#the fact simon claims you after fucking you

[cordeliawhohung]

i have come to the realization that i think Leftovers is the closest thing i've ever written to an a/b/o dynamic and idk how to feel about that.

#core talks #leftovers #like come on #the ownership #the use of pet #the fact simon claims you after fucking you #what was i smoking

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x you #call of duty fanfic

[v4voracity]

TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

  ⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff,  ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this…  this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar. 

He remembered when he first heard it. 

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience. 

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again… 

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

 As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch. 

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern. 

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it. 

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh. 

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know. 

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between... 

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe. 

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves. 

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy. 

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

 It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game. 

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed. 

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive. 

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards. 

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely— 

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?” 

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #self aware au #dark fic #yandere #drabble #oneshot #simon ghost riley #captain price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #reader insert #x reader #kate laswell #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #self aware cod au #task force 141

[firstkanaphans]

I know this post is only for like two people, but I’m going to make it anyway. So, my obsession with Dead Friend Forever finally reached critical levels and I resorted to binge-watching The Hidden Character just to get more content. For those that don’t know, The Hidden Character (which they literally call “THC”) was the reality show Be On Cloud used to cast DFF. It is bad. Like really bad. And not in a it’s-so-bad-it’s-good-type way. It’s one of the most exploitative pieces of media I have ever watched. I walked into it with a favorable view of BOC, Mile, Apo, and Pond (the CEO), and walked out of it hating all of them.

A small collection of things that happened over the 11-episode run:

Everyone was told that they had to share every single aspect of their life with the viewers or they would be eliminated. And, in fact, the first person eliminated was told that it was because he wasn’t being open enough with the audience. They filmed these boys—one of whom was only seventeen at the time—talking explicitly about their sex lives. Which is, of course, fine to talk about. It’s not fine to air it on television! Even some of the games themselves contained sexually suggestive content (i.e. Which do you prefer "eating" with—your hands or your mouth? If you were to cheat on your significant other, would it be just sex or a full-blown affair?)

During the first part of the show, everyone had a secret that the other players were supposed to guess. One of the player’s secret was that he used to be homophobic. (Questionable casting for a company that only hires men, but I digress). He was praised for having changed his mind. In contrast, JJay’s secret was that he was raised in an abusive household and had once hit his father. Pond crucified the poor guy for this. He made him sit there in front of the whole cast sobbing and apologize for hitting his dad who was an abusive asshole.

After the first half of the show—which served absolutely no purpose at all—we finally move onto the acting portion. This is, after all, supposed to be a talent competition. The judges were so mean. Especially Apo. He was like the Simon Cowell of BOC. There was no constructive component to their criticism. The fact that any of these people are still acting is honestly unbelievable. I would have gone home and cried myself to sleep and then never stepped foot on a stage again.

At one point, each of the groups was assigned a scene from KinnPorsche to act out (because BOC very clearly owns no other IP). One of the pairs was given the scene where Porsche gives Kinn a handjob in the bathroom. I wish I was kidding. 

The judges constantly told the contestants to make their scenes feel new and different but any time the actors actually tried to change anything, they complained it was “too” different and the original script was already perfect so who were they to think they could create something better. Once again, Apo and Mile, the original actors of these scenes, are the ones judging them! Like of course they like their version better. What is even happening??

And finally, the whole fucking thing was rigged for Ta to win. Like don’t get me wrong, I love Ta and I think he did a great job, but he was the only one who came into that competition with a built-in fanbase and the winner was chosen by popular vote.

It was all just…baffling. Especially from a company that claims to be trying to change the industry. Like if you want the industry to stop being so exploitative to its actors, maybe start with yourself? It also makes those condescending “how dare you watch our shows just for the NC scenes” press releases they do every week even more annoying.

I have no clue what the reaction to this show was while it was airing but god I hope they never do it again. It literally makes me feel so weird watching DFF now. I feel like those poor kids are being held hostage. Maybe CEO Pond’s been the one under the mask the whole time 🔪

#y'all help #did anyone else watch this or was it all just a fever dream? #the hidden character #dead friend forever #like don’t get me wrong I will continue to watch dff because i’m obsessed #and because i want to support these actors and what they were forced to go through #but idk if I’ll be watching much from boc after this

[mindofadoll]

I love camping soo much. That is to say I have this fantasy; I want to go camping with bunch of classmates I don't know (in this scenario I go to a all girls school) for some kind of school trip. As it is in the middle of the woods I have no cell reception. So I spend my time getting to know the girls staying with me in my cabian Brooke, Quinn, Rowan and Simone.

Brooke is a very athletic and excels at running hiking and swimming. Quinn is your standard environmentalist she knows every plant and what they could do. Rowan is more of a discord mod kind of girl not the type you'd expect to be out here. Apparently the school forced her to go on the trip to make up her pe credit she ignored. And then theirs is Simone another forced to be here camper. Since some of the activities we do out here count as volunteer work something Simone needs to stay in school to make up her multiple suspension. Your typical rough around the edges type.

While I tried to keep the cabin cordial the infighting happened by the second day. As Brooke thought that Simone was too full of herself and Quinn couldn't stand Rowan's complaining. To lighten the mood I suggested a friendly water balloon fight. Something Rowan claimed to be cracked at. We split up into to teams and although it was an odd number Simone and Brooke agreed that their is no way Rowan was good at this so apparently she counted as a 5th of a "solider".

Eventually the teams were decided. Me, Rowan and Simone vs Brooke and Quinn loser makes dinner. Before we began Simone announced something." I think the one who suggested this should have to wear a white T-shirt. "While I was confused at the request the other girls surprisingly agreed. Even Quinn looked away and said it was only fair. So, I went to change. When I got back the games began. And I quickly realized that Simone and Rowan's strategy was to use me as a human shield. Continuing to flank behind me when the other team threw their balloons. In fact it seemed like the other team was aiming specifically at me. By the time our game was done I was soaked down to my panties and the most embarrassing part is you could see everything through the translucent wet shirt.

As I was the most wet my team was declared the losers despite my teammates being only surprisingly damp. Although my team lost Simone and Rowan didn't make a uproar about the declaration. Instead the simple went to begin cooking. I started to change out of my wet clothes until Brooke stopped me "I think it's only fair that the losers have to stay in their wet clothes. " I try to convince her against this stating that the shirt was basically see through at this point and it's getting cold but Brooke wouldn't budge. I looked at Quinn to ask for some relief but she simple said "Y'know it's better for the environment to change less." Though after saying that she looked at me sympathetically. "Maybe, it would be fair to allow her to not wear the shirt so she doesn't freeze. " at this statement Brooke nods in agreement.

I argue that, that isn't fair but Brooke states that "I walk around in my sports bra all the time, so it's fine. " With a huff I decided to take the little leeway and peel the shirt off of me. Then Me, Rowan and Simone make quesadillas. By the time were done everyone quickly eats before heading off to bed. As I'm also tired I do the same and change into my pj's before laying down.

I only get a few minutes of sleep before I wake up hot and tingly everywhere. I look around and then see Simone creeping towards me. I sit up froze until she sits on my bed. She whispers "Sorry to wake you, I was just thinking about how I can't stand the good girl act. " hand creeping up my already sensitive body over the covers. I let out a soft whimper as a response. "Fuck, I knew it. Good girl's like you are so good for one thing. " she says while climbing on top of me and wrapping her callus hands around my throat. "Cumming your stupid little brains out. " she whispers while inching closer and closer before the lights flicker on and Brooke is standing above us. "You delinquent bitch, you knew I wanted her. " At that statement I look up at her with confusion until Quinn pipes up " Both of you need to back off... " at this statement I let out a sigh of relief "I have already claimed her, after all I put arthroscopics in her food. So her wet cunt should belong to me. "

At this point Im staring up at all three of them mouth agaped. Before Rowan chimes in "Why don't we solve this the gamer way? " the three turn to her confused "Why don't we all get to have her in an all-nighter battle royal, whoever taps out lasts wins her for the rest of camp? " she says while practical drooling. For a moment all of the girls pause before nodding. Simone - "You guys are fucked, you know how often I dick bitches like this down on a daily basis." Brooke - "Big talk you know it's all about stamina." Quinn- "Both of you are going to lose. I have more technique. " Rowan- "Pog".

As they all start to put their hands on me, I ask if I get a say in the matter to which they laugh. Brooke and Simone take turns using my neck as a chew toy and while Rowan sits above my head. "Have you sucked pussy?" Rowan ask with a smirk I answer no before she places her cunt to my lips "learn". I hesitate which makes Simone slap me " She said learn bitch! " I begin to lick as Brooke chids her "No need to be so rough. " "Look bitches like these like it rough, they like to be broken in. " "I disagree. " "Then why ya biting so hard? " Simone say gesturing to the bite mark she left.

"I... " "oh does the jock bitch not know how to hold back? This is gonna be fun! " "She's just so pretty! " "And a virgin it seems like. " Quinn pipes in again while pressing a finger inside of me "So tight. " she says watching her fingers sink in. Rowan - "Lol (yes said like lol and not L. O. L) how have you never had you cunt used? " Simone - "How are you not a virgin too? " "Hey, kittens love what I do to their bodies." At this statement Simone gets up and walks off . "Peppo champ , more for us! " Rowan says while grinding into my face harder. "I'm not done! "She yells while walking back " I just wanted to get my strap. " Brooke -"You just carry that thing with you? " "You never know when you'll need it. " "Dude that's way too big. It'll break her. " Quinn - "No it should be fine with all the aphrodisiacs I gave her she should be nice and loose. "

Simone- "Well if you won't fuck her with it more for me. " she says while strapping in. "Fuck kitten, you panicking on my cunt feels so good. " As I shake my head no I feel as Quinn holds me open for her. "Get ready whore! " Simone says as she sinks in little by little. While Quinn slaps my clit everytime I try and struggle away. Which hurts with a extra sting. Brooke- "Rowan let me get a turn. " "Fuck no her mouth is pogchamp go mog about it or suck her tit I'm not getting off. " Brooke seemingly takes the suggestion as I feel her warm mouth wrap around my nipple.

I begin I move a little as it's all so much. "Yeah that's right fuck back into me slut " Simone says as she slaps my ass and grinds the strap into me. As I start to feel on the edge with all the sensations from Brooke playing with my tits, Rowan riding my face like it's the best ride on the planet and Simone fucking me slow and deep. Then I feel as Quinn wraps her mouth around my clit and I'm sent tumbling over the edge along with Rowan and Simone.

"Fuck that mouth is better than cod. " Quinn - "Let me get a turn. " they then switch spots. Simone begins to pull out before unstraping "She's all yours Brooke. " Simone says before taking Brooke's spot . Rowan adds on "Yeah, sloppy seconds. " when Brooke is finally strapped in she goes straight for sinking into my warmth. She seems to hold back from a second before Quinn wraps her legs around Brooke's hips "Let go! " Brooke does immediately as she just begins to slam into me as hard and fast as she can whispering about how good it is while I scream into Quinn and as the others encourage her. Rowan even begins to nibble on my clit as Simone pinches nipples. Sending me over the edge again as Brooke just keeps pounding into my oversimulated and abused cunt.

Brooke - "Can't we all just shared her. " all of them silently agree. As they all use my body all night long taking turns fucking my mouth and cunt and useing my body like a toy. As I begin to pass out I think about how things are going to change around camp.

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #sapphic ns/fw #lesbian ns/fw #lesbian smut #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #sapphic cnc #cnc k!nk #cnc wlw #wlw blog #wlw concepts #wlw objectification #wlw camping

[iblameashley]

Dating Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Civilian | Male | Gay

Content: Headcanons, Gay stuff, First dates, Budding relationship, Pre-relationship, Alcohol use, Mixed emotions, Military stuff, Guns, etc.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | Male

!!!SFW!!!

Note: This is kind of an in between of short-story and bullet point dating headcanons. I've wanted to write this for a while, but lacked motivation to go full story mode... sorry! Also, I do not know UK Gun Laws or how Gun Ranges work there, so just... go with the flow, OK?

It happened weeks ago; Simon stared down at his phone with a sense of dread, though you'd never have known just looking at him. He didn't even know why he had agreed to download this fucking app to begin with, though as usual it was at Soap and Gaz's insistence... and pestering. All he had wanted was some quiet on his day off, not to be harassed by yet another chatty man looking to suck his dick in an alley.

Sighing, he scrolled to the message that had just come in – a handsome young lad with a wide smile and kind eyes. It had started innocently enough, the usual pleasantries first, briefs answers after, and the long wait to see how long it would take to either receive a dick-pic or have a request for one.

Neither happened. In fact, the lad had actually carried on a decent conversation over the course the last few weeks, inquiring about hobbies and interests, career and what he was looking for. But then the lad had asked that they meet up on the upcoming weekend.

It's ironic that Ghost decided to ghost the poor lad. He didn't block him – frankly, he didn't know how – he simply didn't respond and closed the app. It was for the best, at least that's what he told himself, though he had blatantly lied to Gaz and Soap when asked how it was going, claiming all he could find was horny men looking for a quick hookup. Not that Gaz or Soap understood why that was a problem; they assumed Ghost getting laid couldn't make him worse.

But then they found out he lied, a casual glance at his phone when a message came in, and then another, asking about the date and apologizing if he had offended Simon.

Its rare that anyone could corner Ghost, but that's just what Soap and Gaz did, hounding their commanding officer until he ran out of excuses.

“Ye owe the lad an explanation.” Soap chided him, a finger pointed in his face.

“Agreed, you can't leave the lad hanging!” Gaz chimed in with a disgruntled look on his face.

So Simon agreed to apologize and reply to the poor lad, and even agreed to a date. He was ready for this, he knew he was charming and could flirt with the best of em', he just had no need to before. He simply wasn't interesting in dating.

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Cuppa

Simon: He felt nervous for this date, in many ways it felt like a blind date since he had only ever seen your face in a few pictures. He dressed nicely (Button-down, fitted jeans, boots and some cologne was dabbed behind his ears where the mask hooked), He was confident, pleasant, charming and funny throughout the date. But he saw the way you looked at him with every passing question and answer and was beginning to think this was a mistake. You weren't compatible... but why did that bother him?

You: You arrived early and found a nice little table at the cafe to wait for Simon. To say you were surprised by the giant of a man who appeared would be an understatement. As you both settled in and ordered drinks, you attempted to dive right into it. Your talk walk halting and awkward as Simon dodged most questions about himself with grunts, shrugs or one-word answers. His insistence on using terrible puns and dad-jokes made it more difficult to get to know him. It was frustrating, to say the least, but you persisted. He did at least ask some questions about you, which eased things, but you knew that if this was all he was willing to give, it would be difficult to go on more dates, let alone start a relationship.

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Movie and Dinner

Simon: Of course Simon would agree to a movie date followed by dinner. It meant that he got to sit in silence and darkness for about two hours, and then could have a bite to eat after where you would likely do a majority of the talking. He had already tried his best on the first date, it was up to you to pick up the slack this time. The movie went fine for the most part, except when you grabbed his arm during a jump-scare that made him roll his eyes.

Over dinner, he picked away at the curry on his plate while you discussed the movie. He was surprised by your review of the movie and its themes and found himself agreeing with you on many points. Maybe you weren't such a terrible date after all. He decided to pay for dinner, despite your protests.

You: It was stupid of you to choose a thriller for a movie date, but you really wanted to see the movie and no one else would go with you. Since Simon agreed, you made it a date and added dinner after. Thank the good Lord it was dark in the theatre; you turned bright red at the jump scare and felt bad for grabbing Simon's arm. You felt the way he tensed, but were too embarrassed to apologize to him.

Dinner went much better and Simon actually became more engaging as you discussed the movie and its plot. He seemed to enjoy your nerding out and even cracked a small smile.

As dinner came to an end, you thanked him for the (genuinely) enjoyable night and get ready to pay, since the date was your suggestion. Simon wouldn't allow it and ended up paying regardless. Maybe this lumbering, awkward man wasn't so bad after all.

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Pub Trivia

Simon: Simon's intelligence isn't limited to Military knowledge, so he decided to take you to a pub trivia night, though he couldn't understand why he had this continued desire to impress you. You. Just some civilian who had taken an interest in him.

In between the rounds and pints, he started to talk to you about his mates Gaz and Soap who gave him the idea for this date. You'd like them, he was sure, but it was too early for you to be meeting his friends, he was sure to remind you.

You: You couldn't deny the Simon was an encyclopedia of general knowledge, his brain was like a sponge, it seemed. He had filled in the sheets of answers rather quickly each round, but you got the chance to flex your brain full of useless pop culture knowledge in the last few rounds.

What really entertained you though, was that the drunker this man got, the more he was willing to open up to you... you should have got him pissed sooner. You laughed when he reminded you it was too early to meet his friends, despite never asking to. This man was ridiculous and in its own way, it was endearing.

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Aquarium

Simon: He had agreed to a date with you a few weeks prior but had to cancel due to deployment. He promised he'd take you out when he got back, but by the time the mission was over and he returned to base he didn't want to do the obstacle course. You surprised him when you offered a less energy-intensive option, and here he was at the aquarium now.

As you two strolled leisurely through the dark hallways of glass staring at a multitude of sea creates, Simon found himself actually relaxing; something he was unaccustomed to after a long mission. You stood unreasonably close, but he allowed it, figuring you were uncomfortable with all the other people wandering close by.

A brief stop at the aquarium cafeteria (for an unimpressive meal that would have made the mess hall staff on base look like Michelin Star chefs), filled the both of you up enough to know you'd make it to dinner and something more satisfying.

You managed to convince Simon to take a walk through the gift shop, and ended up buying him a pack of face masks with a shark-teeth pattern on them. He was surprised and delighted, though he wouldn't admit that to you.

You: Your heart sank when Simon tried to cancel the date - but you also understood he just came back from deployment. Maybe you were getting to know him better between the dates and texting, but you could feel his exhaustion, so you offered an alternative; a stroll through the aquarium.

It was rather cold in the building and you found yourself drifting towards Simon... that's how it started anyway. He smelled good too, and you felt comfortable with him. You desperately wanted to hold his hand, but figured that was a boundary too far for right now.

You treated him to food in the cafeteria, swallowing it hard and trying to hide your dissatisfaction with the offerings while he ate everything on his plate with his usual impassive face.

There was no plan to buy anything from the gift shop, you just liked wandering them to see what was there... but the sight of the face masks was too good to pass up. Simon always showed up to a date in a mask, and only took it off when eating, drinking or for a quick smoke. So it seemed fitting and perfect get these shark-print ones for him. You thought you could see a smile under his current mask as you handed them to him.

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Shooting Range

Simon: Simon was absolutely intent on showing off his sharpshooting skills to you. It was the closest thing to 'giddy' that he allowed himself to feel as he drove you to the range. Simon is an expert in his field, matched only by sparingly few men - and several good women too.

But there was also a feeling of caution and anxiety as you both signed in and got your gear ready. Simon watched like a hawk as you eyed the guns over before making a few selections. A Glock 17, Mossberg 500 and M4 Carbine... Interesting selections.

This was as handsy as Simon had ever been with someone, ensuring that your safety gear was secure and that you followed instructions to the letter. He was already hesitant about this activity to begin with, but you seemed genuinely interested.

Simon ensured that you paid close attention, and that he assisted you with aiming as well as stood close by as you fired. What he wasn't expecting was your proficiency with the Mossberg. You each took turns firing at targets, and to no surprise to either of you, Simon was the winner... though there were no winners, it was all in good fun. But if there were, Simon would have won.

You: You chose the Glock because it had always fascinated you, the Mossberg because you grew up in the country and were familiar with similar shotguns and the Carbine because it seemed the most military of the selection.

You couldn't stop the thrill that ran through you as Simon checked all your gear and guns, ensuring everything was secure and safeties were on before going straight into his lecture about gun safety. You listened to him speak with confidence and authority, happy to see him in his element. You wanted to make sure you gave him and the guns the respect they deserved and did everything he said without question - or at least with very little question.

Your heart raced as Simon kept close. You knew very little about guns overall, but the way he pressed himself against you to help you aim, the calm voice he spoke in as he guided you, the feeling of his hand on your back as he stepped away to let you take the shot. You were melting with happiness.

The biggest thrill was when you fired the Mossberg several times. The look on Simon's face was priceless as you expertly handled the shotgun and even gave him a run for his money with your accuracy, but that was a secret to share another time.

You gracefully conceded your defeat to the expert in front of you, but couldn't help but notice what might have been pride in his look as he reviewed your targets one last time.

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Cooking Class(es)

Simon: It's not that Simon is bad at cooking - he's really not - but he didn't have the opportunity to flex his skill often, and he had a select few dishes that he excelled at. So when you suggested this date, he was a bit apprehensive.

But Simon was a man used to following orders - usually - and listened intently to everything that was explained to him, so he settled in at the table next to you and took charge.

He needed a bowl? You had it for him already. Needed something washed? It was already done and drying. Missing ingredient? Nope, on your left. Simon appreciated your own attentiveness to the task, and how you made it go so much more smoothly.

And then the dessert section came up, and Simon floundered. Hard. Main courses aren't a challenge for him, but Simon doesn't bake. Not for a lack of interest, but a lack of time usually.

You picked up the slack though, and he reluctantly ceded control to you, letting you guide him in making the Zeppole.

Simon's demeanour softened as the class came to an end and you both sat there sampling the homemade ravioli, a glass of wine and eventually the Zeppole.

Before you parted ways, you gave Simon a tight hug, demanding he return it otherwise you weren't letting go. Simon decided to simply return the hug instead of forcing you off him.... not because he actually liked the hug from you.

You: Simon seemed to be taking this class very seriously from the moment he arrived. He stood in a typical rigid manner while listening and nodding along as instructions were given. The only thing missing was a few 'Yes sir!' replies.

The man made a complete mess though, and you found yourself quickly cleaning up after him in an attempt to keep up with his pace. But even still, you had fun. You got him the things you both needed for the meal, made sure the table was tidy and even engaged in some small talk.

It took everything in you to not laugh out loud as you say the panic in Simon's eyes as he read the instructions for the dessert. It was like he was reading a completely different language and, after a few failed starts, you took over and guided him.

As the class came to an end, and you could both indulge in the meal you created together. You clinked your wine glass against his and took a bite of the ravioli that was mostly his handiwork. It was good! Dessert wasn't too bad either and Simon gave a contented smile as he ate the last of the Zeppole.

You both relaxed on a nearby bench after the class for a few minutes, letting the meal settle in your stomachs before Simon explained he needed to get back to base. You stood up to say your goodbyes, but noticed how he lingered. How he hovered over you; closer than you were accustomed to from him. Taking the chance, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his waist and lowered your head into the crook of his neck. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, and you begin to worry you misread the situation; joking that you weren't going to let go until he reciprocated, and gently his hands found their way to your backside and pulled you into the best hug you've ever had. Simon held on longer than you did, though you never truly let go until his hands fell to his sides.

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#gay #gay men #lgbtq #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod mw 2 #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x male #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #ghost x male #headcanon #headcannons #sfw

[themotherofhorses]

NO! Because what if I said mean!superior!Simon Riley x new recruit!fem!reader ??

An equally dark and obsessed!Simon Riley, who became stupidly OBSESSED with one of the newest recruits currently housed on base. You're young and naive and (in his eyes) need an older man to corrupt the living shit out of the dumb little innocence clinging to every action of yours. So much smaller and softer than him — with the prettiest bright eyes and the sweetest, dimpled smile.

Such a stark difference in character between the two; perhaps that is the main reason why he wants you so badly.

Ghost knows everything about you — from your instagram account to your childhood street address and that adorable build-a-bear plushie that you somehow managed to slip into your duffle bag (right now, it sits quite snugly between your two pillows, but sooner than later, it’ll wind up in *his* bed).

As time passes, he only becomes meaner — a terrible combination of aggressive and antagonistic and frightening. A literal bully. But he cannot help it. It’s a shitty excuse, he knows it, but there is something so fuckin' delicious about catching an eyeful of your pretty face crumpling at every insult he spits out.

The way your head needs to tilt upwards to meet his heavy glare, causing your pink, plump lips to twist into a pout. If he was forced to define it, he’d claim it’s practically an aphrodisiac for him.

Ah, you won't ever survive in my world, he tells himself.

Anyone can see it. You ought to remain back in his home flat — safe and sound with his chubby-cheeked baby bouncing on your hips, waiting for your husband to return home from combat.

So imagine a dark, obsessive, and mean!superior!Ghost overhearing that you were almost murdered by enemy fire during a recent recon mission. A stray slug gazed your upper thigh, and a second came a little too close to your pretty, empty head.

And sure, Ghost is beyond pissed about it, but he's driven more upset over the fact that no one told him; instead, he had to learn through word-of-mouth by some rookies seated within the mess hall.

(Behind him, Soap and Gaz couldn't really understand why their lieutenant reacted so strongly. After all, he hates you …. right?)

What the hell? You almost died. DIED! Not only that, but you were almost stolen away from him. Did you not fuckin' understand that? Death came so fuckin' close to robbing his precious girl from him.

In the meantime — as he awaits your return to base — Ghost sits atop his bed, casually planning out what'll happen next.

There is an empty room in his flat — straight down the hall from the master bedroom, perfect space for the nursery. In fact, it has a nice, single-hung window that he can add drapes to (if you fancy looking outside while tending to the baby).

The bed is, of course, ready for you, and beneath the bathroom sink are those scented body washes you adore. Thank bloody fuck Bath & Bodyworks allows online shopping and shipping.

#vic writes 🧸 #call of duty #cod mw #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x female reader #lmao this is nasty im so sorry #but also feminine urge to write this nasty shit with detailed smut

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): explicit language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Five of Ink & Needle

You and Evie stake out 141 Ink. Amelia forms a plan. You and Ghost reunite.

Chapter Four // Chapter Six

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Sticky.

Sweaty.

Chest heaving.

Legs shaking.

And none of it the pleasant kind.

Your coffee is gone. It is somewhere down the street, splattered across the pavement, and likely creeping toward a storm drain. Whatever didn’t land on the ground spilled on you. It is in your hair. On your face. Smeared over the front of your coat.

The entryway floor of Amelia’s home is your refuge. You’re seated on the linoleum with your back against the door and legs outstretched in front of you. With shaking hands, you reach above your head to double-check the deadbolt. It’s locked, and yet it doesn’t smother the racing of your pulse.

How could it? You’re seeing things. Hallucinating. Who you saw simply isn’t possible. Of all the people in the world, how could it be him? How could it be Ghost? Your wraith. The man you took a risk on. The man who worshipped your body as if you were the only thing he’s ever wanted.

For a second time, you ran. Turned tail. Bolted.

Why? Why do you always run from everything? Why do you dart away the moment you start to get close? That’s the reality of your ineptitude to figure your shit out. When Ghost held you in his arms afterward, when those large, veiny hands of his caressed and squeezed your thighs, realization came charging toward you like a herd of stampeding animals. Yes, it was sex, but there were smaller moments—flashes of emotion—that you felt within yourself and radiating from him.

After it was done, you knew. The look of rejection and determination in his eyes when you glimpsed him through the cab’s rear passenger window only confirmed what you already understood. Your wraith claimed you in Riot Room’s green room. He branded you, inked your skin, took you within himself and then etched his essence into your flesh.

You told yourself in that moment that you would never be free of him.

And you were right. Unequivocally correct.

Not only did you run a second time, but he chased after you again. That realization is almost as earth-shaking as the fact that he’s just two streets over from Amelia’s home. Your wraith is within reach, and he still wants you, even after three goddamn years.

No, you say to yourself. It’s not possible.

Now you’re just making shit up to feel better. He can’t want you—can’t desire you after all this time. Ghost must have thought you were someone else, or he wants an explanation on why you left him hanging.

Is he someone who holds grudges? Will he threaten you like way he did that man who puts his hands on you?

I’ve killed men over less.

Unlikely. That wouldn’t make sense. While a pillar of darkness, with you, Ghost was anything but. The very idea of him being rough with you is immediately dismissed.

“Fuck,” you whisper at the ceiling. You blink rapidly and realize you’re crying.

One tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand. It’s the hand that held the coffee, and the sticky residue rubs against your skin, causing you to flinch away from your own touch.

Evie’s laugh startles you out of your stupor. You hear Amelia’s gentle chuckle as well. Their voices drift toward you from the direction of the kitchen. They can’t see you on the floor like this. You need to pull yourself together. Covering up the spilled coffee that stains your face and your clothes isn’t possible, but you can easily pass it off as a slip up. It’s these fucking tears you need to control.

As you shift forward in an attempt to try and drag yourself off the floor, the brown sack with the croissants scrunches under your fist. You glance down at it and wince. It’s smashed. Croissants are delicate, and they’re probably nothing but crumbs now.

You want to laugh but you’re afraid it might sound like you’re drowning. This entire situation is fucking awful. Ridiculous. You have no idea what to do about Ghost. And should you even care in the first place?

There is no debt owed. There are no strings with a hookup. Why are you spinning this idea that you are required to do anything about any of this? Ghost is not your responsibility, and a one-time hookup does not make you obligated to be his…anything?

The phantom of Ghost’s hands upon your thighs comes creeping up to the forefront of your mind. The slow drag of his fingers over your skin is so tangible that for a moment you almost believe that he’s really here, touching you, wanting to be closer.

Evie laughs again and that solidifies your resolve. You came to England for her. Evie’s husband is dead. He is in the ground and she is eight months pregnant. There is only you and Amelia here to take care of her. Evie is your priority.

Not Ghost.

Not your wraith.

“Fuck,” you repeat. Somehow, that one small word makes you feel a little better.

Peeling yourself off the linoleum is like removing a stubborn book cover sticker. It’ll either be perfect, or a straight up mess. You fall somewhere in between that spectrum.

As you enter the kitchen, Evie and Amelia don’t appear to notice you at first. They’re in deep conversation, and it isn’t until you’re nearly at the small breakfast table that they both realize you’re in the room with them. Evie’s stunning smile falters when her gaze falls on you. It’s a slow transition as she begins to take in your appearance.

Her eyes widen in concern. “What happened? Are you okay?” Evie starts to stand but you hold up a hand.

“I tripped,” you answer. It’s not exactly a lie. You did trip in your efforts to outrun your wraith.

Evie doesn’t need to know that information just yet, especially with Amelia sitting right there. You’ll have to tell Evie what happened, even though the very idea swirls the anxiety in your stomach around until you think you might puke what little coffee you did manage to consume before it met the pavement.

Evie settles back in the chair but the concern hasn’t left her face. “Hurt?”

Not physically.

“I’m fine,” you reply, setting the brown bag on the table. “But I’m a little worried for the croissants.”

Amelia grabs the bag and peers inside. “Oh dear. Well. At least you’re uninjured. That’s the most important thing.”

Using the table as a support, Amelia pushes up from her chair, and heads for the kitchen counter. Reaching into one of the cabinets, Amelia produces a large plate. Returning to the table, Amelia gently opens the bag and slides out the croissants onto the plate. An avalanche of broken golden pastry and crumbs follow.

You wince at the sight of the crushed croissants. “I’m going to change.”

Amelia arches an eyebrow. “Perhaps a shower?” She gestures toward your head, indicating the remains of the latte that have dried in the strands.

“That too,” you mutter, removing your coat and heading for the stairs.

After you shower out the coffee in your hair, you’re left with the final crushed croissant, and the rest of your day is spent making various phone calls on Evie’s behalf. By bedtime, you’re still working, but this time on actual paid work.

Evie sits up, propped against the headboard as she reads a book. You’re spread out at the end of the bed on your stomach, scrolling through emails.

“Evie?” you ask into the quiet.

“Yeah?” she replies, not looking up from her book.

You rest your chin on your elbow. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Evie marks her page in her book and sets it on the bedside table, resting one hand on her bulging belly. “What’s on your mind?”

Your work email pings and you briefly glance at it. Sighing, you turn back to Evie, ignoring the new email. After breakfast and the ridiculous amount of phone calls, you spent the rest of your time editing an instructional manual for a furniture company. The deadline is approaching, and you thought work might take your mind off the morning’s events.

But it didn’t. And your mind is still a swirling storm of anxiety that just won’t abate. You cannot stop thinking about Ghost and the intense look in his eyes when he realized it was you. The brief surprise became hardened determination, and that is what pushed you to bolt. Couple that with him chasing after you, and you’re an overflowing pot of boiling water.

Closing your work laptop, you push it to the side, sitting up until you’re fully facing Evie.

“Is it about this morning?” she asks softly.

How is this woman so goddamn intuitive? That kid isn’t going to get away with anything.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, drawing out the s a bit.

Her brows crease, and suddenly, Evie looks ready to fight God. “If someone hurt you—”

“No,” you say quickly, holding up both hands. “Stop. I’m fine. I’m just…” You trail off and then sigh heavily, rubbing your face with both hands as you try to figure out what it is you want to say.

Evie doesn’t speak. She waits until you’re ready.

Your hands drop to your lap. “I saw him this morning.”

Evie frowns. “Saw…him?”

You nod and lean forward a bit. “Him.”

Evie blinks, her lips parting slightly as her brain starts to piece the puzzle together. As it all starts to fall into place, Evie shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re having a laugh.”

Groaning, you throw yourself down on the bed, face-first. “I wish that I was,” you say, turning your head so your voice isn’t muffled.

“Are you sure it was him? Absolutely sure?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“That is not true,” says Evie with a bit of bite to her tone. “I’m just trying to process how it’s possible.”

“You and me both.”

Evie adjusts on the bed, and sits up a bit more. “But where did you see him? And more importantly, did he see you?” You wince, and Evie groans. “Tell me from the beginning. All of it. From the moment you left the house to when you returned. Every. Detail.”

Rolling onto your back, you tell Evie everything, all of it rushing out of you like water moving out of a tipped glass.

“Oh shit,” murmurs Evie as she absently rubs her belly.

“No kidding.”

“And it’s the same one from Riot Room? Ghost? That guy?”

You nod. “I am one hundred percent sure on that.”

Evie stares off into space for a few seconds while she absently rubs at the underside of her belly. She turns toward you abruptly as if yanked from her thoughts. “I need to see this man for myself.”

You bolt upright. “Absolutely not.”

Evie shrugs. “Then tag along if you’re that concerned.”

“That is not the point, Evelyn Green.” You throw one arm out to emphasize your point. “Ghost is in the past. We had sex—”

Evie interrupts. “According to you, it was,” she raises both hands, creating air quotes around the next words, “best sex you’ve ever had.”

“We had sex once,” you continue. “What more is there to say? I don’t need to dwell on him.”

Evie rolls her eyes. “Please. After that night, you changed. We all saw it. Even if none of us said anything to you at the time.”

You pause, pulling back a bit. “What do you mean?”

Evie sighs heavily. “I saw Ghost chase after you. I saw him standing on the curb. I saw him watching the cab drive off. And I saw your face when you turned away from staring at him.” Her head tilts to the side a bit. “The emotion on your face. It was like…it was like you knew you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Evie—”

“Shut up and listen to me.” She takes a breath. “Sorry. It’s the hormones. I’ve been moodier lately.”

And your husband is dead.

Evie winces as she adjusts on the bed. “When we arrived back to the hotel from Riot Room, did you realize you were smiling like an idiot in love? I know who you were thinking about. You told us every detail in the cab. And as you talked, you couldn’t stop grinning.” Evie removes her hand from her belly to rub at her lower back.

You stare down at your hands.

“A man doesn’t chase after someone he doesn’t want. Then you tell me that this morning, he ran after you? It’s been three years, and he still tried to catch you.” Evie shakes her head. “What isn’t clicking here?”

You open your mouth and Evie points at you. “Don’t make an excuse. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then what’s your plan?” you sigh, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Evie’s lips purse and she taps the top of her stomach. “There’s a little café across the street. We can camp out. Watch the shop.”

“So we’re going to stalk him?” you ask skeptically.

“Yes!” Evie holds out a hand. “Give me your computer.”

Reluctantly, you do so. Evie rests it on her stomach. Opening it up, she starts clicking and typing away at the keyboard.

“What’s the name of the shop?” she asks without looking away from the screen.

“One-four-one ink,” you reply, scooting up beside her.

The tip of her Evie’s tongue is between her teeth. She taps away at the keyboard, entirely focused. She looks like Jade right now who always knows all the loopholes in finding shit out about people.

“Ha! Look at that.”

You lean closer and glance at the screen. You meet those dark eyes framed by pale eyelashes that look like halos. It’s Ghost on your computer screen. There is no doubt.

“That’s him,” you whisper.

Evie clicks through the various pages on 141 Ink’s website. Most of it contains information about services, ways to contact the shop, and a gallery of Ghost’s work. There is a very small “About” section that vaguely describes the start of 141 Ink, but nothing jumps out at you. It’s only two sentences worth of information. Other than that, the site is fairly normal.

All of this is right in front of you, and yet you still don’t have any additional information about this man. Ghost is just that. A ghost. A stranger. And yet, when you were in his arms, it felt so natural and comfortable.

Evie grabs her phone off the bedside table and opens Instagram. She enters 141 Ink into the search bar and taps on a result. She grins and hands you her phone. “Look at this. The guy has some serious talent.”

The photos and videos on 141 Ink’s Instagram are a lot more personal than the ones on the website. While many show pictures of completed piercings and tattoos, there are some that are much softer. Like the black German Shepard you noticed basking in the sun on the shop’s floor. There is a photo of him snoozing next to a waiting customer.

It’s personal. Sweet. And you can’t help but smile at it.

And Evie is right. Ghost is incredibly talented. Some of the work is simple and straightforward, but there are many more artistic pieces. They’re gorgeous, as if you’re looking into someone’s fever dream. The color, highlights, and dimension are all unnaturally realistic. Ghost certainly as an eye for this.

It’s such a strange thing to look at all this work, and think about Ghost. When you first met him, Ghost was a haunting shadow. A creature out of hell. Tattoo artists don’t have that same kind of aura to them. At the time, the possibility seemed out of the question. Ghost oozed danger, and you were certain he was going to snap the man’s neck who put his hands on you.

I’ve killed men over less.

It doesn’t make sense.

“Fine,” you finally concede. “We’ll scope the place out from the café across the street. But I am not talking to him.”

Evie rolls her eyes and laughs. “Sure thing.” She closes up your laptop and you take it from her, placing it on top of the nearby desk.

You slide in under the covers, and Evie returns to her book.

The following morning, you and Evie head for the little café across the street from 141 Ink. The sign outside the café says The Bird, and the logo is a blackbird on a branch. The inside is warm. Cozy. It’s early enough that you and Evie snag a corner table next to the window. Not knowing how long you’ll be there, Evie over orders as compensation for the server’s lost time.

When the food is delivered, the table is covered without a spare place to set anything down. It’s an absurd display, but Evie has money to spend, and the two of you will likely be here for several hours.

You fill up your coffee cup and the server tops off your mimosa glass. Evie stuffs her mouth full of pancakes. When the server turns around to leave, Evie grabs her backpack, digging around inside.

“Have some spy gear in there?” you joke, not expecting Evie to remove a pair of binoculars. You set your mimosa flute down on the table and cross your arms. “What is that?”

“It’s for research,” says Evie, shrugging her shoulders. She scans the café with narrowed eyes and then twists toward the window, holding the binoculars up to her face.

“I don’t know you,” you mutter, picking the flute back up to take a long sip. The bubbles in the champagne tickle your tongue, and you decide to swallow down the rest. It’s not like you’re driving. The two of you walked here.

Evie drops the binoculars from her face just as the server comes back to the table. You politely set the champagne flute down and the server uses their pitcher to refill your glass.

“Thank you,” you reply as they nod and turn to leave.

“What time does the shop open again?” asks Evie as she munches on a mouthful of pancake. “You said it was early.”

“It’s way past time now. I’m guessing the time I saw him wasn’t the actual opening time.”

Evie frowns and then holds the binoculars up to her face again. “I don’t see any movement inside.”

“This is absurd,” you say, waving your hand in the air.

“Wait!” Evie lowers the binoculars and you glance out the window.

Your eyes narrow slightly, gaze focusing in on the door of 141 Ink. There is movement. A shadow. A brief pause, and then, the door is opening.

Ghost is standing right there in the doorway as he guides the doorstop with the toe of his sneakers. He wears black joggers, a black t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that’s open in the front. The hood is down but he’s wearing his signature balaclava. Beside him, the German Shepard appears momentarily before disappearing back inside.

Evie sighs appreciatively. “He is so large. Was he like that when the two of you hooked up? I never really got a good look at him.”

Maybe it’s the space between you and Ghost that makes you feel safe in your observation of him. He is the same, perhaps a bit softer in a few places where the muscles aren’t nearly so defined anymore, but you couldn’t really say for sure. From this distance, Ghost appears the same, but then again, you didn’t actually see all of him.

“He hasn’t changed,” you answer. “Not that I can tell.”

Evie chews around some pancake and then swallows. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Absolutely not, Evelyn Green.”

Evie points her fork at you. “Listen, bitch.”

“Evie,” you hiss, glancing around the café to see if anyone heard.

“I am trying to help you,” she says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to go talk to this man. “And since you’re not going to do it. I’m going.” Evie stands up and cradles her belly, nearly waddling to the door.

“Evie,” you call out, but she ignores you.

You watch in horror as Evie crosses the street and strolls up to the open door of 141 Ink. She knocks on it, waves—likely at Ghost or the dog—and then steps inside. You itch to reach across the table and snag the binoculars to see what Evie is up to in there.

“Oh my god,” you murmur to the air, tossing back the rest of your mimosa.

Several minutes later, Evie reappears in the doorway, and you sigh with relief. But when she steps outside, Ghost follows her. He offers her his arm, and she takes it. The black German Shepard stands guard in the doorway as Ghost escorts Evie to the edge of the road.

When Ghost glances to the left, Evie looks up, sees you, and eagerly points at him with a big grin on her face. Ghost glances to the right, then the left again, before helping Evie across the road. When they make it to the sidewalk, they keep walking as Evie gestures at the door to the café.

Ghost opens the door for her, and when Evie steps inside, her grin is downright smug when she notices you. You can’t run this time. There is no escape from this.

“Thank you,” says Evie as she slides into her seat, her hand on her belly.

“People drive fast on that road,” he replies.

Ghost turns to leave and freezes when he sees you sitting there. You watch as his pupils dilate. Science says that when human eyes dilate like that, it’s because they see someone they love. It’s also a sign of the biological need to reproduce. And you’re watching it happen in real time with Ghost.

Your mouth does not form words. Instead, you simply stare, and Ghost stares back.

Ghost blinks and then he’s almost shaking his head like he’s not sure of where he is. “Enjoy your meal,” he says.

Your gaze drops, noticing the way his hands clench and unclench. You’ve seen him do it before. At Riot Room. When he hesitated in the seconds before touching you.

Ghost exits through the door, and your gaze follows him. He pauses right outside The Bird’s large window. Ghost pushes up his balaclava to his nose and lights a cigarette.

You follow him out the door where he pauses to push up his balaclava and light a cigarette. Then he’s jogging across the street, leaning against his tattoo shop to smoke. Ghost is looking directly at you, and you cannot stop staring back.

Those dark eyes are stones that crush your bones, and no one can pull you from your torment expect him.

It isn’t until he puts his cigarette out and goes inside his shop that you release a deep sigh. Turning back to Evie, you groan at the sight of her feral grin.

“How could you?”

Her grin only widens. “You’re going to be thanking me once you talk to him.”

“What did you say to him?” you ask, exasperated. Evie shrugs, and stuffs more pancake into her mouth, saying nothing. “Evelyn Green, I swear to God.”

Evie stuffs another mouthful of pancake into her mouth. The server reaches out to snag an empty plate and you address them, needing something strong. “Can you leave the mimosa pitcher?”

“Sure,” she laughs, bringing it back a minute later. You immediately pour yourself another glass and stare down at your own breakfast which is entirely untouched.

Evie points to your plate with her fork. “Are you going to eat that?”

“No. I’m getting drunk instead.”

The moment you and Evie return home, Amelia is already in the kitchen with a kettle on for tea.

“How was breakfast?” asks Amelia as she starts setting everything out on the table.

“Amazing!” beams Evie, nearly bouncing on her toes.

“Fine,” you reply, voice monotone.

Evie grabs your arms and gives it a good shake. “We should tell Amelia.”

“Absolutely n—”

You don’t even get your words out before Evie is charging forward. “Do you want to hear who we ran in to at breakfast?”

“Amelia doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Hush,” says Evie, waving you off. “Amelia, are you familiar with the tattoo parlor just a street or two over. Across from the café we went to?”

Amelia nods. “Oh, yes. I’ve chatted with the young man that owns it. Very nice. Very,” Amelia holds her arms wide. “Large. Those muscles on him always impressed me.”

Evie grins and you slouch into a seat. “During my bachelorette party, this one ran off with him for a bit.” Evie points at you over her shoulder.

Amelia tilts her head slightly in confusion and Evie makes a gesture with her hands replicating intercourse.

“Oh,” laughs Amelia, turning in your direction. “Did you?”

The kettle shrieks and Amelia takes it off the burner, carrying it over to the little table, setting it down on a neatly folded towel. Evie takes a seat to your left while Amelia sits across from you.

“I need every detail.” Amelia starts assembling the tea and you slouch further in the chair.

You leave out the act itself, not wanting to detail to Amelia exactly how good Ghost was in that green room.

“And you ran from him?” ask Amelia slowly.

“Twice!” says Evie and Amelia shakes her head in disappointment.

“It’s done,” you reply sharply. “It’s in the past. We need to let this go. I need to let this go.”

Amelia leans back in her chair. “This sounds like a second chance to me. Why don’t you go talk to him? At least find a bit of closure.”

Evie places her elbows on the table. “Or get it on in the tattoo parlor.”

“That too,” nods Amelia.

The alcohol sits heavy in your stomach. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Suit yourself, but tomorrow we’re all going to the pub. On Sunday’s I go to the Dancing Faun. The owner always puts on American baseball on the telly for me.”

“You watch American baseball?” you ask skeptically.

“Oh, yes.” She leans forward as if she’s passing on a secret. “It’s the uniforms.”

Evie cackles, and you roll your eyes.

The next day, near lunchtime, you, Evie, and Amelia all head to the Dancing Fauna. It’s on the same street that The Bird and 141 Ink are on. Amelia assured the both of you that it’s usually an older crowd and that people around your age typically don’t venture inside unless everything else is packed.

Which means you won’t see Ghost. You can cure your headache with more alcohol and call it good.

The outside of Dancing Faun is a deep, forest green with gold accents. The door is solid black. Amelia pushes on it and Evie follows behind with you bringing up the rear. It’s fairly dark inside. The only light comes from a few hanging lamps above the bar and along the wall. Several televisions display various sports including rugby and soccer.

“Amelia! Usual spot?”

You glance to the right and notice the bartender. He’s roughly middle-aged, likely leaning toward the higher end of forty.

“You know it, Ben,” replies Amelia.

“Already have it on. And you brought guests.” Ben’s voice is gruff but his smile is kind.

“Just the two. And only one is drinking.” Amelia gestures at Evie. “This one will need some tea and perhaps something to eat?”

Ben nods and wipes his hands with a bar towel, already moving into action.

Your gaze takes in the rest of the bar. There are only three people taking up seats. Two sit close to each other but with one chair between them. The third person is at the end of the bar, closest to the door and what looks like an entryway that leads to a flight of stairs and perhaps a back room.

As you focus on the man sitting at the end of the bar, you squint, confused at first. Then you notice the black German Shepard snoozing at his feet on the floor. Then the man is turning toward you, his balaclava pushed up to his nose, a beer glass lifting toward his mouth.

He stops. You stop.

Ghost is here. Your wraith. Yet again, the two of you are meeting in unexpected places.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Looking away quickly, you stare at the back of Evie’s head, following Amelia as she starts to introduce you to everyone in the pub. You smile when prompted, but you hear nothing of what is being said. You sense Ghost’s gaze on your back, and the very idea of his eyes on you sends a rippling heat of pleasure down your spine.

It’s not right. It’s not fair. Your body is betraying you.

Amelia turns and you follow her, nearly clinging to Evie in your desperation. Amelia pauses and introduces you and Evie to the two men sitting next to each other at the bar. Then you’re right in front of Ghost and Amelia is beaming at him.

“This is Simon,” she says casually. “Runs the tattoo parlor just a few shops down. He’s the only young one we allow around here.” Amelia grins and you want to flee all over again.

Ghost—or rather, Simon’s—gaze is fixated on you. Unmoving.

Amelia pats your shoulder. “I know the two of you know each other, but it’s been a while. How about you two catch up and Evie and I will go enjoy the game.”

“Amelia—”

“Sit,” insists Amelia, quickly ushering Evie away.

You’ve been betrayed.

Slowly, you sink down on the stool next to Simon—Ghost? What should you call him now?

“What will it be?” asks Ben, his gaze expectant.

“I’ll take whatever he’s drinking.” Ben shrugs and grabs a glass, filling it up before sliding it over to you. “Thank you,” you murmur.

Ghost sits up straighter, and shifts in his stool. He keeps one arm on the bar top, but the other rests against his leg, his hand poised on his knee. Your knee is touching his, and the very tips of his fingers brush against your jeans.

You have all his attention, that is very apparent.

“Hello,” you say weakly, unsure of where to begin.

“Hello,” he replies, and the sultry purr in his voice breaks something in you.

There is no going back.

Ghost—Simon? Is all there is.

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[soapyghost]

CAUGHT (SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x F! READER)

Wordcount: 3.3k Warnings: Smut, language, inappropriate relationship with your superior, pet names, f! gendered reader, slight hypoxyphilia, p in v, unprotected sx, cream pie, fingering, probably more so sorry if i forgot some. A/N: I really wanted to write a lil enemies to lovers Ghost x Reader so enjoy. Also this is not really proofread just pure horny on main. Enjoy! Tag list: @tomhollandisabae, @confuseddipshit,

You were never one for teams, you preferred to be alone. It was easier that way. Nobody to fuck up the mission. Maybe it stems from the fact that your parents died and left you at the tender age of 3 to the mercy of the Mob. They died before they could pay their dues, or maybe died because of it, and you were the payment. It didn’t matter to you any way. The Mob became your family. From the day they died up until your faction of the Mob was taken down you were trained to be the best assassin. Your tiny frame and pretty face made it all the more easier, nobody suspected the Mob to send a little girl to collect. As you grew up and began to really hone your craft, luring men in and ending their life before they even knew what happened. This is how you earned your nickname, Mantis.

“Mantis, sit rep” the gravely voice of your Captain comes through the earpiece and snaps you out of your thoughts. You roll your eyes, “I’m alive”, back pressed against the wall of some shitty club, eyes scanning the smokey room for your target. After the raid on the Mob, it was either a life in prison or a life of service to Task Force 141 and you were too pretty for prison. You surmise they were impressed by the sheer number of men you’d taken down in your short life. At 21 you were the youngest on the team, but far from the least experience.

“Don’t think he’s showing Cap” you muse while sipping on your drink, some shitty mocktail because they team refused to let you drink on the job. Little did they know you did some of your best work while tipsy, words flowed easier from your lips while the warmth of alcohol flows through you. But for the sake of playing nice you promised you wouldn’t drink on recon missions, but only recon. “You’re right. Rendezvous at the safe house in 30” Price sighs.

Your team really isn’t so bad, it’s not your family but they’ll do. They were wary of you when you were first brought to base, but they all warmed up quickly; you still haven’t gotten completely comfortable with them but you fit into the team almost perfectly. Almost. There was one hiccup, your Lieutenant, Ghost. No matter how hard the team tried, neither of you liked each other. Maybe it’s because you came from crime, maybe it’s because you killed weak men. You’ve given up on trying to play nice with him. There have been more than a few screaming matches that have ended with Price and Soap pulling you two into separate rooms. Thank god, you think to yourself, he wasn’t sent out on this mission. You unlock the door to the shitty run down ranch home that was your safe house for this mission and walk through the door and there he is. Ghost.

“What the fuck are you doing here” you spit at him. He’s sitting on the armchair in the living room smoking, mask still covering most of his face. “That’s no way to greet your Lieutenant, Princess” he responds. There’s that god awful nickname. He’s taken to calling you a Princess because “you act like one” he claims. You’d become accustom to nice things in the Mob, so the shock of suddenly being thrust into the military was quite the change for you. “Oh fuck off Simon” his name coming off your tongue with nothing but hatred. This man has made your transition nothing but hell, having you run extra laps, do more pushups and spend hours on the range perfecting your shot. Nothing was ever good enough for him. “Where is Price?” you snap, noticing his bag is gone from house. “Had another mission to go on, so they sent me” his voice laced with resent. He didn’t want to be there, at least you had that in common. “I could do this on my own, go home” you say, tossing your expensive coat on the couch near him and unclipping your hair from its updo. Kicking your heels in his direction, “did you at least bring me something to eat?” You ask pointedly. He grunts and motions to the kitchen where some takeout waits for you.

After you devour the cheap greasy takeout that Simon had grabbed, you walk back out of the kitchen and saunter past him. “Going to bed, you get the couch LT” you smirk. He nods, more interested in whatever rerun is playing from the TV than you. You roll your eyes, and turn around to go down the hall when a thought enters your mind. A wry smile creeps up on your face as you reach for the zipper on the back of the dress you’re wearing. You make sure the sound of the zipper unzipping is loud enough for him to hear it and let the dress drop to the floor. If he was going to make this mission hell, you’d do the same thing. “Night Simon” you sing, as you turn your head back in his direction hoping to catch a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. But when you look back there isn’t an ounce of shock on his face, it’s something…darker. The look he gives you when he watches you run another lap or do 20 more pushups. His eyes black as night, not moving from yours. A huff of annoyance escapes you as you stride to the bedroom.

The next day you keep yourself cooped up in the bedroom until it’s mission start. The thought of being in the same room as Ghost makes your skin crawl. Why did he look at you like that, you muse as you apply makeup. Anger bubbles inside of you, he should be grateful. Spewing compliments at the meer glance he got at your body. But no, he just looked at you with the same superiority he always does. You slam the bottle of cheap perfume down on the counter and get dressed. A silent prayer that your target shows up today so you can get back to base and not spend another night with him.

“I’m going” you yell across the house as you put in your earpiece. Not waiting for a response, you grab your coat and slip into your heels, slamming the door on your way out. The cool air helps clear your mind, quell your anger. You were so having real liquor tonight. The walk to the club isn’t terribly far and before you realize it you’re at the door slipping past the line. As you walk into the club you leave your coat with the bouncer, thanking him with a kiss on the cheek. Works every time. You saunter to the bar and order yourself a vodka Redbull, if you had to be here all night you were going to need something to keep you up.

“I thought we agreed no drinking” ghost growls through the earpiece. “We- didn’t agree to shit” you mutter in response and grab your drink before the man next to you could offer to buy you a drink. Another night of sulking in the back, shooing off drunken suiters all while searching for your target. It’s simple enough of a mission, locate the target, get him alone and drug him to take him back to the safe house to get information. You’d been here almost a week now waiting on him to show up and you’re beginning to believe the intel is bogus.

You’re well into your 3rd drink when your target finally walks in. “He’s here” you breathe, almost not believing that he actually showed. Vladlen Adrik, 2nd in command of a Russian terrorist group. He’s a lot bigger than you thought, well over 6ft and 300lbs, with a bushy beard and beady eyes. "Game time Mantis, show me why the chose to spare you" Simon challenges you. Again, you roll your eyes at his comment. Taking a deep breath, you wander through the throngs of people dancing and spilling drinks on the dance floor towards VIP where Vladlen disappeared to. This is the only part of the plan that may go wrong, if Vladlen doesn't acknowledge your presence than you'll never get passed the bouncers of VIP. As you get close to the VIP area the bouncer puts out his arm to stop you, "This is off limits miss" he barks. "Awhh, but why" you whine, looking up at him with doe eyes. You say it rather loudly, hoping that Adrik heard you, and he does. "Alexsei" you hear him growl, "let the lady through". Alexsei lifts his hands up to chest and lets you through. Game on. "Thank youuuuu mister?" you lay on the thick accent of liquor to make it seem like you're a lot drunker than you are. "Vlad" he responds, lust dripping from his voice. Putting your hand on his chest "Well Vlad, looks like I owe you" you purr. He flinches slightly at your touch, "hmm I guess you do". "How ever can I repay you" you look up at him through your eyelashes. "I can think of a few ways" he says, pulling you into his lap. You let out a giggle as you thud against his thigh. You recognize most of the faces at the table as more members of the terrorist group, but none of them are paying you any mind. You lean into Vlad and snake your hands down to his very obvious erection, "oh?" you mewl in his ear. He suppresses a grunt of pleasure at your light touch. "Alexsei, get us a room would you" his shouts over you, and the minute he flicks his eyes off you and up to the bouncer you flick the drug into his drink. Men are so easy. Alexsei nods and goes to get the keys to a private room. Vlad takes a big swig of his drink and returns his gaze back to you and the little red dress you're wearing. Raising an eyebrow he asks, "is that alright with you kitten?". A giggle and a smile is all he needs to pull you up and walk you to the private room.

Everything is going exactly to plan as Vlad leads you to the very last private room in the hallway, which is right next to the emergency exit Ghost will be using to get in and help haul this giant of a man out. As Vlad goes to open the door he drops the keys, the drug working a little faster than intended. You bend over to pick them up for him and Vlad grabs your ass which makes you squeak in surprise. Grabbing the keys and regaining your composure you unlock the door for him and lead him into the room. He stumbles in and with one swift movement you shove him onto the bed. Soft snores escape his mouth and you know the hardest part of this mission is over. "Tango down" you murmur into the earpiece. Not a minute later your skull masked Lieutenant comes through the door. "Great job, kitten" he remarks. Rolling your eyes you walk over to Vlads unconscious body, "are you going to help me?" Ghost walks to the bed, a small chuckle escaping from behind his mask. "You really should stop rolling your eyes at people" he grunts lifting Vlad on his own. This is the closest you've ever been to Simon, he smells like cigarettes and sandalwood. The heat radiating from his body surprises you, you expected him to be just as cold as his heart. "Or what L.T?" you challenge. "One day you may get punished" he whispers, that same look in his eyes from last night.

Getting Vlad's body back to the safe house proves to be a little bit more difficult than expected and takes the better part of an hour to move him. Once you're both safely behind the doors of the house you finally take a breath, the mission went off without a hitch. Ghost grabs a chair from the kitchen and ties Vlad's hands behind his back and to the chair. Swiftly, he moves down to the ground and ties the mans feet to the chair. "I'm going to take a shower" you yell across the house, watching Ghost closely while he is on comms with base calling for evac. "Evac will be here in 3 hours, don't use all the hot water Princess" he yells back. You stop dead in your tracks, that damn nick name getting under your skin yet again. Turning to look at him directly, you reach behind you and unzip your dress again, letting it fall to your ankles before you step out of it and you roll your eyes before you turn back to go down the hallway to the bathroom.

Ghost's speed surprises you as you're not even 3 steps down the hall before he has caught up to you and shoved you against the wall. Your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of his hands on your neck and waist. It feels like your body is on fire, an inferno spreading through your skin and deep into your bones. "I told you to stop rolling your eyes at me" he growls into your ear. No one, certainly not a man has ever had the audacity to touch you like this and it turns your head into a foggy wasteland. You've lost all power in this situation and you know it, your heart beating so hard it might just come out of your ribcage. Suddenly you become acutely aware that you're in nothing but a bra and panties with your superior office pushing you up against a wall.

Your eyes dart up to meet his, dark and dangerous like the ocean. His breathing is heavy, like he's trying hold in some caged beast. "I told you, you would be punished" he whispers lustfully in your ear. "Bathroom, now" he commands, releasing you from his iron clad grip and spinning you towards the bathroom with a harsh smack on your ass that makes you gasp. Brain too foggy to disobey you head shakily to the bathroom, mind spinning on what's about to happen. You open the door and mindlessly turn on the shower. In moments Ghost is at the door in his too tight t-shirt and cargo pants, shedding his tactile gear in the hallway behind him. His eyes are watching your face as he slides off the mask.

The mask drops to the floor and you drink in the sight before you. Simon has never taken off his mask near you, he'd done so for the rest of 141 but never for you. He's absolutely stunning, dark ocean eyes, with a strong jawline and perfect cut brown hair. You drink in the sight of him like a man lost in the desert finding an oasis. This image of him forever seared into your mind. Before you have the chance to say something he rips off his shirt and charges towards you planting a heavy kiss on your lips. It's full of lust and just a bit of whiskey. Bourbon you note. He swiftly removes your bra clasp with one hand, the other is down massaging you through the thin lace panties. A moan escapes your mouth before you can stop it. This man has made the past few months of your life an absolute living hell and yet here he is, about to give you all the pleasure in the world.

His calloused hands immediately find your clit like he had a map of your body. You gasp as he rips your panties clean in half and begins to rub between your soaking folds. His other hand finds his belt and rips it off, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor. You allow yourself a peak down at him and the sheer size of his cock causes you to lose your breath. There is no way that is going to fit. "Don't worry Princess, it'll fit" he chuckles as if reading your mind. He shoves you into the shower and up against the cool tile. The combination of the hot water and his burning touch isn't cooled by the feeling of the shower tile on your back, your whole body is on fire. You close your eyes trying to control the temperature of your body.

Suddenly you feel two fingers inside of your cunt causing you to suck in the steamy shower air. "Fuck" you hiss, the size of his two fingers alone makes you feel full. "You're absolutely soaked Princess" he muses, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. Your eyes fly open to and you're about to tell him to take this Princess shit and shove it up his ass when he slides a third finger in, causing every coherent thought to fly out of your head. Your thoughts are consumed with him and only him. "So beautiful" he mutters between heavy breaths.

"Ready Princess?" he asks, flipping you so your face up against the tile. Your brain still a muddy mess all you can do is wiggle your ass towards him in response, which makes him chuckle. "Such a needy girl" he muses. He slides his cock in-between your folds, teasing you as you grind yourself back further into him. He grabs onto the back of your neck to halt your movements as he slowly slides himself into you, "Good girl" he whispers into your ear. He's not even halfway in and you feel so full that you're going to burst. "Shit Simon" you moan, and that does something to him. The sound of his name coming out of your mouth full of lust and not hatred snaps every ounce of self control he has and he thrusts himself all the way into you. You slam your hand against the wall and let out a yelp.

He fucks you slow, methodical, like he's made a plan in his head and has to stick to it. It doesn't take much for the coil in your stomach to begin to tighten, and he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls. "Touch yourself for me Princess" he commands, voice breathless from the feel of you around him. At this point you're too cock dumb to disobey anything he says and you want to cum so badly that your hand darts down and begins slow circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. Seconds later the white hot coil snaps and you cum all over him as he fucks you through your orgasm whispering about how pretty you look taking his cock like this. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this" he growls into your ear.

Once he knows you've cum, his pace picks up. It becomes relentless, harsh almost painful but God does it feel amazing. You've never been fucked like this, never actually cum from being fucked and its got you so stupid. The hand around your neck tightens slightly and you begin to see stars as another orgasm creeps upon you. "Fuck Princess, you're so tight" he moans, and that's it takes for the coil to wind and snap. "Fuck Simon ohmygod" you scream, the pleasure completely blinding you. You hear what sounds like a growl come from his mouth as you feel him cum inside you, cock twitching as it spews his thick seed deep inside your womb. His head rests on your shoulder and you hear the sound of him panting. He flips you back around facing him, he wants to see that cock dumb look on your face. He smiles and kisses you, tongue slipping between your teeth and dancing around the cave of your mouth. He bites your bottom lip with one final harsh kiss and looks you in your eyes and says

"Fuckin' hell Princess, what hav' you done to me?"

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost fanfiction #mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #enemies to lovers #simon riley smut

[l0velylecter]

say yes to me — simon ‘ghost’ riley / f!reader

— “like a barge at sea, in the storm, i stay clear.”

— 'FAITH WILL GET YOU KILLED.’ HE sounded tired, sad even. The mist was starting to crowd you from all sides. Above, snowflakes danced in the light: a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tentatively reached out to brush the masked cheek with your thumb, putting on your best smile even if tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

‘ Well, you've kept me safe. Haven’t you, Simon?’

summary : when his enemies used your history with simon against him, the soldier begins to reflect on your relationship, well, whatever was left of it: even after the divorce, life still finds a way to drag you back into the crossfire, back to him.  pairing : simon ‘ghost’ riley / f! reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : m for mature and suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, cursing, references to past substance abuse, arguments that may be anxiety inducing to some, anger management issues from simon  tags : angst, hurt and comfort, simon struggling to face his emotions, divorce, reunion after years, scenes with brief descriptions of sex in it, female parts, fab!reader,  told in parts, refrences to his past from the comics, a small headcanon about his (dead) mom  word count : 1.7k song used for inspiration : yes to heaven by lana del rey & my blood by ellie goulding 

01 | Simon rescued you in winter. Sedated by the wind, the city's heartbeat begins to fade; the air — cold with the promise of snow. It distracted you from the fact that you were bleeding, your blouse clinging to the warm and wet wound. It also made hearing harder: past the ringing in your ears, you could hear him shouting, movements rushed as he knelt to haul your body atop his lap. The familiar string of curses erasing any suspicions of his identity.

" Simon." You rasped, smiling even if everything was hurting," My Simon."

" Keep your eyes open." He ordered, " Don't you fucking close them."

He told you to focus on something, anything to keep you awake. So you anchored yourself to how he curled his finger around your shoulders because even if his eyes were stern to save his composure, his grip says otherwise. He has always held onto you as if you were going to slip away, tightly, surely. As if Simon wanted to convince himself that you weren't a dream ready to be ripped away from him by the morning ( but maybe this was the first time he wished otherwise). He'd tap your cheek from time to time. The brief and sharp sting prying your eyes open.

Simon adjusted you across his lap, your body rocking as the helicopter landed roughly. Somewhere along the way, a confession had slipped past your mouth, "I thought...you wouldn't come."

There was a quick flash of anger across his face: fingers twitching and knees tensing beneath you.

" I won't next time."

When you woke up in a hospital bed, a nurse went to alert the doctor, the empty chair by the foot of the bed staring back at you.  02 |  Simon left you in spring. He didn't visit, didn't call, didn't write. You didn't expect him to anyway, carrying on with your life as if you'd never seen him in the first place. The whole thing felt like a hallucination. Seeing Simon again felt like witnessing a premonition of a ghost who should be good as dead to you. Yet your stitches said otherwise, and so did Captain Jonathan Price, his visit an overdue prediction that came true late in May. The bouquet resting against your vase was supposedly an apology for the intrusion — " I was raised proper."

" Let me guess. Simon's angry with me."

Price lowered his cigar, mouth curling downwards, " No. Not at you."

You relaxed against the couch. You wouldn't be so careless to claim that Simon trusted him, but at the very least, you knew he respected the man. You reminisced about the first time you met Price ( even then, he had a cigar hanging from his mouth). He had hauled Ghost past your doorway: bloody, battered, and bruised. That must've been at least seven or eight years ago when you'd just started living with your husband.

Right, you swallowed, catching yourself — when he was your husband.

As if hearing your thoughts, Price sighed, " You weren't on any official records. There was no documentation, no pictures. Nothing. No one knew about you."

" And now?"

" His team suspects, but I doubt there'll be any external witnesses left to ever pull a bloody stupid stunt like that again."

You raised your brow.

" He went after everyone in that warehouse. No survivors. No witnesses."

The image of Simon covered head to toe with blood, eyes furious and lethal, flashed before your eyes. It would make sense why he wouldn't want to rescue you next time because, after his purge, you doubt there would be anyone — anything left to hurt you. He's on leave now. Simon says he wants to be thorough.

You could barely keep it together when gesturing at the flowers, " Tell him I said thank you."

Price asked how you knew it was from Simon — " The staff in the center used to teach classes on flowers. That included gardening, making bouquets, and learning meaning behind them. After...after what they did to him, he wouldn't talk for months. I guess that class was his way of trying to fill in the silence. Daffodils bloom first during spring: new beginnings, sorries. I taught him that. He used to get me them all the time.”

You shook your head, feeling helpless, “He hasn't changed." 03 | Simon’s kisses felt like summer: hot, intense, and angry — his lips burned against your skin. He crowded you against the wall of your apartment, a behemoth of a man even out of his tactical gear, leaving you with barely any space to touch him. 

You whined, begging him to slow down, yet he kissed you with teeth and tongue and urgency. When he cupped your chin roughly with both hands, angling your face under the dim light from the kitchen: peeling back the silhouette to take a good look at you, flushed, panting, and crying.

He growled into your mouth, hoisting you up his waist, " You should've paid more attention. He could have fucking hurt you."

You winced, recalling the events that took place: how the midsummer heat stung your skin as you quickened your pace to get away from the man who had followed you down the block. The moment you pulled your keys out to unlock the door, he had picked up his pace, only to scram the moment Simon appeared behind you. He would have gone after the attacker if you had not gripped his arm for support, overwhelmed: your knees nearly gave out. As if possessed by an irresistible force, the sight of you weakly clinging onto him and on the brink of tears had compelled Simon to undo years of restraint — which would explain why you can taste the frustration in his mouth.

" You'll always protect me. I know it," You managed in between kisses. Briefly, you wondered how long Simon's been looking out for you. Was this what he chose to do on the rare occasions he was off the field? All those times he probably saw you on dates: trying and failing to get over him. All those times you cried about him. All those times you bought yourself daffodils. 

There was something bittersweet at how he seemed to remember the way to the bedroom you used to share, legs finding their way when he was too occupied with you. And you couldn't swallow the tinge of sadness swelling in your chest when you remember every touch, from how he loves to kiss down your back to how he feels inside you; angling you in a way that hits all the right spots. He pistoned in and out of you almost brutally, your body pliant and welcoming under him, blooming at the memory. And when he inserts himself to the hilt, you moaned because you never forgot: how could you forget? It was as if time never passed between the two of you, it was natural, it was instinct, it was like coming home.

When he finally pulled out, leaving you throbbing and empty, you whispered for him to stay — fingers latching onto his when he stood up. And you scrambled to seize the moment he sat back down, breaking down against his chest, words pouring out of your mouth. I missed you. I never wanted you to leave. I still love you. I'll always love you. 

He didn't need to take off the rest of his balaclava for you to know what he was thinking: I don't want to hurt you. Because I will hurt you.

You lay in the dark for a few seconds, five seconds turn to fifteen, turn to thirty, sixty. And when the first rays of sunlight came to wake you gently, Simon was gone. With the bedroom door slightly ajar, the left side of the bed was neat and spotless. Your legs — still warm and wet. 04 | Simon married you in autumn. You remembered how cold it was that day. Even inside the church, the air was frigid, yet still — the silence was only interrupted when the vicar entered. ( The church was not only for privacy, he said, but also for his late mother. Finally, it was a first and rare glimpse into his past. She was baptised here.)

You had nervously glanced at him, smiling lopsidedly with eyes bright and hopeful. Yet Simon remained passive, eyes only wavering when you started reciting their vows. It was the only time Simon had shown any real fear in front of you, and you remembered what you did that day. You had gripped his hand tightly in yours the entire time, kissing each finger before he gave you your ring. 

You explained how the joy of having him carry you up the steps of your home was short-lived, washed under the reality of his pain. There was the temper, the drinking, the insults. The moment arguments got out of control and silent treatments turned too cruel — he started pushing you away, hoping to cut you off to prevent watching you fall apart himself. 

"You underestimated me, Simon. That was the worst part," you finished, ending your story with a weak shrug, " I would've stayed if you had just asked me to. You know I would. I have faith in you, Simon. In us. I still do."

Outside, the shades of yellow and orange swept over the barren ground, except for a few sprouts of daffodils, stubbornly persevering through small miracles. The wind down the mountain slithered past the holes of the old wooden roof as whistles. They ring softly against the silence, echoing down the Rhenish helm. Today would have marked a decade's worth of anniversary, but now it's just become a resting ground for him to haunt — the sight of Simon without a mask, sitting by the pew and staring up at you, a memory you want to burn on the back of your head.

" Faith will get you killed," he sounded tired, sad even. The mist was starting to crowd you from all sides. Above, snowflakes danced in the light: a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tentatively reached out to brush the masked cheek with your thumb, putting on your best smile even if tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

" Well, you've kept me safe. Haven’t you, Simon?"

There was a pause, and you swore the wind held its breath in anticipation with you, waiting, pleading for him to agree at the chance to start again with you. Say yes to me, your fingers whispered, tentatively brushing his hand. Heavy snow is due to arrive early, marking new beginnings: the birth of a new season, the start of his deployment, but to you, a long and terrible winter just ended the moment he kissed each finger to hold your hand.

a/n : zoo wee mama, that took a toll on me. all in one sitting because i am yearning for a domestic life with this man even if i know it will not be easy. fear not simon, i might be senstive and cry the moment someone slightly raise their voice at me, but i am loyal to the bone ( and just delusional enough ). i know this leans more on the reader’s perspective and very ‘read in between the lines’ aka vague, so i hope this style is enjoyable still to read. i personally have to mark this as one of my favorite ficlets / works , cause i love seeing simon suffer. speaking about seeing simon suffer, this is dedicated to : → @flaneurpastel : your support of my angsty simon fics and my work overall in general is something i really cherish, i’ve only briefly had this account but i am so thankful for your support !! and your works are amazing... here’s to more angsty simon fics !  → @gh0stswh0re​ : you are the first page i follow on here and the first account to actually get my ass moving to write about cod : mw ii because your works are jiust *chef’s kiss*, and i’m so excited for your december writing plan... i’m booking front seat ! → everyone who reblogged and liked my angsty simon fics... you guys keep me going mwah x + note on timeline : → the comics talk about simon’s past, he was tortured and needed to go to rehab around 2003-2004 ish, so i assumed he spent a couple years then in therapy / rehab for substance abuse because he needed to cope, and that’s where you met him. marriage happened right after he got revenge on roba and right when he was first employed by 141 ( which probably was why it didn’t work out ) and ever since then it’s just been longing and heartache. and 2022 rolls up, which is cod : mw ii, and i assume this is probably before or after las almas and shadow company !  → feel free to adjust it if it’s better for you or correct me if i’m off or wrong ! 

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #cod ghosts #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #ghost edit #cod imagine #cod mw #cod #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty headcanons #call of duty imagines #call of duty self insert #call of duty smut

[summermoonshine]

Call Of Duty : MWIII - TRAITOR SOAP

Okay, HEAR ME OUT (actually there's no one to hear me out so i'm basically writing this for me myself and my own poor sad soul).

So. Since the release of the trailer, the theory about a traitor Soap has spread, mainly because during the MWIII trailer they used the colour red on the new skin.

[I'll pretend to ignore that the headphones and the keffiyeh are identical to those worn by Ghost - which would open up many other unfortunate scenarios (: the killing of Ghost by Soap who kept the headphones and keffiyeh in memory), see below:

but let's go on for now...]

What if it was more than just the colour red? Le'ts recall that Soap was originally - or maybe purposely - sent by General Shepherd to team up with Ghost, and we know that General Shepherd later teamed up with Graves. So it would make sense that Soap didn't check for Graves' dead body after the explosion in the tank, right? (I mean, they acted like buddies from day 0...)

Also, what if Soap's anger upon the discovery of Graves' betrayal (with his famous line: ''Graves whaTTTCHA FFUCK'') was caused because THEIR secret deal was failing? This would justify why the Shadows took the trouble to search far and wide for Soap on the streets (maybe they were afraid he would spill the tea? huh), despite Graves and all the others being afraid of Ghost (he was, c'mon, who wouldn't be).

Speaking of him, it is interesting to underline how, throughout the duration of the campaign, not only is there a true character development (Ghost went from being a lone wolf to being part of a team; a team that he himself stated and claimed as his - which means the world for a creepy lonely ass like him) but there are also his ''advice'' to guide us through. He, in fact, warns us about betrayals, trust, how ''people you know can hurt you the most'' and that ''you want to be (a) better (man) than me, Johnny''. This makes me wonder: what if Ghost had sensed Soap's betrayal right from the start (or maybe he already knew it, and for this reason his first exclamation is ''Fucking Hell'' when he sees Soap before wheeling up)? Let's remember that OG Ghost was killed by General Shepherd because he trusted him. Now Soap would be doing his same mistakes: What if Ghost's ''advices'' were small clues to try to put Soap back on the right track? Again: what if, finally, Ghost took off his balaclava in front of Los Vaqueros (here's a little note: let's remember what happened with Alejandro's safehouse: they didn't trust Soap. The only one who had the coordinates was Ghost), the TF141 and Soap (who shows a more than satisfied grin after seeing Ghost without it) because it's his (Ghost's) way to settle the accounts and even the things out forever? Ghost already died once, is it now Simon's turn? (actually, i don't believe Ghost will be the one to die this time - i'm in my delulu cloud, let me be).

Lastly, i'd like to pinpoint a thing or two about Price (speaking of deaths...). In the MWIII trailer we see this scene (he's just sleepy yeah right true?!):

but let's focus on his hands:

Which ones are they clinging to? Soap's? No: Gaz. Maybe, MAYBE, he was close to the truth and that was a hint for our lad to beware of something (or maybe, someone...)? Also, where's Ghost? Why did they split? SoapxGhost and PricexGaz were almost standard pairs for MWII.

And that's talking about ''pairs'', that here i stand with my last point: amongst the various interactions and banters between Soap and Ghost during the Alone Mission, there's an interesting question that Soap asks before Ghost gives his impressive quotes about trust (although he tries to divert the answers as much as possible and to be as evasive as possible on his ideas regarding the others - later revealed during the missions, such as the arrival of Price and Gaz and the news that Laswell is still on their side which leads Ghost to say that she's ''still as solid as a rock'': so he KNOWS who to ''trust'', but he refused to admit it to Soap by choice). Soap, on the other hand, does not. That's why he asks: ''What about Captain Price?'' (read: can I trust him?). One of the answer is: ''I trust the Captain'', the other one: ''I don't trust anyone right now, even Price". Maybe, and just MAYBE, they were just already showing us some nuances of Soap's character but we didn't notice it? At least... not yet?

(Credits for the pics and gif to: @sleepyconfusedpotato @mctvsh Please, give me the credits if ya repost it, 🌱)

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #call of duty #cod mwiii #cod mw3 #mw3 #ghost cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanart #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #soap mw2 #soap cod #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #soap x reader #soap modern warfare #soap mwii #soap mwiii #johnny mactavish #captain mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap x ghost #captain price

[cod-dump]

au where ghost, gaz and soap are all price's adopted kids and when price finally decided to introduce them to his new boyfriend soap goes ballistic because it turns out to be his very secret older ex - phillip graves who he had nasty break up with and now everyone have to digest two things: that soap apparently had secret older boyfriend and that price apparently had and still has secret younger boyfriend. it's all crack, everyone loses their shit at some point except for nik who is price's very chill ex husband who visits twice a week.

Father's Boyfriend

Fam 141, PriceGraves, past SoapGraves, past PriceNik

TW: Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence (both are only mentioned a couple times and it doesn’t go into detail)

Ages: Soap- 24, Ghost- 29, Gaz- 26, Price- 56, Graves- 38

(Soap and Graves started dating when Soap was twenty, they broke up after being together for three years)

___

They had a suspicion that their father was seeing someone. It's been a few years now since he and their other dad, Nik, split. Though it was peaceful and mutual, John still chose not to date anyone. So when the late night phone calls started, John being more private about his phone in general, they knew something was up.

"He's definitely dating someone," muttered Kyle.

Johnny hummed in thought, stretched out across Simon's couch. They all had their own places but enjoyed hanging out together. Well, Simon was okay with hanging out with the other two on his terms. Those terms included never being at his house, especially when he wasn't there. But that didn't stop them from copying his key and 'breaking in' to chill and hang out.

The jingling of keys and the front door opening before-

"You fucking assholes."

Johnny and Kyle are unfazed by Simon.

"Hey, Si! Do you think Dad is dating someone?"

Simon walks past them to go into the kitchen, "He's on drugs."

"See, that's what I thought but Kyle says he has to be dating someone."

Kyle scoffs, "The fact you two immediately think our beloved father is on drugs- You're both horrible people."

Simon walks into the living room with a bag of crisps, "Thanks I'm trying."

Johnny laughs as Kyle rolls his eyes. Simon gets a handful of salt and vinegar crisps in his mouth before he speaks.

"I mean, he probably is dating someone. He's been a lot happier lately so we should be happy for him for getting back out there."

"He hasn't introduced us yet."

"Probably wants to make sure this guy is a good fit before introducing him to us. I wouldn't take it too personally."

Johnny crawls over to Simon, "You're so wise, big bro."

He grabs the bag of crisps and darts back to where he was sitting. While Simon and Johnny fought over the bag of crisps, Kyle was in deep thought.

"Do you think we know him?"

Johnny gets shoved to the floor, Simon claiming victory as he settles back down with the crisps, "Maybe. Wouldn't put it past him sneaking his new boyfriend around in plain sight."

Soap gets off the floor, "What if it's someone like our old coach?"

Kyle laughs, "He's so not Dad's type!"

Simon was quiet before he shudders, "Uh, no to that. That guy's a creep."

"The mailman?"

"Oh yes, our father fucking the mailman and it turns out he's our actual father. What a cliché."

Kyle snorts, leaning over to try to grab some crisps.

"Dad has a better taste in men than the mailman or our weird coach from when we played football."

Johnny rolls his eyes as Simon holds the bag of crisps away from Kyle. He gets on his phone to scroll and sees an update from an account on Facebook that he thought he had blocked.

His ex was in town.

"Fuck!"

Simon and Kyle turn to look at Johnny, who froze when he realized he had said that out loud. He slowly looks at his brothers, both staring at him in concern and confusion. All he could do was smile before getting up and running to the bathroom. Johnny locks the door, leaning on the sink as he takes a deep breath. He looks back at his phone, scrolling through the man's profile, which had previously been empty after their breakup. He deleted pretty much everything that had Johnny in it and disappeared.

And now he's crawling back out of the woodwork.

Why is he coming here? What reason does he have to come back here if not to talk to Johnny?

"Fuck fuck fuck-"

"Johnny? You good?"

Johnny stiffens, "Uh, fine! Just, uh- Feeling sick!"

"That's what you get for trying to steal my food," Simon joked even though it was obvious he was worried.

"Need anything? Medicine?"

"Antacids would be great."

Thankfully Simon was the type to just not have basic things like Antacids (because he's weird) so one of them would have to go out and get some. Hopefully Simon was the one to go out because Johnny knows if/when he finds out about why Johnny is freaking out he'll be met with judgement. Kyle was more understanding. There was some muttering outside before one of them walked off. Johnny sighs, not sure which left.

"So... are you actually sick or is this about something else?"

Oh good, Kyle stayed.

Johnny cracks the door open, making sure Kyle was alone before he opens it all the way.

"Don't get mad."

Kyle narrows his eyes, "Why would I get mad?"

Johnny fidgets his hands together, "Remember when we said we wouldn't keep secrets from each other?"

Kyle glares, "Yes..."

"Well... I may or may have not, uh, kept a pretty big secret from you."

Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit the three brothers shared after watching their father do it for so long.

"Fucking hell... Alright, what is it?"

Johnny braces himself for Kyle's reaction.

"My ex is in town..."

Kyle stares, "Ex? Which one?"

"The one I knew you wouldn't have approved of so I never told you about him..."

There was a good bit of silence before Kyle turned and walked back down the hall, not saying a word. Johnny winces, slowly following him. When Kyle goes into the kitchen and grabs Simon's whiskey, Johnny knew that his brother was holding back on saying something potentially hurtful.

"I don't think Si would appreciate you drinking his good stuff."

Kyle glares at Johnny, "I think he would rather me not kill you."

Simon came back around twenty minutes later and immediately notices that Kyle was drinking his booze. He glares at while dropping the bag of medicine on the counter.

"I was saving that for a special occasion."

"Think this qualifies as a 'special occasion'. Right, Johnny?"

Simon turns to Johnny, who was sitting on the couch, trying to appear as small as possible.

"It's not that big of a deal..."

Kyle scoffs, "You dare to say that after what you told me?"

Simon looks between Kyle and Johnny before finally just stopping to look at Johnny.

"What's going on?"

Kyle stares at Johnny, giving him a chance to tell Simon himself. But Johnny didn't, only stumbled over his words while he tried to defend himself from Kyle's judgement. Kyle turns to Simon, taking a sip of whiskey before he speaks.

"Remember when we told each other we would always tell one another about our relationships? You know, the promise we made after you were hospitalized by your shitty ex?"

Simon snaps his head towards Johnny, "Johnny..."

"Oh, and remember when Johnny 'lost' five hundred pounds from our savings?"

"JOHNNY-!"

Johnny throws his hand sup, standing, "Look! I knew you guys weren't going to like him but I did like him! So I held off on telling you guys about him!"

"You stole money for him-!"

"Also went street racing with him, illegal boxing matches, did drugs-"

"It was just weed!"

Simon was so angry about what he was learning that he was unable to speak. He just throws his hands around while strangled sounds escaped from his mouth. Soap genuinely feared for his safety. He's seen what Simon is capable of. But, Simon does nothing. He calms down enough to grab Soap and forces him to sit back on the couch, sitting next to him while he does.

"Johnny... we made that promise for a reason."

Johnny remembers what happened to Simon, what he looked like in that hospital bed, black and blue.

"I know..."

He figured he would never have to come clean about his dirty secret. But here they were, his brothers staring in disappointment and guilt practically drowning him.

"I wasn't worried anything would happen. He did crazy things but he wasn't that kind of person."

"You think I was worried? That shit happened overnight, Johnny."

Kyle sighs, "We're upset because we care, Johnny. You're our baby brother."

"I know... Don't tell Dad."

"Not in a million years. He's been watching me like a hawk since that day. Don't want to put you in the spotlight... Unless you give us a reason to."

"No more secrets, got it?"

"Yea. No more secrets."

Johnny was hoping that would be the end of it. Other than watching his surroundings more and being very careful about where he was and when (matching where his ex's updates told him where he was), things went back to normal. No weirdness from Simon (more than usual) or further questions from Kyle. Nothing. Just plain old normalcy.

That didn't happen. He didn't know what to expect when they were heading to their father's house for a family dinner. He assumed it would be like all the others so he just grabbed some drinks to bring.

"When's the last time we had a family dinner at Dad's?"

Simon hummed as he thought, "Been a good couple months. He's been pretty busy lately."

"Yea, he has been pretty busy," Kyle says in agreement, eyes flickering from the road to Simon.

Johnny, as usual, was in the backseat. It was Kyle's car (he refuses to let anyone drive it) and Simon also gets shotgun (because he will bully Johnny out of it if Johnny doesn't let him have it). So, he sat in the back, stretched out.

"What if he wants us to finally meet his boyfriend?"

Kyle and Simon blink, apparently that hadn't crossed their minds.

"Holy shit-"

"If I don't like him I'm going to fight him."

"Simon-"

They noticed a car parked next to their father's SUV that none of them recognized.

"Oh shit-"

They got out of the car and Kyle ran around and grabbed Simon before he got to the front door.

"Behave."

"I always behave!"

"No, you don't!"

Johnny walks around them, snickering. He looks at the car as he passes it, seeing something faintly familiar inside it on the passenger seat. It was a shirt with a logo on it but he didn't stay long enough to figure out why it was familiar. He didn't want to seem weird by staring into the car of their father's guest. They got to the front door and Simon bangs on the door excessively.

"Dad! Hey Dad? Dad! Father! Father- Hello!?"

Kyle glares at Simon while Johnny laughs, "You're going to be insufferable tonight, aren't you?"

Simon stops and looks at Kyle, not saying a word but the smirk on his face said plenty. The door opens and there stood their father, glaring at Simon with little to no heat.

"You boys don't have to knock."

Simon shrugs, "Don't have to but I wanted to."

John rolls his eyes before pulling Simon into a hug. He grabs Kyle next, squeezing him, before pulling Johnny into a hug.

"Been too long since I've last seen all of my boys in one place."

He ushers them all inside but keeps them in the front parlor. This only confirmed that he had a very special guest over, somewhere else in the house. Also going off of how nervous their father seemed to be helped enforce that. Simon was the one who decided to say something as John took the wine that Johnny brought.

"Sooo... where is he?"

John freezes and Kyle smacks Simon's shoulder. Johnny could see the panic in John's eyes, something he can't say he's ever seen on his father before.

"Uh-"

"You know, the owner of that shiny, new BMW?"

John takes a deep breath, "Can't hide anything from you. Never could..."

Johnny last heard John say that when Simon uncovered that him and Nik were getting a divorce. Simon has always been good at finding out things, which why it was a miracle that Johnny managed to hide a whole relationship from him. He figured once the money went missing that he would've started snooping.

"Have a seat, boys."

Simon plops down, keeping his eyes on their father. Kyle and Johnny sit on the loveseat, eyes darting between Simon and John. John gave himself a moment to think about what he was going to say before he looked up.

"I've met someone."

"We know."

John narrows his eyes, "How long?"

"Dad... you have been the opposite of subtle."

John snorts, "And here I thought I was doing a good job of keeping quiet."

Kyle makes a error sound which makes Johnny and Simon laugh. John shakes his head before he sighs.

"The... guy I've been with is... a little younger."

The three gasp dramatically, "Dad!"

"It wasn't like I was expecting a relationship to happen!"

Kyle points at John, grabbing his attention, "How young are we talking?"

"He's thirty-eight."

"Wow-"

"I wasn't aiming to start anything with him!"

"How'd you meet him?"

John seemed thankful for Johnny changing the subject, "Met him while out on a company retreat. He was from some firm in the US and they flew out and joined us."

"Ooh! Romance with the enemy?"

"Shadow Co. is freelance. Not exactly our 'enemy'."

Johnny blinks, feeling panic swell up in his chest. Shadow Co.? The guy's age--

Nope! Just a coincidence! There is no way-

"So scandalous~"

"Have you snuck him around us?"

"No, I didn't sneak him around. Didn't really have to since you boys moved out."

Johnny swallows, "What's his name?"

John seems to not notice the shake in Johnny's voice. But Simon and Kyle do, the two turning to look at their brother in concern. John gets up, heading to the hall. He calls for the man who Johnny was praying that didn't turn out to be who he was thinking of.

"Phil! Mind coming in here?"

His heart drops, Johnny feeling lightheaded as he sees his ex come around the corner into the room. He's smiling at John, practical hearts in his eyes. Then he turns and he spots Johnny, those hearts popping as he pales in shock and horror.

"Boys, this is Phillip Graves. My boyfriend."

Simon's eyes widen and he looks to Johnny, jaw dropped. Kyle covers his mouth, cursing as he leans back against the loveseat.

"Johnny? Is there something wrong-"

John notices Phillip's face, the man rubbing his eyes, shaking his head-- Doing everything that he can to change what he was seeing. Finally, Phillip stops, turning to John.

"That's- He's your son!?"

John stares into Phillip's eyes before horror comes across his face, "You-You said your ex was Johnny MacTavish!"

Simon practically screams, "YOU USED A DIFFERENT NAME!?"

"JOHNNY!"

Phillip, unable to say anything else, turns and walks out of the room. John leans on the wall, taking several deep breaths in a attempt to calm himself down. Johnny was full-blown panicking at this point, unsure what the hell is going on.

"This is a joke- A prank! He's not your boyfriend!"

"You dated a man fourteen years older than you!? When did this happen!?"

John looks between Kyle and Simon, "Did you two know about this!?"

"Only recently."

John gaps, throwing his hands in the air, "Fucking hell!"

Johnny was borderline hyperventilating. At least he thinks he is, he's never panicked like this before. Johnny felt his vision start to go black.

"Johnny- Breathe. Easy-"

He felt Kyle hold onto him. Johnny was unable to say anything or see anything due to his blurry vision-- Which added onto his panic. Kyle coached him through his panic attack (he wasn't sure if that was one or not, he's never had one before), helping him regain his ability to breathe. His brother rubbed his back as he slowly calmed down, now able to see again.

"Where's Dad and Simon?"

"Si stepped out with Dad. He wasn't processing this well, either."

Johnny let's out a shaky breath. They sit there in silence before Kyle finally speaks.

"This... is a lot... God, feel like we're on some drama TV show."

Johnny laughs at that, unsure of what to do. This did feel like the plot of some low budget soap opera.

Some god is laughing their ass off right now...

Kyle stands, Johnny turning to look at him.

"I'm going to go check on Phillip."

"You are?"

"This has to be as much of a nightmare to him as it is to you."

"Right..."

"I'll be... somewhere. Don't know where he went. Call me if you need something."

Kyle leaves and Johnny was alone. He puts his head in his hands, cursing at his shit luck. He was beyond shocked by how something like this could happen. His father is dating his ex.

"Oh my god..."

Someone walks into the room and he braced himself. He looks up to see his father standing there, clearly processing this as well as him. Simon was standing in the doorway.

"I'm going to grab a beer. God this is some wacky shit-"

With that, he left. John sighs and walks over to the couch and sits. He rests his arms on his knees, staring intently ahead of him. He clearly wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how to say it. Johnny swallows, never in his life did he think he would end up in a situation like this. They sat there in uncomfortable silence before Johnny finally couldn't take it anymore.

"So... how did you, uh, get with him?"

John turns and stares at his son, blinking, "Are you asking me when I hooked up with Phil?"

Johnny cringes, "No! I meant like, when did you two start going out? How did you get with him?"

"You act like he's a bad guy."

"He's not! He-He's just- UGH!"

Johnny holds his head in his hands, frustrated by his inability to say what he was thinking. John, externally, kept calm.

John sighs, "He told me that his last relationship didn't end well... which was a year ago..."

Johnny slumps against the back of the couch, "Yea... we got into a fight..."

"Phil told me it was because his ex lied to him about something... that something being how old he was."

Johnny winces, "Yea... Kind of told him I was older than what I looked... Even made a whole other Facebook account to trick him into believing me."

John blinks, "You... Johnny-"

Johnny stands, pacing the room, "Look, this is fucking weird as shit, okay. You're dating my ex! How the fuck does something like that happen!? How do you manage to get with my ex- Why didn't he break up with you when you showed pictures of us!? You had to show him pictures of your sons, right!?"

"I-I didn't exactly get around to doing that... I didn't want to scare him off."

Johnny stares hard at his father, "WHAT!?"

"Johnny, he's only nine years older than Simon! I told him about you boys and if he wanted to know more about you guys I would tell him! If he wanted to see pictures I would've shown him! I was following his lead, going the pace he set."

John takes a breath, "This is a very... interesting situation. One I didn't think I would ever be involved in."

Johnny stops by the window of the parlor, looking outside. He tenses when he sees Phillip out there, leaning against his car with Kyle talking to him. They both seemed relatively calm, though Phillip had a cigarette between his lips.

"I don't remember him ever smoking..."

John walks over by the window, "I kind of got him hooked... never did say I was a good influence."

Johnny snorts, "And you wonder why we're all menaces…"

"Hey, it wasn't all me. Your father doesn't exactly have the best track record, either!"

"Does... does Dad know you're dating?"

"He's the one who finally pushed me to getting back out there. Said that I was 'keeping myself miserable'."

"Does he make you happy?"

He already knew the answer to that. They've seen how much happier their father had become since 'sneaking' around with his new boyfriend. More genuine smiles. Deep, hearty laughs (laughing in general had cut back after him and Nik split). He was happy, he acted happy. But Johnny needed to hear him say it.

"Yea... I am happy. Even if this whole situation is weird- If he chooses to stay... I'd still be happy."

Johnny didn't even think about Phillip possibly leaving his dad over this. If he did he couldn't blame him. Johnny could see fear and sadness cloud over John as he watched Phillip through the window. If Phillip left... he'd be sad again.

Johnny steps away from his father, leaving the parlor.

"Johnny? Where are you going?"

"Gonna have a word with Phillip."

Johnny goes outside, Phillip visibly tensing when he saw him. Kyle turns and is surprised to see him.

"Hey, Johnny... Uh, is everything okay?"

Johnny keeps his eyes on Phillip, "Yea... go talk with Dad. And make sure Simon hasn't drank all the beer. I'm definitely going to want one."

Kyle blinks before stepping away, heading back into the house. Phillip avoids eye contact, reaching up and taking the cigarette from his lips.

"When did you start smoking?"

Phillip still isn't looking at him, "Two months ago... kinda started stealing them from John..."

Johnny takes a breath, looking towards the window he and John were staring out of and was glad to see that no one was looking out of it. The tension in the air was suffocating, he couldn't handle having eyes on him.

"Did you know who he was?"

Phillip finally looks at him, "What?"

"Did you know he was my dad?"

"Pff- Fuck no. I've done some weird shit but I've never went out and purposely dated one of my exes' parents!"

Johnny rubs the back of his neck, "Fucking insane shit here..."

Phillip hums in agreement. There was awkward silence, Johnny trying to urge himself to break it and say what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"Which part? You lying about your age? Stealing shit from your family for me and making me feel indebted to them despite having never met them? What about you using me to get weed or get into illegal fights so you could gamble? Or, is it you lying about who you were? You're not Johnny MacTavish! You're fucking Johnny Price. And, if I had know that, I wouldn't have started fucking your dad!"

Johnny winces, the anger from what happened still very much there. Johnny knows he hurt Phillip. He couldn't argue with it, either.

"Did you tell him all that I did?"

"Parts of it. Didn't feel right bashing some immature kid who fooled me in front of a potential new partner."

"Right-"

"Why'd you come out here?"

"I wanted to apologize..."

Phillip scoffs in response to that.

"And... I wanted to ask if you would stay with my dad."

Phillip blinks before he looks back to Johnny, "What?"

"Look, he's been miserable and lonely since him and our other dad split. Ever since you two started seeing each other he's gotten so happy! Yes, it's fucking weird as hell that you're the guy he's dating, but you're also they guy that makes him so happy. He'll be crushed if you leave."

Phillip looks over Johnny, seeming genuinely surprised by what he had said. Johnny turns his body so he's facing the house rather than facing Phillip. He could feel the man's eyes burning into him, making him feel so small.

"You really care about him..."

"Yea, he's my dad. Been there for me during the roughest points in my life. I want him to be happy."

"And... you think he still wants to be with me after learning about what happened between us?"

"Yea, I do."

Johnny looks back to Phillip.

"You grew up."

"Only been a year."

"Not like that."

"Oh..."

Phillip finishes his cigarette, leaning down and stubbing it into the driveway before he puts the bud in the ashtray in his car. Without saying anything else, he walks past Johnny and goes back to the house. Johnny breathes out, wondering the future would bring them.

___

#fam 141 #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #phillip graves #pricegraves #soapgraves #pricenik #only mentioned tho #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #fic #fanfic #dad price #dad john price #also on ao3

[nobodylivesson]

The Black Cat

Fandom : Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Pairing : Task Force 141 X Male Reader(Platonic)

Request? No

»»————>❃<————««

I sat quietly at the back end of the car, wanting nothing more than to take a quick shower now that we were about to reach Alejandro’s base and get some fucking sleep

These last few days with the tension of missiles hanging above our heads had everyone including Simon very serious but now with it gone they can all take a breath

But something wasn’t sitting right with like a nagging feeling constantly pricking my chest since I saw the missile detonate

I sighed and focused my sights outside in the darkness when a voice beside me asked “Still worried about something, (Y/N)? I presumed with the mission done, everyone would be happy but it looks like things still trouble you”

My mouth formed a thin line and with a calm face I faced Phillip Graves, another thing that has been bugging me for a long time

He and his shadow company have helped Task Force 141 a lot and I know Captain Price holds him in good regard but this was the first mission when I had met Graves face to face yet he has been trying to get to know me personally, too much for my comfortability

“Nothing much Graves, just some good old fatigue kicking in my systems after finally getting done with all that shit. Was thinking of all the things that are left to be done by us regarding the mission and thinking about it just made me feel more tired all over again” I lied smoothly while facing the front with my hands folded over my chest

My gut intuitions were never wrong and I know I shouldn’t be suspicious of someone new I had just met but you can never be less cautious, something Ghost always told me

“But why do I feel like there is more to it than you are letting on to me, I thought we have become close enough to share some secrets” Graves says with a smile like that of a Perfect A+ student making me internally roll my eyes

“Oh Graves, I think the tiredness is hitting you also for you to assume I am hiding things for I have shared everything I can think of with keeping our friendship in my mind. Anything more than that can be only shared if you become my lover which I, unfortunately, can’t just make anyone claim me like that” I say with a chuckle with my eyes still closed and I can instantly feel the atmosphere dropping inside the car

“Sergent, we don’t need to go that far I just wished we had a good relationship since General Shepard tells a lot about you” Graves tries to say with his usual tone but being a veteran, I can easily make out the anger hidden under his friendly words

I shrug my shoulder and look at him again with a smile before saying “I think we have already made that friendship Graves, if you want more try that out with Ghost or Captain Price, they are in desperate need of more friends. Anyway since your work is almost done I doubt we both will be meeting each other for a long time so creating extra friendliness would be saddening, you know?” As a matter of fact

But simply replied Graves “Well we can’t say for sure for the future might always change”

(Y/N) felt a shudder at this as a feeling of danger rang inside him but before he could say anything their car stopped just in front of the gates of Los Vaqueros which were guarded by Shadow Company’s soldiers

“What is happening here, Graves?” I asked in a low voice with my eyes pointed at the stationed soldiers of his to which Graves smiled and said in a hushed voice “It will be better for everyone if you stay put inside the car, (Y/N)” before getting down off the car with the other two soldiers while I see Alejandro get down from the car behind us

I quietly open the door by side and pop my head out to look at Ghost coming out of his side, giving me the look he always gives whenever he feels that shit is about to happen

I feel anger boiling inside my depts as I hear how General Shepard and Graves wanted us to fall back and everything was to be taken over by Shadow Company. I knew things were not right but I didn’t think it was as deep as this and I can see that Graves wanted to do more than just ‘take over’' this mission. 

If not stopped with this bullshit things can go out of control, so I tried to step out of the car but Ghost stopped me with a shake of his head when I heard Graves say “Your men have been detained” and all hell broke loose as Alejandro pounced at Graves only to be pinned at our car

I swing open my door at once when I hear gunshots being fired towards Soap and see Simon hit the guard behind him, slipping a knife down my sleeve into my palm, I quickly kill the soldier waiting near my left side

Ghost turns around to disable another soldier coming towards him as I shoot another soldier towards my right when I get into high alert with Soap’s painful grunt heard after I saw an onslaught of bullets fired towards him

I make eye contact with Ghost who instantly can see my next actions and falls to the ground while I take leverage of the open window to jump on top of the car, surprising the soldiers on the other side

Without giving them any time, I shoot down the two guards with my gun before jumping down from the car roof in front of the unconscious Alejandro and saw Soap has managed to run down the hill

 Graves who was going towards Ghost came out from the gap between my car and the one behind but couldn’t even turn as I jumped at his back to twist his hands, disarmed him and held a knife near his throat’s vital point

Immediately, the remaining soldiers paused upon seeing this but Graves just relaxed before asking “Well very crafty at your hands, aren’t ya? But would the value of your comrade be enough for slitting my throat? We can be less hostile, right?”

My eyes quickly look back and see that a sniper from the upper deck post of the gates has his sight on Alejandro, making my grip tighten but lowered my knife slowly before throwing it to the ground and releasing Graves to raise my hands high

“Now that’s a good boy! General Shepard always did say that Sergent Chat Noir was a fabulous and important member of Task Force 141 yet his weakness lies in his care for his fellow soldiers. Want to wish this inability of you didn’t exist at this moment, right?” Graves asked with a smirk  as my hands were being tied down

I just blankly looked at him and tilted my head to look behind him when a huff escaped my nose and said “It seems sometimes arrogance makes the Great Phillip Graves forget the other factors of the situation”

Graves must have immediately realised what I meant by looking where I was looking as he turned around and cautiously went around the last car’s end to see Ghost had vanished

I can feel Graves's frustration as he looks down the hill where Soap has escaped and angrily spews “FUCK! I need you all to find ‘em!” before looking at me as I was held up by the two soldiers holding my tied hands, Alejandro held beside as well

“Well, at least we got the feline under control and would be getting the other two rouges soon. Don’t worry (Y/N), I will be giving you a visit soon for some personal talks till then enjoy some rest that you wanted!” Graves said while signalling for us to be taken away

I simply laughed at this as I walked towards the gates and shouted “WELL GRAVES! You will be getting the game of Chase of your life cause Sergent Soap and Lt.Ghost can handle babies like you with the back of their hands”

How amusing it was to watch to see Graves's dirty face scrunched in anger as I looked back before turning around and continuing to laugh

Oh hell is about to be thrown in the streets of Las Almas this night

In one of the dimly lit rooms of the prison of Las Almas, a man simply waited for his capturer to come as he slept on the ground with his hands behind his head and a leg popped on top of another

Since he had nothing better to do he decided to catch up on some sleep as he knew he would need his energy soon when his teammates came to get him

He was thrown here right after being tied for god knows what reason but being agitated or hyper about a situation you can’t do anything about is not his forte so he just chilled

That is until he heard the steel door of the room move and creak before it slowly opened, his eyes still closed and his body still relaxed

“Oh, it seems being locked here seems like a field trip for our prisoner for him to be so relaxed in the cell. So much for being part of Task Force 141” a voice hit the sleeping guy’s ear making him laugh in his mind

“Shush, don’t say unnecessary things. We do our things and bring him out as Sir Graves ordered. Now wake him up and be careful” another voice said in caution

“Hahaha, what can a sleeping man do! I have seen him throughout our whole mission and unlike Ghost or Soap, Sergeant Chat Noir was just laid back and seemed to survive somehow, makes me wonder if he got into special forces through connection” the first soldier says in mockery

“Oi mate! I don’t think-” the second soldier tried to warn but the other man interrupted him by saying “Nice to say? Or do you want to say safe? Come on and look at the situation, I don’t think anyone is gonna have the authority to question us about what we do here anymore cause we are the law now, definitely not this cat who got his tail caught” before standing near the sleeping man

(Y/N) at once opened his eyes and with his popped-up leg, kicked the standing soldier in his side making the soldier lose his sense. (Y/N) just held the front of the soldier and propelled that guy to the ground using his soldier, then badly twisted his right arm making it break and the soldier screamed in agony

The other soldier who saw all this happen was still gaping in shock when he realized (Y/N) was looking at him but he couldn’t even get his gun when one bullet hit each of his legs making him scream as well before a strong kick by (Y/N) made the soldier knock out cold

(Y/N) now calmly stands as he observes his work where the first soldier was still groaning in pain while the second was out cold yet it seemed he was not done yet as he turned towards the first soldier to do something more but stopped after hearing a voice

“I think if you feel the need to survive, you would leave those two boys alone, Sergeant” Graves's voice cuts through the cold atmosphere and (Y/N) already knows a gun is pointed at his back

(Y/N) simply just throws away the gun at his side and turns towards Graves with a broad smile as if he just didn’t demolish two of his soldiers with ease and muses “Nothing much, Graves just was trying to teach a life lesson to your soldiers who don’t know the meaning of being cautious no matter the situation. This kind of attitude would cost you in the far end, not me” as he comes out of his cell with his hands behind his head

Two new soldiers immediately withhold him while a third one goes to check on the soldiers inside

“Well do tell me how your presence Graves graces me?” (Y/N) asks mockingly to which the said man pays no mind and starts with a rant of his own

“As I have said before, General Shepard holds high regard for you and admires your skills. He feels your skills are being not given the importance they need under Price’s leadership and Task Force 141. That’s why, General Sheaprd has an offer for you. Join the Shadow Company and become General Shepard’s man, you will obtain everything you desire. Leave this useless piece of uniform and join the real army” Graves says as he holds (Y/N) face up by his chin

(Y/N) didn’t show any emotion like a trained person and Graves just frowned

“What will happen if I decline this offer?” the other soldier asks to which Graves smiles and replies “You will be pushed into the cell with Captain Alejandro after which we shall go out to kill Ghost and Soap. We will think after that what shall be done with you and of the missile crisis”

Suddenly (Y/N) starts to giggle before fully laughing confusing everyone around him

“Are you naive enough to think that your men have the capabilities to kill a ghost and its guard dog? An Undead can’t be killed twice and a loyal hound would do anything to protect its master, even bite your arrogant head to pieces. You all might be hunters of the dark but those two are the ones who control the dark, so I wonder who would end up being hunted in the end” (Y/N) mockingly laughter echoing around the floor

The soldiers paled at this thing and Graves for the first time showed his anger, face distorting with scorn and his hand harshly brought (Y/N)’s closure to his, their noses almost touching

“Well then, when I drag and throw both of their bodies in front of you I wonder how you will react, Black Noir. Maybe then you would be willing enough to change your mind and join along this side, under my leadership” Graves lowly whispers to which (Y/N) continues to smile

“First let’s see you make do it and then we shall discuss my reaction. Take back your worthless offer and let me rest up in the cell, the only person who commands me is Captain Price and one team I have joined will be Task Force 141 forever. A person impersonating a captain is just arrogant and shallow, not worthy of being my leader” all stated making Graves growl before harshly kicking (Y/N) on the stomach

(Y/N) winches at this yet still maintains his eye contact with Graves

“If it weren’t General Shepard’s orders you would be twenty feet under the ground sergeant, always remember that. Put him in the cell with the other one” Graves says it all as he prepares to open the door of Alejandro's cell and (Y/N) only rolls his eyes at this when he notices the soldiers he has beaten up being escorted out after being given first aid probably to be taken to a hospital

(Y/N) eyes shine and he loudly says “Oh soldier it seems you have woken up” making the soldier who was speaking shit about him sharply look at him with a fear stricken face

It made (Y/N) feel a jolt of excitement and he continued saying “Well soldier I wanted to tell about why I had Black Noir as my codename but you were not in the state to here, so listen. Black cats are known to give bad luck to those whom they presume as their enemy and on a battlefield I am the worst luck any enemy can stumble upon if they wished to return alive. Remember that when we meet again, soldiers” his voice suggested which everyone understood including Graves who simply opened the door to make sure none of his veins was popping out of anger

“Los fantasmas no existen, hasta que te topas con ellos. Remember this Graves Philip, when you go out today for your so called hunt. I shall see you soon” was all (Y/N) said before he was thrown inside the cell

(Y/N) straightens himself and sighs when he notices Alejandro standing at the end of the cell looking at him with frowned eyes

“Thought you would throw a fit when the door got opened, Amigo” the shorter male says with a grin to Alejandro who says with a sigh “Well after the storm you kicked up outside I knew that if I did something irrational now, I would get killed”

(Y/N) chuckles as takes a seat on the ground with his back and head being supported to the wall after going through all that shit, also the pain in his stomach from being kicked was still troubling him

Alejandro comes to take a seat beside the closed-eye male, for after a long time (Y/N) felt a little peace coming to him

Alas, he couldn’t take a rest with Alejandro’s eyes drilling holes at his side

“Something bugging you or is my face to guapo de manejar, Amigo?” (Y/N) asks jokingly to which he receives a punch at his right arm and a huff as a reply as silence again takes place

“If you want to say something just go ahead, I will be listening to you Sire” (Y/N) says while looking towards Alejandro with serious eyes making the said man just shake his head before seriously asking “Why did you stay behind, Sergeant (Y/N)? I have heard enough about your skills from Lieutenant Ghost and Sergeant Soap  to know that you had enough chances to escape with them and wouldn’t it have benefited us all if all three of you escaped”

(Y/N) hums and looks front while stroking his chin with his finger as if thinking deeply but instantly turns back to Alejandro with a smile seemingly an answer ready

“My instincts at that moment told me that creating a diversion and getting all the attention would be the best course of action if we wanted everything alright” (Y/N) says with a shrug to which Alejandro looks at him with a face thinking ‘Are you crazy or shit?’ before saying “Are ya serious? Just your instincts were enough for you to do this? Just as Ghost said you are one hell of a crazy burro”

“Damn gotta tell Leutinant to stop talking about me behind my back, instead do it more openly while we all talk together so I can hear these compliments in real time and feel great” (Y/N) says with a snicker and seeing Alejandro’s unimpressed look return back to the topic “I mean my instincts isn’t just purely instincts, I mean my trusts on the other, the knowledge about the other party, the best way to approach the situation and minimal damage to comrades also play a big part”

Alejandro asks with a raised eyebrow “You trust your comrades enough to know they would be able to come over here on their own?” to which (Y/N) simply “Do you not trust them enough? Or else you would definitely have tried to escape earlier when I entered no matter the risk, Sire”

Both men stare at each other for some time but Alejandro is the first one to break it as he sighs before he moves close to (Y/N)’s ear as if to say something confidential

“I would have never asked to work with the team if I didn’t believe in them. If both men can clear through the city and reach the safe house I told them about, Rudolf who also hasn’t been caught will be able to help them from there” Alejandro whispers making (Y/N) lean back at the wall in ease

If (Y/N) was being honest, no matter how much confidence he showed regarding his teammates' success, worry still lingered in some corner of his heart about how they would proceed with this mission and he didn’t want them to risk their lives. These guys were the only people (Y/N) called his family and friends, something happening to them would be devastating, to say the least, but he can relax now

“Well then we just sit back and can only wait now” (Y/N) says with a hum to which Alejandro asks “Oh, so we are done and ready?”

“Yes of course, now we just wait till those two are done with their Parade of death against the Shadows and make it clear who returns to the ground, us or those bastards”

»»————>❃<————««

There is not much to say, just that I have shown my face once to make people know I am not dead yet

#x male reader #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #modern warfare 2 #soap mw2 #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #graves mw2 #gaz mw2

[chaos-vulpix]

"1121" by Halsey is so Ghostsoap-coded in all its angsty glory. Like, "Bells in Santa Fe" & "Ya'aburnee" also give the vibe for these two as well, but "1121" really hits that desperation, that devotion, that despair.

The lyrics just scream of Ghost's love for Soap; how the Brit has never felt such feelings so strongly for anyone before until he fell for the Scot; how the Lieutenant is unwilling to accept the idea of ever losing his Sergeant; how Simon is willing to give Johnny his heart, the most fragile part of his very being, and how he'd break it himself to show how much he loves him.

The fact that song title is the numerical date for November 21st, and the final mission of MWIII, "Trojan Horse", takes place on November 21st is just sheer coincidence...

MWIII SPOILERS UNDER BREAK IF YOU STILL DON'T KNOW YET. NO SHAME IN THAT, BUT I DO ENVY YOU GUYS FOR NOT KNOWING

...and don't get me started on the lyric "Took one in the temple", because guess what happened to Soap!

"1121" may be about Halsey's love for her child, her surprise of being pregnant, and her fear of another miscarriage following many others. But for Ghost, it's his love for Soap ensnaring his very soul, fearing the inevitable day he'd lose him... and the despair of experiencing it on November 21st, his broken pieces barely held together by the rest of 141, a burning hatred growing within, compeling him to hunt down Makarov, even if it kills him & potentially sends Ghost to wherever Soap went next if he's lucky, or if Simon wonders if he even deserves to after everything he's done in his life...

...or, if you're more inclined to tell Activision to go fuck themselves, it could be Ghost holding a silent vigil in a dark hospital room, accompanied by the beeping sounds of medical machinery keeping his Scottish spitfire of a soulmate alive, his body battered & bruised, his sunshine dimmed, but still alive if barely by a sheer miracle, praying for the day his Sergeant wakes up sooner than theorized before he loses his mind...

...or maybe it's Simon, in the early morning hours, tracing his fingers across the scar on Johnny's head as they lay in the Lieutenant's bed. Simon, how needs the light breathes against his chest to remind him that Johnny still lives, that what happened in that tunnel was a nightmare they both woke up from. Simon, who reevaluates just how deeply in love he is, that he's even deeper than he thought, that he may have deeper to go still. Simon, who watches Johnny open his eyes slowly once more, another reminder of life still clinging to the Scot's flesh & bones, greeting him with his Scottish accent that he wants to hear forevermore until a more dignified end claims them both. Simon, who will soon get up after Johnny convinces him to stay in bed for longer, who gets dressed in his iconic dark garb & skull mask, who helps the rest of the 141 hunt down Makarov so he can put a bullet in the man's head for even thinking about killing his boyfriend. Simon, who returns to the same bed once the moon is high, finding bliss within two warm arms & a sun-tinged voice that reminds him of everything he's worth & more.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #mwiii spoilers #mw3 spoilers #modern warfare 3 spoilers #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #cod ghost #cod soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #halsey #1121 #early morning musings #what have i done to myself #i will never emotionally recover from this #I should've slept instead of staying up all night #ghostsoap has me in a chokehold if you couldn't tell #when a song fits too well with a ship & you start spiraling

[hirik0]

Save with you Part 2

part 1

09Soap/Ghost Omegaverse AlphaSoap, OmegaGhost

Ghost just want to die he puked his insites out for the last 2 days and now had a very annoying fever. Dr Bloomberg explained to him that this is a mix off the new drug and the reaction of his body brutaly been forced out of heat. She also told him that he will stay here for at least a week, while he puked nearly all over her shoes he stoped feeling bad about it. He is so hungry, but with the fact that he just stoped punking nearly 3 hours ago they stay with intravenous infution to keep him alive, they told him he can eat something when hes not puking for a minium of 24 hours and then it will only be soup. The only think he to lift his mood is Price visiting him. He clearly will put a stop to Dr. Bloombergs ridiculous ideas of him getting a mate. He also hopes shes wrong about him going in heat on a regular basis, this cant happen. He will just not exept this. One heat, its a coincidence maybe stress realted he will not begin to have a cycel again. He dont need a mate, and still everytime hes thinking about this topic a sea brise and the smell of jew is hauting his nose. Honestly a improvement to the constant smell of puke that is stucked in his nose. He also so fucking tired and from time to time a headache is causing him to get nausish again. The only reason hes not throwing up again are the medication they gave him against it.

When Price finally visites Ghost, the fever is getting worse. Price looks at him with concern and a hint of pity. "Price", Ghost says whinnie he just wants to sleep the fever making his hole body feel like a oven everymuscleis hurting. "You look like shit", Price says having to fight down his Alpha instincts because Ghost is very a sick Omega at the moment and dont need or want to be babied. "Thanks I worked really hard on it", Ghost jokes rasing Price mood a bit with his shitty comment. "Dr. Bloomberg told me that your reaction to the get a mate idea being a big no. If they have to put you in a coma all the time you can't work anymore." Ghost makes a displeased face at this, it's not like he ignores his health, he just dont need a mate. "I made a list off Alphas that will help you through your heats, if they are now coming back regular. I'm so sorry Simon." hearing the truthfulness in Price voice makes this just so much worse. "Who?", Ghost presses throw his teath, half hiding his face in the pillow. "Roach, Ozone, Soap and me", Price answers and hearing about Soap making him feel a little bit better. And if he wasn't so sick this would have ticked of a alarm in his head. Still he's making a pleased pure that Price picks up on. "Dr. Bloomberg is getting a expert on how trauma is effecting heats on the base, please don't kill her." Ghost wants to answer a yes Sir, but instead he puke on Price boots. "Get better soon Simon", he just says while his Alpha instincts scream at him to take care of the sick Omega.

The expert Professor Kim Hastings, is a small Omega woman, with the most annoying personality Ghost ever meet. She's the cliche of a bubbly, happy Omega, most Alpha claim to want but could not handel. Dr. Bloomberg looks like this is even to much for her. "Professor please remember what I told you about the Lieutenant", Dr. Bloomberg says clearly picking up the annoyance of Ghost after the Professor introduced herself and her research. "Of course I'm sorry. I just get very excited to talk about my research, like al scientist", Hastings answers in a lot more toned down voice. "So, I was told a lot of 'that's classified' about your past. I was told you survived several months as a prisoner and didn't had a heat till the end of last week. This is no heat in 7 years, that's the longest time I heard of. Usally my patients come to see me after 2-3 years. Many get very unsettled with out going in heat so long, I gues Omegas that dont have problem with not having a heat also would not reach out to me." Ghost just blinks at her unimpressed he really would prefer that it wasn't necessary for her to be here. "I was also told by Dr. Bloomberg that you would prefer to not get heats again." Ghost just nods, carefully listing for judgement in her voice finding non. "It's possible that this is just a stress heat, but this depends a bit on how you felt at the beginning of the heat." "What to you mean?", Ghost ask starting to bite his lower lip. "My patients often say their heat get triggered by a person that makes them feel extremely save. Often a potential mate or their mate. But they are also not in the military so this could not be the case here. You are honestly my first Omega solider, so i dont have any data to pull from. So please tell me a bit about what the last mission in very vague terms." Ghost feels like something is try to force itself in to his consciousness, scratching, howling, tearing at the walls he built around himself as a form of protection. "Captain MacTavish and I where on a 3 month surveillance mission in Asia." "Is the Captain a Alpha?" "Yes." Ghost heart is starting to race. "You know eachother for a long time?" "5 years." Dr. Bloomberg nervously looking at how Ghost heart rate is rising, smelling how Ghost scent is filling the room. Prof. Hastings just nods to herself writing down something on her notepad. "You would say he's a good Alpha?" "I guess yes?" Ghost answers unsure not having to think about this in a long time, the Professor clearly used to Omegas not able to give a clear answer to this. He don't like this, this is reaching uncomfortable territory his Omega instincts are rising like a phoenix out of the ashes after being not part of his live for 7 years, while is heart is trying to leave his rip cage. "When did you notice first indicators of a heat aproaching?" "On the flight back to base." "Is it possible you didn't notice it before because you where focused on the mission?" "It's possible." Ghost swallos, his scent is getting more prominent with every question. "What did you feel and I dont mean heat symptoms." Reality is bulldozing over Ghost. The word SAVE flashing in bright lights and gigantic letters in his brain. He felt save, because he was with Soap. He sees Soap as a potential mate. "Save", he says in a oddly empty way.

To Professor Hastings credit she didn't showed her exitment over this. She's learned the hard way that not all her patients like this part of the trauma healing journey, most of them got their trauma from a piece of shit Alpha in the first place. "If it makes thinks a little bit better, your next heat is atleast 6 months away, so a lot of time to figure everything out." Ghost don't think this makes anything better, he don't want to figure thinks out, he wants thinks to stay the same. Rage is filling Ghost up, about the situation, the feeling of absolute lost of control over his live, his stupid body and his stupid instincts for choosing bloody MacTavish as a potential mate. Dr. Bloomberg wants to say something but the Professor stops her clearly knowing that Ghost needs to come to terms on his own. The two women are leaving the room.

"You can call me when their are complications with his recovery, also don't push him. It will just damagethe process, from now one everything is going to happen in his speed", the Professor explains with a serious look on her face. "This man is so bloody stubborn, I honestly would prefer this was just a stress heat", Dr Bloomberg sighs, knowing that Ghost will end up in medical the second his next heat is coming. "Can I meet Captain MacTavish?", Hastings asks so she can give a prognosis on parts of the recovery. "No. If you weren't the only expert in the UK you wouldn't even have seen the Lieutenant." "But my research", the Omega protests not willingto get pushedaroundby a Alpha. "Professor you just talked with the most dangerous solider on this base nothing of this will go in your research. People kill to get the tiniest information on him. Your notes will stay on this base, otherwise your in a lot of shit with the government and the taskforce", Dr Bloomberg states in a final tone that there will be no exceptions. "Are you threatening me Doctor?", the Omega ask getting a bad feeling about the situation. "No, but the higher ups only agreed to let you see the Lieutenant because they want him back in the field, they don't care about your research. But your patients care about you and need you, it's not worth it Professor Hastings. Just give me your notes." The Omega swallow at how with out any emotional the Alpha said it. It is not a threat of the doctor, its just the facts of the situation. "What if I need to come back?" "You can look at them then. To refresh you memory." "What if I have a thought about the situation if I'm not allowed to have any notes of base?" The Alpha looks at her with a stern expression. "You don't have these." " So I should just pretend I was never here?" "Yes." Professor Hastings mouth drops open, to what exactly did she agree here? "What is the Lieutenant like a James Bond or something like this?" Bloomberg laughts at this before saying: "It's close enough. But I think even James Bond would look under his bed to makes sure the Lieutenant is not under it." Hastings is laughing nervously hopeing this is just some strange military joke. "When I told you this Omega is the most dangerous solider on base I meant it", the Doctor says to make clear she was not joking. Which shacking hands the Professor give up her notes.

Ghost wants to crawl up the walls of this room over 2 weeks he's in medical now and he just wants to go. He has to much time to think, about Soap being a potential mate, about how much it hurts that Soap didn't visited him ones since Dr Bloomberg gave the green light and he don't randomly throws up any more. Archer and Ozone were good sports about it, telling him that they understand the joke are so bad you want to puke. They also talked about the plan for his heat so that all three of them agree to the same thing. Roach and Price also ask about what to do if Ghost goes into heat again, the only one missing is Soap. Theoretical one of the other could just tell him, its just logistics really, but it fucking hurts. Everyone in the taskforce came to visit just not the person he wants to see. He trys to rationalise it, Soap is a Captain so he has lot of thinks to do and it just simply dosent fit in his full schedule. A very unhelpful part of his brain reminds him that before the incident, Soap would sometimes do paperwork while visiting him in medical, so it can't be his schedule. The next thing is that Soap had to be on a mission, just because he's in a coma for 4 days and then 2 weeks sick because they gave him some new shit don't mean that Soap is not needed in the field. But Roach would ask him everytime if Soap had shown up, becoming angrier and angrier with every no. The only logical conclusion is Soap don't want to see him and this hurts. Does Soap sees him as less now because he's an Omega? Fuck, he needs to get out of here. Unknown to Ghost Roach is screaming at Soap right now about exactly why he can't just go visit Ghost for 15 minutes. "Just go and visit him, Soap. You can continue to throw your pity party after you where there", Roach screams not carrying if anybody overhears, he lost his patience seeing how it clearly hurts his best friend that Soap is not visiting. The problem screaming at Soap just activates his stubbornness. "Why, it's my fault he ended up there in the first place." "Soap just stop being a fucking wanker for 5 minutes and actully listen to what I'm telling you for 5 days now." "Fine", Soap presses throw his theet. "Ghost wants to see you. He's not blaming you, so for the love of the bloody Queen just go and viste him." Soap bits his lip the now familiar feeling of guilt replacing his stomach growing bigger. "Okey 15 minutes", he finally agrees, because he has the feeling that Roach reached the point he would drag him to Ghost hospital room if he has to. "That's all I'm asking for. And now let's go so you can't chicken out of it." Soap stands up and is taking the file he's working in with him. Ever since Price told him that Ghost is allowed visitors he's found a sudden interested in keeping the recruit files up to date.

Ghost looks up from his book and sees how Roach is pushing Soap in the room before closeing the door again. He raises his evebrow in a silent question while Saop sits down on the chair next to his bed. His insticts are telling him to pure because Soap is finally here. Not caring that's not by choice. "Eh, Roach was very convincing that i should finally show up here", Soap states a bit emberrased. Ghost just keeps his eyebrow up. Time starts to streach itselfe while they look at eachother in uncomfortable silence. Ghost us looking at Soap, Soap seem to found a very interesting spot on the floor. Soaps heart is ponding, he feels like he will throw up, not knowing what to say, where to start. His instincts roaring to finally being able to scent the Omega. "Im, sorry", Soap finally says. "For what exactly?", Ghost ask unsure, picking the skin at his finger nails. "It's my fault you're in this situation isn't it?" Ghost looks at him confused, stops the movement of his fingers for a short moment. "What do you mean?", Ghost ask for further clarification. "Your heat, I mean I must have triggerd it, it was just us for 3 months.", Soap explains his train of thought, starting to bounce his legs because of his own nerves. "Soap, from what i understand the expert said, this was actully my fault, if anyone has to be at fault." Soap looks up from the floor to finally meet Ghost eyes. "What?" "Its something with me healing from Roba, that's what triggert the heat", Ghost explains vaguely not wanting to go in to more detail. "Thats good right?", Soap ask unsure, feeling relieved but also that Ghost is hiding something from him. "Im not sure yet, but.." ,Ghost stops mid sentence clearly debating with himself if he should continue. "But?", Soap encourages, needing to know. "But Im glad it happend around you, because I know you would never do something like Roba to me anyone", Ghost finishes the sentence. Claim the thought is burning itself in Soaps brain, his instincts want to claim Ghost, make him his mate, making sure the Omega is feeling save. "Did you not viste because you thought i would blame you?", Ghost ask dreading the answer. Soap dont answers verbaly but the face hes making is telling Ghost everythink he needs to know.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #gary roach sanderson #captain mactavish #alpha soap #omega ghost #omegaverse #captian price #alpha price #alpha roach #john soap mactavish

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [He Loves My Butter Lips]

For Day 25 of Carry on Countdown 23, Carnival/Faire. @carryon-countdown

Simon Snow hates his boyfriend and his boyfriend's ego and all the plushies he's won for him so, so bloody bad (but not really, not really at all).

Rated T for... honestly I think Simon is cursing every other sentence in this.

⋆｡˚

The best part about the faire is the bloody food. The cheese sticks, the corndogs on sticks, pickles on sticks, the spun sugar on sticks, in certain parts of the world (this part of the world!!) the fried butter on sticks, everything fried and everything on sticks. It’s divine. I’m going to die of a heart attack at one of these godforsaken carnival-faire-decadence-things, but Merlin and Morgana both, it will have been bloody worth it. The best bloody thing is the fucking food. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. If they think otherwise, they’re bloody daft.

Now some people might claim having a boyfriend who could hack all the carnival games would be the best bloody part, but their boyfriends are not Basilton fucking Grimm-Pitch, are they? No, the honour of calling that one a boyfriend is mine, and he’s too bloody smug about it.

Not to say that I don’t love and cherish each and every one of those ridiculously large plushies, and not to say that they don’t each get a name and a little home in our littler apartment, but does Baz have to bloody fucking smirk about it every time he predicts right? Does he have to be right so bloody often?

He’s such a sodding twat about it, I hate him. (I love him. He’s perfect. Never bloody tell him that though, his ego is killing me already.)

Presently, I have four fucking plushies squished in between the space between my arms and my chest and each of them is the size of my torso. “Basil!” I can see him heading to win me a fifth, “Basil, I swear, I literally cannot hold another sodding plush bear, please do not.”

I just want that fried butter, but how will I eat the fried butter without hands to hold the stick required to eat the fried butter? Baz probably wouldn’t even let me eat the fried butter anyway. He should let me eat the fried butter, it’s not like I won’t go at a stick occasionally anyway. He’s trying to train me out of it, the ninny. As if I want to learn better than eating sticks of butter.

He’s already out of bloody earshot.

I huff down at my growing collection of plushies. Mr. Bun, Mrs. Bear, Sir Froggington the Fourth, and the Little Duck that Could will surely have another companion soon. The Little Duck that Could is in fact the largest of the plushes, but he has small animal energy. I think he might also technically be a swan, but it’s too late, he’s already been named. It’s sticking.

There’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose. I faithfully trudge after Basil and pray he’s wrong about his skills in this carnival game, just this once, and then I see what it sodding is.

Bloody fucking football.

No wonder he’s practically whooping about it. Well, as much as Baz might whoop. It’s basically just an overly enthused grin, the smile showing the in the curve of his cheek, a not-quite-there, but not-quite-not-there dimple, his eyes sparkling. I can’t very well tell him not to kick footballs about, it’s Baz Pitch, king of the pitch, it’s in his sodding name.

I find a nearby bench to sit my hindquarters on and plop myself down. At least from here I can partake in a particular favourite activity of my own: staring at Baz’s ass while he kicks bloody footballs about.

It’s been three whole years since Watford and 4 years since he played on any kind of regular team, and he has not lost his form. I rest my chin atop Mrs. Bear’s head and sigh. He’s so bloody handsome it hurts to look at sometimes. I think I feel myself losing braincells I turn so braindead just from the man bloody existing.

I hate him so bloody bad. (He’s so perfect I forget how to speak. He’s so handsome I forget how to breathe. I love him so badly it aches whenever he’s not around. Sometimes I think I’m going to be sick from how insane he makes me.)

He’s beaten the game in a solid minute, he’s such a fucking wanker, I love him so fucking much it’s ridiculous. He’s already walking his way back to me with a giant fucking pink kitten plush in his arms, with ridiculous white patches over it’s eyes, and then he does something that makes me love him some impossible amount more.

A small girl, no more than six or seven, I think, had apparently had shit luck with the game, because she’s looking up at Baz with the biggest pleading eyes I have ever seen on a child. He’s kneeling down to talk to her now and the girl’s adult, I think maybe an older sister or very young aunt, is waving her head, like Basil doesn’t have to do whatever he’s thinking about doing, but Basil only shrugs and hands over the plush like it was nothing.

Oh, he’s so smug and soft and kind and perfect, how bloody dare he.

I am going to snog him so sodding hard when we get home.

When he saunters over to me, he shrugs again, as if to say ‘what more can you do?’ but I still have every intention to rib him about it.

“Did you really just give away Sofia the Third of her Name without asking me?”

Baz perks a brow at me, relieving me of Mr. Bun’s company (how dare he?? We have been bonding??) and my arms thank him for it. “I can win you another if you like.”

“No, no,” I sniff dramatically and I can tell Basil knows I’m just taking the piss, “She seemed nice and not at all like an evil child. You can make it up to me in other ways.”

“And how might I appease his royal plush collector?” Basil doesn’t hesitate to rib me right back and I make a show of thinking about it, looping my arm around his and dragging him away from the games and towards the intoxicating smells of fried food.

“Well, you can start by telling me the little miss’s sob story,” I answer and lean myself a little more against my prick of an overconfident boyfriend as we walk, “And then maybe I’ll decide.”

It’s a lie, by the way, I’ve already decided.

Baz, of course, knows this, but he tells me anyway. “Well, she lost all her tickets trying to win a goldfish, but then fell in love with your Sofia the Third–”

“Sofia the Third of her Name,” I correct.

“Right. She fell in love with your Sofia, but with no tickets she couldn’t even attempt. Besides, it’s already past her bedtime and her aunt needs to get her back home before it gets too late. It wasn’t really much of anything. Sofia cost me basically nothing.”

“Because you game the system,” I’m nodding along even as I hear Baz start to huff over it. It makes me laugh a little.

“I’m just good at the bloody games–” He protests and I’m still laughing.

“Good at breaking them, yes,” I agree, already moving on, “Anyway, you can get me a ride on the ferris wheel with all your obscenely large plushies and a stick of fried butter.”

“Simon,” Baz looks down at me, utterly appalled, “I absolutely refuse to get you a stick of fried butter. I refuse to be party to your early, untimely, cholesterol-related death.”

“But Basil,” I give him my best impression of those puppy dog eyes, “I thought you loved me.”

“We are getting you your ferris wheel ride, but there is absolutely no way I’m kissing you post fried butter. I refuse.”

I’m still pouting ferociously at him.

He’s avoiding looking at me.

We’re stopped in front of the dreaded butter stall.

He’s still not looking at me.

I keep pouting.

He caves.

I’ve got my butter stick, my ferris wheel ride, and kisses at the very top of it, despite his complaints and protests.

I love him so much I might die. I might also die of too much butter intake. I don’t care. It’s stupidly delicious. I’m stupidly happy. He could ask me to marry him right now, I’d definitely say yes. He’s too busy bitching about my butter lips to ask me to marry him though. He’s lying through his teeth.He bloody well adores my butter lips and I know it.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #fluff fluff fluff #featuring simon's weird love of butter #featuring baz being a cocky prick #this was such a silly day