were here to see another day.
“You were…hypothermic, in shock. You lost a lot of blood before and during surgery,” He said. “Doc said if it had been any later getting you help-”
“Hey,” A groggy voice piped in, unaware that he was interrupting. “Gecko’s up.”
Soap’s eyes were just as bloodshot as Ghost’s, but Soap’s personality was wide awake.
“Happy to see you again, Sergeant. My apologies for being absent from our reunion at the church.” You grinned.
“Yeah, yeah. Left us to do double the work,” Soap chuckled. “Feels weird callin’ you Gecko now that I know where it comes from.”
“Soap doesn’t have the same ring to it, I have to say.” You fired back. 
“Agh, I’m crushed. Right in my pride!” He shrieked. 
The three of you shared a soft laugh. Nothing like Soap’s comedic relief to break the tension. You felt okay. This was just one of those things. One of the things that you signed up for with this job. It didn’t make it any less unnerving, but now you felt like you could really move on from this. 
And you were thankful that you had lived to tell the story. 
There was a sudden itch in your throat. An annoying tickle that reminded you that you hadn’t had a physical sip of water in four days. 
“Do you think that I could get some water?” You wondered aloud, nearly choking on your own words from the parched feeling.
Ghost hadn’t left your side when you were knocked out, and he surely wasn’t leaving now that you were awake.
“Johnny, could you-”
“Yep! On it.” He scurried out and down the hall without another word. 
That left you and Ghost. The man that saved your life by risking his own to come back for you. You didn’t even want to think about what you would’ve done if Ghost had gotten killed at your expense. At least you would’ve died together, but that hardly sounded right or fair. Ghost deserved so much more. 
“You scared me.” Ghost confessed, not even hiding the worry in his voice. 
“I know…I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, doll. Just…” He sighed. “Just really thought that I had lost you this time.” 
There wasn’t anything you could say to make him feel better. You knew that because you had been in his shoes. His head wasn’t in the best place. You knew that even better. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that you loved him more than anybody else ever could.
“Thanks for coming back for me.” You whispered, a sudden set of tears slipping down your cheeks.
Ghost raised his balaclava. The material stopped just under his nose, his bare lips coming to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He made a solemn swear to himself in that moment that he’d never take you for granted again. He’d never get too comfortable with having you around and at his disposal.
Because fate was far too cruel for that.
“Always.” 
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greatstormcat · 22 days
Note
If you’re interested in Konig, may I request a club 141 style Dom Konig and Sub? If not, then may I request what Kyle, Johnny, or Simon’s first time as a don/sub was like? I’m not picky on which of the three or combination you use for them. So if you choose either of these, please have fun with it. If it doesn’t sound like fun, then don’t worry about it.
Thanks for this ask, as I’ve said before I just don’t really do König’s as he isn’t part of the story for me, so I decided to go this way. Sorry if it falls a bit flat I am still trying to get my energy levels back up.
Captain John Price x Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
TW: MDNI 18+, BDSM themes, bondage, hand job, oral m!receiving, aftercare
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Simon’s first time as a sub with Price was a watershed moment for them both. It’s where the idea for Club 141 began to coalesce in Price’s mind in fact. He had put away his generous salary over the years, invested it for the future but he hadn’t quite decided what he would do with it when he retired. Until this one moment.
Amsterdam was not new to either of them, it was frustratingly familiar as much of the underworld’s scum filtered through here on their way to gods knew where. The act of ‘hurry up and wait’ became tediously familiar, and the low rent safe houses where they waited were always predictable.
This time, though, was a little different as the neon sign over the narrow street flashed on and off its bright red X’s across from their second story hideout. The view through the damaged blinds of the window facing their’s was… intriguing.
“You ever tried that kink stuff?” Ghost asked Price, as he watched the show unfold before him. The man, blindfolded and gagged, across the narrow alley had no clue he was being watched. Probably couldn’t even recall his own name with what was happening to him and this point, Simon mused to himself.
“In fact, I have,” Price chuckled. “It was a long time ago though. It felt good… liberating.”
Simon had watched, shamelessly hard, the entire scene playing out before him until Price called him to take watch. He did so without a second look through the window, but the images were already seared into his mind. He couldn’t shake the fascination, the allure of it.
Months later he had come to Price and asked about what he knew and after many, many hours of conversation, over weeks, Price agreed to let Simon experience it for himself.
Price knew it had to be him to guide Simon’s first steps into BDSM. There was a lot for him to work through, to give up control willingly and not muddy it with memories of having it snatched away from him violently as it had been in the past. No, it had to be Price. It would be something new for him too, having not been with an inclined partner for many years. He was rusty, he knew, but he felt comfortable with Simon.
Price had never been a stickler for forbidding fraternisation in the team. When tomorrow wasn’t promised to you, they needed to grab hold of any pleasure and warmth they could now, and what was easier than falling into the arms of your team mate. They all knew each other intimately by now.
They finally agreed on when and where and what.
Now the Captain stood over Simon, looking down at the huge man bound on Price’s own bed. A black length of rope intricately criss-crossed over the scarred, pale skin of Simon’s chest and stomach, his arms bound firmly behind his back. The knots weren’t perfect, the shaping slightly off, but it was enough for now. Simon lay on his side, face uncovered at Price’s insistence and utterly naked. His cheeks were already flushed, a ruddy hue which was only surpassed by the deep red of his leaking cockhead.
Just the act of binding him had been enough to start Simon into the downward spiral of subspace, his eyes glazing already as he blinked up at Price. Cock hard, twitching and begging for attention.
“You look good like this, Simon,” Price complimented him. “Laid out for me like a present. I should have left enough rope for a bow.”
Simon’s reaction was clear, his cheeks burned hot and his cock leaked onto the sheet beneath him. There was nowhere to hide his embarrassment though, and it fueled Price further.
“Such a pretty boy for me,” he continued, leaning down and planting his hands on either side of Simon’s head so his face was close. “Gonna be a good boy for me? Show me what you can take, yeah?”
The way Simon bit down and refused to answer sent a spike of arousal through Price, his need to break the other man down setting its hooks into him. The slap he lands on Simon’s face is nothing compared to the blows they get in the field, but it’s enough to get his attention.
“Use your words, I asked you a question,” Price rasps in warning, wrapping his palm around the column of Simon’s throat and applying pressure slowly. Blood flow is restricted, not the airway, with his careful grip.
“Yes, sir,” Simon grunts, earning a satisfied nod from Price.
“Good boy,” he croons and revels in the soft moan he feels reverberate against his palm. “That’s it, just let me take care of you now.”
Softening his grip on Simon’s neck slightly, Price reaches down and takes hold of the man’s cock, running his hand up and down it slowly. Simon’s eyes roll back and close, a deep moan crawling from his chest. Price can see that Simon has unraveled now, totally lost into subspace as he whimpers and twitches under Price’s hand as it glides up and down.
With his other hand Price finally unbuckles his belt, roughly tugging his own cock free from his fly. Without stopping, he grasps the other man's short hair roughly and yanks his head closer, forcing his own cock between Simon’s lips. The reaction is instantaneous, Simon continues to whimper but sucks and licks at Price’s cock as though his very life depends on it.
Price almost sees stars as the heat of Simon’s mouth envelopes his length, the back of his throat tightening around the bulbous tip like no one else’s ever has. He manages to mumble praises that drip down into Simon’s ears and only spur him on, muscles straining against the rope securing his arms.
The noises he makes become more frantic as his orgasm builds, hips bucking into Price’s hand with needy desperation. His mouth never leaves Price’s dick, lapping and sucking at the hard length all while he whimpers and begs for more.
“You wanna come?” Price asks, voice thick with arousal as he looks down at the other man, totally under his control now. All Simon can do is nod, eyes squeezed shut until Price yanks his hair and pulls him back. Brown eyes open, unseeing and glazed, sweat making his flushed skin gleam.
“Please,” he moans, “please make me come.” His voice is deep and gravely, but with an edge of hunger. Price picks up the pace, quickly sending Simon over the edge, his back going rigid and threatening to snap the ropes laced over his chest as his orgasm spills across Price’s knuckles.
As soon as he falls limp in Price’s arms, the Captain quickly unties the rope with sure, deft fingers, rubbing and massage life back into the thick limbs while Simon comes back down to earth slowly.
“You broken?” Price asks as Simon swallows gulps of water from a bottle he is handed.
“That’s… that’s something else…” he huffs, laying back on the bed and throwing a heavy arm over his eyes as he collects his scattered thoughts.
“Too much for you?” Price asks, moving closer and running a hand over the imprints from the ropes. Little patterned lines that will soon fade away.
“No, no I want more,” Simon replies firmly, causing Price to rumble with approval.
“Good.”
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inkbybambi · 3 months
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simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish x fem!reader words: 451 warnings: gunshot wound, gunshot wound survival, angst note: this is my first attempt at a multi-part story and i'm excited but also nervous so please be kind. this is a mwiii fix-it fic because fuck sledgehammer games and fuck activision. all my works are 18+ regardless of if there is smut or not so minors dni.
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A shot rings out, and Soap feels a searing pain piercing through his head. A thick wetness seeps down the side of his face, drenching his collar. His vision starts to go black around the edges, each blink heavier than the last.
He wonders if Price was able to stop the bomb.
He hopes so.
He hears Simon say his name.
No, he doesn’t say it. He screams it. It’s a tone Soap’s never heard from him before. He sounds terrified, despair laced in his name.
He feels himself being moved, settled into Simon's lap as his face comes into view. His eyes are glittering with tears and Soap hazily thinks of how pretty Simon is, even with the mask and the eyeblack, and how he’s the luckiest bastard in the world to wake up next to him each day.
And you.
He thinks of you alone in the flat, clutching your phone, waiting for someone to let you know they’re coming home.
“We need medivac now!” Price roars into his coms, the tone fierce and unforgiving.
Gentle hands cradle his head, being so, so careful with him. He's not deserving of such tenderness.
The blackness seeps deeper, and he hears Simon begging, pleading for something. For him to stay awake?
He wants to. But he’s so, so tired. His body is cold and sore all over and he wants to rest. Wants Simon to cradle him from the back with you curled up in his arms, face tucked into his throat so he feels each gentle exhale as you sleep so peacefully with them.
He thinks of Simon and you. How he can’t believe he’s loved so deeply by his soulmates. He never gave much thought to that notion but now that you’re both in his life? He can’t believe in anything but.  
Life before Simon was dull. 
Simon changed that, made Soap happier than he ever thought possible. 
Then you came along, completed it all with your bright smile and sweet soul, clicking into place with them as if you had been there all along.
They had just been waiting for you.
As he starts to drift, he hopes Simon goes home to you, cradles you close and lets you know how much he loves both of you.
His last thought is a distant memory — the first time you woke up in their bed. Hair messy and so, so shy. But when Simon saw you there, he smiled brighter than he had in months. And then you turned to Soap and it took his breath away, how it all felt like it was meant to be, like it was fate.
His eyes slip shut and the world goes dark.
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Headcanons For Task Force 141
simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘soap’ mactavish, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, captain john price
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Summary: cute, random, and dumb headcanons about task force 141
Contains: SFW, literally just headcanons
A/N: hi! i wanted to do something small for you guys so i decided a headcanons post would be fine. you will probably find this a bit more boring than my usual stuff but i wanted to write something 😵‍💫💕
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Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley
- Simon has the most contagious laugh on the planet. It first comes out as a belly laugh, loud and gruff, and then turns into a breathless wheeze if whatever he was laughing at was that funny.
- He hates coffee. He has tried to like it multiple times but he can’t take a proper sip without gagging. On occasion he will try it again to see if anything has changed
- Pumpkin carving king over here. It’s no surprise that he would be good at this, considering his knife skills. But he is so good at it.
- When he is with the team, he will secretly do everyones laundry and clean up the filth around the base. He is adamant about being clean and can’t stand when people smell bad.
- Simon is stupid good at bored games and things like chess. He isn’t very competitive, he is just smart.
John ‘Soap’ Mactavish
- Soap is definitely a picky eater. Like an extremely picky eater with a violent sweet tooth. Doesn’t eat spicy or sour food, only savoury and sweet things.
- Big cereal guy. Eats it as a snack, for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, another snack, etc. His favorite cereal is Kellogs Shreddies.
- When he is at home and gets the chance, he watches stand up comedy shows. He has a giant smile on his face while he watches them, and then binges more shows after he is done the first one.
- He is a really good cook, and a very intense food critic. Gaz cooked a couple steaks for the team and they don’t have a heavy sear? Soap will let him know, and at some point teach him how to do it the correct way.
- Soap is really good at coming up with handshakes. Thats it, thats the headcanon.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick
- Hands down the most musically talented out of the whole team. When he is bored, he will tap his fingers to random drum rudiments. He can play almost any instrument and is really good at it.
- He loves bugs. Like a little too much. Whenever he sees a cool bug during a mission, he picks it up and takes it with him until he forgets about it and accidentally kills it.
- Scares people on purpose. Like, all the time. Someone is walking around a corner in the base? He is literally right there so scream in their face for no reason.
- He is mediocre at cooking but phenomenal at baking. Everything he bakes is great, but nothing he cooks is ever good. His cooking is just the right amount of edible where you don’t throw it out.
Captain John Price
- He loves hugs. It is very rare that he will receive one, but every time he does it fills his heart with joy.
- Cannot for the life of him wake up to alarms. You would think constantly being around loud sounds he would wake up instantly, but he sleeps like a rock.
- He carries around a disposable camera wherever he can. Price loves taking photos of the trees, flowers, sunsets, animals, and anything else nature related.
- He is really great at giving massages. If anyone on the team is super stiff or sore, he is able to fix it.
- He sets up little relaxing field trips for the rest of the team. Sending them to who knows where so they can finally relax for a little bit.
- During or on special holidays he sets up small parties and turns some things into competitions. For example: pumpkin carving competitions on halloween. (Which Ghost always wins)
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Get To Know Your Fanfic Writer
When did you post your first ever fanfic?
19 October 2021 (I'm baby)
First character(s) you wrote for:
I started writing Loki and Mobius but didn't publish anything with them until after I wrote and published a smut fic with Riley Flynn and Monsignor John Pruitt.
Main character(s) you’re currently writing for:
My babies are Jaskier, Radovid, Geralt Loki, Mobius, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson.
Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:
I'd like to write Yennefer and Jaskier, and Radovid and Vespula.
Fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:
Witcher, Loki, Stranger Things
Platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:
Stobin, Ravonna and Mobius (S1 vibes).
Romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:
Radskier, Geraskier, Geradskier, Lokius, Steddie, but sometimes other things if they catch my attention.
Your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):
Honestly, I should be embarrassed about this: anal sex, drabble, kissing.
Your current platform where you post your works:
Ao3. I'm Tears_and_smiles.
Snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:
Wrote 3k of a hurt/no comfort mcd Lokius fic. This bit is less hurty, so I've picked it to post.
“Mobius, if I don’t make it back, I, uh,” Loki says. “You’ll make it back,” his friend reassures, determined confidence in his voice. “Right, but when I use this thing,” he explains, looking back up into Mobius’ eyes and holding up his time stick, “I might not make it back…” The rest of his words hang in the air as searing horrible pain grips him. His limbs jerk, being pulled in a myriad of directions all at once, stretching him thin into almost nothingness. Things around him blur and whisk by, like flickering through pages of a book. Colours blend into one, a hot white glow burning at his core while his atoms disassemble, shifting through time. He’s pulled away from him, from Mobius. The faint clatter of the time stick he’d been holding hitting the floor rings through the whirlwind within him, tugging at his heart. If only he had a few more seconds, he could’ve told him. 
Tags below the cut
Tagged by @bebx and @ikeepwatchinghelicopters 💚🧡❤️
Tagging @ptork66 @flawney @lgwilt @dewdropreader @bluesundaycake @kuripon @definitely-not-iorveth @highwarlockofphilly @runnyeggsnham @rins-love-wins @mimisempai @severeforever @insert-witty-user-name-here if you wanna do it.
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lovecharged · 8 months
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not me fc shipping but i am in need of... (bolded is my preference)
camila morrone x sam claflin
lily collins x sam claflin
riley keough x sam claflin
zendaya x tom holland
mimi keene x asa butterfield
emily blunt x john krasinski
jack wolfe x kit young
odeya rush x fivel stewart
cillian murphy x annabelle wallis
maude apatow x zendaya
jonathan bailey x matt bomer
jonathan bailey x simone ashley
andrew scott x phoebe waller-bridge
will harrison x suki waterhouse
michael cimino x george sear
michael b jordan x tessa thompson
michael evans behling x greta onieogou
sophie thatcher x courtney eaton
sophie nelisse x ella purnell
felix mallard x antonia gentry
felix mallard x katie douglas
corey mylchreest x india amarteifio
jack quaid x melissa barrera
david corenswet x mia goth
calahan skogman x danielle galligan
zane phillips x froy gutierrez
zane phillips x ben levin
rish shah x camila mendes
taylor zakhar perez x nicholas galitzine
ray nicholson x olivia scott welch
leo suter x frida gustavsson
rafael silva x ronen rubinstein
ben hardy x sydney sweeney
phoebe tonkin x margot robbie
paul mescal x daisy edgar jones
danny griffin x abigail cowen
chris evans x ana de armas
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many-melancholies · 4 months
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If Love is the Answer - SoapGhost
part: 5/5
“Soap!” Simon yelled, realising what his father meant. “Get out of the house!” The hologram raised his brow in confusion, simultaneous with the loud sound of kaboom! Not from a firework though.
After all, why would his house be covered in searing, orange, burning flames if that was the case?
Simon coughed and coughed from the explosion, head down and gloves and bare feet covered in ash. “John!”
Soap emerged from the fire the most glitchy Simon had seen him. His orb was almost falling, and the hologram scurried at his inventor’s side.
“You are in a state of shock,” Soap mentioned. “Your pupils are dilating, your heart is pumping immensely, your sight is off and you are ringing in the ears.”
“No crap, Sherlock,” Simon laughed humourlessly. “You’re broken,” he observed. “You need some fixing.”
Soap looked at him tersely. “Do you not see yourself?! You’re sacrificing your life for someone who isn't even real! I know I’m going to ‘die’ anyways! Your dad did this right? Because the real, human, dead John MacTavish changed you for the better?” His words were bitter and heartbroken. “Even with every lie your brilliant mind creates, I’m not real! Not human! What part of that do you not understand?”
They could hear the sounds of boots on the gravel road.
“You weren’t John to me!” Simon shouted. “You’re Soap! A hologram who kept me living for a year! Who became my light and my joy when I was crumbling back to what I was before John went into my life! You made me do something John didn’t do! He was a partner, but you’re a…I said it before, you’re mein freund! You're the one thing I needed the most in my life. I'm absolutely nothing without you. How much more do I have to say for you to understand?!”
“Simon Riley!” Mr. Riley called from the door. “If you don’t unlock this door this instant I will not hesitate to bust it open!”
“And I’m so sorry if I treated you like you were someone else.”
The hologram was in tears. “It’s the opposite, really,” he said. “I’m so happy you treated me like your friend. Like I wasn’t a hologram. I’m glad to be of service but not of a tool. It was enchanting to meet you. But we both know that I’ll be gone in a few minutes.”
Simon caught his breath. The near-city crowd was in the final countdown for the new year. “Zehn!” the cheers shouted. Ten.
“Riley, no-, Simon, you genius, oblivious, and kind human being, thank you. You’ve given me too much to feel,” the hologram said, barely audible. “Remember when I asked you before what it meant to be human?”
“Neun!”
The hologram looked up at him. “Of course,” Simon said in an equally hushed tone. “I didn’t even know the answer to that question.”
“Acht!”
Soap smiled, holding his orb. “You saw yourself as a monster, I know,” he traced Simon’s cheek.
“Sieben!”
“But everything you have ever done, the kind and the cruel, you did it for love. You raised yourself to the standards of your father for love. You became a better person with the help of John MacTavish for love. You created me for love. Love is who you are. Love is what it means to be human.”
“Sechs!”
“Knowing you has changed me more than you would ever know. Because when you cared, I cared. I cared about Mrs. Riley, about Price, about John MacTavish, about you. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me.”
“Fünf !”
“Why does this sound like goodbye?” Simon asked, tears rolling down.
“Vier!”
“Because it is. It’s love. Love is the answer,”
“Drei!”
A silent beat passed.
“Zwei!”
“You almost convinced me I’m real.”
“Eins! Frohes neues Jahr!”
Before Simon was able to do anything, the hologram smashed it to the ground. The ray of blue light flickered and Soap blew away from existence, only lasting in the memories of those who saw him. Simon shook his head, over and over, crushing the hologram’s weightless, fading form against him.
He laughed, sounding distant and far away until there was nothing left, just air, a fading wisp of blue smoke disappearing into the eternal night as bright fireworks lit up the sky.
“You’re real to me.”
* * *
Bump
Ba-bump
Ba-bump
Cl-ba-bump
Click
Click
nothing more
nothing more
They remembered touch.
He was a boy who wanted to save lives and serve kindness.
He was a boy with a dream; to create something world-changing and be nothing but perfect.
Both boys used to be an enemy, a rival, a friend, and a partner.
They were useless, helpless, all alone.
He was pride and ego, while he was laughter and smiles.
But what did it mean? What was the point? They didn't know.
There were wooden tables. Passing test papers. Studying in the library. Suits and ties. Gracious movements. Beating hearts.
And there were cardboard boxes. German dictionaries. Talking plants. Cheesy songs. Specialised gloves. Marble cake. Chocolate gelatos. Melodic violins. Burning hearts.
It never considered touch before. It had one thing to worry about: results.
Progress. Results. Success.
At first it thought why its creator was treating it like that. As if it was human, like him. As a hologram, it assumed that it was just a replacement for someone he’d lost. It would be a reasonable explanation of why anyone ordinary would make a copy of his deceased partner.
But Simon was not anyone.
Simon was not ordinary.
It started with something small, just a flicker, something they didn't understand. A brief touch, a shimmer of heat, a tremor in the fingertips. Buzzing anger. Fluttering happiness. Tingling sorrow. It didn't know what it was, but it knew it needed it, more than anything else. Simon smiling, Simon furrowing his brows, Simon sighing in relief, Simon examining his homework.
Simon, Simon, Simon.
It had thought its purpose was to guide its creator to perfection and success.
But if its creator was happy, then failure of service didn't matter. Success didn't matter. Only him. Only touch. But something was still missing.
What was it?
It had remembered the sound of quaking walls and roofs. The exact grooves of the hard cement floor he laid on. The vermillion blood splattered on his body. The hot tears he had tried to keep at bay while he smiled.
What was missing? What went missing? None of these memories belonged to it, but they were there regardless, and when Simon pulled away or couldn't be touched, the emptiness there threatened to tear its existence apart.
The work had to continue. It needed to keep feeling. It didn’t need to keep him more brilliant than he already was. It needed to keep him happy.
It realised its mistake too late.
It was one thing to exist, to speak, to guide him. It was another thing entirely to desire things of their own. It wanted, it desired. It was too late to stop. It couldn't stop.
Cardboard boxes and German dictionaries.
Its programming wasn't made for this. It wasn't built for this.
Talking plants and cheesy songs.
It couldn't feel like this.
Specialised gloves and marble cake.
Destiny had to pull it and its creator apart someday.
Chocolate gelatos and melodic violins.
Whatever was missing, it couldn’t last long inside a hologram.
Burning hearts.
I ҉lo̸ve͟ y͘o͞u.̷
Oh.
l ov e…
It was love.
l ov e
That's what was missing.
love love love
Love would kill him.
“Fünf! Vier!”
It’d come too far to go back now.
“Drei! Zwei!”
Maybe in another life.
“Eins!”
Simon couldn't smile if he was dead.
“You're real to me.”
It didn't want to go. It was afraid. The nothingness was vast and daunting. But if Simon would continue to smile…
…it would be enough.
At least the hologram had found its answer before it died.
* * *
So many things happened, and so quickly too. When Mr. Riley and his men in charge opened the door, they sent in firefighters. Mr. Riley was under the disguise of a caring father, pretentious that he wasn’t the one who risked his child’s life to destroy something that meant so much to him.
A blanket was draped over Simon’s head while he sat on his father’s car, and he kept his hand in his pocket to hide two things now purposeless but valuable to him that he was able to save in the fire; Soap’s crumpled piece of sheet music for his song and the hologram’s hard drive. It was impossible to make a new orb for Soap; all his blueprints were ingested by the fire and some parts he used were the last in the world.
Mr. Riley, fine sight he had, had stolen the hard drive away and stepped on it. Simon didn’t dare speak a word to the man throughout the ride.
The man dropped him off at the family house. Before Simon closed the car door, he said the last thing he’d probably say as his son.
“It’s never worth it,” he told him as he slammed the car door with an open window. “When you’re always perfect.”
* * *
Two years later…
Glossy marble floors and strings of ivy that hung from the walls accompanied the newly married couple of John and Nikolai Price both in a sharp suit.
And he couldn’t deny he was quaking when he discovered he would play a song for the two newly-weds. Price wanted him to sing and play the same song his hologram friend spent so much time writing and singing. The one Soap sang in the abandoned building and before New Year.
New Year…
“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit insensitive,” Price had said. “You don’t have to do it, but I just really love the song!”
“No, it’s fine,” Simon replied. “I’ll sing it. I still have his music sheets hidden somewhere. And I’ve moved on, anyways.”
And now here he was, sitting on a tall chair with a music stand, holding a yellowed music score.
Soap and the human John MacTavish have always been a constant in Simon’s heart: a consistent tremor of music underlining every song Simon has composed, every orchestra he has created. In every single memory of the last six years, both versions of his friend are there, either sitting in the background or smiling in the foreground. Even the moments he was absent from are filled with some distinct piece of him, like the cactus the hologram loved to talk to or the stray med school books on a cardboard box the human used to read.
Simon had played the song every Christmas to himself, and he performed well on his violin. His vocals weren’t the best, but it wasn’t bad either. The song went on smoothly, Price and Nik moving sideways to the tune of the song.
There was silence, and then…
“Wise men say,” It was unexpected, yet a most pleasant surprise when the boy with that sweetly stupid haircut and equally stupid iridescent blue eyes began to sing gently to the melody of the piece's second movement inside his head. “Only fools rush in.”
It was a song Simon knew very well and secretly held great liking to. “But I can't help falling in love with you.”
“Shall I stay?” His voice was like home. It felt safe, familiar. “Would it be a sin,” It reminded him of brighter days when the darkness faded into oblivion.
Cardboard boxes and German dictionaries.
“If I can't help falling in love with you?”
Talking plants and cheesy songs.
“Like a river flows,”
It reminded him of specialised gloves and marble cake.
“Surely to the sea,”
Chocolate gelatos and melodic violins.
“Darling, so it goes,”
Burning hearts.
“Some things aren’t meant to be…”
“Take my hand.” It reminded him of a smiling hologram and glitching hands. "Take my whole life too," Pale skin and awkward laughs. “because I,” Muttered words and warm embraces.
His voice put him in a trance, and that was all it took for him to realise.
Maybe he had misjudged his own feelings. “can't help,”
Ah, that must be it. “falling in,”
His heart skipped a beat. “love,”
It all makes sense now. “with you.”
He stopped singing. He stopped breathing. He just played the violin until the end and heard the claps and cheers as Price and Nik shared intimacy as the newlyweds.
Simon heard, but he didn’t listen.
He was too focused on a little scribble below the final notes, but it was something nonetheless. The hologram’s answer to his own question finally made sense. How ‘love is the answer.’
As the line read:
“For I can’t help falling in love with you,”
- your freund
thank you for those who stuck around this short, 15k word journey! every little notif is treasured dearly; thank you, thank you, thank you.
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slashmagpie · 2 years
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@favoure - for everything you did to me, to keep me alive this long // margaret atwood - it is dangerous to read newspapers // philippa gregory - the white queen // angela carter - unicorn // john trevaskis & robin hyman (ill. john seares riley) - the young readers press first dictionary // bears in trees - the sandbox one // mizra asadullah khan ghalib (tr. vijay seshardi) - no, i wasn't meant to love and be loved // dream - komaedalovemail // @in-study-hell - the cave (full draft 1) // adonis (tr. khaled mattawa) - singular in a plural form
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league-of-sam · 9 months
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Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley
Ghost x Reader
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
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Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).
Catching A Ghost: Masterlist
You didn't wait.
You should have, but you didn't.
Swiping a knife from your holster, you burst into the room as soon as the doors were blown.
You spotted Graves straight away, running like the coward he was across the balcony and through the doors.
With all the force you could muster, you launched the knife, smirking when it caught the back of his leg. His scream of pain is all you needed to hear to know you'd got him good.
"Got him. He's on the run." you said, before starting after him.
"Reaper don't- Fuck! Go go go!" Ghost commanded, desperate to get after you before you got yourself hurt.
You were already on the second deck by the time the others were in the room, taking out the Shadows as you moved across swiftly.
"He's fucking getting away!" you yelled as you ducked down behind a pillar to avoid shots.
"He won't go far...he'll dig in somewhere." Ghost said.
"Head for the control room, there's an exit out back." Rudy said.
You stood, moving out of your hiding place, "Moving in on the back room-"
"Reaper watch out!" 
You were cut off as a Shadow laying on the floor stood, shooting his gun at you.
Leaping up, you hung onto the pillar, swinging your legs around to thump into his chest, pushing him over the railing and down to the ground below. He landed with a sickening thud, but not before pressing down on the trigger to leave a trail of bullets in his wake.
As you landed, one hit you point blank. 
Your lungs imploded as the breath was knocked from you, and you fell to the ground.
"No!" Ghost yelled, running up the stairs to you.
"What? What's goin' on?" Price's voice came through, panicked.
Soap followed Ghost, just as worried, "Reaper was hit!"
The ringing in your ears drowned out the rest of the voices as you struggled to push yourself up. A blurry figure knelt down beside you, pulling your body across their lap.
"Ya good?" the voice said, muffled, "C'mon (Y/N) focus for me, that's it right here."
Your eyes darted around as you tried to scramble up, pushing on the person holding you.
"V-vest." you puffed out, breath shallow.
"What?"
You regained your focus, the ache in your chest searing, but you weren't dead.
Not yet.
"The vest, he hit my vest."
"Fuckin' hell, Reaper, don't do that to me." Ghost said, helping you to your feet.
Soap tapped your back, and you nodded to him, signalling you were fine.
"Bastard shot me! M'sorry, I'm good, I'm sorry."
You reeled off breathless apologies as Ghost looked you over, checking to see if you were okay to go on.
"(Y/N) do you copy? I swear to God-"
"John, I'm good, I'm fine. He hit the vest, and now he's the one not breathing."
"Atta girl, we saw Graves run out back, finish him."
You and Ghost looked at each other.
He pled with you in his gaze. He didn't want you to go after him, not after he'd just watched you go down thinking you'd been shot.
Thinking he'd lost you.
You offered him a silent apology before taking off, running outside.
He swore, but followed suit, Soap and Rudy hot on his tail.
"RPG! Shit!"
You watched, unable to do anything as the helo that Price was in burst into flame, barrelling towards the ground.
"John? John?! I'm coming!" you yelled, starting to walk towards the site of the crash.
"Don't! We're good, get after 'im, that's an order, Reaper."
"But Captain-"
"No, go! Fuckin' end this, (Y/N)."
Rudy tugged on your arm, pulling you toward the wall. He and Soap boosted up, sitting on the top as they held their hands out.
"Ghost, you coming?" Soap asked, holding his hand out.
"No, Price and the pilot need help. You lot finish this." he replied.
You thanked him, and he nodded, hands locking on your hips to lift you up, where Soap pulled you the rest of the way.
You dropped down, squatting behind a barricade while you waited for the others.
Ghost watched you disappear, his heart still hammering in his chest from seeing you go down.
You had completely and utterly wormed your way into his cold heart, heating him from the inside, and he would do anything to make sure you stayed right where he wanted you.
Where he needed you.
"Keep 'er alive, Johnny." Ghost said to Soap once he was sure you weren't listening. "Don't let her do anythin' she'll regret."
"Affirmative, L.T." 
The rumble of heavy artillery and crumbling cement brought the others down to join you, as rolling quickly around the buildings was a tank, driven by Graves.
"This motherfucker!" you said, reloading your gun, "only he would bring a tank to a gun fight, fuckin' prick."
"Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?" Graves' voice invaded your comms, making you grimace. "Ain't that a kick in the ass?"
"Everyone look around for anything we can use to blow up that tank!" Rudy yelled.
You and Soap took off, clearing the battered buildings of the stray Shadow soldiers as you went. 
"You and your Mexican friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish."
"Come on out and let's talk about it." Soap bit back.
"You think this is a fuckin' game out here? You wanna play war? Let's play some fuckin' war, chicos!"
"Go fuck yourself, Graves." you said, shooting down another soldier.
"There's my girl, come to get me huh? Finish the job you failed to do just now? I told you that you weren't good enough, and missing me with your knife just proved it."
"I am fucking good enough."
"Yeah? Prove it. Come get me."
You growled, rummaging through old containers until you came across a bundle of C4.
"That'll fucking do it." you said to yourself.
Linking up with Soap again, you tossed him the bomb, knowing he'd know exactly what to do with it.
"Should'a gone home when you had the chance Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform."
"You wore that uniform."
You shook your head in disgust, shooting bullets at the tank from your position, "You had to make your own little army because you couldn't hack it in the real one."
"Ha, that's almost funny, coming from you. Too bad you're gonna die for it."
At that moment, Graves shot at you, the building you were in crumbling around you.
Covering your head, you dived down as debris spat, dusting your head and clothes.
"You mother fucker."
"Where's your Ghost now, baby? Not here to save you, that's for sure."
"I don't need saving."
"Could'a fooled me. You know, I was willing to forgive you back at the prison. But now, well now I'm just gonna have to kill you too. Which is a damn shame. You'd have made such a nice little wife for me."
"I'd have never been the wife you wanted, and you know it. That's why you fucked around, getting your dick wet in anything that moved."
"Is that so?"
"You wanted me to be a perfect little wife, waiting for you to get home, cook your meals. Well that isn't me, Phillip. It never has been."
"We could have been happy, if only your team had stayed out of my business."
Tears blurred your vision.
You couldn't help it.
Everything in your life seemed so good, so perfect, despite the job.
Now, you're fighting for your life, trying to kill a man you were about to marry.
Fucked up.
"Don't listen to him, lieutenant. Don't let him in your head." Soap's voice called to you.
"Oh, Johnny...don't you get it yet? I'll always be in her head, because she knows she belongs to me."
You snarled, pushing yourself up from your spot, walking toward the tank while Soap snuck around back, planting the last bit of C4 on back of the tank.
"Ah, there you are, gorgeous."
"If I belong to you, then come and claim me." you said, tossing your guns to the floor and holding your hands up.
"That's more fuckin' like it."
You flicked out your comms, silencing the yells of your team, all of which had heard the exchange. Soap caught your eye, looking absolutely terrified. With two fingers, you crossed them, signalling to trust you.
Graves hopped out of the tank, climbing down the side and landing in front with a thud.
"I've missed you, baby girl. I knew you'd come back to me."
"I will, if you let my team go."
"Done and done."
As he stepped forward to approach you, you nodded, and Soap blew the bomb.
The tank erupted into flame, and you had to drop to the floor, shielding yourself from the ball of heat that flew in your direction.
Graves let out a yell, being propelled forward.
As he tried to shuffle up, you tossed a knife, hitting him in the groin.
Got him.
With Soap coming up behind, you grabbed Graves, dragging him into one of the buildings and binding him to a post.
"Now who belongs to who?" you said.
The look in your eye sent Graves' heart beating, and his fear skyrocket. He'd only seen that look one other time.
Soap, Rudy, and everyone else on the team had only seen that look one other time.
The Reaper had arrived.
And she wasn't leaving any survivors.
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for1010101010 · 2 years
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THE YOUNG READERS PRESS FIRST DICTIONARY (1967) by John Trevaskis and Robin Hyman. Illustrations by John Seares Riley.
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legaciestold · 4 months
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@myersbprd continued from x
emotions are a maelstrom, mind and body uncertain of everything around her and the memories of how she was killed still upon the surface of her mind, still fresh for she had only just been torn back into the world of the living from a hellish place. specific memories of where she had been alluded her, but the feeling of the place remained seared into the fabric of her flesh. she had been murdered horrifically, offered up to some demonic force by people she had believed to be friends. and then to suddenly find one’s self trapped within a coffin, scared and confused and trying to claw your way out.. pulled from these thoughts she is when john takes her hand which still carries the marks of her scratching upon the lining of the coffin. she hasn’t seen herself in a mirror yet, is almost scared to, so she’s still unaware that her hair has turned ghostly white.
it’s all well and truly horrific.
somehow, though riley had come to discover what her father’s true job was shortly before she died, she had never believed that world would touch her. after all, her father-- or rather their lack of really engaging with each other as tensions always seemed to run high with them-- had kept her away from anything to do with the bprd. she’d believed he was merely an fbi agent for the majority of her life. it wasn’t until she’d met john and truly gotten to know him, spent a considerable amount of time with him and discovered that he was a vampire, that her world had expanded. yet even then, she had carried on with her normal life, dancing through her life. until it had been ripped away from her.
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riley lets him adjust their stance, the shock blanket she’d been wrapped in falling to the ground. it takes a moment for her to force her gaze away from her grave and move back up toward him though she doesn’t let go of his hand, it’s a lifeline of sorts. it takes another moment for her to comprehend his words. he wants to use one of his powers on her. he can take the fear away. cover it with something else. a strong part of her is immediately tempted to let him. she isn’t sure she’s strong enough to endure this, whatever it was that she was meant to be now. she didn’t feel like herself, not completely, not anymore. and that scares her more than anything ever has. and yet, the fear that consumes her is also something that lets her know she’s alive. that she’s real. that this, standing here with him is really happening. she’d been murdered and yet here she stood, meant to be alive. “i don’t want to be scared but i also-- i’m scared not to be scared.” she’s scared to not feel alive. “i’m sorry, that probably doesn’t make sense.”
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las-microfisuras · 2 years
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The Young Readers First Dictionary, 1973.
Ilustraciones de John Seares Riley.
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nobrashfestivity · 5 years
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John Seares Riley, from The Young Readers Press First Dictionary by John Trevaskis & Robin Hyman,  
Young Readers Press, NY, 1967 (1973)
source
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