#missed being evac | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfern · 8 months

Note

Heyyy, I'm literally in love with your work and how you write Graves, so it would be amazing if you'd do him again. Honestly any scenario would be AMAZIIING

Anonymous asked: hope im not to late for requests but the noisy graves thing kinda enlightend me. instead of overstimulating him imagine edging him in kind of a risky place (a closet or shared bed/bathroom idfk lmao) and when he gets to loud after being told not to several times you simply take care of the problem by grabbing him by the hair and pushing him between your legs and caging him in with your thighs or simply just sitting on his face while he desperately tries to fuck the air😎

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Dreams

Commander Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac]

[18+]

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• summary - your commander can't get enough of the new recruit. you're the new recruit lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.5k • warnings - fem!reader, switch!reader and switch!graves, power imbalance? he's your superior so yeah i guess so, handjobs, oral [m!receiving], unprotected piv, praise, degradation kinda, semi-public sex?, oral [f!receiving- from the front and the backkkkkkk lmao], strong language

graves brainrot going wild rn sorry to any grave-antis in my followers

actually i'm not sorry this man is so boyfriend

apart from the fact that yk he's a traitor but i close my eyes and he's so boyfriend

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When your Commander called you into his office late one night, you expected you were going to be disciplined for something you did. You probably missed a target somehow, or you got distracted with a couple of the other shadows and missed a briefing. You couldn't really remember, but you do remember feeling anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach as you walked towards his office.

But, he wasn't mad at you, or intending to discipline you in the slightest. It was the complete opposite, actually.

You had always had a feeling your Commander favoured you over his other Shadows– lingering looks, gentle touches, whispered affirmations. He tended to guide you a bit more than the other Shadows, and always made sure you were the first in the chopper or plane during evac.

You thought it was because you were new. Maybe. But clearly, it was a lot more than that.

Evident by the way Graves had a hand to the back of your head, pushing your mouth further down onto his cock, throaty moans falling past his lips, blue eyes settled on your face. He watched you take more of him, inching your lips closer to the base, the tight heat of your mouth drawing more moans from him.

He had imagined you like this since the moment you joined the Shadow Company– god, you looked so pretty on your knees, so pretty with your lips wrapped around the girth of his cock, so pretty gagging around him as his tip skimmed the back of your throat.

Graves guided you gently, just like he did on missions, applying a light pressure to the back of your head and moving you closer. He pet your hair with his other hand, muttering between moans about how good you looked and how pretty you were. It made your cunt flutter within your underwear, which were slick against you.

He was so close, cock twitching inside the warmth of your mouth. You could feel him, taste the pre-cum coating your tongue. You hummed around him, and his eyes rolled, hips bucking and forcing the head of his cock against the back of your throat again. You gagged, a string of saliva escaping the corner of your stretched mouth, and Graves moaned your name.

"So close, baby..." He whispered, high off the feeling. His eyes fluttered closed as his climax loomed, and just as he felt it begin to crest, you pulled away from him with a pop of your lips.

Graves let out a guttural groan, bucking his hips. The reddened tip of his cock smeared over your closed lips as you smiled up at him, before you were grabbing his cock and pumping him. You squeezed him around the base, twisted near the tip, and watched as bead after bead of pre-cum dribbled from his slit.

The build-up of his orgasm flared again, and pleasure coursed through his veins as he focussed on the feel of your hand against him. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, watching the movement of your hand, then watching the expression on your face.

"Didn't think you'd be this noisy, Commander." You mused, pumping him faster, wet clicks sounding throughout the office.

Graves responded with a moan, his lips falling apart as he watched you stroke his cock. You placed another chaste kiss to the tip while you worked him with your hand, and his hips chased the contact when you pulled away. He let out a growled fuck.

You tutted. "You have to be quieter than that, sir. You wouldn't want one of your Shadows walking in here, would you?"

Graves choked on a groan. You raised your eyebrows at him, intrigued.

"Oh, you would like that?" You teased, stopping the movement of your hand. Graves gasped out, his cock throbbing heavily in your hand. He could feel his orgasm trickling away again and it made him let out an annoyed whine. You laughed. "You want one of your Shadows to find you like this? Getting jerked off by the new recruit? Acting like a cheap slut desperate for some pussy, aren't you, Commander?

"Oh, fuck–" He moaned quietly. "Don't t-talk to me like tha-ah-at. I'm your Comman– oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my god–"

You slowly started stroking him again, and he was immediately babbling under his breath.

"You wanna come? You have to be quiet." You told him, before wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock while continuing to pump him. He whimpered quietly, holding onto your head, more for support than to guide you. He released muted hisses and deep groans trapped in his throat. You were making him feel so good.

He couldn't help getting louder.

His hisses and groans turned to moans and loud whines as he got closer and closer to orgasm, his head growing dizzy. He could smell your perfume and it was driving him insane.

"Come on, baby, come on–" He moaned loudly, and you couldn't help but sigh as you pulled your mouth and hand away from him and sat up. He let out a loud, desperate plea through a groan, chest heaving as you ran your hand up his abs.

"No, no, baby, m'so– fuck, m'so close–"

"I told you to be quiet, Graves," you said, situating yourself on the edge of his desk. Through glossy eyes, he looked over at you, and his face lit up when you dragged your underwear down your legs and spread them. "So if you're not going to be quiet, I guess I'll have to put your mouth to better use."

You paused, then smiled. "On your knees."

Graves dropped to his knees and shuffled towards you, wrapping his hands around the flesh of your thighs, squeezing and pinching lightly. You grabbed the back of his head, and pushed his face towards your dripping core. He responded with a grateful moan before his mouth was sealing over your clit, and his tongue was moving against it.

You bit your lip to stifle the moans threatening to escape. He worked his tongue against you, warm and rigid, gliding between your folds and circling around and over your clit. You felt him move in a particular pattern, and it took you little over a second to realise what he was doing. He was spelling his name against your clit.

You gripped at his hair, and he groaned into your cunt, muffled.

Between the spelling of Phillip and Graves, he slipped his tongue into your wet hole, licking up the arousal that had pooled while you had sucked him off. He moaned happily, eyes closing as your thighs clamped around him. His cock, hard and leaking painfully against his abdomen, twitched as he swallowed the taste of you. He rutted into the air in time with the thrusts of his tongue. Then, he was dragging the flat of his tongue back up your folds, before spelling Graves across your swollen clit.

Cocky son of a bitch, you thought as your orgasm trembled within you, making your legs clamp heavier around his him. Not that your Commander minded, anyway, considering he moaned desperately each time your leg muscles flexed around his head.

"M'gonna come," you whispered, keeping him trapped between your legs. "Open your mouth and take it all, Commander, go on–"

He did as he was told with a content hum, trailing his tongue back down your folds before circling your dripping hole. Graves licked inside slowly as you came around his tongue, your back arching and eyes rolling. Your orgasm hit you like a train as he fucked you through it, tongue lapping up as much he could, the rest dribbling down his chin. You released your thighs from around him, but he didn't move.

Graves continued to lick into your sopping cunt, moaning quietly to himself as he did so. You let out a breathy moan, your grip tightening in his blond locks. The feeling made him groan, and he finally detached from you with a furrow in his brows, his entire lower face slick with his saliva and your arousal.

"Still desperate for it, are you?" You smiled down at him, before he was getting to his feet and closing the distance.

He slammed his mouth to yours, invading yours with his tongue. You tasted yourself as he licked into your mouth, teeth clashing as he pulled you closer to him with his hands to the small of your back. He ground you down onto his throbbing cock, your slick cunt sliding against him, making him groan into your mouth. The head of his cock, glistening with pre-cum and saliva, dragged between your folds, spreading your arousal against you. You mewled out as, with one last swipe of his tongue against yours, he pulled away.

"S'enough of that," he grumbled, his eyes flickering away from a submissive kind of desperate to a, well, Commander kind of desperate. "Turn around."

You did as you were told with a smile, locking eyes with him the entire time you hopped off the desk and proceeded to bend over it, peering at him over you shoulder. He grunted, slotting his hips to your arse, rubbing his cock lightly against your entrance. He grabbed a handful of your arse with his free hand and kneaded the flesh. He let go, and brought his hand back down with a solid smack.

It was loud, and made your body flare hot.

You went to moan, but you were cut off as Graves thrusted into you in one heavy movement, pulling the air from your chest and making you choke on your pleasured gasp. You could only breath out shakily as he withdrew his cock and then pushed into you again. He grabbed your hips, fucking you back onto him, the sound of skin on skin echoing through his office.

"You had your fun, didn't you, baby?" He asked, bringing one hand down to knead the flesh of your arse. You braced for another smack, but it didn't come. Yet.

You nodded, whimpering. "Yeah–"

Graves brought his hand down onto your arse cheek hard again, and this time, you released a moan of his name. He chuckled behind you, soothing your stinging flesh with his fingers.

"Yeah, you had fun teasing me?" He mused, slamming his fat cock into you, pushing you further and further against the desk. You moaned in response, and he chuckled darkly again. "I could tell, baby. This pussy was fucking soaked for me. Absolutely fucking soaked."

Both of Graves' hands found your hips again and fucked you back onto him. He curled some of his body over you, and you could feel his solid warmth over your back. You soon felt his lips at the curve of your neck, tongue swiping over your bra strap.

"God, such a tight pussy, sucking me in so good, baby," he whispered in your ear, hips rocking against your arse, cock heavy inside you. "Been thinking of this since you arrived, you know that? Been wanting to feel you n' taste you since you first reported to me."

You moaned, cheek pressed against the cold desk, arms scrambling to keep you grounded against the sleek wood.

"Good girl, you like that? You like your Commander thinking about this pretty, wet cunt?" Graves teased, and you moaned again. He placed kisses along your shoulder, and then up your neck, before skimming his lips along the shell of your ear. "Tha's right, baby. I came all over my sheets thinking about this pussy. Made such a mess thinkin' about you."

His accent was growing stronger. You were panting against the desk, whispers of his name and rank falling past your lips as he rutted into you. The tip of his cock hit that spot inside you every time, and you wondered why you didn't let him fuck you sooner.

He groaned in your ear, the sound made you throb around him.

"M'so close, baby. Want you to come 'round me. You can do that, can't you?"

You nodded against the desk because you were so close too– your orgasm building tight in your abdomen, your legs trembling, knees knocking against the front of the desk. You let out a string of whines and whimpers, your clit throbbing.

"Come for me," Graves whispered as his thrusts gradually became more desperate. "Come for me like a good girl. Want to feel this pretty cunt squeeze 'round me, baby."

With one last heavy thrust of his cock to that spongey spot inside you, you came around him.

"Commander." You mewled as you clenched, milking his cock as your orgasm rattled through you. Your cunt leaked around him, arousal squelching loudly, wetness running down the insides of your thighs where he spread you open.

Graves moaned, rutting into you, chasing his high. You were so wet around him, so warm and tight. He screwed his eyes shut, leaning back so he could drive deeper into you, clutching at your hips and squeezing the soft flesh. He let out a moan of your name, followed by deep grunts amongst his laboured breaths.

He groaned again. "You gonna let me come inside, baby? You gonna let me fill this pretty pussy?"

You couldn't respond, brain turning to mush. You whimpered at him, hoping he could see you trying to nod.

"Yeah, tha's it, take it, fucking take what I give you," he whispered. "Take my cock... tha's it, baby, good girl."

He came inside you, filling you with a moan of your name. He thrusted further, stuffing you full, making you whine out at him to slow down. He did, lazily rutting his cock in and out, some of his seed dropping down your thighs, making you shiver. He pulled out, then pushed you further up the desk until your feet were barely touching the ground.

He crouched behind you, and you mewled as you felt him spread your folds with his middle finger and forefinger, revealing your fluttering hole, leaking with the heady mixture of both your cum. You heard him groan, before you felt his tongue swipe against you, pushing into your cunt and curling.

You caught a loud moan in your throat. "Graves, what–"

He licked his spend from you, also pushing more in with each thrust of his tongue. His face against the curve of your arse, he grumbled against your soft skin, and your body was quick to grow hot again. He spent a good minute or so behind you, groping your arse cheeks, rubbing your thighs, before standing back up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He gently turned you around and wrapped his arms around you, sinking the both of you to the floor in front of his desk.

Graves placed a kiss to your temple. "Y'alright, doll?"

You hummed tiredly. "Mhm."

He chuckled quietly, placing another kiss to the top of your head. "You want to sleep?"

"Mhm."

"Come on, I'll take you back to my room."

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here’s a gif of warren just cause he’s so fine

AHHHH

that is all

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #phillip graves #graves cod #graves smut #graves call of duty #graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #cod #captain'sfleetwood #cod smut

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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i'm with you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader an: can be read as a standalone, but does nicely accompany 'keep you close'. alludes to 18+ content, more angst, feelings, and emotions. usual, jo shit. summary: he knows how he feels, he knows how she feels. yet he fucks it up all the same. word count: 3.7k

simon 'ghost' riley masterlist

It’s a shithole.

The safe house is barely standing. It’s a teetering, broken mess which is almost blending with trees.

“It’s a safe shit hole. We’ll get evac to you at sunlight.”

That’s all Price had said before silence met Ghost’s ears. His tone sympathetic, but stern. The reminder of his words when they left base still swirling around some distant space in his mind: Sort it, Simon. Or I will.

Not that he had a fucking clue how to.

The damage is seemingly already done. He’s aware it’s his fault. He’s aware he’s a being a fucking cunt and that he’s fucking things up.

In his defence, he’s not entirely sure how to be anything but.

He’s stoic and distant. It’s who he is. With or without the mask.

He’s let few in, few past the many walls and layers he’s built over the years. It frightened him he’d wanted to tear them all down when he realised that she fit perfectly between the crook of his arm and chest.

“I’ll scope it out,” Mouse says, walking away from him before he can protest.

His eyes watch her form, running his tongue over the front of his teeth as he reminds himself to unclench his fists. He preferred her talking his ear off. He misses her telling him useless facts about nothing and anything.

Fuck, he just misses her.

He misses how it was before he made her sleep in his bed, before he handed her the fuckin’ scrunchie and kissed her. He misses how he didn’t feel conflicted before he’d felt how soft her thighs were, how delicious she tasted and how sinfully poetic her moaning his name was.

“Sir.”

He’s thankful the mask is covering his fucking face as he smirks instantly. She likely knows it, just from the way she’s stood, all cocky like she’s got the fucking keys to the castle. But, as he reaches the door, he sees that same stern look—the one blended with ice and fire simultaneously, like a flamin’ tequila shot which’ll burn him from the inside out.

He’d suspected the safe house would be worse on the inside.

As bad as he suspected it to be, he didn’t expect the electricity to be out. He didn’t expect the leak in the cupboard he supposed was a bedroom, and for it to be directly above the moth-infected mattress and poorly-made metal-frame bed.

Not that he’d sleep.

He highly suspects she isn’t about to either.

In another moment, he’s sure she’d be making light of the situation. Likely flirting, something she used to do more of before she was taken from him. When her heart was lighter, her fears never realised.

I’ll let you be the big spoon, Simon.

He conjures her voice with such ease he has to look around to check she hasn’t actually spoken. No. She’s still ignoring him, in her own personal hell-ish way, where she manages to both acknowledge and ignore him all at once. A skill he thought he was alone in mastering.

He doesn’t comment when Mouse drags a chair to the door, hooking the back of it under the handle. He wants to comment that the chair will do fuck all to stop us being killed. That one measly push, and it's likely the whole fucking cabin will come down.

But, he doesn’t.

Quickly suspecting the act makes her feel better. Noticing the slight tremble to her fingers, the way she keeps trying to busy herself, looking from window to window, door to ceiling. He tries not to look, to make things worse—not that he’s sure he can—however, the sound of her helmet unclipping makes his neck snap. Watching her ungloved fingers hook it onto the chair. Those same fingers that stroked his arm when she lay on his chest, the same ones he clutched between his when he knew her dreams had taken her.

Then, all he saw was her back.

Her frame looking smaller than she has done since the day in the med bay.

He studies her a lot. More than he’ll ever admit.

Whenever his eyes aren’t on what is needed, he allows them to find her. Seeking her out, like he is now. All eyes tracing her back, wondering if he can find the places he’d bruised when he filled her and stole her gasp. When he’d slowly rocked inside of her, gripping her sides as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Then he sees it: the damn scrunchie.

He both loathes it and misses it.

Having wished he’d never returned it, even if it meant he gained the memory of her lips on his. When she’d been full of desperation and need, fingers so soft against his stubbly, rugged skin.

The trade had been worth it, even if it had changed everything.

Even if he’d awoken feeling lighter than he had in a long-time, almost content. He’d let his eyes roll over her features, capturing them all to mind until she’d stirred and he’d half-pretended to do the same. Knowing, deep down, the moment had to end—that things wouldn’t, and couldn’t, be the same.

How could they be? His heart beat too quickly when she was around, his stomach almost bruised from how it fell to his feet whenever he thought she’d been hurt. He couldn’t control himself, barely think, barely functioned when she wasn’t in plain view.

It would ruin something, a mission, a stakeout. Something.

Because she’d gotten under his skin.

Mouse had scurried herself into another place she shouldn’t have, even if he’d been the one to let her in. Practically throw open the doors and be damned with the walls.

When he thought about it, it made no sense. Not the feelings which simmered, bubbled and exploded within him, not the way everything seemed to brighten when her eyes landed on him. Not that fact that he had needed her to sleep, he had needed her to rest—not as her lieutenant, but as something else entirely.

Now, she’s purposefully keeping her distance. Her hand rubbing her side, her foot kicking open cupboard doors, stepping back in case something which wasn’t welcome comes out.

“You hurt?”

Silence. But her body freezes, tenses. Slowly, in time, her head shakes, her eyes unwilling to look over her shoulder to him. Even if he’s pleading internally for her to do so.

“Words, Mouse.”

She huffs, shooting him a glare over her shoulder. “No, sir.”

He expects it—the tone. Almost braced for it.

Ghost doesn’t expect the pacing which follows, the way she switches from silently moving around the cabin to needing to move more purposefully.

Three steps forward, three back.

Once he’d been sure no one had followed, he began the fire.

He found blankets, not bad ones, considering the rest of the place.

There even more important since the warmth from the flames barely touches all of the corners of the room, his back against the dusty armchair he refuses to sit in as he watches her continue to pace.

She had paused for a brief moment, having searched the decrepit kitchen until she found beans, handing him a can and a half-rusting fork and began pacing once again. Her teeth nip at her bottom lip, her eyes unfocused on anything but where she moves them for a step.

He’s not sure what it means.

Half-wishing Johnny was here to translate. He understands her, has been let in too. Not in the same way—never in the fucking same way. But, he’d be able to answer, even tell him the reasons she chose shapes over lines.

Occasionally, she stabs her beans with the fork—the only other sound than the cracking of the fire and her boots.

He won’t admit it, but he likes the sounds of her boots on the safe house floor. How it echoes through the shit wooden walls and across the shit wooden floor. It’s as close to communicating with him as she’s gotten since the team had split up, and she’d no longer felt it necessary to respond through radio. He’d have been content to listen to it for longer, but watching her in the corner of his eyes was beginning to make him dizzy.

“Mouse. Sit down.”

Mouse pauses, not lifting her eyes. Seemingly thinking, deciding. Knowing her, she’s weighing up whether it’s worth ignoring his demand or not. Eventually, moving to the fire, sitting down, glaring into her own tin can.

And it’s tense.

Her silent treatment is more palpable now she’s sat in front of him, all red-nosed and anger-filled eyes.

“You cold?”

“No.”

He lowers his chin, purposefully ensuring his voice isn’t as sharp, as bruttish as it has been. “Mouse. Are you cold?”

The look she gives him wounds him. It’s all pitiful, pleading and mixed with tight lips. One which screams for him to let it go.

It’s worsened by the fact he can tell she’s holding back everything inside of her, not wanting a single shiver to show, a whimper or displeased groan at how she couldn’t warm herself.

“Yes, Simon. I’m fucking cold.”

Something both curls and unfurls in him at once at the sound of his name.

The way she spits his name stains the air, making it buzz around him. It punctures and breathes life into the tension, making it double, triple. It’s stifling, mixing with burning wood and damp as he grits his jaw.

“Come here.”

“So you can avoid me again?”

There it is.

Her words were even accompanied by his least favourite expression: the angered glare.

“I said—“

She groans, loud, purposeful. Slightly edging forward along the dusty floor, shooting him a glare which he supposes should mean “happy, now?”—but he’s not fucking happy, not even close to it.

He weighs up his options, considering both the fallout and the payoff before he grabs her ankle and pulls. He’s surprised at the lack of resistance, her body sliding with ease across the short distance until she is closer, almost entirely between his legs.

“Fuck sake…” she whispers, deep under her breath.

Rolling her head on her neck, letting her eyes land on the fire and her grip remain iron-like on the can.

“You gonna ignore me all night?”

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, placing the can down on the floor as he stares at the fire too. He watches them dance, the flames. Almost losing himself in it before he hears her can be placed down too.

Heavier, more filled than his.

A swirl of worry rose in him, wrapping itself around important organs and sensibility as she let her face turn, letting him see her.

“I hate beans.”

“Course you do,” he replies, studying her.

He lets his eyes fall over her, from her bent knees to her face, back down to her boots pressed against the floor.

If he could, he’d leave this place and find her something. Bring her back greasy food, and a milkshake. Hell, he’d even find her a plate of curry and rice from that place she always talks about near her home.

Not realising until now his hand is still on her ankle, something she’s too becoming aware of as she wiggles it—attempting to free herself from him.

“Why are you doing this?” Why did you let me in, to freeze me out, Simon.

The words, both said and unsaid, dance to him, all broken and sad as soon as they leave her lips.

I don’t know.

That’s the honest answer. He’s not sure why he let her leave that morning without explaining what he was thinking. He’s not sure why he just stared when she asked him a question—a simple, normal fucking question. Ghost isn’t even about a lot right now, other than he misses her.

And she must sense it, the shift.

She must understand him, and see his thoughts all of a sudden as if they were being painted onto the walls.

Because truthfully, he feels better when she’s close and feels almost whole. He could almost let himself imagine watching mundane television with her, doing a food shop at a supermarket with too many choices. He can also imagine ruining her over and over again. Desperately needing her fingers to snake through his hair as he takes her apart with just his tongue. Never wanting another mouth to wrap around his cock ever again, finding her the most terrifyingly intoxicating thing he’s ever met in his entire life.

Her arms push her up, quickly distancing herself from him.

“Mouse…”

Shaking her head, taking strides to the pathetic kitchen as his chest tightens, knowing he should move; it feels harder to breathe as he watches her, especially when she leans over the poorly made counter—back to him.

Don’t leave.

Don’t leave me.

The same words which he thought of when she’d fallen asleep against him, her ear close to his heart. Not wanting her, and yet wanting every single part of her all at once in some confusing turn of events.

Because he’d never banked on her agreeing to come back with him.

Not even just to sleep.

He’d not planned or expected to hand her the scrunchie, and her kiss him. He hadn’t banked on it being the key to unlocking everything he’s been carefully stuffing down inside of him, desperately trying to lock it all away so he doesn’t ruin things, so he doesn’t change things.

She turns, all so suddenly.

Again, as though hearing him, and the look she gives him—fuck, it would have floored him if he wasn’t already sat down. It knocks the wind from his sails, the cockiness from his confidence. He almost feels stripped back, no mask, no uniform.

And, it commands him to stand up.

An order that he gladly answers as her eyes scream, now or never, Simon. Last fucking chance.

He stands, striding, closing the gap in half the steps it had taken her—stopping just short of her. Allowing her one more moment to glare at him, to inject her eyes into his skin, to feel anger, to feel hate towards him before he makes sure he takes every last bit of it away.

If she was brave enough to ask, he’d tell her his favourite part of her is her eyes.

Not the thighs she thinks he adores, not the smile he finds lights a room.

Right now, he’s got a front-row seat to watching them thaw. Slowly, bit by bit, waiting until the right time before he swallows, hand hovering over her jaw.

It’s hard not to struggle for breath when he stares into them when he loses himself in the shades that make up her eyes. The thousands of mini-expressions they show, let him in, just enough to read her.

He half wishes the wind was howling or the house creeks. Because Mouse doesn’t speak, the silence is so thick he’s adamant she can hear how quickly his heart is beating. As though she thinks the entire moment is fragile, and at risk of shattering.

Ghost knows why that is. He let her think that.

He’d let it be that way.

He’d acted coldly, filling her mind with thoughts of him regretting it. But he didn’t. If anything, he felt as though he’d been resuscitated, while not knowing he’d been dead. That in one night she’d ruined him, and all she did was count sheep.

“Lift my mask.”

His words leave his lips softly, less gruff than he’s used to speaking. He’s sure it’s the reason she holds his stare for a beat, likely focusing on every expression dancing in his eyes.

Mouse had told him, in her half-lucid, sleep-filled way, he said more with his eyes than he thought. Those words had swirled around his mind all night and ever since. Always wondering if they’re doing it, just like he is right now.

He hopes they are. Hopes she can see how much he needs her to lift the mask, how much he needs her to do so he knows he can kiss her. Because words are not his strength, but action is.

How can he make her forgive him if he can’t kiss his apologies into her lips, into her skin? He’d get onto his knees for her, if needed, but he needs her to lift his mask first. Silently commanding her to do so as her hands slightly shake, moving tentatively to the fabric at his neck.

But she does lift it.

Fingers lightly pulling it free from his neck, the fabric pulling at the tiny hairs and over his stubble. A cold finger and thumb slide either side, brushing his skin, leaving scorch marks he hopes burn forever as he watches her eyes.

Showing her he’s okay with it, all of it. If he could get the words out, he’d tell her as much. That the first day when she didn’t cower from him, when she stared him straight in the eyes, nodded and called him sir, he’d been fucked. When she was taken, stolen from him, he’d almost lost it—a gnawing inside of him which only stifled when he knew she was back safe.

He doesn’t think she’ll ever understand the effect on him, likely never believing him.

The cold, six-foot-something soldier who has more hidden and confidential in his file than information has fallen.

Fallen so far he doesn’t care he’s without any means of being saved, if she decides to not catch him.

She’d never understand it, the effect she had on him. Likely suspecting he’s not capable of it, just because he’s silent, because he’s practical. But he feels, just not on the surface. And sometimes, that’s a bigger burden to carry.

Nails drag over his stubble, the fabric lifting, rolling over the hair at the back of his neck. It almost makes him shudder—catching the scent of the sweat on her body mixing with her shampoo. A scent he can’t rid from his pillow, not that he wants to.

It’s only as the mask clears his nostrils does he realise how much he loathes this place, hates the smell of it and the sight of it. But it’s a small blessing. A quietness in the middle of nothingness where this moment can exist.

And then her fingers stop, letting the mask sit just above the base of his nose, resting on the bridge.

“Lift the mask.”

She swallows. Her eyes flicking down before meeting his, sliding it up the last bit—freeing the skin around his eyes and his forehead. The cool air dancing over perspiration.

It’s intimate, so much so that he’s not sure if Mouse knows she’s holding her breath as he cups her jaw and cheek. He makes his touch feathery, and gentle. Soft and slow as he slowly tilts her head up, watching her eyes focus on him as she allows her arms to fall back to her sides. It’s cautious all of it. Not his or her usual quick, determined, and efficient movements.

He wonders if Mouse can tell his cheeks are on fire, whether she knows his stomach is doing flips as he strokes her cheek.

And then she sighs. “It’s because you’re my lieutenant.”

His mind silences.

Empties.

Her eyebrows rise, waiting before she smirks. “Words, sir.”

“Yes.”

Because he is her lieutenant. Her superior.

It’s fraternisation. Prohibited. Even if Price isn’t fucking bothered, even if Soap told him to find her. Some part of him knows it's more than wrong—knows it can put her at risk, from others, from higher-ups… from enemies.

And then he feels it.

Her catching him.

Small hands on his waist, holding him tightly. His free hand moving up to the back of her head, fingers sliding over her neck, up her hair, before he pulls, feeling bobbled silk-covered ghosts.

“Mouse…”

She stiffens as if waiting for him to move, but he doesn’t. Not this time. Not now.

Even if he should. Even if it would make sense too.

Instead, his lips descend until they find hers gently, almost experimentally—fearful she’ll pull away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, holding him more firmly, more determined at his waist. He feels her pull, tug at him to move closer, as his tongue presses against her lips before things turn more desperate, hungry, and needy.

She makes the blood rush through his veins and silences his heartbeat from his ears. That’s when his apologies really begin—when they begin searing themselves against her lips, then her jaw, and then her neck.

His hand clutches the scrunchie to her lower spine, keeping her flush to him, showing in all the ways he can that this is what he wants. Not distance, not space or avoidance—as much as his behaviour has said otherwise.

Ghost slides his hand down and around her thighs until he lifts her onto the counter—the one which groans at the intrusion of someone who dares use it for something other than letting it sit there—nudging her thighs apart, sliding as comfortably as he can between them as he grips her waist, feels her skin on his.

He doesn’t mind that their lips part, her breaths mingling with his. He gets to watch her eyes, all wild and full of something he can’t describe.

He lets her hand brush over his cheek, smudging the black from around his eyes into her nails, and he whispers her name—so careful with it, like it’s something he could break.

“Do that ever again—” Don’t ever hurt me.

“Never.” I couldn’t. I’m sorry.

She waits for a beat, before nodding.

He wants to lift her, move her somewhere more comfortable, although he’s not sure where that’ll be. The floor is their best bet, he could pull her flush against him all night, turn her legs to jelly, and let his palm slide down her stomach until she’s gasping his name and he feels how slick she is on his fingers.

“No. Not here. I'm worried the walls'll come down.”

Rolling his eyes, he snorts, burying his head into her neck, silently agreeing.

His fingers drawing soft circles on her waist, not sure how to tell her he's happy with this. He's just wanted this. To hold her. Breathe her in and have the chance to explain.

“Simon…”

He pauses, both his hand and his thoughts. Lifting his head, sliding a hand over her cheek, feeling her curl into, just like she did in his bed.

“...I feel the same…”

Good. That's good.

"So... don't let me fall. don't let this continue, if you're not going to catch me. If you're going to leave. If you'll ignore me—"

"Stop."

It's sharp, leaving his tongue gruffer than he'd hoped.

The words, the ones he wants to say sitting on the tip, sat right at the edge of his lips, unwilling to fall through into the air. So, his lips answer her in the only way he knows how. Not sure how else to show her he'd catch her. He'd catch her every single fucking time.

Always.

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

medically induced dream

GIF by sprout-fics

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summary: Your idiotic act of heroism ended with a gunshot to the sternum and an immediate surgery. That's the last thing you remembered as you woke up in a dream like state in a time period that is unfamiliar to you.

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

see her here counseling the 141

her story if she likes price

her story if she likes ghost

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence

a/n: missed my favorite pharmacist girl! plz enjoy and peep the little easter eggs of other famous women in medicine :)

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Everyone knew you loved being a military pharmacist. It was shown through the way you interacted with patients and worked to brighten everyone's day. You loved the spontaneity of the job as well. For example, you were now on your 14th tour and were considered a veteran in the medical department.

It wasn't all fun and games as you were running out of the medic tent, onto a helicopter, and into an active war zone. There had been an emergency call for medics and you were one of the ones to help. You were equipped with a small sidearm and a medic pack to help as many people as possible reach the evac point.

Your ears rang with gunfire as you jumped onto the solid ground. You looked around quickly and saw an injured soldier lying about 100 meters from you. You ran to them, your boots kicking up sand and dirt. As you reached them, you could hear a familiar voice yell, "Y/N get down!" before you were thrown backward and felt pain shooting from your abdomen. Your feet were dragged behind a turned-over car and you could see through your tears, Gaz, applying pressure to your wound. "Stay with me, Captain," he said as he held the now pooling wound down. Your eyes fluttered closed as you heard him continue to yell.

The next 12hrs were a living nightmare as once you had gotten shot, you were drifting in and out of consciousness. You vaguely remembered the feeling of someone lifting you and the sight of Price running with you in his arms. You also remembered some of your fellow medics rushing to stabilize you as your ears rang with the sound of the helicopter taking off. Finally, you thought you recognized the sterile appearance of a hospital operating room as a mask was affixed to your face and an anesthesiologist counted down from 10. Your eyes felt heavy as you saw the surgeon look over at you. You tried to lift your hand to reach out but soon the comfort of sleep overtook your consciousness.

You opened your eyes to the sounds of screams and explosions. You looked around frantically as the chaos permeated the environment. The air was hot and you felt stuffy in your long skirt and bonnet. "Y/N get up now! They're bringing in the Captain and we need help," a nurse yelled at you as you saw a cot being dragged in by wounded soldiers. You barely had time to take in your attire before you felt a rush of adrenaline. Your skirt swished around your ankles and you saw a signature Red Patch adorning your apron. As you ran towards the man, you recognized a familiar friend. A pained expression was plastered on his face as his blue eyes darted around the room. His facial hair was stained with dirt and droplets of blood and you noticed him gripping his leg.

"John," you breathed out as you examined his body. He gripped your arm as you tried to move his thigh. You realized he had a bullet lodged in his left thigh and it needed to be removed immediately. "Get me bandages, now!" you commanded and nurses ran to get you the supplies. You looked around and were surprised to see the tent was filled with rudimentary medical supplies, where were the defibrillators and crash carts? A nurse handed you a pristine white roll of gauze and it felt soft in your hands. Subconsciously, you didn't know what overtook you but your hands guided your actions. You motioned for the soldiers to hold the man down as you fished out a bullet from his thigh. He writhed in pain and blood spurted on your white skirt.

After what seemed like forever, you retrieved the bullet and did your best to disinfect the wound and apply the clean gauze. "Thank you, Doctor," Price said gently as they placed him on a bed. You held his hand as the doctors injected him with something to relieve the pain. From your apron, you fished out a cigar and lit it for him. "For you," you said and handed it to him. "Don't think Dr. Finley would appreciate her medics giving out cigars," he joked. You were about to ask who he was referring to and why you knew that name but the moment was gone. As you watched him puff the smoke into the sticky air, you suddenly heard another airstrike nearby and were blinded by the rubble.

Your eyes shot open and you fully were preparing to be lying on the floor in some World War I war zone. Instead, you were shaded by a large tree and felt the tickle of grass on your legs. You looked down to see a rich red silk dress adorning your body and a book in your hand. "De Curatio, The Cure of Wounds," you read aloud as you traced your hands on the leather cover. The author, Mercuriade, was inscribed at the bottom along with the author of the English translation. You flipped through the book and it seemed vaguely familiar, detailing herbal treatments and how to identify ailments such as fevers and typhoid.

"Y/N," a voice called from the distance and you shield your eyes from the sun to see who was approaching. A familiar man approached and his linen shirt blew gently in the summer wind. "Kyle, what art thou doing hither?" you asked in an unfamiliar tone. Your brain was confused as this was a foreign syntax to how you normally spoke. "What art thee reading?" he asked as he sat down at the base of the tree. You hesitated as you struggled to remember how you even got here. "A booketh from Italy, medicinal studies from the Distaff of Sal'rno," you responded. Wait no, it was the Women of Salerno, how were you speaking like this? You looked at the man sitting against the tree and blinked a few times. You couldn't fathom what was happening right now as you grew more confused about your current location.

"Art thee ill?" he asked as he looked concerned at the wild look in your eyes. "I wilt beest not restful," you lied as he held a hand to your cheek. "Thee seemeth did ghast!" he exclaimed as he rose to his feet. Suddenly, he tripped on the long roots and fell in pain. You rushed over to see he had skinned his knee. "T'is a scratch," he laughed as you examined him. "T'is a wound," you corrected and used part of your skirt to put pressure on the bleeding. He hissed in response as your scarlet dress began to seep with blood. After a short while, he tried to rise to his feet by grabbing your arm. You aided him as his grip confined your dress against your skin. "Wilt thou tell me the date of now?" you asked as you began to guide him from the tree. "Y/N, t'is Friday, year of 1587." As he spoke the last digit of the year, you felt faint and clattered against the stump of the tree.

"Y/N, it is time to round on the men," a gentle voice called to you as they gently shook your shoulders. You gasped as you felt the taut cotton you were laying on, a cot you assumed. You rose to your feet and the hem of a dark long wool dress followed. You looked at the nurse as she gestured to the door. "Mistress Nightingale has already checked on most of them, continue with the room across. Those are the ones who are going to be sent out tomorrow," she whispered and laid down in the same cot you were just in.

You followed her direction as you wondered where you were. The surname of Nightingale seemed familiar but you couldn't place where you had heard it. As you grabbed a candle from the corridor, you used it to illuminate the sleeping faces of the soldiers. They lay with bandages adoring their bodies and tucked with wool blankets. You shivered as you continued, finally reaching a man with a blanket half on his torso. You gently put the lamp on the ground and the soft metallic sound filled the air. You winced at the noise and quietly pulled the blanket up on the man's torso. You could feel his calm breathing as you brought the fabric to his chin, his stubble tickling your knuckles. As you turned and leaned down to pick up the lamp, he weakly held your wrist.

"Thank ye, Nurse," he spoke and his eyes fluttered open. He looked tired and appeared to wake due to your actions so you put your finger to your lips to quiet him. "Sleep now, tomorrow you will be returning to England," you whispered as you held your hand around the flame of the candle to dim the light. "Never thought Crimea would be so cold," he whispered back and pulled the blanket closer to his chest. You quickly rushed back to your quarters as your mind spun with unknown answers. You suddenly remembered where you knew Nightingale from. It was Florence Nightingale, the lady with the lamp during the Crimean War. As you crept into the room, the same nurse from earlier sat up, "Heard you were talking to Johnny, he's a good Scottish boy," she smiled. You didn't respond as you collapsed on a cot, why did his name sound so familiar?

You woke up with a start and anxiously looked around. Your white linen nightgown was soaked with sweat as you palmed the smooth duvet. Your clammy hands drew back the curtains to reveal a large room. Your eyes flickered around the teal wallpaper and the gold trimmings. The smell of rain and flowers met your nose as you saw the window cracked open. You rose to your feet and cautiously opened the door and began walking down the large hallway. Eventually, you came upon an open oak door where you could see Simon sitting with an open book and a candle. The illuminated walls contained a variety of titles and you saw that it was just as ornate as your room. "Y/N, what are you doing awake at this hour?" he asked as you sat across from him on a dark blue velvet chaise lounge. "Simon, what happened to your mask?" you spoke softly as you could see his blond hair and eyelashes illuminated by the soft flame. What interested you more was the book he was holding, Medicine as a Profession for Women by Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell. He closed the book and placed it on the table separating you two. "Changes are coming in medicine, thought I might read it before your entrance to the London School of Medicine for Women," he said.

Your hands shook as you struggled to respond. You gripped your nightgown as he stared at your intensely. "What did you say?" you whispered back. "But that isn't right, is it Y/N?" he countered, "because you already went to school and have been a pharmacist in the British Army" he chuckled. You were at a loss for words as he continued speaking. "You've been dreaming for a while now, do you think we would be in some Edwardian mansion in real life?" he said and grandly gestured to the library which slowly began to lose detail. "You have some weird dreams, Captain," he continued. As you looked intently at him, his long suede suit jacket and teal Jacquard vest began to melt into the attire you were familiar seeing him with. "Simon I-" you began to say but you suddenly felt faint and collapsed on the blue velvet chair. Your head spun as you stared at the ornate ceiling adorned with paintings and gold trimmings. "It's time to wake up, Y/N" you heard him softly say before you fell into darkness.

"I think she's awake" a voice excitedly exclaimed as you opened your eyes. You feared you were in another dream but the pain in your sternum and the sterility of the hospital room emphasized you were actually awake. You tried to get up before Price ran over to you and motioned for you to lie down. "Thought we lost you, lass," Soap spoke as he came closer to your bedside. You sighed as you looked around and saw them in modern-day civilian clothing. "Where am I?" you hoarsely asked as you looked at the IV drip. "Base hospital," Price answered, "You've been out for three days now since the surgery."

You were shocked as it hadn't felt that long. But he was right as the updated whiteboard chart had shown three days had passed. "How long have you been here?" you asked as Gaz handed you a small cup of water. "The whole time, we were with you on the helo," Soap responded and you could tell they looked tired. "You should go home and rest, I'm alright now," you smiled gently. "Ah we've been here long enough, we could wait until the doctor checks on you," Ghost said and you were relieved to see he still had his signature mask and wasn't in some ridiculous get-up.

"Suit yourself," you said and went back to chugging your water. There was a beat of silence before someone spoke up again. "By the way Captain, did you have any weird dreams?" Gaz asked as he propped up in his chair. "You were talking in your sleep, Captain," Ghost added and you silently cursed your sleeping habits. You would have to find out what you said. "Well, I guess I'll start by saying I've read too many books about the history of women in medicine," you started and they all gathered to hear about your morphine-induced dream world.

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tacticaldiary · 9 months

Text

Where One Goes, The Other Follows

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Angst.

Note: Mentions of attempted suicide. Death on a mission

"You said we'd get out of this, remember? You promised."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out."

A/N: I don't feel great, so you get to not feel great with me! You're welcome!

Masterlist

It hurts.

Everything aches, a deep-seated anguish pulsing through her entire body. Like a shot to heart...no, a shot to the heart would have been quicker than this. Painless. Instant.

Merciful.

She chokes on shallow breaths as blood pools between the shaky hands pressed to the middle of her abdomen. Crimson gurgles up in her throat, so metallic she can almost make herself relax with the familiarity of it.

A simple mission, they had told her. A simple in and out, no clearance to engage. Keep it clean and quiet. When Price had handed her the packet of information, Ghost already flipping through a similar one, she'd joked about it being a vacation from the gruelling environments the team is usually forced to tough out.

It was supposed to be easy.

So why does she have a bullet lodged in her stomach? Why did they pick up the intel in a suspiciously empty warehouse, only to be ambushed by a few dozen Russian soldiers laying in wait? Their intel was rotten, she grits her teeth at the thought.

Pinned behind a metal container, the roar of gunfire crescendos over her ears. Pressed thigh to thigh, she feels hopelessness claw at her when Ghost makes a frustrated sound at the empty clicking of his last pistol.

Nothing. They had nothing but the slowing beat of their hearts and the uncertainty of their lives.

Despite the situation, she laughs. A tortured, humourless, choked sound as her head hits the metal behind her. One soldier injured, the other soon to be ripped apart by dozen. What a way to go out.

Ghost glances at her, eyes a little too wide under his mask.

It was funny. Everything was a little funny under the prospect of dying right now.

"Keep pressure on that." He orders when her hands slip. "They don't know we're out of ammo." Patting down his vest for a second, he unclips a grenade. The last one there, a last resort. You didn't throw a grenade like that in a close quartered environment unless it was a last resort.

"We'll make a run for the shutter on the left once this goes off, yeah?" He says, eyebrows knitting together in what's blatant concern when she doesn't respond. "Copy, Sergeant?" He says sharply, moving to shake her shoulder.

"I can't move, Simon." Comes a soft reply, the resigned tone sends chills down his spine. "I'll stay here and distract them. You take the shutter. Gotta get this intel to Price."

"Negative." he barks, shifting into position. "We move as I planned. Evac is just beyond those doors in the field. They won't follow us there, not enough cover against heavy fire."

For a moment she comes back to herself. Did he not hear her? "I can't...Simon I can't move-"

"Heard you the first time, love." That's all he says before pulling the pin out and tossing the object. There are a couple of clinks as it rolls, then the shouts and yells of their enemies as they recognise the threat. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

Hope dwindles, like the last rays of light before the sunset. There was no getting her out of here. She knows that. Dead weight is tough to deal with, useless in their line of work.

"Promise?" She breathes out roughly, a joke for a dying soldier.

The conviction he meets her eyes with, fierce and determined makes even her dark thoughts halt in their tracks. "I promise."

She closes her eyes, braces for the loud noise and flying shrapnel, only to be yanked to her feet and thrown over a broad shoulder. The movement makes pain wash across her body, enough to make black dot her vision, but she gets her bearings and clutches onto the back of his vest anyway, letting him do as he pleases.

The explosion sounds, ringing in their ears and Simon takes off instantly. Ducking behind containers, he almost makes it to the exit before shots start firing again.

He grunts, jolts more than a few times before he reaches the shutters, slipping out and slamming them shut behind him.

The metal and concrete is scraped from her vision, replaced with a green field and the sound of a chopper's blades whirring. Wind blows against her hair and for a moment it seems surreal.

She thought she was going to die. A shuddering gasp makes its way through her as they stop midway through the field. Simon moves to set her down gently-

And sways.

"Simon-?" She starts to ask, halfway to the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, she can't help but notice the way his mask is damp from sweat...his clothes too, and surely that much of a run wouldn't have been enough to wear him out. She's so making fun of him the moment she can suck in a full breath if that's the case, and-

Simon buckles to the ground, taking her with him. She lands on top of him, pulling a strangled groan out of the man. "Shit, are you...you okay?" She pants, clutching a hand to her wound before sitting up on her knees next to him.

Her entire front is covered in more blood that it had been before, and that's odd because...oh.

His front is stained with enough blood to make his previously green vest the colour of wine.

The sight stuns her, knocks the breath out of her because...what?

"Hey, you-Simon you're bleeding." She gasps, abandoning her own woes to take a better look at him. Blinking away the sluggish dizziness from her own blood loss, she carefully tears off his vest and-

His torso is riddled with bullet holes.

Too many to count. All of them bubbling and bleeding, pouring out liquid that should be inside him because he needs that, it's important and he's going to bleed out if this keeps going...

Hands hovering over his chest, they move from injury to injury, not knowing which one to press down on. For each one there were three more, and the fight against the rising panic and bile rising in her is getting tougher and tougher by the second.

"Made it out, at least." He breathes, shallow and raspy.

"You-you're bleeding." Is all she can manage to say, voice shaky.

In shock.

"I noticed." His humour isn't appreciated.

"I'm sorry." She chokes out. "I didn't...you got shot because I-"

"Oi." He grits out. A shaky, trembling hand moves to cup her jaw and despite the state he's in the touch is grounding and as rough as ever. "None of...that."

"You can't die." She encases his palm with her own, keeps it pressed there uncaring of the blood slicking her face. "You can't. Simon, you-it's okay. It's going to be okay." A sob rips its way out of her, though she tries to choke the rest back.

"Can't...can't kill someone who's already dead...love." He mumbles into her hair, blooding it with blood that he's coughing up way too fast to not be concerned about.

"Don't leave," She begs, hunched over him, clutching onto his gear. She wants it off, wants to rip it all off and feel his skin, press her hand against his chest, and make sure his heart never stops beating. "Don't leave me, Simon. I can't- I need you." With a scratchy voice, she pleads and begs, trying to keep him talking. "You promised, remember? You promised we'd get out."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out." He croaks, bleeding out but nevertheless the same strong, still presence as always.

Still...still?

Her breath chokes her, her entire body trembling as her grip on his shirt tightens. "Simon...?" She whispers. No answer.

A sob rips out of her, raw and painful because this wasn't real. It was a dream. There was no other explanation.

She'd wake up in her room, head pillowed on his chest and pretending to still be asleep just to have a few more minutes of his warmth. Simon would chuckle, she'd feel the motion under her skin, and he'd prod at her side, line kisses against her forehead until a smile broke free and her ruse was up.

They'd be happy.

She'd be happy.

Her face stays pressed against him, her grip iron. She doesn't pull away, letting the primal fear and grief mix with the senseless hope that maybe he was still alive. She hadn't confirmed it. Hadn't peeked up to see it, so maybe he was still there, waiting for her. Like he said he always would.

Hours, days, maybe minutes? A period of time later footsteps thunder behind her. Shrouded in delirium and grief, she's still a soldier, and her instincts kick in.

Protect, protect, protect.

It's a mantra in her head as she curls over him, unwilling to let them take him away from her.

People surround them but her grip does not falter. Hands grab at her shoulder and someone's speaking, saying words, what...

"-go, you have to let go." The voice is...shaky?

Gaz?

Confused, she tilts her head up a centimeter to catch a glimpse of the person who has her. Gaz. It was Gaz. Looking exhausted, shaken but determined. His eyes flitter away from Ghost on the ground repeatedly.

"Gaz?" She asks, voice cracking. He nods, taking her confusion to his advantage and pulling her to her feet. When she makes a strangled sound and hunched over, he finally notes the wound on her abdomen and curses.

"We need a medic." He calls over his shoulder, pulling to sling her arm over his shoulder. "We've got you, exfil's here. You're gonna be alright now, yeah?"

"N-no." She shakes her head, fuzzy and full. "Not me, I-...Simon...Ghost, you have to help him he's..." A hacking cough cuts her off, sending sharp flares of pain all across her body. Gaz firmly keeps her head towards the front when she tries to look back. "What-...no, not me." A weak attempt at pulling away is made, "Simon, Gaz I need to help...Ghost." Mumbling to herself half incoherent, she finally bats his hand away and turns to cast a glance back.

Her steps falter into nothing when she sees her boyfriend.

The sliver of skin beneath his mask is a sickly pale, blood dripping out from under it. His balaclava is soaked in blood, a strange waterboarding technique to chart for the future, her delirious mind unhelpfully supplies.

It's the stillness that jarrs her, makes the reality finally sink in.

Simon was quiet, he was purposeful, he could lay looking through a sniper scope in one place for hours but he was never still.

This kind of stillness was one brought by the absence of the warmth of light.

Gaz is talking...is he? His mouth is moving that much she can see out of the corner of her eyes, but all she can hear is static as her mind clicks together a devastating picture, a scene that would haunt her for as long as she lives.

Dead.

She thinks she might throw up.

Simon. Ghost. Simon was dead.

They were supposed to be a pair. Unbreakable. Where one went, the other followed offering the silent reassurance that neither of them would ever be alone.

Where one went, the other followed.

She lunges against Gaz's hold, the strength in her battered form surprising the soldier enough to allow her to rip free and stumble over to her lover.

Shaky hands fumble around Simon's body, one of them grips his gloved one in her own tightly, God he was cold, how was he already cold? until cool metal meets her fingertips, slicked with their blood.

People call her name. One person...maybe five? It doesn't matter, nothing matters right now but the press of the barrel against her forehead.

There's no hesitation when she pulls the trigger.

But there's a distinct lack of blinding pain.

A stunned, heavy silence takes hold of the field. Slowly, guilt and dread and hate and self-loathing curling up in her gut, she peels her eyes open to see her team. Her family.

And if the cold corpse of her lover beside her wasn't already punishment enough, the devastated, broken, confused looks on theirs' definitely does.

Soap makes a strangled noise when she pulls the trigger again, her head full of cotton.

Click.

Oh.

That's right.

The chamber was empty, wasn't it?

Staring numbly at the gun, at the pistol that Simon had carried with him throughout his entire career, she doesn't fight the hands that grip at her, that pull her up.

Doesn't fight the way Simon's cold hand slips from hers. When the gun is gently pried from her iron grip.

Words fall upon deaf ears, a buzzing sound accompanying her glazed over expression as she stares at two soldiers dragging over a body bag towards him over Price's shoulder.

"It's alright, lass." Soap mumbles in her ear, and distinctly she notes the sheer of tears in his eyes out of the corner of his own. "We've got ya."

"He's..." She says faintly. Simon's head is zipped into the bag out of view. "Gone..."

And then she cries. No, crying is too lenient a word, for what leaves her is a sound reserved for a wounded animal, a sound that not even the most experienced interrogators could ever hope to coax out of her. She wails and cries, hoarse and raw because nothing about this was okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Because she was alive.

And her other half was dead.

And she was still alive.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/08/2023)

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cowboydisaster · 7 months

Note

reader dying in Simon's arms... med evac being too late... Simon in denial?

i like to cause pain 🫡

nonny... you are a little torturer, but I'm here for it. I actually wrote this a bit ago, but tweaked it b/c it was very similar to this prompt. Anyhow, enjoy you little angst-lover!

Fine Line

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 1.7k a/n: reader goes by callsign: Red. Also, this is like-- super angsty. I'm SORRY. I'll make it up to you later I promise. xx warnings: death, reader death, blood, gore? i think thats the word im looking for, denial, trauma, hurt/no comfort. masterlist

It doesn’t look good.

You hold your palm over your torso, pulling it away to look down at the ruby colored liquid that is coating your hands. It’s sort of beautiful, you think, oddly. Like rose petal after rose petal spilling out from your wounds, coating your being in its own life sustaining substance. It hurts, an unrelenting burn radiating throughout your body, causing you to tremor uncontrollably. You’ve seen death plenty. You’ve been the hand of it, and now you’re the victim. Funny how things come full circle like that.

Bodies lie around the room you occupy, already having suffered the same fate that you’re about to. You’d succeeded in clearing the room. Ah, but the closet. You’d missed it. A simple mistake, and it would cost you your life. You managed to take out the enemy, but not before he pressed his damning shotgun against your stomach, not before he’d pulled the trigger.

Your breathing is shallow, the puffs of air are visible in the cool air, and they shrink smaller as an overwhelming cold begins to creep around your lungs. Ice wraps around your frame like an old friend, like a lover.

“Red, how copy?”

You glance down at your radio, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips at the familiar voice. Simon. Oh, how you love him.

“Fuck, sergeant. How copy? I heard shots.” Simon says again, this time harsher. You’ll miss his voice, his touch, his eyes. You hope that in some way, after you’re gone, he’ll be with you.

His voice soothes you, your heart skipping a beat even as it slowly gives up, unable to carry the burden of keeping you alive for much longer. Blood trickles down your body like vines, wrapping around your arms and holding you heavy to the ground. You hope they’ll plant roses on your grave.

Slippery fingers press down on the comms button, trembling and soaked with crimson.

“I’m here, Ghost… I’m here.” You say into your comms. Your voice is barely a whisper, nothing more than a wisp. You used to be so bubbly, the loudest in the room. Your voice is foreign in your ears as the soft, comforting hands of death steal your air away from you, unwilling to compromise. Not this time.

“I'm coming, Red. Fuck, I’m on my way, love. I’ll be right there. Just hang on.” Simon pleads. You can hear his heavy breathing through the comms, swallowed by the panic in his voice. He sounds scared, terrified. It contrasts how you feel. Death has never been peaceful. Not when you watched teammates die on the field, not even when you killed. But this, being on the fine line of life and death? It’s peaceful. Death is quiet, it’s numb. Living. That’s the hard part. Fighting. Surviving.

Your eyes flicker to the door as Simon kicks it clean in. Your love enters the room quickly. You hate seeing him so worried, you’d take it away if you could. You’d carry the burden to ease the weight on his shoulders.

“Red!” Simon yells, running towards you and sliding to his knees on the ground beside you. His eyes scan over your wound, refusing to acknowledge the warm, red liquid that pools around you. He’s had a lot of blood on his hands, but never yours. Never.

Big hands push against your torso, attempting to stop the inevitable seeping of blood from your broken and battered body. It’s no use. Your time is up. The blood that Simon so desperately tries to stop from flowing has already been used to sign your life away.

“Price. I need a medevac, now!” Simon screams into his radio, the desperation is thick in his voice. His hands on your body hurt you, pushing against wounds that you know will never be sealed again. You groan uncomfortably as he attempts to force the life back into you.

“You’ll be just fine, baby. Just fine. Hang on for me, yeah? I’ll get you out of here.” Simon rambles.

“Simon, stop.” You whisper, hand weakly covering his. He shakes his head, unbelieving that this is happening. It can’t be. He’s lost everything. He can’t lose you too. Anything, anyone but you. He’s not strong enough. His skeleton gloves are painted red, like the rose petals, the blood, seeping from your mouth and your body. He pushes harder, noises of anguish escaping from his throat. A tear slips down your cheek, the liquid mixing in with the blood.

“Simon, stop.” You plead. He shakes his head.

“I won’t let you die out here.” He says, frantic, hands putting pressure on your wounds.

“It’s too late and you know it. Please. It hurts, Simon.” You whisper, head lolling back against the wall, “Just hold me… please.”

Simon hesitates. Everything in his being is screaming at him to fix you, to make a futile attempt to heal your wounds. But how can he deny you? He doesn’t move, but your hand squeezes his and he gives in to the weak gesture. His back slumps against the wall beside you, and he scoops you into his warm arms.

You were wrong. Death isn’t peace, his arms are. You smile weakly, curling into his chest as the life seeps out from your very pores.

“I can’t lose you, Red. Not you. Medevac’s almost here. You’ve got to hang on for just a bit, yeah?” Simon says, eyes darting around the room before they land on you again. There’s so much blood, too much blood. It covers you and him. He knows that no matter how hard he scrubs, it won’t ever come out. It’s etched into his very being, stained forever.

He’ll have to burn his clothes.

For his sake, you nod, though you know it’s a lie.

“They’ll get here in time. They will.” Simon nods to himself, attempting to convince himself that you’ll be okay.

He rocks you lightly, tears slipping down his cheeks and wetting his balaclava. His brown eyes are stained red from tears. The pain in your torso begins to dissipate, a searing burn turning to a dull ache. An overwhelming numbness begins to spread from the tips of your fingertips, spreading through you like clover. It covers you, a peaceful escape from the constant pain. You realize that time is slipping through your fingers, and no matter how much you try, it will continue to fall.

“I love you, Simon.” You whisper, voice barely a puff of air. You need him to hear it, just one last time. You don’t ever want him to forget. Simon shakes his head.

“You’re gonna be okay. Don’t– don’t say that. You’ll be just fine, love. You can tell me how much you love me when you’re safe at the base.” He stumbles over his words, begging to wake up from this nightmare and be in bed next to you.

“Say it back or you’ll regret it.” You whisper, knowing he’ll beat himself up for the rest of his life if he doesn’t repeat those familiar words to you just one last time.

“I’ll tell you when we get home. You’re not going to die out here.” His resolve is strong. Denial. A cold, bloody hand comes up to rest on his cheek, leaving a bloody handprint as you cup his masked face.

“I want to–” You gasp for breath, a wheeze that Simon won’t ever unhear for the rest of his life– “I want to hear it one last time.” You smile weakly, eyes locked onto his large brown irises. They are brimming with tears that you’ve never seen fall from his eyes.

“I love you.” He whispers, shakily. “Love you so much, my Red.”

“Thank you, Simon.” You whisper, “For everything.”

Your eyes are tired, and they slip shut to unburden themselves from staying open. Simon rocks you as his warm tears drip down onto your hair. A kiss is pressed to your hair, your forehead, your cheek. A sound of anguish, of raw pain shreds through the room. You can’t bring yourself to react.

It’s like falling asleep, lulled into a blissful slumber by the man you love. It’s peaceful. Simon’s warmth fades away from you, replaced by a cold that wraps around your heart and your lungs. The icy compression squeezes the last ounce of life from your being, and the rose petals stop falling.

–

Captain Price rushes into the room, Gaz and Soap on his six. His feet stop once he lays eyes on the scene in front of him. Ghost rocks you gently, eyes frantic, full of a pain and fear that Price has never seen in the stone-cold man’s eyes.

“Where’s the heli? You’ve got to help her!” Simon yells angrily at the three men. Soap backs up slightly, a few tears brimming in his eyes.

“Price!” Simon screams, his voice raw. He doesn't understand why no one is reacting, why no one is helping. He stands up from the floor, cradling you in his arms tightly. Your head is lulled back unnaturally, your hair cascading towards the floor.

"Simon…" Price whispers, taking a few steps towards you both.

"You've got to help her! Fucking hell, Price! Please!" Simon roars. His arms are trembling. His eyes are stained red with tears.

"Simon… she isn't breathing." Price whispers, his own tears coming to the surface as he looks over your lifeless body. You're unmoving, forever still and cold in Simon's arms.

“She’s alive–” Simon shakes his head, refusing to face the truth, “She’s alive, we just have to get her into the heli!”

“Simon…” Price whispers again, “She’s already gone.”

“You have to help her, Price. Fucking hell, please– Soap, Gaz, anybody please. Fuck!”

Death had already passed through, carried you away as red dripped down from the very being of your soul.

You're grateful to not be able to hear Simon's screams.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Note

Hi! I hope you're well.

I have a request that may not be achievable and thats okay! Really, its just a thought.

What if the reader is a new recruit to the team and has the nickname 'Reaper' due to her skull Balaclava and skill (https://www.tumblr.com/men-wearing-masks/652072573328392192/skull-mask-week-day-47?source=share) from her other teams.

They're mainly a sniper but are amazing at everything. They're smaller than the rest of the team (I'm picturing an afab) but they're silent and bring death with them.

For example; Ghost is noticeable by his naturally intimidating presence but Reaper cannot be noticed unless you're actually looking for them, and when they pass, it feels as if a cold shiver has gone down your spine.

I picture this being a Ghost x reader because they're just as good as ghost, if not better, and everyone teases him about that. Making jokes about how reader is on top because a Reaper is higher up the chain than a ghost. Then I feel like on a mission reader gets sick of it, but in an attempt to be 'part of the team' they make a joke that's sexual in nature about her being on top which just sets ghost off.

If you don't do anything with this, totally understand, hope this wasn't just a silly rant though 'xD

Much love,

🔳

ok, sorry this took me so long to respond to I was trying to flesh it out but I hope it fits what you imagined

warnings: typical violence, death

“Hostiles are taken care of, you’re clear for entry” You call it in through your comms, you’re sat high on a hill, hidden from view by the dark as the team infiltrates.

“Copy Reaper, moving in”

You walk as Ghost and Soap make their way into the building, changing your sight to check in on windows.

“I’ve got eyes on two, south east window”

No response

“Alpha team I’ve got eyes on two, how copy?”

The comms are silent, you don’t think you just move, sprinting down the hill before you’re in front of the target building, you can hear the echoes of gunshots.

“Soap I’m at the entrance, what’s going on in there”

You hear someone inside yell, deciding to rush in to cover, you make your way through the rooms, clearing them before heading up the stairs to follow the noise. You see muzzle flashes at the end of the hallway, you slowly make your way down before turning into a room, Soaps backed against a wall struggling with one of the men, you raise your gun to fire but your arms are quickly pushed away,

“Reaper, on your left”

You struggle against the man in front of you, using your foot you kick at his knee knocking him down, your knife raising to plant in his neck before you pull it out, throwing it across the room, it lands in the shoulder of the man strangling Soap, he screams in pain and Soap is able to push him off to kill him.

“Thanks”

You nod your head, “Where’s Ghost?”

“We split down a hallway, comms went dead a few seconds after”

“Why do these always turn into rescue missions”

“Maybe he likes being saves by you”

You roll your eyes at him, picking up your gun and advancing around the building, there’s no sign of Ghost in the rooms.

“Stay inside, I’ll search the perimeter” You say

“Stick to the shadows” Soap winks

You make your way outside, creeping around the dark spots of the yard as you slice through the few remaining hostiles, you come across Ghost in the garage, he’s focused on some computer as you approach.

“Thought you went missing”

Your presence surprises him,

“Clear the building?”

“No thanks to you”

“I did my part” He gestures towards the two dead men on the opposite side of the room, “Got what we came for, let’s go”

You meet back up with Soap at the front of the house, making your way to the rendezvous point,

"You better thank your God that Reaper was here to save your ass LT"

"I was fine"

"Not counting the hostiles swarming you" You jump in

Ghost glares at you as the three of you make your way onto the heli for evac. Arriving back at base Ghost is practically silent, sparing you few words during your ride while Soap talks your ear off, there's something off about Ghost but you can't place it, you decide to leave it be.

The base is bustling when you arrive, people running everywhere, your attention being drawn all around until Price shouts for you,

"Reaper, need you on the next car out"

"Just me Sir?"

"Just you, need the best" He nudges your shoulder, you turn to see Ghost standing behind you, fists clenched at his side,

"You've got competition LT" Soap jokes running past you, Ghost walks away without a word, leaving you standing alone.

Your mission was a success, in and out, just you with Price covering from the sky. You managed to clear the building without being detected, sticking to the shadows as you dropped hostiles one by one.

Your muscles ached arriving back, simply wanting to shower and sleep except Soap had forced you invited you to join the team for a drink, figuring it was an easy way to fit into the team you accepted.

The team was already a few drinks down when you arrived, Ghost catching your attention as he sat in the corner, leaned back in his chair.

"There ya are" Soap shouts from across the pub, hollering you over to their table, you sit and he hands you a beer, you feel the cool glass against your warm palm, eyes darting around the room.

"So is there something about the masks that the rest of us don't get?" Soap asked, pointing between you and Ghost, you tilt your head in question,

"No, no correlation"

"Just coincidence?"

"Just coincidence" You nod

"Well just seems that LT's been knocked down a peg since you showed up, no longer the scary lad in a mask compared to you"

You glare to your side, you can see how Ghost's face contorts under his mask, fumes practically coming from his face,

"Ghost is just as good as me"

"Ghost can't do what you can believe me," Soap laughs, taking another sip of his drink

"That'll do Johnny" His voice booms in your ears,

"You think you're better than me Ghost?" You say, suddenly filled with courage, he doesn't afford you a response, he simply stares back at your masked face.

"You do" Your words are cut off by Johnny

"Is it that mask?" He turns to Ghost,

"What?"

"S'that why you're always buggin' Reaper, you like them, some sort of mask kink?"

Your eyes go wide at his words, your chest suddenly feeling tight,

"You like a strong woman LT?" Soap laughs

Ghost's next movements are quick, he stands from the table practically knocking over everyone's drinks before his hands are at Soap's throat, Price jumps to pull him off but it's no use.

"Keep your fuckin mouth closed Sargeant"

Soap sobers up instantly, nodding under Ghost's grip before being released, there are murmurs around the pub as Ghost exits, the air is thick with tension.

The rest of the night was quiet, the men keeping their jokes to themselves out of fear of Ghost somehow hearing. The next day on base was even more awkward, strange tension between the team had unfolded as Ghost barely spoke a word to anyone all day.

A few hours later you make your way to the gym, completely surprised to see the Lieutenant there you eye him as you enter, setting up on the large mat in the centre of the room.

You watch as he moves to stand in front of you, his stare pinning you down,

"Ready?" He asks, you nod before lunging at him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you dig your feet into the mat trying to push him backward.

You grapple for a few minutes, both of you refusing to tap out, intent on proving you are better than the other, you manage to trip him and he falls with his back flat on the mat. Your legs move to straddle over his torso, your arms pinning him down as you cover his form, your heavy breaths filling the air.

"Guess I really am on top" You laugh

Without a second thought, he thrusts his hips, throwing you off him so he can flip your form, pinning you against the mat, you're caged under his form as he pins you flat, there's no chance of getting out. You writhe against his grip but he doesn't falter, simply staring you down,

"Give up?"

"Not a chance" You continue to struggle against his grip,

"You're just gonna tire yourself out"

"Using weight against your opponent is cheating"

"It's smart, you're small but quick, and I'm more than double your size"

"Get off" You huff

"Tap out"

"Admit I'm better than you"

He laughs at your words, releasing his grip before standing, he lets you get up, your hands rubbing at your wrists as you move across the room, you turn around and he's in front of you. He forces you back his strides pushing you back until you collide with the wall, you tilt your head from him, his mouth inches from your ear, you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

"You may be better in the field" He pulls back to face you, his dark eyes glued to yours as your body stands still, "But I'm always on top" You can see his smirk under his mask as he leaves, you're frozen in your spot, his words replaying in your head.

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vaguelyapeanutbutterandjelly · 10 months

Note

Can you do a fic where the team gets back from a really stressful mission and M reader had messed up during the mission and when he got back started crying in his room and then price walked in and sat him on his lap and rocked him until he stopped crying (my daddy issues are acting up sorry, also can I be like 🕷️ anon it’s ok if your not doing that tho)

Price x Male!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Soap getting shot and Gaz having a concussion,

A/N: Spider anon!!!! (Que me getting unreasonably excited over having an emoji anon person, yes please I'd love that.) I

There were days where everything went just right. Missions gone as planned, everyone making it out unscathed and in a good mood. Today was not one of those days. In fact, it seemed like it was doing its best job to be the direct opposite. It was a high risk mission, infiltrating an infamous cartel's main base of operation for crucial information. Your job was to get in and get out with the info, to be long gone before they even suspected something was wrong

But instead, you tripped on air and subsequently alerted the entire compound to the task forces presence. Starting a fire fight that ended up with Soap shot in the leg and Gaz with a concussion. It was pure luck that the bullet missed the Scotts arteries by a inch. You'd ended up with the information, sure, it was enough to make Laswells job 10 times easier. But that didn't stop the ache in your chest when you saw Soap leaning on Ghost. Hobbling into his seat on the evac heli. Sitting down in your own seat, you barely managed to keep yourself from crying then and there. Tears threatened to spill as you re-playing the mission, and more importantly what you did to mess it up, the entire ride. Too focused on the mistakes to notice Price glancing over at you. His normally hard gaze softened as he gazed at you.

When the helicopter landed, you were the first to get up and hurriedly walked off. Each second you sped up as you got closer to your room. Your chest was beginning to get uncomfortably tight and your breathing became unsteady. Rushing into your room, you quickly and not-so-carefully closed the door behind you. Everything coming to a stand still as you stood in the entrance of your room. It was dark, everything was as you left it, it was peaceful. Finally a tear fell, a choked sob escaped your lips as tears started to cascade down your face. Finally alone, adrenaline worn off, and exhausted from being shot at only intensified the hurricane of emotions you were feeling. Breathing unsteady as you ripped off the various straps and holsters on your body, discarding the gear onto your floor. Sitting down on your bed it felt like an endless loop of analyzing what went wrong and your brain tormenting you for it. How their injuries were avoidable, you barley even registered Price entering the room. He knew from the look he got of you on the helicopter that something was wrong. The way your body was stiff in the seat and your eyes were unfocused the entire flight made his heart ache. Price hoped that you'd come to him for it, to talk or to just distress and calm down after the hectic mission. But his plans changed when you all but sprinted off the evac helicopter. Price had followed after you, standing on the other side of your door thinking about what he'd say to you before he heard your sobbing. Price's heart shattered as he looked down at you on your bed, "Oh, love..." He cooed, closing the door behind him so that no one could walk past and see you so vulnerable. Finally your head snapped up to look up at him, your eyes meeting his jaded blue ones. They softened when you looked at him, filled with a love that he only held for you. Price took a step forward, whispering a small "Can I sit?", waiting for your shakey nod before plopping himself down next to you. Tears still poured down your face as you sat sit by side, the quiet only disturbed by your occasional sniffles. Price turned to you slowly, "Do you want me to rock you, baby boy? You don't have to say yes." He whispered slowly, making sure that he gave you a out in case you'd rather not be touched. "Yes please." You sniffled, turning to climb into Price lap. His carefully toned arms helping to guild you into a comfortable position for the both of you. Free of guns and gear your bodies fit together perfectly, like a carefully crafted puzzle. Carefully putting a warm hand on the back of your head, Price guided your head into the crook of his neck. Allowing you to settle before the other came to rub along your back. Slowly rubbing up and down as the pleasant warmth he naturally emitted seeped into your skin. Making sure you were comfortable Price began to slowly rock. Holding you close to himself as he swayed back and fourth on the bed. Allowing you to cry into his shoulder as he calmly rocked you, he placed a kiss on the crown of your head. "Take as long as you need, love. I'll be here as long as you'll have me" Price hummed into the top of your head. ----------------------------------------------------

A/N 2.0: I'm a little nervous since this is my first fic fic on this account, and I'm kinda rusty so I hope I did well :D Thanks for reading :>

#cod x male reader #john price x male reader #price x male reader #price cod #price mw2

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multi-fxndom446 · 5 months

Text

You came? You called. Pt2

Scenario: Alejandro Vargas, Valeria Garza, Rodolfo Parra and Philip Graves

I definitely think I should’ve made myself a little clearer that is on me😭 but these are all one small scenario for each character. So if you would like a part two to get closure or a single one shot for a specific character please let me know.

All of these are written in mind of different tropes but pretty much boil down to you love each other.

I left some of these pretty open ended but they were written with the intention that you have not yet confessed to each other but feel free to take it however you would like.

Again I’m sorry if some of these are a little ooc

Part one Part Three

Alejandro Vargas

Warning: blood and injury, MIA-missing in action. KIA-Killed in action

You had been MIA for weeks since your last mission. The last Alejandro heard from you was you radioing in telling the team it all went to shit.

“The entire teams down.” You had told Rudy who was later going to pass off the information to his Colonel. “I gotta get low. Tell Ale-“ then the line went dead

Alejandro just barely made it in time to hear the tale end of your sentence. It drove him crazy. What did you need to tell him? Your whereabouts would have been most helpful but hell never know.

It was he who wouldn’t let anyone else even think of the possibility of you being KIA. He tore down every building that was on your last mission, interrogated anyone who’d talk and killed anyone who wouldn’t.

But nobody had information on you.

It wasn’t until weeks later when one of his men came running to him, bent over and out of breathe that he felt his hope dwindle some. That is until the man spoke. “Colonel, come quick. There’s someone asking for you on the comms.”

Alejandro never ran faster in his life. Coming to a halt next to Rudy who quickly handed over the radio. “..y/n?” He asked hesitantly. He hoped to god it was you.

“Ale-“ he heard you sigh in relief when you heard his voice but he could also hear your labored breathing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get ahold of you sooner. My radio was broken and I was off the grid for a few weeks.”

“Yeah I noticed.” He heard you scoff out a small laugh. “Tell me where you are we’re coming to get you.”

“It’s dangerous ale. I had to leave my safe house to find a radio but I think they’re still looking for me.” You groaned.

“Y/n tell me. Please.” He begged and motioned to his men the moment you finally gave up your location. “We’re coming Y/n. Stay low-stay hidden.”

Before you could respond the radio went silent and all that was left was the sound of static like the comms were disconnected. “Y/n? Come in!” He was met with only silence. “Fuck! Everyone gear up we’re leaving right now!”

It took what only felt like a few hours to get to your location. Alejandro was sure it was longer but the only thing on his mind was getting you out.

With his team they completely overwhelmed the men that had you and he had them tearing apart each and every room until they finally came to a stop at one.

Alejandro opened it slowly and felt his vision go red when he saw you laying on a dirty mattress, holding onto your side.

Rudy shot the only man in there when he saw that all Alejandro could focus on was you. You blinked up at him—he could tell your vision must’ve been hazy because you looked confused.

“Ale?” your voice broke him out of whatever trance he was in and in a second he was at your side assessing the wound while his men made sure there was no one left. “You came?”

Alejandro looked up at you like you were crazy to think he wouldn’t. “You called.” You smiled weakly but it immediately fell when he went to pick you up. “I know I know.” He whispered when you groaned in pain.

“Let’s go!” He called for his men, a few of them surrounded him as he carried you to the vehicles they were using for evac. “You’re safe now.”

—

Valeria Garza

Warning: kidnapping, injury/blood. Very much touch her you die

You were taken from her. Taken right from under her nose. You were in the room right next to where she was. It was her own personal bedroom where she was letting you sleep while she continued with her meetings.

It was late in the night and the compound was quieter then usual so she could hear clear as day when your voice broke through, “Valeria!” Her blood ran cold when she heard the desperate scream of her name followed by multiple things crashing to the ground.

The door way was jammed and she signaled her men to ram it until they broke through but they were too late. You were taken from the very room she thought you would be safest.

It’s all she could think about while she geared up to go after you. The men who took you were sloppy and obviously didn’t think you were important enough for her to go after but how wrong they were.

She was out for blood.

You were one of the last few people she would risk everything for, wether you knew that or not didn’t matter.

It only took a few hours for her men to track down the location of where you were being held and they were there ready to ambush soon after.

She was quiet when they took out the guards on the outside but the moment the doors opened all hell broke loose. Her men shot at anyone nearby as she stalked her way through the safe house, killing anyone that crossed her path. She didn’t even blink an eye.

She finally reached the room you were being held in and when she saw the split lip you now adorned her vision went hazy.

She didn’t care to use her gun on the last two guards, she needed to feel the life drain from them with her own two hands so she stabbed them.

It wasn’t until she was standing in front of you—chest heaving, bloody knife dripping in one hand along with the blood she could feel sliding down her cheek that she realized how she must look to you right now.

“Valeria.” You whispered, on the verge of feeling like you just may cry out of sheer relief. It was enough to bring her back down to earth where she immediately got to work cutting the ropes loose.

The second your hands were free you wrapped your arms around her, not caring in the slightest about the blood that would surely stain your clothes. She guessed it didn’t matter, she would buy you a whole new wardrobe if you asked.

“You came.” You chocked, arms wrapping tighter around her.

She clutched onto you like a lifeline as well muttering a soft, “you called.” Into the crook of your neck.

She wouldn’t let herself think about how you screamed for her over anyone else. How you trusted her to come after you, to save you. Not until later that night anyways.

“Let’s get you home, you’re staying by my side at all times. Bueno?” You hummed a soft agreement before she pulled away and her men barged into the room ready to escort you both out and back to the compound.

—

Rodolfo Parra

Warning: unrequited/not really unrequited, reader being drunk, hurt

(Someone please request a part two if not for anyone else for him please idk why I did my man’s like this😭)

Rudy considered you to be one of his best friends. he’d considered you his best friend since around the time the two of you joined the military about the same time.

He’d considered you one of his best friends the moment you laughed at one of his stupid jokes and almost instantly clicked.

The only problem was you considered both he and Alejandro as your best friends and no matter how hard he tried he never felt like he could live up to Alejandro.

You seemed to click better with Ale than you did with him and he could admit that it did hurt. You and Ale were a lot closer, regularly hanging out or going to bars together and it broke his heart as he was forced to sit on the sidelines to drown in his ever growing feelings for you.

You always chose Alejandro first whenever you needed help. And it was this reason alone he was almost shocked when your name lit up his phone in the middle of the night.

“Y/n?” He answered it immediately.

“Rudy!” You were drunk. He could tell from how slurred just the one word was. He almost forgot that you went out to the bar to celebrate another end to a long mission. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything Princesa.” You giggled at the nickname like it was the first time he’d ever said it to you.

“Could you pick me up?” Suddenly you were a little more serious. “I don’t want to be here anymore there’s a lot of guys and I’m uncomfortable.”

He was already getting his shoes on the moment you asked him for a ride before he remembered who went with you to the bar. “Where’s Alejandro? He can’t take you home?”

You were silent for a moment, “no he can’t. He’s off with some girl.” Now it made sense he was your second option. The silence was your being upset over ale leaving with someone else, or so Rudy thought.

While you were upset he left you, you were more upset that Rudy wanted Alejandro to take you home. “I’m on my way stay there.” Then he hung up and you were already turning back to the bar to get another drink to calm down the growing nerves.

He showed up only ten minutes later, scanning the bar for you when he found you at a table taking a shot. Though the moment your eyes landed on him, your lips spread into a wide smile and you shoved away the man that was next to you to get to Rudy faster.

“Rudy!” You called, throwing your arms around him. “You came!”

“You called.” He said, wrapping his arms tighter around you before he helped you outside to his car. “How much have you had?”

“Enough.” He had one hand wrapped around your waist the moment the two of you were outside and he was glad he did because the second you stepped outside you almost tripped and he was able to catch you.

“Why?”

“To drown out my heartbreak Rodolfo.” You smirked, patting him on the chest as you finally got to his car and you climbed into the passenger seat unsteadily.

Rudy frowned as he made his way around to the front seat. “Why didn’t you call Ale?”

The car fell into an uncomfortable silence that he tried to ignore while he started driving. He glanced at you every now and then but you were frowning out the window and refusing to talk.

Well up until the moment your voice broke through. “Why do you do that?” You practically whispered and Rudy gripped his wheel tighter at the sadness in your tone. “Why do you always say things like that?”

“Things Like what?”

“Things like you think I’m in love with Alejandro and not you.” He felt his heart stop and his head turned to you quickly but your refused to meet his gaze. “Like you assume he’s always the first one I go to.”

“I assumed he was?” You spared him a single glance. “I assumed I was your second choice?”

The words hung heavy in the air but so did your next words. “You are always my first choice Rudy.” He really couldn’t grip his steering wheel any tighter. “It’s like you don’t believe I could be in love with you.”

“Y/n, you-?”

“Just forget it Rudy.” You silenced him.

He wanted to speak up again to ask what you meant but when he looked over you were snuggling further into the seat, body faced away from him as you fell asleep.

The only thing racing through his mind was how long had you been in love with him?

—

Phillip Graves

Warning: General Shepherd deserves a warning, forbidden romance, idk much about call signs so don’t look to hard into the one I gave here.

“We are getting slaughtered out here sir!” Graves heard you yell from over the comms followed by a multitude of gun shots. “Is there any assist?!”

He waited with bated breathe for the general to respond to give him some kind of order to go assist but nothing came.

“Negative alpha-1. We have nobody near by ready for an assist.” He heard Laswell say next but Phil was already set and ready to go at a moments notice.

All he needed was-

“What about shadow company?! Commander graves!” Was that apparently. All he needed was to hear you call for him to get him into action.

“Sir,” Graves taped into the comms directly to the general himself so this way you and Laswell couldn’t hear him. “The Shadows are locked and loaded to go. We can be there in 5 minutes tops.”

He waited desperately for the General to give him the go ahead as he listened to you scream at them from the other end, gunshots soon becoming a gut wrenching sound.

“Graves.” The tone of voice the General used was very clearly a warning. One which the commander has heard one to many times regarding you.

Memories of ‘you’re getting too close.’ Or ‘you shouldn’t concern yourself with her so much’. Floated through his head but he didn’t care not when he could hear the gunfire picking up on your end. “General please, I can help them.” He didn’t care if he got reprimanded for this, for listening into your comms. He needed to make sure you got out alive.

“Alright go ahead Graves.” He sighed in relief before turning to address his men and soon after the plane was turning course and headed for you. “Alpha-1 just sit tight for now.”

“We can’t ‘sit tight’ for much longer general. We are taking effective fire!” He could hear the desperation starting to seep into your words as they neared and his men finally saw where you and your team were holed up in a building, multiple enemy soldier’s surrounding you.

“This is Shadow-1 to alpha-1 come in.” Graves called as he leaned over his men to get sight on you on his screens.

“Graves!” He heard you call in relief, “this is alpha-1 and I am damn glad to hear your voice.”

“Glad you’re still alive alpha-1.” He said almost softly before patting his soldier on the back. “Steer clear darlin’ we are sending in the cavalry. Danger close.” He heard you call a small affirmative before they launched whatever missiles they had at the men below.

In no time you and what was left of your team was able to get out of there alive.

It wouldn’t be until later that night when you would find Graves leaving the hanger to where his plane was.

He would hear your steps and just barely have time to turn around before you were already right in front of him. To close to what some would deem appropriate but you didn’t care. No one was here beside you two.

“Y/n.”

“You came.” You said softly gesturing to his plane. “Laswell said no one was coming. How?”

“Well, you called.” He said it like it was the only explanation needed and in a way it was. Or at least the only one he could give you. If he said anything else he’d be risking crossing that boundary the General so generously laid out for him.

“You heard me?”

“Of course I did.” He resisted the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “I wasn’t about to leave you stranded.”

You opened your mouth to say something the voices of some soldiers got closer and immediately you both stepped apart. You turned to look at who it was and when you realized it was no one important you went to speak again but when you turned forward again Graves back was to you as he made his way back to his plane.

—

Next part to include

Konig, Keegan and Alex

#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #alejandro vargas imagine #alejandro vargas x reader #valeria garza x reader #rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #phillip graves x reader

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Note

Obsessing over the last two vampire Soap and humon ghost posts u made so I am humbling asking for any more hcs/ideas u may have for it :> (if u want to ofc)

there’ll probably be one more part after this just to have a conclusion :)

(part 2)

It happens… about as dramatically as Price had expected.

Which is to say, hardly at all.

He’d almost feel frustrated if he didn’t pity both Ghost and Soap as much as he does.

Ghost had come to not long after Soap’s rescue, once Med-evac had arrived and he’d been hooked up to an IV. He’s groggy for a while, sure, but Price can tell he remembers what happened—he doesn’t need a hint, when he can see the longing looks Ghost gives Soap, who had to be chained up like a prisoner in order to keep things civil.

It takes Soap two days to snap out of the hunger-induced stupor. And within them, he does nothing but hiss and attempt to bite, nothing at all like the sergeant Price knows.

And when the vampire does return to Soap, an immense guilt etches into his face once informed of what had led them to this moment. Of what led them to keeping Soap bound and under close observation until he could finally be trusted again. It pains Price to see.

But what pains him more is the clear avoidance of both parties in the days following the incident. Ghost just about takes to his namesake, and Soap uses his superhuman senses to make sure there isn’t a chance they’re ever in the same room to begin with. Price has never seen Soap so quiet.

And he’s unfortunately all too aware the two would keep it this way forever if it came down to it.

Thankfully, Price knows better than to let that happen when Soap appears in his office asking to transfer units.

“I’m a danger to the team,” Soap says, head hung. He wrings his fingers tight enough for his knuckles to go white. “I cannae be trusted. I cannae—“

Price clears his throat to see an end to this spiral before it has the chance to begin. Soap’s mouth snaps shut. He squeezes his fingers tighter.

“Tell me, John,” Price says slowly, calmly. He feels only a little better about everything, seeing Soap visibly relax at the use of his name. “Has this ever happened before?”

Soap swallows. He finally looks up at Price, a sort of hollowness sitting beneath his eyes that the captain doesn’t think looks quite right. Price almost misses the minute shake of his head.

“And do you think, given the circumstances, this was your fault?”

The sergeant hesitates, this time. It’s only to be expected he blames himself, Price thinks, as much as evidence points to it not being his own mistake.

Price sighs. “Have you at least talked to Simon?”

Soap’s eyes widen. Price could’ve already guessed the answer to be no.

“I—he hates me,” Soap mutters. “I—“

“Did he tell you that himself?”

Silence rings through the office. Only the distant buzz of activity outside can be heard as the question cuts through Soap.

Soap’s arms fall limply to his sides. “No, he didn’t.”

Price folds his hands over his desk and its mess of paperwork, leaning back in his chair with the sense of a small victory.

“Then go speak to him before trying to jump ship,” Price advises. “I’m sure you know where to find him.”

Soap offers a stilted nod before turning on his heel and moving toward the door. He lingers a moment with his hand frozen on the doorknob like he means to add something, but ultimately decides against it, pushing out into the hall.

Once the door is closed again, Price deflates in his seat.

Sometimes he has to wonder if he’s really working with the best men the SAS has to offer.

(part 4)

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #writing #vampire!soap

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 9 months

Note

My fare kitty, I would love to request where Steve Rogers and his teammate, reader had suffered a sex pollen. The only solution is sex 🤭

My fair kitty.. I just love that! Totally moved your request to the front. Made me smile waaaay too much. 🙂

FILE 999V

Steve and you root around the abandoned lab in comfortable silence for the file you were tasked with collecting. The room was dirty and dim, and broken glass scattered the dusty floor. Boards block the windows, except the one you and Steve entered through due to the door being blocked with cement blocks and debri. The whole building looked like it was in the verge of collaspe, this room especially. You were just glad you both had enough light to search through the drawers, cabinets and rubble around the room.

Intel reported it had be stashed before the previous employees deserted. So far no luck. You were hoping that this wasnt some needless mission. You guys needed a win and what was inside this file was supposed to be it.

You kick the filing drawer closed with your hefty ass black combat boot, standing and stretching, missing the way your partners eyes roam over you. Steve secretly takes in every inch of you, licking his lips at the sight of your snug ass fit huggin your curves. He's has to mentally scold himself to get back to the task at hand.

When you turn around, you observe an odd sight in the corner of the room. Glancing at Steve who's a few feet away, head first into a metal bin, searching its contents attentively. You don't wanna disturb his concentration so you quietly make your way over to it.

It's.. A very alien looking plant shimmering in the dingy light of the room. Its on the smaller side, still, you can't believe you over looked it. The stem and leaves are almost translucent and pull you in closer as you study it. The blooming petals were an angry red; thin tendrils extended from the middle of the flower, surrounding it protectively. There's something so damn familiar about. Had you seen it before somewhere else?

You reach up to gently stroke it as Steve stands and turns to see if you've made any progress.

"Y/n, Don't touch, get away-" Steve starts from behind you, hand outstretched to grab the back your uniform but its too late.

Your hand snatches back from stroking the leaf of the unique looking plant. The root of it, growing from a crack in the floor, gives a small wiggle as a bulge quickly forms at the base. Whatever it was quickly swims up the stem and explodes out the center of the plant in a glittery sunset colored dust.

It's almost like smoke the way it spreads in the air across the entire room. It's pretty, almost mesmerizing but it chokes you and makes it hard to breathe. Stumbling backwards, you and Steve try to avoid sucking it in but it's pointless.

And it's effects are instantaneous. Your body temperature rises, skin hot to the touch. Its hard to contain the whimper in your throat from your nipples stiffening and rubbing against your bra. The air in room feels electrified, like static swirling in the air, and you feel the dampness in your panties. Not realizing your breathing has accelerated a bit, you feel goosebumps across your skin in waves. What. The. Fuck.

With dilated eyes, you turn to Steve. He's already looking at you, his own eyes set with a piercing gaze and a clenched jaw. You observe the flush on his cheeks and the way his adam apple bobs nervously on a hard swallow as he backs away. You can't understand why but you mourn as he puts space between the two of you. He turns his back without a single word, able to readjust his hardening dick without you noticing before speaking into his comm.

"R-requesting evac. NOW." His tone low but demanding has your pussy clenching rapidly.

He waits only moment, before responding.

"That won't work, we need it immediately. We've been doused with.. Something.. And we need Stark." Steve's becoming frustrated, his hand coming up to yank at the tips of his soft blonde hair.

"Fine. You have our location. Hurry up." His tense dismissal has you reluctant to speak. But it's clear he knows what the hell that damn plant is.

"Rogers, what's going on? Why are we evacuating?" You ask like you're not rubbing your thighs together for any kind of small pressure on your throbbing center.

"We need Tony to analyze us, see if he can make an antidote." He explains turning back to me. His nostrils expand like he smells something and you pretend to not notice the hungry ass look in his eye.

"Yeah, but why? What the fuck was that?" You're pointing to the corner of the room, frowning at the source of this debacle.

"Language, woman." Steve says curtly.

He's quiet for a moment, tense shoulders flexing. His silence makes you apprehensive. What the fuck is going on here??

"You remember file 999v?" He finally asks with a raised brow.

You have to think.. You've read alotta fucking files and have to scower your brain for what he's talking about. Your not exactly a straight A soldier and don't read every brief before a mission.

"Uh... yeah.. I think. Sex poll-" you stop dead in you tracks.

Seriously?? You can't believe your luck! The findings and report of the plant being an aphrodisiac run through your mind in a loop. What are the fuckin odds you would get doused with this shit while accompanied by the only man you ever wanted to fuck you till you dropped. The look in your wide eyes is nothing short of panic. What the hells gonna happen if you guys don't comply?! You were really starting to wish you read that file more thoroughly.

"Listen, y/n, the teams on their way. Only an hour and a half out."

"How the hell are we supposed to wait that long?" You hope you don't sound hysterical but Steves always been perceptive. He hears the panic in your voice.

Walking over on long toned legs that carry him over in just a few steps, he tries to comfort you. Strong hands come up cup your cheeks, fingertips caressing, and his voice loses all hardness as he speaks.

"Honey, you can't get riled like this. The symptoms only get worse with time, please calm down. I don't want you accelerating the negative effects."

Fuuuck his touch was intoxicating. You barely hear his words as you lean into his hand. Warmth sparks from his touch, traveling all over your body in sparks. The smell of Steve made you want taste him, run your tongue on every inch of his body. Hear all the pretty sounds he'd make as you'd get to his dick. Shit, why were you sweating so much?

Through all the arousal, your stomach suddenly lurches with nausea and your knees go weak. You almost crash to the floor as Steve catches you with super human reflexes. He's talking but you don't hear him as you blink dizzily.

Steve shakes you a bit but your becoming unresponsive, conscious but unable to sort out his words. Your burning hot to the palms of his hands, your arms wrap around his neck as he tries get you to comprehend. You're beyond coherence in an instant. All you can do is let out a small pained while you press your hips forward, your clothed mound humping at the bulge in his pants as he holds you up.

Steve groans lowly at the pressure you're putting on his dick, hips unconsciously lifting towards yours to give the access you need. He knows your running outta time, realizes the team won't get here fast enough. Doesn't know why everything's happening so fast. You were getting worse by the second. He was gonna have to decide: Fuck you or let the plant's effects kill you.

Looking down at the wet spot forming on his dark gray tactical pants from your desperate movements, he tries to concentrate. Steve doesn't think you've ever been prettier, y/e/c eyes dazed as shit, looking so fucked out as you try to find your release. Your mumbling and moaning incoherently, hips working frantically against his as your fever spikes. The skin of your arms and his neck are so hot together it almost felt like you both could burn up everything around you. Decision made. He wouldn't let you suffer a moment longer.

Laying you on the ground with more haste than he meant to, Steve tries to explain the plant to you again. He stresses you on what your signing up for, needs you to know this ends with that hidden little gem of yours filled to the brim with his cum, but Steve's words fall on deaf ears. Jumbled, broken sentences fall from your lips as you feebly paw at his zipper.

Fuck he knew he shouldn't be so eager but couldn't help it. His dick is constantly perking up when your around, no matter where you two are. Your uniform generously hugs your curves enticingly. He's never met woman as pretty or witty as you. Plus that fuckin mouth.. Half the nasty ass shit that comes outta it always has him turning away, hopelessly pressing his dick down to calm it.

Steves gets both his and your bottoms and shoes off in record time. Pulling his comm from his ear and setting it next to his clothes, he doesn't realize his shoes tip over onto the small disc shaped object as he leans over you. You still look like you're in stupor but your legs upon wide for him as you lift your hips.

Thanks to that damn plant, your pussy drips to the filthy floor, a small wet puddle forming underneath you as Steve stares unashamed. He fist his dickly slowly as he wonder what you taste like. With a swipe of his finger he finds out and his animalistic groan fills the room. He can't stall anymore. His semen the only thing to alleviate the effects you're experiencing, he really didn't wanna bust before he got inside you.

Steve lines up with your fluttering core and pushes the tip of his fat cock in swiftly with a stuttering huff. You arch upwards harshly, nails scratching down his back, his strength thankfully keeping from bucking him off you as you let out a high pitched keen. He grits his teeth against your reaction, having to avert his gaze to keep from nuttin in you right away.

The super soldier stares intently at the cracked, crumbling wall in front of him, breathing harshly through his nose, as he pulls back and strokes inside you halfway this time. Your legs cage and squeeze his hips as your body shakes wildly underneath him. The motion makes your breast flop up and down uncontrollably under your shirt. Your pussy tries to strangle his cock, grippin Steve so fuckin snuggly.

When he pulls back and pushes in the third time, it's to the hilt and you fucking lose it. Your hands reach up to grab onto something, anything, as your gushing pussy releases a strong jet against the dick sittin your guts. You feel Steve's blonde silky strands against your fingertips and unconsciously grab a handful in each palm as you pull HARD, his head yanking back vigorously. He's moans like a whore at your rough treatmeant but you dont hear. The puddle under you grows as you squirt again, streams of your cream weeping out around his twitchin dick. Your soaking wet little puss can't stop trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"Steeeeeeeve, uhh uhh hhh, St- aaaah!" His name is the only word he's able to make out through your gasping sobs.

Steve Roger's might be super human but he was still a man. Between your unexpected orgasm, coupled with the way you were shuddering and wailing, all bets were off. He no longer avoids looking at your beautiful body. Steve grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. He wordlessly pulls his dick out to inspect your release before serving you deep, rapid, jerky strokes. Your head thrashes side to side as he pipes you down. You're gasping in gleeful gratification, as his cock stick and stirs you thoroughly. SMACK SMACK, SMACK SMACK, SMACK SMACK. The sounds of your intense fucking and heavy breathing are loud in Steve's ears.

His pelvis smashes into your juicy ass, forcing you quivering body to accept penetrating thrusts. The nut he's about to release is as sudden as yours, barreling through him like a freight train. He snatches your wrist together in one big hand while the other firmly grasps your chin, leaning down to connect your lips in a feral wet kiss. Your mind is so cloudy but you try with all your might to return the kiss.

"Oh Sh-.. Daaammit! Hah! Ahhhhh, fuh-.. S-such a good giiirrll." Steve moans into your mouth as his cum surges into you in an outpour.

Hot liquid cascades against your delicate little pusses quivering walls, immediately helping to clear the fog in your head just a bit. With each thrust inside, his throbbing girth splashes your inside and fills you up. Steve's head lowers, mouth near your ear, as he huffs out low groans and cums so fuckin much that it begins to spill from your insides like a river. Even after the 5th pump of cum, his fat cock keeps draining itself into you.

You can finally think a little as your head falls to the side limply. Your chest rises up and down rapidly as you try catch your breath, the smell of sex in the air. Steves head is buried in your neck as he does the same when your eyes fall on Steve's pants and shoes. Your eyes wide as saucers at the un-fuckin-believable sight right in front of you.

"Roger's, your boot is pressing on the dam comm!!"

#steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #smut #sex pollen #dubious consent

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 6 months

Text

CoD: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - Found

I felt inspired to write this today after being fired from my job that I put my heart and soul into for nine years. I don’t know why but all of the sudden I was like I’m going to do this. So here is the finished version of what I saw in my head. I hope you all like it and my inbox is open for asks or requests right now. I’m stuck on CoD men at the moment. This one will be featuring König as well.

—----------------------------------------

It was late when Ghost woke up with a start as he came out of his nightmare. He had been having the same nightmare for the past week after (Y/N) had gone missing. It was a standard mission of retrieval, but when he had taken a round in the leg Soap had to help him walk. That was when she had split from them to draw the enemy away. When they made it to the evac site she didn’t arrive.

Ghost was adamant that they wait, but Soap had convinced him they should go and that she would be okay. He slowly got up and made his way to the kitchen going through the motions of making his night time tea. As the kettle was placed on the stove he could still see her eyes and the worry in them when she made the decision to draw the enemy away. How he had begged with his own eyes for her to stay.

It was the last time he would probably see her again, and that thought alone reminded him of his mother and brother's family’s murder. The thought of her dead and discarded made him suck in a breath as he felt the panic rising. (Y/N) would know what to do when he had a panic attack, but she wasn’t here. She wasn’t here because he wasn’t man enough to beg her to come with them, and that he couldn’t do this without her.

The screaming in his head was getting louder, and his chest felt like it was constricting. This attack was getting worse by the moment as he imagined her corpse coming towards him wailing at him. He jumped and fell backwards onto his ass scrambling for his knife. He held it in front of him shakily until his vision and hearing started coming back to him. “Simon drop the knife no one's gonna hurt ya’ here”, a voice he should know soothed.

The voice started getting more recognizable, but he was still trying to get his bearings. Then he recognized Price, the old man was holding up both hands when Ghost realized what was happening. He dropped the knife as if it had burned him and listened as Price talked him down. The wailing he thought was her was the kettle going off, and the panic attack had played with his mind.

After he had come back around Price had him sit at the table as he made the tea. Price was telling him that Kortac had a lead on (Y/N), and that König had volunteered to go retrieve her. That would make sense as (Y/N) and König had been good friends back before she joined 141. He nodded along as he listened to Price talk about how they coudn’t go in, and that's why Kortac had taken the job.

After Price had made sure he was going to be okay he went back to his room to try and get more sleep. He rolled over several times trying to get himself to sleep, but it wouldn’t happen. He got up and went out for a walk around the base noticing all the spots he and (Y/N) would go to be alone. His favorite spot was the sniper training tower where they had had sex the first time.

She had been angry about Soap getting the better of her on sniping and he volunteered himself to help her. They had been dancing around each other for a year when he finally made the first move which led to them shagging in that tower. He smiled remembering how she had moaned and called his real name. How she writhed under him and how afterwards she lay there in his arms until Soap had called up making mentions of how no more shots had been fired.

His smile quickly fell as he thought about how she may never come home. He kept walking, coming to the mess hall where he remembered her taking a ketchup packet hitting it just right to make it explode in Soap’s face and how they had all laughed. She was the light to his darkness and no matter what, she was always in a good mood until someone made a joke about how she should be home in the kitchen. He made his way back to his room praying Kortac could find her and bring her home to him.

***MEANWHILE IN SOME RANDOM ASS DESERT***

It was a hot afternoon and (Y/N) was trying to stay alive in a hostile environment. She had been captured right after Ghost and Soap had made their safe extract, but escaped and made it into the desert outside of the major city. She had to wait for nightfall before she could go into the city to steal some food or anything else she may need. To be honest she missed them, but there was no way she could get word to her team without possibly compromising them.

(Y/N) missed being on base, missed the others, but she truly missed Simon. She wanted to be at base sneaking into his room or him into hers to help each other sleep. She thought back on the first time she had sex with him in that sniper tower, and how he had her writhing and moaning. (Y/N) wanted to lay her head on his chest and relax because she knew that right now he would be having a hard time sleeping.

The sun slowly set and soon she would be making her move. She needed more water so her first stop would be the well at the edge of the city. Then she needed to get food and more bandages. (Y/N) knew where she could get the bandages, the food was going to be tricky. She started making her way towards the city. She checked with her binoculars to see the well only to find it guarded.

“Shit they got wise”, she murmured. Well she would have to sit and wait to see if they would leave or stay. It got dark and they stayed, making her decide to go back to her small encampment. It was far enough away to get a fire going. If she didn’t die of dehydration the night would certainly make her freeze to death. She sat at the encampment praying that she could go into the city the next night to scavenge.

The night passed by and (Y/N) tried to find shade in the small dilapidated stable. It was where she would sleep during the day. Her stomach kept waking her up as it cried for sustenance, but she didn’t have anything to satiate it. If and when she made it home she was going off base to her favorite pub to have a burger and good bourbon. If Gaz and Soap were here they would at least be cracking jokes and trying to cheer her up. She fell asleep again and didn’t wake until right before sunset. She got up and started the walk back towards the city.

The city seemed clear as far as She could tell. The men who had been guarding the well weren’t there now. (Y/N) watched for a couple more minutes just to be sure, and once sure she raced to the well. The water rippled when she bent down cupping her hands, and sucking down water. She drank until her stomach started to cramp. Once her thirst was quenched she darted from alley to alley until she reached a drug store.

(Y/N) knew that the back store room didn’t lock because she was the one who had broken it the first time she broke in. Under the cover of darkness she slipped in and scoured the shelves grabbing what she needed and filled her pack even taking some bottled waters. She made her way to the back pharmacy where the locked door was, but couldn’t get in. The fridge back there had to have some penicillin which she could use, but she would just have to go without.

She slipped back out into the alley and started taking note of where she needed to head next. There was a market a couple streets over that sold some raw meats. Some of the shops would be closing up so she had to be quick. She made her way to the markets, but they were all closed. They must have had them close up to keep her options limited.

There was nothing left, not even scraps that she could pick from. This was a failure, but she had to move on. Just as she started back the way she had come from a truck pulled up across the street and armed men climbed out. “Shit shit shit”, (Y/N) cursed. She was going to have to be careful making her way back to her camp unless she wanted to be captured again or worse.

She rounded the last corner when she saw a man looking in her direction. She ducked back into the alley, but he had already alerted his comrades to her position. When the man rounded the corner she ducked down and went for his legs making him fall over her. He dropped his rifle and they rolled in the alley trying to get to it. She could hear the other men approaching when she finally headbutted the man.

(Y/N) scooped up the rifle and fired a round into the man's skull. She encountered two more men that she quickly dispatched. There was another truck still running, and seeing her opportunity she took it. She hopped into the driver's side and tore out of the city as fast as she could. There was no way she could stay near the city now that they were certain she was there. She continued on for several miles hoping to come across a small village.

There was no such luck, and she was starting to get tired. When she looked at the truck's dash she saw that it was around five in the morning. She continued for a short amount of time when she saw a small house in the distance. The road had disappeared a long time ago and hopefully this small house was unoccupied. When she pulled up she shut the truck off, and grabbed the rifle.

After clearing the house it was in fact abandoned. It wasn’t all that dilapidated and the bed looked inviting, but her paranoid brain wouldn’t let her sleep there. She took the cushions on the old couch downstairs, and took them to the pantry that unfortunately was empty and placed them on the floor. She drank some water as she grabbed an old curtain covering a doorway and put it in the old pantry on top of the couch cushions then placed the backpack in the far back.

(Y/N) watched the sun rise as she checked on her wound. It needed new bandaging, and she wrapped it with the bandages she had taken. The wound seemed to be festering as it oozed some. Once it was wrapped she went back inside to crawl into the pantry closing the door behind her. She lay her head on the backpack and pulled the curtain over her like a blanket keeping the rifle beside her just in case. The hunger pains were growing, but there was nothing she could do as she slipped off into sleep.

Little did she know that a friend of hers was looking for her in the city she just fled. She woke a few hours later, shivering. She knew she had a fever since she was shivering and it was the hottest part of the day. She lifted her shirt and unwrapped the bandages to see the wound was red around the edges. It also had some discharge and she knew that it wasn’t a good sign. (Y/N) knew she was more likely to die of infection at this point.

She should have broken into the pharmacy for the penicillin after all. She pulled the makeshift blanket higher and relaxed back in her makeshift mattress. Sleep came easy as her fever got worse. Mumbling in her sleep as the fever continued to ravage her body. A noise and her eyes slowly and lazily fluttered open. It had to be a hallucination she definitely didn’t hear footsteps through the house.

The footsteps were going all around the house, but then they started towards her hiding place. She sat up with a lot of effort that had her breathing heavily, and grabbed the rifle. Lifting it made pain sear through her, and she had just pointed at the door where the footsteps stopped. She held the rifle up as she listened for the person to walk away, but her body gave out causing her to drop the rifle.

The clattering and her gasp from the pain had the stranger on the other side almost ripping the door off its hinges. She reached for the rifle again, but the stranger was quicker and stepped on it as she tried to pull it from the floor. Pain erupted in her body as the adrenaline left her and weakness hit her like a truck. She collapsed backward as her world spun and started to darken. She tried to keep the darkness at bay, but it consumed her.

(Y/N) started to come around as something cool touched her brow. When she opened her eyes she could see someone with their back turned toward her. One small lantern sat in the corner set on the dimmest setting. She had to get out of here not knowing what this person had planned for her, but when she went to move her strength was almost non-existent and let out a groan. The stranger whipped around and quickly shone a bright light into each eye.

(Y/N) tried to focus her eyes as the figure started talking in a language that sounded familiar, but quickly switched to English. Then a name hit her as her vision cleared some more and she could see the blue eyes and sniper hood. “ König?”, she rasped. “Easy Mause you need to rest”, he told her. “How… how did you find me?”, she coughed. “Your new friends asked me to come fetch you, but you are not fit for travel, and I don’t want to risk you dying on the trip to the extraction zone”, he relayed.

“We should move now” she told him. “No Mause you have had a high grade fever and you need to rest. Not to mention you have stopped breathing on me twice already to the point of needing resuscitation”, he argued. “I feel… fine”, she said, sitting up with a harsh wince. “No Mause I thi…”, König didn’t get to finish as she got up and walked out of the tent. He quickly followed as she walked towards the truck he had hidden under a desert camo tarp.

He watched as she got half way and swayed on her feet then down to her knees. He raced forward sliding to her as her upper body fell sideways. He cradled her against him as he looked her over. She was a ghostly pale color and shaking even though she was sweating. He quickly hauled her up and took her back into the tent where he checked the wound. He changed the bandages and made sure the wound was clean.

When she woke again this time she was alone in the tent, but she could hear König moving around outside. He seemed frantic with his movements so (Y/N) pulled herself up and slowly got out of the tent. “What are you doing?”, she questioned. “I should have listened to your advice last night, Mause. They have some small patrols looking for you”, he relayed as he packed the gear into the truck. She swayed slightly as her strength started waning.

König took notice right away quickly scooping her up and putting her in the passenger seat of the truck. “Stay here while I get the tent put away”, he ordered. She sat and watched the horizon when she noticed a cloud of dust. “König leave the tent there’s a patrol headed straight for us. He whipped up looking in the direction (Y/N) gestured to. He leapt into action running to the driver side while she started the engine. Flooring it caused the truck to lurch forward and (Y/N) groaned.

She watched as König radioed in for extraction and that there were enemies gaining. Confirmation came over the radio back to him as a Pave Low appeared on the horizon. Gunfire whizzed past their heads, but König pressed on. Sliding to a stop he pulled his gun out of the truck returning fire as he yelled at (Y/N) to head for the heli. She was almost there when she heard the grunt and impact of a body falling behind her.

When she turned König was on his back still firing back as he yelled again for her to go. “I’m not leaving you behind damnit!”, she yelled above the heli. She grabbed him and dragged him as pain lit up in her side. She was sweating from the pain as he continued returning fire. She heard the ramp lower and gunfire coming from the ramp. She could feel the blood starting to ooze from the torn stitches. Tunnel vision had started and she could feel her strength fading, but she was so close. She couldn’t do it. She screamed in frustration and pain as she felt the impact of the ground.

Somewhere she could hear a familiar voice as König was yelling at her to leave him. It all happened so fast she saw someone grab König as someone else provided cover fire. Then she felt weightless as her vision wavered. She lifted her head briefly and was met with another masked figure, but those eyes looked so familiar, but why she didn’t know.

The weightlessness left as she was placed on some blankets, but she could still feel the cold metal under her from the heli. She could hear more yelling as she tried to get herself to sit up. She reached out trying to find something to help her when a hand held hers. She felt the heli lurch upwards and away as her vision and head swam trying to make sense of everything.

Then she heard a voice shouting and she knew that voice it was Soap, but he shouldn’t be here then she recognized Nikolai yelling back to him. She wanted to confirm that it was in fact Soap and Nikolai she heard, but she blacked out as she felt her shirt being lifted and heard the fabric being cut. Those deep brown eyes she saw earlier while being carried into the helo followed her into her darkness.

Waking up was a complete bitch if (Y/N) was being honest the bright lights were killing her already pounding head. She took in her surroundings slowly noticing she was in a hospital bed and that there was a man in the hospital bed beside her. He was awake and looking at her with those blue eyes. “Hey Mause”, he whispered. Her eyes went wide as she realized König was maskless.

He was handsome with black hair and those piercing blue eyes. “König your hood”, she gasped. “It’s okay Mause I trust you and your team”, he chuckled. She was about to say something else when she realized something on her other side moved. Her head whipped around to spot Ghost in the chair beside her bed. His shoulders were moving and holy shit was he laughing. “Simon”, she breathed in a whisper.

“Hello love”, he said as he leaned in pulling up the bottom part of his mask. “Simon we have an audience and I haven’t brushed my teeth yet”, she mumbled. “It’s alright love”, he told her as he kissed her hard and rough. This went on for a few minutes until (Y/N) remembered König was trapped in here with them. Ghost went in for another kiss as his hand traveled down her side skipping over her wound. “Ghost! König is here”, she hissed.

“It’s fine love, besides I think he is enjoying the show isn’t that right König?”, Ghost asked. When she looked, König was trying to readjust himself discreetly. “Maybe I should let him join us so we can share you when you're healed hmmm”, Ghost hummed. (Y/N) whimpered, causing Ghost to smirk as he looked at König. “What do you think, König, should I let you share her with me once she is healed to thank you for saving her?”, Ghost questioned. (Y/N) looked over at him with a smirk as he responded, “Once you’re healed Mause then you're ours' '.

The nurses came in to check on both patients while Ghost watched from his chair. He had his woman back and the discussion that he and König had while she was still asleep was coming to fruition. He had known that König was attracted to her when they had worked together before, and (Y/N) had always made mention that she would trust him if they brought another person into the fold. He watched over (Y/N) and König as they both drifted in and out of sleep.

—--------------------------

That's it, I hope you all liked the little twist at the end and maybe I’ll make a part 2 of this with the three of them. Until next time, I hope you all have a lovely day!

#call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #konig mw2 #injured reader #injured konig

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cravingcoldoreocake123 · 1 year

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Eternal garden

TW: Reader’s call sign is Nova, mentions of death, gun violence, and really sad shit 😟 (ooc ghost, maybe?)

For all my broken heart girlies, ilysm.

(also this my first time writing something related to cod, pls lmk what you think if u can! Enjoy! <3)

It happened in a split second, right before his frightened eyes.

the piercing sound of a single bullet flying right by him missing him, but it was all too late as he aimed his own gun at the sniper on the roof, as it has already penetrated her delicate skin.

Nova was his reason to keep going, he adored her more than anyone, vowed to protect her life for eternity even if that meant he could lose his.

He rushed to hold her fragile frame in his arms as a single tear fell from her eye down to the mask covering her soft features. Her eyes, in Simon’s world at least, were clouds for even when they fill with sorrow and drown the land, they paint the sky with unimaginable beauty.

Nova always feared this day would come, he’d always hold her so tight as she cried and burrowed her face so deep into his chest she could smell his scent for hours after. She’d sob for so long and he’d never get annoyed or bored with her, he was simply satisfied with the fact he was there for her, sometimes they’d fuck it out, and sometimes they wouldn’t, it all depended on his ‘beauty’, as he called her.

“I would rather have my bones crushed one by one, than see a single tear drop from your beautiful eyes, for your body is repairable, but your heart isn’t, my life.” He would say.

He was frightened to hold her that she’s pure, heavenly and unreachable for his sinned hands. “It hurts, Simon.” She cooed out softly, barely being able to speak.

And at that very moment, he felt his heart break into a million pieces as he could not take her pain away all to himself, he’d never be able to forgive himself for being so late and far enough form the bullet to not pierce his chest instead of hers.

“Johnny! Call for evac! Nova has been shot!”

Simon was a brave, strong man. He never cried for animals that died in movies or for children that passed from cancer. Hell, not even for his soldiers that fought beside him in war. But he felt his eyes water as blood started draining from her beautiful face.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes now, love. That’s an order!”

She smiled weakly as she held her cold hand against his cheek.

“Still bossy even in death, I see.”

“Don’t. Don’t let that word out of your mouth again, you hear me? You are not dying.”

Johnny rushed to his side taking in the sight before him; Simon crouched down on his knees holding what once was so cheerful and full of life, become tainted with blood and face painted of yellow.

“I called for evac but we are far from reach, Ghost, said they’ll be here in an hour.”

Simon Riley then prayed. He closed his teary eyes and prayed so hard to a god he didn’t know if he believed in, to save his beloved.

“You can do it, darling, I know you can. You have been through worse, I believe in you strong girl.” He babbled on and on about how you were stronger than a bullet, but he didn’t know if he was comforting you or himself. “My sweet girl.”

Johnny always suspected there was something between the lieutenant and his sergeant, but he was still a bit surprised at Simon’s affection and emotions.

They were inseparable back at base, even in missions, Simon always made sure Nova was right by him. Sometimes Soap and Gaz would make fun of their lieutenant as he always was looked out for her, made sure there was enough food left for her, pulled back her chair when she went to sit and scared off soldiers that bothered her, but he’d always deny their allegations and tell them to “shut it”, but they all knew he was just frightened and believed he was undeserving of any form of love, let alone yours.

He was smitten ever since the day you arrived, and if he was blinded by the moment he laid his eyes on you, his soul would not grieve, for in that very instance, it truly gazed upon perfection.

To say that he was scared was an understatement. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand or even dare to look away from her face, feeling as if she’d slip away if he did.

“Do you remember what we talked about before this mission? How we’d retire, get a cabin somewhere far in the woods, with a big dog? Hm?”

she stayed still for a minute before chuckling faintly. “And two cats.”

He laughed, genuinely laughed at her response, she was always cheerful and full of hope even in the worse of situations. “And two cats.” He repeated.

“You promised we’d name the dog Fluffy, and that he’d be a golden retriever. You never liked cats much though.”

“We can get as many cats and dogs as you want my love, just keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah? Johnny is here for you too.”

Ghost reached for her other hand and put in on top of Soap’s.

Johnny tried his best to not break down in front of his dying friend. They were always the trouble makers back at the base. Clowns, as Captain Price labeled the pair. They would always pull the silliest pranks on their teammates, they once poured a whole tub of salt into Gaz’s coffee, and cut holes in a few shirts of ghost’s after they both finished watching Mean Girls together, but Johnny got a taste of his own medicine once when his partner in crime turned against him and put neon green hair dye in his conditioner, and let’s just say that that did not end well as he gained a new look and an eye infection.

“They’re almost here, Nova, you’re gonna be back on your feet in no time, and we’ll pull even more pranks back in base, we can even get captain Price this time! We can sew a unicorn horn in the middle of his hat, like we said we would. How does that sound?” He frantically said.

Silence.

Dreaded silence was all that was heard before both her hands dropped to the ground beside her limp body. She was unresponsive.

Johnny couldn’t hold his tears back anymore and let them fall freely on her stomach as he clung so tightly to the corpse of his best friend.

Simon was crushed, to say the very least. He kept his warm hands on her beautiful face, and even in death’s grip she looked stunning, her face beamed underneath the setting sun, and her chapped lips curled up into a soft smile, and if it wasn’t for the blood on her clothes, you’d think she was in deep sleep.

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, even after evacuation arrived at scene, including captain price, Gaz and König. They all had to pry him off of her so that they could put her body on the carrier, and to the helicopter. That was the first and last time they had ever seen Ghost break down, so miserable and helpless.

Simon never once forgot about Nova, or her cheerful smile that lit up every room brighter than the early rays of the morning sun, nor her ridiculous jokes she’d crack at the wrong times. She was his light, his dream, and if he had a flower for every thought he had of her after her death, he’d walk through a beautiful garden for eternity.

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love-lilly02 · 2 months

Text

BTS: Messages from the Stars

A little 100 followers thanks! read into this how you will, it could mean anything 🌝🌝 (unedited by the way sorry for typos or inconsistencies)

the entire safe house was dead silent. all the lights turned off, and the soldiers hidden inside attempting to be quiet.

Both Price and Gaz were half asleep, pretending to be “helping” with the watch that you had taken over long ago. Soap was less shy about his sleeping patterns and was out like a light on the floor, tossed haphazardly into Prices lap. Ghost had gone to secure the perimeter long ago, and you all had yet to hear from him.

Something about that just didn’t sit right with you.

Radios weren’t allowed, so you couldn’t talk to him that easily. Something about possibly picking up an enemy’s signal.

And the big idiot had left his phone in his bunk. So you were truly at a loss for what exactly to do, opting to just sit on the windowsill and look for him.

You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there, staring out at the sky full of stars. You weren’t really able to see them back at base, light pollution having taken over the view long ago.

As a child you had attempted to learn to map them out, or rather you had watched as your father mapped them out and told you the names of the constellations.

Now you wished you had paid more attention to his words.

“Beauty, ain’t it?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the words, your hand immediately going to your gun.

“At ease, S’ jus me.” Ghost lurked in the corner, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement at having scared you.

“Fucking- shit when the hell did you get back?” You demanded in a harsh whisper, looking at the others to make sure they didn’t wake up. If anything, they seem to have sunken further into sleep, and Gaz’s head rested dangerously close to Price’s shoulder.

“Been here for a minute, checkin no one was hurt.” You nodded at him.

“To answer your question, they are nice. Don’t get to see the stars at base.”

Ghost shook his head. In a few strides, he was standing next to you, and you watched as he took a seat across from you on the ledge. It looked absolutely idiotic, a large man like him balancing carefully on the tiny ledge, but you bit back your laugh.

“Something funny, sergeant?”

“No, LT.”

“Right then.”

And the two of you lapsed into silence.

It was nice, really. You kept watching the sky for a while, staying in position till the deep black started to take on a deep orange with the sunrise.

“You should sleep,” You told him. When you went to turn your attention on him he was already looking down at you. It made you blush slightly, but you covered it up. “Can’t give us orders if you’re half dead.”

“ ‘S alright. Don’t sleep much anyways, can’t see the harm.”

You didn’t question the words.

Instead of looking at Ghost, you turned your attention towards the rest of the team, who were all still asleep. Soap let out a disquieting snort, grumbling something in his sleep, and you had to fight back a laugh. Carefully, you walked behind Gaz and moved him so he could rest comfortably on Price’s shoulder. You missed his smile, even in his sleep.

But Ghost caught it. He saw nearly everything, after all.

“We’ll have to wake them at sunup, get out of here in time for evac.” He nodded at your words.

“You’ll be okay?” You asked, standing in the doorway. Ghost just nodded again. You gave him a small smile, walking out of the room.

He didn’t know exactly where you were going, and he did want to find out but he figured you deserved some privacy after nearly a week of being stuck with the boys on you constantly. Instead, he knelt by Price and pressed a small kiss to the older man’s forehead. Price stuttered awake, grumbling something quickly.

“What happened? Where’s-“

“She’s safe, downstairs i think.” He sighed, leaning back against the wall again. Both of them watched Soap and Gaz, smiling to themselves.

“We were supposed to be helping with the watch.” Ghost just chuckled.

“Lotta good you lot did, eh?”

“If i could hit you I would.”

He laughed again.

“Did she sleep?” Price questioned, taking his eyes off of Soap. His hands remained in the man’s mohawk, enjoying the almost purr like sound it got from the younger man.

“Not that i know of,” Ghost responded.

Price shook his head. “I worry about her, Simon.”

“We both do.”

They lapsed into another silence.

“Hopefully one day she’ll allow us to worry.”

My Masterlist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader

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whynot-tryit · 9 months

Text

Angel of Small Death

Chapter 3

Pairing: John Price x Female! Reader

Summary: The team is sent on a mission, someone is hurt. You doing everything in your power to do your job, keep them alive, even if that means you break some rules and get your ass chewed for it.

Word count: 3523

Warnings: inaccurate medical terminology and procedure, blood, slight angst, yelling, name calling, bullying, lmk if I missed anything.

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

You had been excited about the meeting you had set up with Price, it had been plaguing you for days but it was quickly pushed to the back of your mind and to the bottom of your to do list.

The base was a mess, rushing bodies in and out of buildings, some on stretchers and some on their own two feet. An informant had given the location of a well known terrorist leader and his men, the information was only going to be good for at most 48 hours. It was rushed, but it was enough time to get Price and his men ready. It would be their first out field mission with you being their medic. Part of your job to get them ready was to pack their med kits, a small fanny pack type of thing in their vest in case of anything. You’ve done it thousands of times but you couldn’t help the slight tremor in your fingers while placing wound compresses inside of them, praying they wouldn’t have to use it.

You’d be in the med bay, helping whoever you could, waiting until your men got back. They would only page you if it was something serious. The sound of the machine at the edge of your scrub pants is playing faintly in the back of your mind, all the times you have ever heard it go off playing over and over again through your memories. You keep yourself busy for what feels like forever, bandaging random soldiers, taking inventory and filing paperwork. It's been hours and a part of you is scared that they won’t be coming back at all.

They know what they’re doing, they’ve done multiple times without me before. You keep telling yourself over and over. It's like your lungs can’t fill up with air, like your ribs are in the way and a part of you wants to rip your chest open just so you can breathe.

Beeping breaks you out of your thoughts, its high pitched it makes your lungs shrivel up deep within your chest. Fuck.

You rip the pager out of its clipped position on your scrub pants, the electronic screen flashing at you. They’re two minutes out.

There’s nothing else you can make of the message, there's no description of an injury or who exactly was hurt. Your feet start carrying you, running towards the evac landing dock. The sound of the soles of your shoes connecting the tiles that make up the hallway floor and your heartbeat is all that invades your ears.

You finally get to the mouth of the landing dock, there's three medical personnel already waiting for you with a stretcher. It barely takes you a second to take in the scene before you see the helicopter, the wind picks up- venting through the fabric of your scrubs, your hand coming up to shield your eyes from both the sun and the dust picked up by the violent wind. The noise is almost deafening, you can barely make out the bodies piling out of the body of the helicopter. You can see the shapes of what you can guess is Ghost and Soap jump out, but there's one more still inside, kneeled over the body of another.

It’s Gaz.

You’re rushing to the side of the helicopter, pulling yourself up to take a look at him.

John is putting pressure with both hands on his side, you can see a bit of cloth peeking out, a compress, but it doesn’t seem like it’s making anything better. You can finally hear something besides the sound of the wind, and rushing people.

“It's a gunshot wound, Ghost tried to patch him up but it's not stopping!” John has to scream just to get his words past the noises raging around everyone. You take a look over Gaz’s face, he’s pale from blood loss and his eyes are staring off into the space between you and John.

“Let me take over!” You grab a hold of John's wrist, there's a moment where he won’t budge and you finally meet his eyes instead of the blood that's now on the floor of the metal frame. You see something flash through his eyes but his grip finally loosens and you don’t waste time. You scream over your shoulder to bring the stretcher closer and John helps you get Gaz onto it.

You take a second to check his pulse, and you fight back a gasp when you don’t feel the light jump underneath the skin of his neck. You don’t hesitate to jump onto the stretcher with him and situate yourself above him, your hands clasped over his chest to start compressions.

It takes the breath out of John's chest. It’s the last sight he gets of the both of you before you and Gaz are wheeled out back into the base.

You’re trying to keep count of your compressions but the slight bump of the stretcher going over the saddles of the doorways and the sharp turns of the base are trying to throw you in for a loop. Your elbows are locked, the ache starting to settle deep in your bones from the action.

The white walls and fluorescent lights finally fill your senses and you jump off the stretcher to move Gaz onto the bed. As soon as all the hands disperse you're quick to open up his shirt, his tactical vest removed long ago.

“I need one round of epi now!” As soon as you see his bare chest you place the shock pads on while they administer the shot. “Everyone step back!” You take two steps back and everyone else in the room does so too. You hear the machine let out two beeps before it administers a shock and Gaz’s body tenses up before going limp again.

You rush back to his side and check for a pulse, but find nothing. Your hands go back to their tiring position to start compressions again while ordering your people around.

“Get the machine ready for another shock, set up another shot of epi and get me a heart monitor now!”

You keep counting the hard beating of your hands on Gaz’s chest while people around you grab what you need and put them into place. “Clear!” You back up and watch the repeated action of his body yet again. Fuck.

“Give him the second shot of epi!” You’re about to start the compressions again while they administer the shot when someone grabs you by the shoulder to turn you.

“We’ve already given him one and shocked him twice, we can’t do anything more.”

You quickly shrug off the hand and words. “Epi now!” There are hesitant looks around the room but no one moves. You stop the compressions to grab the syringe on the table and put it into his forearm and press the button on the shock machine “Clear!”

You know there’s a protocol, you had spent hours reading over them but you weren’t going to let that stop you from doing your job- not when it came to you team, your men. You can imagine the look in John’s eyes when you tell him that Gaz is gone. That he died while under his orders, under his hands. The idea makes you swallow a lump in your throat, the taste of bile lingers in your mouth.

Gaz’s body falls back and you try in a final fit to give him CPR, you keep your eyes on the heart monitor- praying, begging. It feels like hours, years, where the flat line haunts your eyes and the slight cold damp skin beneath your hands.

The line spikes. You stop the compressions. The Heart monitor keeps a steady rhythm and you finally let out a breath. “Okay let's get the wound taken care of, let's start an IV and give some antibiotics and fluids.” The urge to yell is now non-existent, the adrenaline is still in your system but you try to calm your shaking hands as you move to start examining his wound.

—----------------

It takes an hour to get Gaz stable. The compress had been taken out and the bullet extracted- the wound now clean and stitched. The shot hadn’t hit any bone or organ- thank god- but it was bloody, his iron deficiency making it easier for him to bleed out.

The adrenaline had left your system, a tired achy feeling now taking its place. You wanted to take a nice long shower and crawl up into your bed but you know the other boys are waiting outside of the med bay waiting for news.

You discard the bloody gloves that were once on your hands into the trash and make your way to the entrance of the med bay. Your eyes make their way across the large area, trying to find John. His hat makes an appearance in your peripheral vision and you turn to find the blue eyes that come along with it. Before your feet can start their way towards the figure a hand closes around your upper arm and drags you in the other direction.

Your eyes come up and see the same doctor that had tried to stop you from giving Gaz that last shot of epi. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”

He finally lets you go after you’re a good distance away from the entrance of the med bay.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You’re startled by his attitude, a surprised look making its way on your face.

“You broke protocol, even though I tried to warn you.”

“I did my job, and I did it pretty well if you tell me.”

“Well I’m telling you you fucked up, big time. There are rules for a reason. You’re not special, they don’t just disappear because you need them to.”

You let out a chuckle. Things with the other medical staff had been tense, you had always had this feeling they didn’t like you. Sure, you broke protocol, but as most things come- this was not the worst way things could’ve played out. “I saved my patient.”

“You want a fucking medal?”

“No, I want you off my ass.”

He chuckles back at you, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and anger, yours undoubtedly holding the same.

John had seen the man grab a hold of you and whisk you off down the hall but still in his eyesight. He had sent Soap and Ghost to their rooms, to clean up and get a bite to eat while he’s been pacing back and forth by the med bay, waiting for you to give him an update on Gaz.

His feet make their way to you and the other doctor, who has now taken a closer step towards you, invading your personal space.

“You’re lucky that I wasn’t the one who hired you. No one fucking wants you here, you better remember that before you go around doing whatever the fuck you want.”

You stand your ground, hands clenched into fists by your side. His insult hit home for you as much as you hated it. The feeling of being needed was much more common for you than being wanted. It took years, many of them including your childhood and young adult years realizing there was a stark difference between the two.

You can see the anger boiling behind his eyes, his lips pursing to throw out another insult at you.

“Is there a problem here?” You turn your head to the familiar voice, John just standing a few feet away from the conflict. Your hands unclenched on reflex once your eyes meet his.

The furious doctor barely acknowledges the captain before taking a step back from you, finally giving you enough space to breathe. “No, no problem here.” His eyes never leave your face until he turns to head back into the med bay.

It hits you that you’re covered in blood, Gaz’s blood, and it must look like a bad sight to the captain. The dark red stands out against the green of your scrubs.

You take a deep breath and turn your body to fully face the captain. “He’s gonna be alright, he bled out a lot easier because of his iron deficiency. He hasn’t been on those iron supplements long enough yet to help him and that's why he flatlined for a little.” There's a knot in your throat, it's been there for a few minutes, since the insults thrown at you settled in your skin. It feels like no matter how much you swallow or breathe you can’t get it out.

John lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders loosening from the weight lifted off his shoulders- hands on his hips. His head hangs low, not able to meet your eyes. You realize how worried he’s probably been, he saw you perform CPR on Gaz, his body limp from the second they pulled him out of the helicopter and he’s just been waiting for something- anything since then.

You finally will the knot in your throat to go down, it takes up residence in your stomach now but you raise a hand to touch his shoulder, thumb grazing the rough fabric of his jacket. “He might need six weeks minimum to recover but he’s gonna be okay, John.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, your eyes now roving over the bodies around the two of you, a few feet away.

The small crowd seems to be bothering John too, not just you. You softly use the hand on his shoulder to guide him a few feet down the hall to your office.

You guide him into the room before closing the door and turning back to him. His eyes have finally torn themselves from the floor, shoulders still loose. “I’ll give you updates everyday if you’d like. Gaz is gonna be knocked out for the rest of the night so there’s not much to do till then.”

“Is he comfortable?” The question makes you blink, a hand coming to rub the back of your neck.

“Umm, I did put two pairs of socks on his feet and two warmed blankets on him so he stays warm, blood loss will make you pretty cold.” Your voice trails off towards the end, unsure what he meant by that. “Oh I also left him some apple juice on his bedside, he really likes the ones they serve here- the ones with the peel back lid. He likes them half frozen.” Your words die on your tongue when you see John trying to fight back a smile.

You don’t get to see the warm look on his face often, years of service engraved into his skin but it makes you sort of breathless. Like that feeling you get in your chest after a good laughing session with your friends. It makes your lips dry and you wet them with your tongue.

John’s eyes trace the movement and he finally breaks into a full smile. “I meant, is he in pain?”

A part of you wants to punch yourself in the face or just slam your forehead into a cement wall. You stutter out a response, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“Oh! No. He’s on some morphine so when he wakes up he won’t be in pain.” Your hands are outstretched in front of you like you’re trying to calm down a wild animal, followed by your frazzled sentence. This makes a small chuckle rumble through him.

The shake of his chest makes you take him in- in his tactical outfit. The beanie does wonders on his facial structure and the tactical vest- has his shoulders always been this broad- and his waist, the military was doing god’s work with those cargo pants. The sight leaves your mouth dry, like you can drink a whole lake and still not be satisfied.

His height also finally hits you. You’re a decent height, it's never been a problem but his boots add a couple inches and all of a sudden you realize how he’s already towering over you even though he’s still only standing a few feet away.

Your train of thoughts continues as he takes a slow step towards you, your eyes catching onto his chest before making their way up to his eyes. He’s close enough for you to smell him, sweat and gunpowder, and what you would guess is a hint of red clay.

A hand comes up to your shoulder, almost where you had placed yours on his earlier. His hands are bigger than your- of course- covering more surface area than your own. His thumb catches the naked skin of your collar bone peeking out from your scrub top through the neck line.

“Thank you, love.”

His voice is deeper than his previous ones and you’re praying to god that he can’t feel your heartbeat through your skin, you can hear it in your ears. His eyes are boring into yours, a solemn look, gratitude mixed with exhaustion. The idea of kissing him crosses your mind for a second and you quickly look at something past him, the wall behind him, to get the thought out.

“I was just doing my job, captain.”

His thumb grazes your collar bone again and you can feel goosebumps form on the back of your neck and down your arms. The feeling causes you to meet his eyes again.

“You did more than that. You do more than that everyday. So, thank you.”

His eyes harden when he utters the last words. Like as if he was trying to gently drill it into you for you to understand his gratitude. The look makes you gulp and you almost move to look down at your feet, his touch- his eyes- too much for you to handle at the moment.

The hand on your shoulder moves to the side of your face, his thumb on your cheek and his palm cradling your jaw. You suck in a breath, the noise loud enough for John to hear but his face doesn’t give it away. “You’re a good medic, love.”

He most likely heard the insults that the doctor had thrown at you, his words ringing through your head and you place one of your hands on his forearm, the one attached to the hand on the side of your face. “John, I-”

Another hand comes up to grab your bicep, his touch is sturdy and strong- not painful but the heat that radiates from it is almost scorching. The new movement pushes you even closer to him, your breathing is soft, a whisper of it brushing John's face- a small ripple through his facial hair.

A part of you thinks he’s going to kiss you, and another part of you wants him to. Flashes of Gaz’s limp body and the blood littering the metal floor of the helicopter appear behind your eyes and your jaw tenses under his hand.

It’s like John can hear your thoughts, the images of Gaz and all of today's earlier events registering. He should let you go, say goodnight and never touch you in such a way again. A part of him wants to shut down the idea immediately, your skin was soft, warm, everything he prayed for in his most desperate moments. He wants to kiss you, slide his hands across your body- memorize your curves, the taste of your lips. He wanted to know how you’d whimper, moan, gasp.

His eyes glance down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes.

You catch his diverted glance and you feel your stomach flip. God, you wanted to kiss him, but something told you this wasn’t the right time. Your other hand comes to grip the fabric of his jacket, the bit of it that peeks out from under his tactical vest. “Y-you should probably go tell Soap and Ghost about Gaz. Unless you want me to.”

John takes in the look in your eyes, you don’t look put off, embarrassed or uncomfortable. You don’t hate his touch- but the moment isn’t right. His hand on your face moves down to your bicep, both of his hands still on you.

He sighs, “I’ll go tell them now.” His hands finally fall back and you suddenly feel cold. It seeps into your bones and all of a sudden exhaustion hits you, hunger gnawing at your stomach and a headache hinting at your temples.

“Rest up, love.” John gives you a once over before pulling the door to your office open, throwing you a small smile before heading out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

You finally take a deep breath in and run your hands down your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. A part of you wants to laugh at how unprofessional the situation was, how childishly giddy it made you feel.

It would have to wait, Gaz was unconscious just down the hall and you had a job to do and so did John.

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