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circe69 · 1 year

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I Wanna Hear You Say Something

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

summary: ghost really likes your accent, and you really like his.

cw: fluff galore.

A/N: I have ideas for a part two. Lemme know if you want it sooner than anything else.

Edit: Part two is here:)

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Tonight, was your first mission ever. You were terrified, seeing as though the only people surrounding you were huge, loud, and dangerous men. They had been in this field forever, and you had only shot maybe a few targets on the head. You weren't met for this type of work, but your new general said you had a knack for sniping.

It was pouring rain, perfect, you thought. You pulled together some sort of outfit, grabbing a pair of heavy cargo pants that just hung off your hips, and a turtleneck t-shirt. They didn't offer much else.

All the sudden, you heard consistent honking outside your dorm. It was the boss, and the rest of your new companions in a large truck. You quickly grabbed your rifle, water, put on your combat boots and ran outside.

The rain kept getting in your eyes, making it hard to see, and you almost ran into the car door. Opening it with force, you jumped in the truck and landed on your hands and knees.

Wonderful. What a nice entry! is all you could think.

The man in the front seat turned around, trying to ignore your faceplant, and said, "Boys, welcome Y/N. She's a sharpshooter. Treat her like one of your own."

You stood up, face red, and dusted off the mud on your pants. You smiled at the general, silently thanking him for the introduction. As you took a seat in between men twice your size, you quietly said,

"Hello."

A few snickers from across the truck caught your attention, and the man sitting to your right said with his booming voice, "Oh great, we've got a clumsy sniper." He looked at you, and met your eyes with such sarcasm, all you wanted to do was roll your eyes, but his mask drew your attention away from your brewing anger.

A skull? Ah, so this must be the infamous Ghost.

You stared for a little bit, then dropped your head to your lap and started fiddling with your hands.

Your anxiety was probably visible from miles away. You never wanted to mess up, but you definitely didn't want to screw up in front of a bunch of men who already are skeptical of you. Men are terrifying.

Army men are even more so.

You started to mess with the gold ring on your middle finger, sliding it on and off, until a large hand abruptly grabbed it from you.

What is his proble-?

"Is it real?" Ghost leaned down and whispered in your ear. His voice. It was too sexy for his own good.

He messed around with it in the palm of his hand, being sure not to drop it. You said back, "No, but don't tell anyone." You winked as he looked up into your eyes.

"Ahh. I see", he whispered once again. You couldn't help but keep eye contact, even when softly grabbed your hand and slid the ring back on your middle finger.

Might as well exchange vows already, you smiled to yourself, and he noticed.

"You wanna know somethin'?" He said gruffly.

You hummed in response, awaiting his fun fact.

"I really like your accent."

Something about that made your heart jump. It jumped even higher when he rested his gloved palm on your knee.

"And you're gonna be fine. Tonight, I mean."

He spoke with such sincerity, it almost seemed natural to him, but he would probably cringe if you said that to him.

His fingers didn't move from your leg, in fact, if anything they were almost impossible to move. You smiled at him and put your hand over his, when suddenly the truck rolled to a stop, and you had arrived at your destination.

A few of the men had jumped out before you, including Ghost. As you neared the car door, Ghost grabbed your hips and pulled you out of the car. You gasped as he carefully let you down, and he yelled to be heard over the rain, "I didn't want you to fall again." You slapped his arm playfully and kept walking in front of him. He belly laughed behind you, and it made your stomach flood with butterflies.

You started jogging to take cover, and get a break from the rain, and followed close behind you. You had come across an old shack, the windows were busted, and doors unhinged, but it was enough to keep you dry.

Ghost took a seat on the floor behind you, resting his head on the wall.

"I'm tired of running in the rain, Y/N", he said sighing.

You giggled and nodded in agreement.

"I wanna hear you say something," he whispered in a low voice. He was a little out of breath, and you could physically see his chest rise and fall.

You took a few steps closer and kneeled down in front of him. You decided to tease him a little bit, so you covered your mouth with your hands and shook your head no.

He reached out and pulled your hands away from your mouth. He started spinning your ring around your finger as he gestured you to come closer.

"Please."

You were now straddling him, sitting directly on his lap and your hands were still enclosed in his, dropped down to his sides.

"What should I say?" you whispered, tauntingly.

He scoffed in annoyance. Right when he was about to say something, you snuck your hands up his torso, chest, and finally lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jawline.

You kissed his jaw lightly on one side, then breathed on his skin, "Oh, I know what to say." You kissed the other side of his jawline, and whispered, "I really really like your accent."

He grabbed your waist and started tickling you while laughing himself. He pulled you underneath him, so your back was on the wet floor, and he was caging you in.

"Good, well I'm glad we're on the same page."

#ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #modern warfare #ghost imagine #circe69scribbles

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daisygirlwrites · 1 year

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Rookie Mistake

Summary: Alternative title, How You Got Your Call Sign

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, minor character death

Pairing(s): Task Force 141 x fem!Reader (Platonic)

Note: No use of (Y/N). Only description of the reader is that she’s short

a/n: hey there! first and foremost, big thanks to @einno-arko for editing it! please check out her page! it has been a long time since i’ve written a fanfic so do forgive me for how rough this is. it is also 3 in the morning as im typing, woops. also, would love to hear feedback so i can make improvements in future works. thank y’all!

Being short has its advantages at times. For your job as a sniper, you could be placed anywhere without being seen. During your basic and special forces training, where most people are at least a head taller than you, you were taught techniques for someone only your size can pull off.

The man in front of you is probably the tallest person you’ve seen on the field. At least two feet taller than you and all muscle. ‘Tank’, his teammates call him. Truly matches the description. You try not to think about how one of his hands can wrap around your neck and squeeze the life out of you.

Instead, you pull out your knife and charge towards him. He runs towards you, arms up and ready to take a swing. Expecting a punch, you lean your upper body forward, keeping your head low. On your last step, you push upwards with your foot. Tank misses you, his stance uneven and his legs still wide open.

For a millisecond, you thought about slicing the area between his thighs, making things easier for you in the long run. Instead, you stick with the training that’s been engraved into your head. Diving in the open space between his legs, you run your knife through his inner thigh, hoping it’s deep enough to at least damage the femoral artery.

Tank lets out a scream and staggers forward as you slide down on the floor. With his back to you, you push your body up and sprint towards him. The ideal situation is for you to get to him and pull his head back enough to slice his throat. But life isn’t always ideal.

To your shock, he quickly gets up onto his feet and turns around, facing you. As if his strength doubled, he knocks the knife out of your hand and, for a split second, your eyes follow the knife as it flies across the room. That was all Tank needed, grabbing both of your arms and lifting you up. Yeah, you should have just sliced his dick.

It was at this time that the rest of the team entered the room. The sight was almost comical; you being held up, legs dangling like a rag doll. Tank casts a quick glance from the corner of his eye. All four men with their rifles up, pointing towards the two of you, but it was the one with a skull mask that made his body break out into a cold sweat. Four against one are really bad odds, especially with an injured leg.

Tank still has you held out, practically using you as a human shield for the upper half of his body. But with your insistent wiggling and attempts at kicking him, it becomes more difficult for him to keep a grip on you.

He knows that he probably won’t leave this room alive, and he’d rather die than to surrender. Tank goes through his options, looking at the small soldier in his hands. ‘Should have grabbed them by the neck.’ As soon as he makes a move, the men in front of him will too.

“Just drop them mate!” A heavy Scottish accent is heard throughout the room.

Tank stays silent, eyes darting around the room, trying to find the means of escape. His train of thought became illogical. As he looks around his environment, he tries to avoid meeting the eyes of the man with the skull mask. ‘Ghost’ is his name. His dark eyes never leave Tank’s.

If he’s going to Hell, he won’t be going alone. Spotting the window to his right, his body moved before his brain could process what was happening. Tank twists his upper body and, with the last of his strength, he hurls you through the glass

During your time with the team, which was about six months when you first joined, you’ve kept quiet. Never raising your voice and only talking when you’re addressed. So, when they hear you yelp and let out a high-pitched scream as they watch your body crash through the window, they would have laughed if the circumstances were different.

As soon as your body stopped shielding him, Ghost took the shot. He watched as the large man slammed down to his knees, blood running down his face from the bullet hole on his head, before finally falling forward.

Getting thrown out the window sounds fun, besides landing on the glass and the very high chance of death. Any other person would have a couple of broken bones, but it seems like you had lady luck on your side today. For one, the warehouse is only one story high, and you’re all padded up. Without your gear and helmet, there would have been more puncture points from the shards. But the impact from hitting the ground doesn’t leave you unscathed. Something is probably broken, sprained, if not bruised. You don’t feel it now but it’s going to suck ass later. Laying on your side, you look around, trying to not move your body in the process. There are probably hundreds, maybe even thousands, of glass shards surrounding you.

“ROOKIE!” Soap comes running towards you.

You open your mouth, wanting to tell him to be careful but Ghost’s rough voice cuts you off. “Dammnit Johnny, watch out for the fuckin’ glass!”

Soap slows his movements, making calculated hops to avoid the sharp shards. “Heya lassie, how ya feeling?”

Not having the energy for a filter, you responded. “Felt like I got thrown out a window. Fuckin’ hell, Soap, what do you think?!”

Seeing his eyes widen, you immediately regret the words that came out of your mouth. “Holy shit, Soap. I am so sorry.”

He lets out a hearty laugh as he stops before you. He gives you a look over, trying to find any visibly large shards of glass embedded in your body. Seeing as there isn’t any visible, Soap sticks his hand out. Surprised to find how badly your arm is shaking, he gently grabs your forearm and pulls you up.

“You really are Ghost’s mini-me,” he chuckles.

“Huh?”

“Already picking up his humor and stealing his catchphrase.”

“Oh!” You look down, thanking your balaclava for hiding your flushed face.

With his arm under yours, you lean on him, slowly limping your way towards the rest of the team. Price took another look at you, spotting at least a dozen little glass shards that punctured your jacket and pants. “Best to have the med team take them out of you. The heli will be here in five.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning holes into your head. You realize that during your next training sessions, he’s going to roast the ever living fuck out of you about what happened today. Dread begins to sink in.

—

With your left arm bare and the interior of the heli cold, you try to minimize your shivering so that the medic can properly do their job. You guessed that the guys would at least wait until you get back to base before they made jokes, but you were very wrong.

“Rookie, you literally got yeeted out the window.” Gaz was the first to break the silence.

“Yes, Gaz, I know.”

“We should have a contest to see how far each of us can throw her.” Soap barked out, joining in on the teasing.

“I would prefer not, Soap.”

And it went on for a little while longer, and you, again, were thankful for having your balaclava on so they wouldn’t see that you’re dying on the inside.

“Probably gonna stop calling you Rookie now.” Much to everyone’s surprise, they turn to Ghost.

You tilt your head, confused, before he continues. He stares at you, the heli quiet besides the hum of the wings. A beat later he speaks up again, “I think I’ll call you Crash.”

You follow with an immediate, “Oh hell no.”

At this point, Soap and Gaz are giggling like schoolgirls. Price turns away, lips pulled tight but his shoulders shaking up and down in muffled laughter. Ghost’s eyes narrow, but you can tell he has a smug grin under his mask.

“Crash it is then!”

“Don’t encourage him, Soap!”

“Sorry lassie, it’s law now, we outrank you.” He smiles at you.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you let out a quiet chuckle. Lifting your head up from your hand, you quietly say, “Fine. Just don’t tell anyone about this”

You watch Soap nod and Gaz give you a thumbs up before you pull down your balaclava, giving them a smile.

#daisygirlwrites #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #price x reader

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aprofessionalwithoutstandards · 1 year

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I spent forever on this. Reblog it immediately

[Image ID: A Post by evilscientist3 showing an image of five yellow and orange kittens walking forward on a blue blanket, mirrored and showing them on a red blanket, and edited so both groups of kittens are walking towards a cap point from tf2, captioned "tf2". I've edited the image so all the kittens are dressed as different tf2 characters. On the red side, one wears Engineer's helmet, goggles and glove, one Pyro's gas mask, one Scout's cap and headset, one Spy's balaclava and cigarette, and one Soldier's helmet. On the blue side, one wears Heavy's bandolier, one has Medic's hair and glasses, one Demo's beanie and eyepatch, one Sniper's hat and sunglasses, and one Miss Pauling's hair and glasses. End ID]

#there were ten cats not nine so i added pauling thanks lutz yaikat for suggesting that #tf2 #team fortress 2 #does this need character tags?? fuck you no i'm tired

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jewishevelinebaker · 26 days

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Have you ever wanted to make the TF2 guys drown in a pool? Or perhaps... kiss? Well, now you can! Here's a list of my TF2 Sims 4 custom content. Playtested, all LODs, all base game compatible. If you come across any problems let me know, but I don't think you should.

I made 3 items for Scout: his cap with headset, shirt with rolled up sleeves (comes in RED and BLU), and a necklace with 2 dogtags.

For Sniper I converted his hat, made a pair of sunglasses with a yellow tint, and added his facial scars. The scars can be found in skin detail, freckles. Also for Sniper I took a vanilla hairstyle and drew on his funky hairline.

Shown with Makesims' Hand Wraps

Here are 3 vests I made by combining and changing some vanilla vests. The one on the left is intended for Heavy, as it has t-shirt sleeves. The two on the right can work for either Demo or Sniper, as both have sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Both contain swatches with and without Demo's long undershirt sleeves. All vests come in BLU and RED.

Also shown here, on Demo and Heavy, are a pair of pants I converted from Strangerville's army career. See, normally when Sims 4 pants tuck into boots, the lower sections of the pants just disappear. But with these, because they include the shoes, the pants puff up over the top of the boots. There are 5 swatches: brown/grey, RED, BLU, and RED/BLU with gradient.

On Heavy and Sniper are black fingerless gloves. There is a swatch with gloves on both hands and a swatch with one glove (for Sniper).

Shown with Pralinesims' eye patch. Also, for Demo I used a white left eye from my Bad Batch CC for when he takes it off.

For Soldier and Engie I made these hats from scratch. Soldier's has two swatches to match his RED and BLU outfits. Engie also gets a pair of goggles.

I made Spy's mask by editing the ninja mask from the Spooky stuff pack and Pyro's by recoloring the inaccurate scuba mask from Island Living. It's not exactly a gas mask, but I really did not feel like making one from scratch and I'm not satisfied with any gas mask CC that already exists.

Pyro's mask also has a version with cat ears. For pary time, of course. Their shirt, while not exactly like Pyro's in-game shirt, has a similar silhouette which is why I chose it. There are white, RED, and BLU versions with and without the balloonicorn graphic.

I also made Pyro's gloves. The second swatch adds a black covering on the neck so that Pyro can wear many shirts without showing skin.

Here are the outfits for the rest of the characters.

Medic has a recolor of the Get to Work lab coat, RED and BLU, with and without gloves.

Spy has a recolor of the base game pinstripe suit in RED and BLU.

For Pyro, in addition to the shirt, I made another pair of pants with gradient, but this time they can go with taller boots. The boots do not come with my CC.

Engie has a recolor of the handyman overalls, in RED and BLU. I also made the gunslinger as a glove. There are two versions, with and without the bulky wrist part, so that it can still work with long sleeves and not clip.

Miss Pauling's dress has 3 swatches with different shades of purple. Please ignore the shading issues in this post's cover image; it has since been fixed but that pic was so hard to get I'm not retaking it.

I have added a few build/buy options. The 2Fort roofs (shown in the 2Fort images earlier) are a recolor of roofs from Werewolves. I also added the gym and meeting room walls from Expiration Date.

Mercenary Career!! Branches for all classes, plus branches for the Administrator and Miss Pauling. Script mods must be turned on and the files for this cannot be more than 1 folder deep in your mods folder.

All items can be found here on Sims File Share.

Recommended: Serenity's 1960s CC and Simduction's Dixie Hair for Ma 💖

My build of 2Fort and my sims can be found on my gallery, username Dadverinee.

#aud.txt #tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniper #scout #pyro #engineer #demoman #soldier #spy #miss pauling #heavy #medic #my ts4 cc #the sims 4 #sims 4 cc

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ahospitalbed · 5 months

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what I think TF2 mercs would be/do for halloween

I'm aware halloween has gone and passed, but hey, does that make this illegal?

not requested

cws/tws : blood, mentions of gore in spys bit, that's..pretty much it

⚾ SCOUT :

- smn about him tells me he'd be a cartoon heavy zombie

- he'd just put on face paint n call it a day lmao 💀

- MAYBE put fake blood on his bat

- go around scaring the other mercs maybe

- idk I don't have much to work off of here 😭

🪖 SOLDIER :

- an eagle/j

- i feel like he'd be just, himself. ( he's already scary enough, according to scout after soldier almost hit him in the head with the rocket launcher )

- maybe, MAYBE, a little ( not fake ) blood on his helmet and outfit he didn't wash off

- he'd be the type of person to crush the BLU mercs pumpkins I'm sorry,, but,, it's true

🔥 PYRO :

- what

- what do you think?

- they're either going to be themself or in a unicorn onesie the whole day.

- fight me if u disagree

- if u wanna make this even dumber imagine them keeping the fireproof suit and mask on under the onesie 💀

🧨 DEMOMAN :

- I don't even know/srs 💀

- not much to go off here

- .

- what if he went as a stickybomb SMDNSSNSMMD.

- just,, a drunk demoman, struggling to get through doorways, in a shitty dollar store quality stickybomb costume

- frankenstein

👊 HEAVY :

- that's my thoughts

- goodnight

- OK NO BUT actually, duo costume with medic duo costume with medic duo costu

- they're best friends, I can imagine it

🔧 ENGINEER : ( edited from original )

- cowboy

- that's it goodnight

💊 MEDIC :

- victor

- Victor Frankenstein

- duo costume with heavy duo costume with heavy duo costume with heavy duo cos

- omg they were roommates

- I'm a sucker for heavymedic I'm sorry

🦘 SNIPER :

- idk if he'd even get a costume man

- he's a closed off person, sleeping in his van instead of the base with everyone else, literally pissing in jars, so idk if he'd even go through the pain of making/buying a costume

- shrugs

- sorry if u were looking forward to this I'm I just don't know 💀

🚬 SPY :

- kinda got forced into this

- he's a gore heavy zombie

- thought " eh what the fuck, what else am I going to do " and stole scouts idea

- idek

#tf2 headcanons #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #heavymedic #heavy and medic are so gay oh my god #headcanons

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theangelofdeathh · 2 years

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Mr.Sniper | Sniper mask edit, song used here is one of the default songs from capcut, stranger. do not repost [when I mean that I mean don't download the video and have it as separate post by someone else] , reblog is appreciated.

#Mr.sniper #sniper mask #high rise invasion #my edit #anime edit #hri edit

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wibixthecowboy · 1 year

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Play the Song: Part 6: A Little Quieter

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

UPDATED TAGS PLEASE READ

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, swearing, weapons, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, I can fix him he just needs a hug, warning for an excessively bad taste in music, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV

A/N: Here is the long chapter I promised you! Sorry its so late... I may have indulged in a glass of wine.. or two.. so after I re-edit tomorrow it might be an entirely new chapter. OKAY IM DONE TALKING NOW ENJOY!

Words: 4.2k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

★Flash

Flash wakes quietly, eyes blinking open to see a dark expanse of a desert, and she has a blissful few moments of tranquility before her dreams come rushing back.

Her cheeks flush when she turns to Ghost, there was no way he could tell what her dreams had been about, but the thought of him somehow seeing the rated R images her mind conjured up horrifies her. Being so busy at the academy, even with her own room, leaving little time to indulge in more carnal desires. It had been years since Flash had even kissed someone, meaning it took an embarrassingly small amount of action to light the candle nestled between her thighs. In her defense, Ghost wasn’t much better, when he had stood between her knees that first night, Flash could see the way his hands shook with nerves and the uneven rise and fall of his chest. If it hadn’t been for his tense posture when leaving the bathroom, she would have guessed he’d, well, relieved himself. The thought of him getting off to her has Flash pressing her thighs together in embarrassment. Jesus, she needed to get her shit together.

Once she’s collected her thoughts enough to focus on their surroundings, Flash notices the music is playing again, this time at a lower volume. She smiles softly at the image of him turning on her music and flipping through the songs.

“Do you like the music?” She murmurs, stifling a yawn with her hand. Ghost turns quickly to look at her, he must’ve not noticed her earlier fidgeting. He clears his throat before answering. Flash finds his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m usually too busy to think about listening to music,” He drums his fingers against the wheel once before continuing. His voice is softer this time, “Yes I’m enjoying it.”

Flash feels her smile grow at his admittance, giddy at the idea of him opening up, to her no less. She wants to press, to ask him about his favorite genre, if he has one, or if he’s ever listened to ABBA (a personal favorite of hers). But she schools her excitement, knowing pushing would get her nothing. She chooses a safer response.

“I’m glad.” She resists the urge to reach out and touch him, fingers itching to peel the mask up over the cut on his chin and patch it up herself, the blood has soaked through the dark material and wound a path down his neck. She instead settles on resting her head against the seat to watch him as he drives, doing her best to ignore his exposed forearms and the way they flex whenever he makes a turn.

“Me too.” This new side of Ghost has Flash melting into her seat, the gruff man that was shoving her to the side just the day before was peacefully sitting next to her listening to Fleetwood Mac. Oh, the wonders of the world.

_____

Even in the dark, Flash is still able to see the rough outline of the compound. The area is dimly lit with small orange lights glowing around the perimeter of the concrete building, giving it an almost halo effect. It’s a lot smaller than she was expecting, dwarfed by the staggering height of the academy, the compound and its attached airport were pitiful.

When Ghost stops the van in front of the building he’s quick to step out and start towards the compound, leaving Flash scrambling to collect her things and jog after him.

“What’s with the rush big guy?” She says, feeling more at ease after their less than life changing conversation.

“I have things I need to do.” His tone is short and as soon as he finishes, Flash realizes that the sort of comradery that they had going in the van was no longer an option, her smile falters a bit, but she doesn’t let it ruin her entire mood.

While they were still in their friendship arc, Ghost had told her about Gaz. He’d mentioned that they might get along well, as long as she didn’t take his title. It took her a few minutes of pestering and promising to be silent for the rest of the ride to get Ghost to admit that Gaz is the proclaimed baby of the group. Supposedly, Price let him have first dibs on seconds. She made a bet that she’d have his spot in less than three days, and she was ready to get her 20 dollars.

Ghost holds the door open for her and watches as she thumps through the small space with her bag. When she turns to thank him, he’s already made it halfway down a hallway to their left. Flash huffs a breath in his direction and turns back to survey the large room in front of her. It's cozier than she was expecting. Although the room is made entirely of concrete, a handful of mismatched rugs make it feel less industrial. To her right, opposite the hallway of doors, is a small kitchen, separated from the rest of the room with a curved counter space. It has a small stove, fridge, and a table that looks like it's been taken out of an REI magazine with its bench seats. Further into the space, there’s a cobbled together living room, two worn armchairs facing a hideous orange loveseat.

There's three men there now, watching a black and white film on the small tv perched atop a rickety wardrobe. All three turn to look at Flash when the door closes loudly behind her. She gives them a sheepish smile.

“Hi?”

“Flash!” Soap jumps over the arm of the loveseat and walks towards her. “I thought we agreed Ghost was going to leave you with the cargo.” He teases.

When he gets close enough, Flash shoves his shoulder.

“And I here I thought I’d finally found my team.” She retorts and relishes in the pinch of his brow. He opens his mouth but a hand clamps down on his shoulder before he can speak. Vargas, or Alejandro as Ghost had called him in the van, steps around Soap to smile at Flash.

“If it isn’t our little Protector de Fantasmas.” He says slyly.

It takes Flash a moment but when she’s able to decipher what he said her body stiffens.

“Relax Rubia, word spreads fast around here.” Alejandro leans against Soap’s shoulder with an elbow, much to his annoyance. “He told me you had two of his men down before Ghost had recovered. That’s some impressive work.”

“I didn’t end up here by getting lucky.” She says and immediately regrets it. Flash is so used to defending her position that she doesn’t even recognize his words as a compliment, but from the earnest look on his face, she can tell he means it.

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” He says with a half smile and Flash returns it in full, hoping it would smooth over her harsh comment.

Soap clears his throat and shoves Alejandro’s arm off his shoulder, supposedly done with their conversation. He turns away from her to gesture at the third man who is hovering a few feet away from the group.

“Flash, this is Gaz.”

He’s younger than she expected, and cuter too. He looks like a cover model for an airport magazine, bronzed skin and perfectly straight teeth that make her flush when he smiles. A classic case of too handsome to be human. She wants to ask him what position he played on his high school rugby team but decides against it at the last minute. First impressions are important.

“Hi.” She says and sticks a hand out, kicking herself for being so formal.

He takes her hand but instead of shaking it, he pulls her into a hug, clapping her on the back a few times. Flash is so close she can smell the remnants of his cologne, she can’t quite place it, but it brings her back to the Hollister across from her favorite smoothie shop.

When he releases her, the bag hanging from her hand weighs a few more pounds, and her cheeks burn a bit hotter.

“Welcome to the team Flash.” Gaz bumps against Soap’s shoulder a bit rougher than necessary. “I’m excited to have someone to talk to from this century.”

Soap shoves him back and gives him a pointed glare,

“What the fuck do ya’ mean?”

“I mean,” Gaz gets out between his laughter, “I don’t always want to hear about your suffering during the potato famine.”

Flash laughs loudly at this, once again basking in Soap's wounded expression. Maybe she would have to become allies with Gaz instead. Alejandro shakes his head at them before interrupting their squabble.

“I’m heading out if this is what our conversations have divulged.” He grabs his things from the endearingly rustic table and salutes Flash. “See you soon Rubia.”

She salutes back and ignores Soap and Gaz’s offended looks, watching Alejandro leave through the same door she and Ghost had entered through.

“Let me show you to your room,” Gaz says, apparently done with his pestering, and Flash realizes halfway through a yawn, how tired she is.

“That would be amazing.” She says with a sleepy smile.

Gaz leads her and a moping Soap down the same hallway Ghost had disappeared through and stops in front of the second to the last door.

“This will be your room for now,” He gestures to the solid oak door and grimaces before continuing, “The building was not built with the expectation of women so the bathroom is shared between two rooms. I’m sure you and Ghost can figure out a system.”

Flash’s eyes widen at his words. She’d be sharing a bathroom with Ghost? Jesus have mercy on her poor soul.

“Ghost? You mean I can’t share with you? Or Price?” Gaz seems to catch onto her panic and lets out a barking laugh.

“No sadly I have to share a bathroom with this pig of a man,” He says and kicks Soap in the foot. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. “And Price got the only room with an attached bathroom.”

Flash curses and takes a steeling breath. This is far from the worst thing she’s endured. But the idea of sharing such an intimate space with such a private person has her heart racing.

“I’m sure it won't be much different from your dorms.” Soap says and Flash can’t believe she’s gotten both pity and reassurance from the two. She really must have drawn the short straw.

“I had my own rooms at the academy.” She grumbles and both men look at her in disbelief so she awkwardly pieces together an explanation, “When you’re young and better than a lot of men, they like to find ways to keep their ego inflated. Nothing too bad ever happened. It was more of a precaution.”

Flash feels awkward opening up to two people she’s known less than a week, but it gives her a sense of relief to finally tell someone. Soap gives her a sad smile and Gaz rests a warm hand on her shoulder.

“You won't have to worry about that here then. Go in and get settled, we already ate but you’re free to have whatever’s in the fridge.” Gaz gives her another one of his dazzling smiles and turns to leave with Soap.

Flash is quick to shut herself in the room, already blinking back tears. So this is what they meant when the other recruits talked about finding a family. All of her years of training suddenly feel worth it.

She bites her tongue as another wave of emotion rolls over at the sight of her room. It actually looks like a bedroom. A large bed takes up most of the space, framed by two small nightstands, and a plain oak wardrobe rests against the far wall next to a full mirror. It's simple, but the warm light spilling from the bedside lamp ties the room together with a gold bow.

What she see’s next though, has her heart leaping into her throat. Her iPod has been set on the nightstand, next to the carefully wrapped shape of her headphones that she’d so carelessly left in the van. He’d been in here?

Flash sets her bag on the bed before walking carefully through the door to her left, not wanting to risk a creaking board under the carpet. They definitely didn’t hold back this time. A long counter with two porcelain sinks stretches the distance of the bathroom, across from it, there’s not only a standing shower but a large clawfoot bathtub. It's been years since Flash has taken a real bath and she nearly caves at the sight of it. The door at the far side of the room keeps her focused. Still stepping lightly, she stops right in front of the door and raises her fist to knock against it. She hesitates at first, her fist only gliding across the wood surface before she’s knocking harder.

There’s no answer at first, but when she knocks again she hears a muffled come in. Flash falters for a moment, she hadn’t prepared for him to actually answer. She takes a deep breath and turns the handle, pushing the door open.

The breath she’d taken is immediately knocked from her chest when she sees Ghost writing at a desk. He’s dressed down to a tight black shirt and a pair of jeans, an outfit that despite its conservativeness, has Flash feeling like she needs to cover her eyes. The balaclava is crooked at his neck, obviously hastily put on, and the thought of him sitting just a room away without it makes her stomach flip.

“Can I help you?” His rough voice has whatever sad excuse Flash had for interrupting him flying out of her head. She recovers quickly though.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing my things in.” She says quietly and he just shrugs, not looking up from his journal.

Flash hovers for a second, looking around his room in hopes to find another conversation starter. Ghost’s room is nearly identical to hers, sans desk. His bed is rumpled but the rest of his room is in near perfect condition. When her eyes land on the small stack of books on his wardrobe she sees her opportunity.

“Could I borrow a book?” He does look up at this, wordlessly glancing between her and the stack. “I forgot my charger and I have a hard time falling asleep without my music. Maybe if I read I can bore myself to sleep, not that you’re books are boring! I just mean it might be relaxing.” She knows she’s rambling but she’s to distracted by the tilt of his head to care.

“Go ahead.” He says, waving a careless hand toward them and returning to his task

Flash quickly walks to the stack, grabs the first one, and retreats back to the doorway. It’s clear that he’s waiting for her to leave, but she can’t bring herself to shut the door behind her.

“How does your chin feel? That guy hit you pretty hard.” She says hesitantly.

“I cleaned it.” Ghost huffs in an uninterested tone.

“Are you sure? It looked bad from where I was sitting.”

There are a few seconds of silence and during them, Flash watches Ghost relax a bit further into the wooden chair.

“I’m fine Flash” His voice is softer now, and when he says her name, a warm shiver runs up her spine.

“Okay then, well, goodnight?” It comes out as more of a question and she kicks herself for being so easily affected. He doesn’t respond right away and she’s about to close the door when he finally speaks up,

“Goodnight.” She almost misses it, but when she hears his quiet reply she practically slams the door shut, running through the bathroom and throwing herself onto the bed.

It takes a tremendous amount of strength to peel herself from the covers to clean up in the bathroom and it takes even more to not look at every product he has next to the sink and in the shower.

When she's finally settled, old western novel in hand, she doesn't even make it through the first page before nodding off.

______

Their little dance goes on like this for the next two weeks. Despite her constant protesting, Flash is left at the compound to train with Price while Soap, Gaz, and Ghost run through several small busts. None of them memorable enough to recount when she comes barreling into his room upon his return. Her presence has become more bearable. After seeing their team's appointed psychiatrist, he’d been put on a heavier dose of anxiety medication. When Price found out, he insisted that Ghost also make a point to talk to the doctor about his problems. Claiming that their team needed him at his strongest. That's where he is today. Sitting in the conference room, now a makeshift therapy room.

Comforted by the notion of doctor-patient confidentiality, Ghost lets the hard set of his shoulders relax against the green armchair of the psychiatrists office. Opposite of him sitting at a large oak desk, Dr. Marks, a balding eccentric psychiatrist who he’d been becoming more familiar with over the last two weeks. The doctor sighs as he flips through the various medical records in Ghost’s file before closing it entirely and shoving it to the side of his desk.

“And you said that your only side effect has been trouble falling asleep?” He didn’t want to admit it, but the pills have been helping. He’s only taken them a handful of times since having the dosage upped, but they did their job a bit too well. With a clearer mind, Ghost is able to identify his source of panic much quicker, but that also meant that nights spent alone were filled with images that he simultaneously craved and loathed. That had been their topic of conversation this past week, Ghost’s unflinching desire for domestic life.

“Yes.” Ghost mutters.

“I can prescribe you a light sedative, nothing too strong, and in a small amount. You can refill it as you run out.” Dr. Marks leans back in his rather antique looking leather chair and rubs a hand against the silver scruff on his jaw, giving him that same sad smile. “I’m sure you can understand why.”

Ghost gives him a curt nod, not wanting to open up more room for discussion on the subject.

The doctor seems to pick up on it and swiftly changes the topic, already used to Ghost’s aversions to that certain page in his file.

“Have you thought any more about what I told you last session?” Dr. Marks asks softly.

“I’ve thought about it, yes.” Ghost says, avoiding eye contact by picking at the rough linen fabric of his own armchair.

“And?”

“It’s not going to happen.”

When Ghost looks up he can see the pity in the doctor's eyes. It’s seemingly the only way people know how to look at him like he's something that’s needing coddling. Except for her, and that’s his problem.

“There is still an opportunity for happiness, it’s in there Simon. When you’re ready to bear it, it will find its way back to you.”

“How can it find me if I can’t even find myself.” Ghost sags further into the cushion of the armchair, choosing to observe the dark wood grain of the desk rather than the eyes staring straight through him. He already regrets opening his mouth.

“You’re a lot closer to finding yourself than you think. Sometimes we need assistance though, and that’s okay.”

Ghost huffs a quiet laugh at his words and stands, ready to be out of the suddenly stifling atmosphere. Dr. Marks stands with him, reaching a hand across the table. When Ghost takes it, rather than shaking them, the doctor rests his other hand on top and gives their clasping hands a gentle squeeze.

“You’re still young. Don’t let your past control your future, it can be suffocating but you’re stronger than you think.” Dr. Marks gives him a kinder look now, one that has Ghost’s throat tightening. He needs to get out.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll let you know when the prescription comes in, I don’t have a small enough dose I can give you now but it shouldn’t be too long.” It’s again followed by the same ‘I feel guilty but don’t know what to say' look that he dreads so much.

Ghost gives him another nod and covers the space between his chair and the door in just a few strides, opening and closing it quickly without looking back.

Before he even reaches the doorway he can hear her laugh. A bright sound that warms his chest and leaves him a bit breathless. When he does walk into the room he sees Flash, Soap, and Gaz sitting around the kitchen table arguing over a card game. From the looks of it, Soap is losing, he’s slumped back against the wall glaring daggers at Gaz while drawing cards from the main deck.

Ghost turns to look at Price who is sitting in one of the two armchairs facing the kitchen, watching the three with a smile on his face. He strides over and takes the chair next to him.

“How’d it go?” Price’s eyes don’t leave the group.

“Better. I’m getting something to help with my sleep.” He says with a sigh.

Price does turn to look at him now, brows furrowing.

“We won’t have any problems will we?” Ghost feels the burn of shame on his cheeks.

“No. Small doses.”

“Good.”

They go silent after that. Both turn to focus back on the rowdy group. Ghost finds himself zoning in on Flash. Her laughter has turned the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink and even from across the room he can see the way her eyes shine. That same tingling tightness that has plagued Ghost for the past week returns at the sight, squeezing the breath out of his lungs in a warm embrace.

“She’s a sweet one that girl.” Price says, gesturing towards Flash with the bottle in his hand. “It makes me worry.”

Gaz, taking advantage of Soap’s bathroom break, has started slipping cards into his hand left on the table. Flash is bent at the waist laughing, wiping away tears, and begging Gaz to stop before he returns.

“I wouldn’t.” Ghost says distractedly. Price raises an eyebrow at him.

“You would know?” Price’s gaze softens as he takes in Ghost watching her. “You’ve taken a liking to her then?”

Ghost stiffens at his words but doesn’t bother arguing, Price is the only one he doesn’t bother lying to. He’s able to see through Ghost’s rough exterior wall too easily.

“You know I can’t.” Ghost's voice is a near whisper.

“It’s not against code, young as she is she’s just as much of a Lieutenant as you are.” Price says softly. Ghost turns to look at him, missing Soap’s boisterous reaction to his now deck of a hand.

“We both know it’s not that.” He mutters.

“You can’t shut everyone out forever Ghost.” Price says before taking a sip out of his bottle.

Ghost is about to tell Price that he absolutely can when a voice shouts across the room for him,

“C’mon Ghost! Come play with us!” Flash yells while beaming in his direction and Ghost feels his knees weaken at her excitement over him playing a game, it was usually quite the opposite. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d sat and listened to Soap and Gaz complain about having to be on his team. It was never done on purpose, but it still struck that small chord that rested at the base of his skull. The one that was currently urging him to take the seat next to Flash and forget about the warning sirens going off in every other part of his brain.

“I’m heading off to bed.” He says instead, knowing nothing good would come of it. Flash frowns at him for a moment but then shrugs her shoulders. He stands from the chair and starts towards the hallway of rooms.

“Awe well I’ll just take Soap up on his offer. He said we could go,” Flash scrunches her nose and turns a questioning gaze to Soap, ”what did you say?”

Soap looks at Ghost with a devilish smirk and even though he’s speaking to Flash, Soap keeps his eyes locked with Ghosts.

“I said we could go practice her poker with Alejandro’s boys.” Soap says simply. Ghost freezes and all earlier hesitation evaporates.

“How do you play the game?”

#ghost x reader #Ghost x female oc #simon riley #cod fic #simon ghost riley #Slow burn #family dynamic #modern warefare 2 #ghost stories #soap #mw2 headcannons #mw2 smut #ghost likes his hair pulled

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snootlestheangel · 26 days

Note

☠️

Death Doesn't Want Me Snippet

*Ghoap zombie apocalypse au ft. Soap's family*

The fic will be mostly the generic descriptions of action and scenery of an apocalypse story, but there will also be "reflection" sections where it focuses on a specific character (mostly Ghost) and their inner thoughts and feelings with the whole situation they're in. This is an example of what that'll look like.

Haunted.

It's how Sarah describes the feeling she gets from their group's newest edition. She feels haunted.

The man in question has yet to say a word to any of them, even despite the fact he broke up an argument waiting to turn into a fight. His mere presence was intimidating enough to Trent and his friends, as they had quickly quieted and allowed Sarah to speak her mind. She's still not sure if the skull mask was the reason the mystery man was able to silence those idiots, but it's what they are claiming. Personally, she thinks they were all a bit intimidated by the massive sniper rifle resting comfortably across the man's back. She believes the weapon indicated he had more hidden elsewhere on his person, and that it would be safest if he were left alone.

In all honesty, Sarah isn't scared of their new shadow. Sure, he's rather large in stature, and the full skull face accented by a dark hood is intimidating, but she just doesn't have any fear of this man. It could be that he had stepped in to allow Sarah to tell those daft bastards the right plan, or maybe that the others had finally stopped belittling her and her family all for being Scottish.

Or maybe it's because she watched her youngest daughter hand him a thistle she had picked, and the fact he took it gently and stowed it in the open pocket of his duffel.

Either way, Sarah MacTavish can say with complete confidence that this phantom is not a threat to her and her family.

In fact, she feels comforted at the same time as feeling haunted. Haunted because this enigmatic figure tends to stay several meters behind the main group. Haunted because he's often spotted just out of the corner of her eye, giving her a start until she remembers the unspoken peace treaty they have with this physical manifestation of Death itself.

But comforted because at least one person here has a weapon and seems competent. Comforted because he very easily could have killed anyone he wanted and taken advantage of the others. But he hadn't. In fact, he expressed a gentleness that Sarah knew to be a quickly dying trait in this world of ruin. She has started to take for granted their unconventional guardian, and has grown rather fond of his presence. She almost wonders if the man has found himself in a situation he didn't expect to be in, almost like he's in too deep. She wonders if he's committed to playing a role as a guardian all because of that first interaction, where he came to Sarah's defense and supported her plan to head north towards a potential safe place.

She finds herself making jokes with her husband Daniel about how their girls are probably driving him insane with all the little gifts, but he's too chivalrous to act anything other than grateful each time. She makes jokes with her sister-in-law Eleanor about the man's almost supernatural existence. She jokes with her older brother Oliver about how their group is so unlucky they're being haunted during an apocalypse.

Sarah becomes so comfortable with being haunted that she's rather humbled one night. Humbled when she realizes they aren't the ones that are haunted.

It's a rather disturbing feeling Sarah gets as she watches the phantom one night. He's staring into the fire, brown eyes dancing with the flames, yet they were empty, devoid of emotion.

Haunted.

What's most disturbing about that look is how familiar it feels. How close it is to the same look her youngest brother gets from time to time. The same look everyone would ignore until John became himself again.

The empty stare of a soldier.

Sarah knew from the moment they met this man that he had a career similar to that of her brother John, but she had never quite faced that reality until now. She decides to do something about it.

And maybe it's because that look reminds her so much of her baby brother. And maybe it's because her motherly instincts start taking over. Either way, she decides she's going to make their spectral companion take a nap.

"Why don't yeh get some rest? We'll be fine till morning." Sarah whispers after quietly making her way over to the fire. He blinks slowly before looking up at her, the blank aspect of his expression not disappearing but the stare no longer holding a distance to it. He's grounded now, that she can tell, but what is visible of his face gives no indication to what he might be thinking. Or feeling. If he does such a thing, Sarah finds herself thinking. The man's eyes dart around their makeshift camp as he thinks, and Sarah feels a bit frustrated by his lack of a response.

"We'll be fine, I promise. A wee rest isnae gonna hurt anythin'." This makes him look at her again, and this time she can gather a bit of emotion coming from those amber eyes. He nods in agreement before quietly getting up and moving towards the edge of the group, just in the darkest part and nearly disappearing into the shadows.

But Sarah is left confused. He had looked back to her with an almost mournful look, like he knew something she didn't.

She didn't dwell on it. She couldn't afford to.

Instead, she trusted him. Trusted that haunted feeling as she put out the fire, and bathed them all in darkness.

#death doesn't want me #zombie apocolypse au #simon ghost riley #soap's family #cod oc #cod fic #snootles's askbox #snootles answers

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

Note

I know you just posted continuation of the forced marriage story, but it's so good, there is just has to be the third part! No pressure, just suggesting, only if you want to and have time for this in the future

Thank you both so much for the requests :)

Edit: Hey, thank you @pinkittwice for expressing that you were confused by the last line. I edited it, so now it should be more clear. I appreciate the feedback

Part 1

Part 2

A Pressing Engagement, Part 3

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to screw me last night,” the hero said.

“And I’m delighted you didn’t try to kill me.” The villain wrapped their arm around the hero’s shoulder. “Feels like we’re making progress.”

The two of them sat together on a patio swing, enjoying their morning in the peaceful beauty of the villain’s flower garden.

There were no chains or locks this time, which only made everything more pleasant. Of course, the villain had their sniper on standby with a full load of tranquilizers, in case the hero tried to run. But they were hidden away. Out of sight, out of mind.

The hero looked troubled. “Okay, but why didn’t you?”

“Feeling neglected?” the villain said, tracing circles along the hero’s arm and shoulder. “I can assure you, if you had suggested it, I would have been incredibly happy to oblige.”

The hero curled their fingers in their lap. “Answer the damn question, [Villain].”

The villain chuckled. Their hero was entirely too easy to tease. “It’s because I knew you weren’t ready yet. Simple as that.”

The hero’s eyebrows rose. That was clearly not the answer they’d expected. “So then, on our . . .” They swallowed. “On our wedding night, are you going to . . . ”

The hero said the phrase “wedding night” with absolute contempt, but it didn’t escape the villain’s notice that that was the first time they’d been able to utter the words at all.

“If you’re not ready then either, I’m sure we can think of a number of other ways to enjoy a honeymoon suite.” They picked an azalea from a nearby bush and twirled it in their fingers.

“And if I’m never ready?”

“Well, then that would be a shame.” The villain tucked the flower behind the hero’s ear. “But I’ve learned long ago that there’s much more to love than that.”

The villain saw the relief in the hero’s eyes, but their grimace remained. “I’m not going to reward you for doing the bare minimum,” they said. “Alright, so you’re not a rapist. That doesn’t make any of this okay.”

“I’d never dream of it,” the villain said, offering a genuine smile. “I love that yours is a heart not easily won.”

It would make it all the more wonderful once the hero’s heart was truly theirs.

“Now tell me, [Hero],” the villain continued. “If you could have any of your deepest desires right now, apart from escape, what would it – ”

With a sudden, fluid movement, the hero leaned forward and kissed the villain.

It was an impassioned, desperate kiss. The villain clutched both sides of the hero’s head, pressing them closer.

Then the hero pulled away again, just as quickly.

“Hah. That was excellent, darling,” the villain said, grinning from ear to ear. They held out their hand. “Now, give them back please.”

With a sigh, the hero handed over a set of keys on a ring.

“It was a marvelous attempt, and I encourage you to try that strategy as many times as you need,” the villain said, repocketing the keys. “But you have some things to learn about the element of surprise. For instance – ”

They saw movement out of the corner of their eye.

They sprung up. Shoved the hero behind their back. Eyes widening, they realized they were staring into the somewhat familiar face of the hero’s teammate.

The young superhero had a tranq gun leveled directly at their chest.

“You’re not my sniper,” the villain observed, raising their hands in surrender. An amused tone masked the anger coiling in the pit of their stomach.

“I can’t believe you came!” The hero poked out from behind the villain’s back. “I was afraid no one was receiving my messages.”

It dawned on the villain that, while they’d been enraptured in the hero’s kiss, they’d failed to notice the teammate approach. Clever.

“[Hero],” the teammate breathed, all but melting. The villain did not appreciate someone else looking at their hero like that. “Did the bastard hurt you?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. God [Teammate], it’s good to see you.”

The hero stepped around the villain, a grin on their face. The villain tried to reach for them, but stilled when the teammate readjusted their rifle.

“I can probably take them out,” the teammate said, “if I aim for the eyes.”

“Don’t bother,” the hero said, taking their place next to their friend. “It’s not worth becoming a murderer for. And besides,” they glanced to the villain, “you could say I owe them the bare minimum.”

“It’s funny,” the villain mused, “how you can think the world of someone, and still underestimate them.”

The hero crossed their arms. “I’m surprised you’re not angrier about this.”

“Oh, I’m livid,” the villain said with a cheery expression. “But only at this scum who thinks they can steal you away from me.” Their smile became absolutely dazzling. “As for you, my darling hero, you should know by now how much I love to give chase.”

The tranquilizer dart landed just below the villain’s heart.

Part 4

-------

A/N – Heh, sorry @interdimensional-chaos that I didn't end up actually writing the night itself

To answer your question – You'd probably like the-modern-typewriter, especially the stuff on their patreon. They write lots of different dynamics, and I think that the words "soft obsession" could certainly be used to describe a few of them

In terms of actual novels, you might like Warner from the Shatter Me series (the first three, at least; I never read the rest). I'm not going to claim that those were the most well-written books I've ever encountered, but god dammit if they weren't fun to read. And, at the end of the day, isn't that all we really need?

If anyone else has suggestions, please share!

#villain x hero #hero x villain #villain #hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #snippet #writebrl #writing #writing snippet #forced marriage #short fic #this was actually my second ever attempt at writing a kiss #and i always skim over kissing in books #be honest - could you tell?

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