#Don't get me wrong John Soap MacTavish is next | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karlachismylife · 5 months ago

Note

For the celebration! The Prompt: laying their hand on the other’s leg. The pairing SoapxReader or DammonxReader, you choose! >:3 pls and tyyy

Never ask me to choose again, darling, I'm polyamorous for a reason >< You get both! And also lots of love from me for your support and overall awesomeness <3

Link to the celebration post for anyone interested here!

Emotional Support Dog

John "Soap" MacTavish x gn!civilian!reader

Even the air around you feels charged with anxiety. No amount of meticulously created comfort can tone it down: tucked into the soft corner of your couch, surrounded with pillows, a blanket, a steaming cup and a bowl of snacks to accompany fat stacks of papers to read, you still feel nervous. No one can blame you though: your boss wasn't particularly fair informing you of the upcoming meeting late. Very late. Couple of days before a very important meeting with your place at the company depenging on it - that sort of late.

Goddamn corporate.

So it's not surprising that you're slightly crumbling under pressure to get prepared with all available documentation; maybe they're trying to set you up to be at their mercy or fail, but you're not going down without a fight. Even if the fight makes your knee bounce nervously and the almost-forgotten nail biting come back as your eyes scan one bureaucratic word vomit page after another.

You're so engrossed in the process of absorbing vital information from the bulky speech figures and long columns of numbers that you nearly miss the sound of the apartment door opening and closing - and the one entering isn't even trying to be subtle about it. Poor door suffers a concussion in its core each time it gets slammed shut by the overly excited to be home individual; then follows the jiggling of keys thrown to their place, two hasty thuds of boots being enthusiastically kicked off, and finally - a dramatic pause. Were you a little less busy, you would've already been at the door, right where one hearty hug awaits, arms opened and everything; maybe you would've made him wait on purpose, just to see a sulky pout of an impatient pup light up with pure inner sunlight by your presence; but you can't just pull yourself away from this very important reading.

So in a minute Johnny peeks around the living room entrance, wary expression immediately replaced with a loving glint in the aquatic eyes at the sight of you. In two strides he is already at the sofa, plopping his ass right next to you and nuzzling the side of your face with one, two - three kisses: to the temple buzzing with brainwork, to the soft cheek and to the corner of your sightly frowned mouth.

"Whit are ye doing there, bonnie? Thought ye fell asleep, didnae even come hug me at th' door," here comes the famous pout, eyes full of betrayal boring straight into your soul in hopes of coaxing more kisses and cuddles. Would've definitely worked.

If not for the bloody headache fussing over this goddamn meeting planted into your skull.

You open your mouth with a sigh, planning to answer him - you're going to hug and kiss him alright, just a second, you just have to finish this paragraph, so wordy and inhumanely written that you almost don't doubt it was done by a real person - to deliberately make every reader's of this file head explode. An efficient way to balance the workforce market.

Soap, however, reads into your frowny silence and immediately smells that something's wrong. And it very much might be his fault - even though he did the dishes, took you to your favourite Italian on the weekend, showed impeccable restraint when a guy at the parking lot ran his mouth at you (that prick was lucky Johnny didn't want to start the date with a fight: "Ye better thank tis guardian angel 'ere fur haudin' me back, or ah'd teach ye a lesson, ye sod," - all said with a firm hand placed on the small of your back while you glared at the mouthy motherfucker), folded the laund- oh shite. It was the laundry, wasn't it?

"Bonnie, ye're nae angry at me, are ye?" Johnny tilts his head, trying to catch a direct glimpse at you, and almost shoves himself between you and your reading, squeezing in more kisses. "Ah'll dae th' laundry, ah promise, must've forgotten-" - you finally blink and emerge from your hyperfocused state, immediately cupping the Scot's worried face and planting a loud smooch on his nose.

"I'm not angry... not at you, at least," you give him an apologetic kiss on his pouty lips and look back down at the paper in your lap. "It's just work. Gotta read all this or I'll be in trouble, boss gave me a really short notice this time. It's like they're trying to set me up... sorry for ignoring you, sunshine."

Initial relief on Johnny's face that showed there when you confirmed he didn't get on your bad side (he did fold the laudry after all, just managed to forget that he did) gets replaced with a concerned look once again. Leaning back a bit, he gauges the stacks of papers laid out on the coffee table in front of you and furrows his full brows.

"'N' how long ye 'ave tae read all tis?" - "The meeting's two days away, morning." You rub your neck with another exasperated sigh, and a much larger hand, warm and calloused, comes up to do it for you, squeezing the sore spots and making you shudder as it forces the knots away. How long have you been sitting here, hunched over the papers?

"Steamin' Jesus, tha's a lot of reading tae dae," he mutters, squinting to try and make something out of the corporate gibberish - and inevitably failing. With a sigh, Johnny reserves to kissing your temple again. "Well, shite, nae lik' ye 'ave much choice, dae ye? Wanntae 'ave pasta fur dinner? Ah'll cook."

With a confirming nod and a grateful grunt from you, already deep in the papers again, he raises from the couch that creaks with relief, but then pauses and sits right back down. His big hand finds its way to your leg, squeezing your knee reassuringly and stopping the jittering with warm, heavy weight. You lift your eyes once again, meeting his bluest ones with a net of crow's feet around them, nothing but warmth towards you. This sight makes breathing, constricted by the pressure put on you by the situation, easier.

"Ye got tis, aye, bonnie? Ah ken ye got tis. Ye gonnae show 'em."

With a pat, meant to gently hammer in this confidence in case you were still worrying and doubting yourself, Johnny finally gets up, and your knee immediately feels cold without his big paw on it.

"Ah'll go start th' dinner, and ye holler if ye need anything, aye? Ah heard snoggin's good fur yer brains."

Of course he did. Bloody rascal with his innocent blue eyes winking at you and calming your wired self down. Well, why refuse such considerate service when offered?

Forged Under the Stars

Dammon x gn!reader

The cool of the night yields under the relentless burning of several campfires and torches lighting the clearing your celebratory party takes place at, their heat amplified by mulled wine and other drinks generously shared between everyone present. Sitting close to one of the campfires, you quietly observe folks with genuine smiles on their faces that only add to the pleasant warmth in your chest. It's nice, you think, seeing them relax and shrug off the heavy weight of barely avoided danger. They deserve this small moment of peace and quiet among impending doom, and so do you.

Drunken laughter at one of the barrels people gather for the good ale distracts you, your curiousity piqued as you lazily try to make out what caused the whistling and hooting - some brave soul trying to compete against others in absorbing a humongous mug in one go, perhaps? Whatever it is, it keeps your attention long enough for someone to stumble a bit clumsily and seat themself down with a quiet "oof", warm knee nudging your leg in an accidental move before the person straightens up. Snapping your eyes to the right, you can't help the wide smile tugging at your lips.

"Hello to you too, Dammon," you raise your clay mug as a greeting, taking in the view. The blacksmith doesn't look too out of it, but he's clearly tipsy - you aren't surprised, he does give off the impression of someone easily getting lightheaded from a drink or two. Even the warm orange hue of the campfire can't hide cute rosy blush on his cheeks and pointy eartips; neither manages he to conceal a certain glint in his bright glowing eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles, probably referring to his clumsy landing, but you just shake your head - he didn't even really disturb you, holding up quite well. Same can't be said for everyone: with another glance around, you notice a completely plastered tiefling maiden try and dance with Wyll, who ends up catching her and preventing a fall after fall for the giggling girl. A quiet rustling from behind alerts you, but even without looking you realize it's just Dammon's tail getting restless, usual reserved attitude lifted by ale or whatever he was drinking.

You two sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the party and stealing glances at each other, smiles widening and chuckles escaping when you catch each other looking - after one of these accidental eye contacts Dammon and you burst out in particularly loud fits of laughter, leaning forward and shaking your heads. Alcohol makes it so much funnier, fuzzy, pleasant feelings coiling like furry cats in your stomachs.

"Gods above, I haven't laughed like that for a long time," Dammon sits back up and tilts his head back, inhaling fresh night air and watching the night sky. His vision makes the stars shine brighter, and while you watch him instead of the nightsky, you think you see the celestial bodies swirling in his eyes, reflected as if they were a crysral clear lake.

"Not much laughter in Avernus, eh?" Your slightly intoxicated tongue works faster than your brain, and you immediately stutter, cursing yourself for bringing The Descent - of all things, damn it! - up. "Sorry, didn't mean to..."

"It's alright. I know what you meant," Dammon's smile doesn't falter and he tears his gaze away from the sky to look at you. Maybe it's a play of the flickering flame you sit at, but it seems as if his eyes only shine brighter when looking at you. "And you're right, that wasn't... although there was this one time..."

He briefly checks if you're listening and goes off - waving his mug, unusually expressive and talkative, clearly encouraged when you prop your cheek on your palm and listen on. Maybe you don't quite keep up with the amout of terms and unkown words his slurred speech is littered with, but you still laugh, when he puffs his blushing cheeks, reenacting the way some poor apprentice thrown into his forge held a heavy anvil and tried to use it as a hammer when they ran out of those (how does a forge run out of hammers? why yes, of course, when a whole squadron of unprepared for battle soldiers swarms it and takes everything and anything they can use as a weapon. yes, the firepokers too.)

At the sound of your laughter, loud and unbothered, Dammon pauses with his antics and turns back into his shy self, holding his breath and drinking in the sight of you with a surprisingly sober shine to his eyes. Your fit of giggles dies down, when you feel a warm hand on your thigh, barely squeezing, long tiefling claws carfully denting the skin underneath your clothing.

"Thank you," sincerely whispers Dammon, looking at you like you've hung the moon in the skies and lit up the fire in his forge, "for everything. For this night."

He leans in closer, lips slightly parted, something else dancing on the tip of his tongue, something he can't brace himself to say out loud. You smile, covering his palm with yours - his is strong, warm, a hand of someone working hard, rough and with visible burns from accidental sparks scorching through the protective mittens. It startles Dammon, fingers twitching and squeezig a bit harder before he lets go of your leg and moves his eyes away. His ears slowly start glowing brighter, tail swishing behind you and nearly swatting your bum - turns out, it almost coiled around your waits while you two were sitting next to each other.

Unwilling to let his bashfulness to get in the way, you catch Dammon's hand before it slips away and hold it gently, allowing to rest on your thigh again, your fingers almost intertwined.

"I'm glad you're here," there's enough courage in you for the both of you, added in liquid form or coming to you naturally - doesn't matter. Dammon's shy smile grazes his lips once again, and he finally allows his tail to wrap around your seated form, carefully, ready to pull away if you show any signs of discomfort.

You don't.

"I hope we see each other again," with your support, Dammon allows his thoughts to spill out. It's a little bittersweet, a reminder that the celebration will eventually come to an end and you both will have to move on, heavy burdens on both of your shoulders. But maybe, just maybe the knowledge that wherever life chucks you, if there's a forge nearby, you might see a familiar face - maybe that knowledge lifts the weight just a little bit.

After all, this blacksmith has some fine, strong shoulders you can lean on.

If you know anything about the Faerûn traditions, it's that lovespoons are carved out of wood. Unlike that little forged one that you find among your posessions the next morning.

#call of duty #cod #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #oneshot #fluff #juju's thirty frames a second celebration #x reader #cod x reader #bg3 x reader #writing requests #killerpancakeburger

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nocturnesanomaly · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 8: Does it still hurt?

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 8: Does it still hurt?

Wordcount: 5,9k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Panic attack, Alcohol

Description: Simon takes you to the doctor in the morning, while Soap takes you to a bar in the evening.

A/N: My wrist is starting to flare up again, this shit is so hard to manage, ugh :( but I finally got the chapter finished. Almost ten chapters, I'm rather impressed with myself how far I've gotten already. My usual friend who reads through my stuff was unfortunately unavailable this time around, so I hope it's not too bad. Hope you all enjoyed <3

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

The sterile smell of the medical office is enough to make you want to collapse into a ball of an overstimulated mess. You felt guarded the second Simon had dragged you out of the house this morning, and here at the clinic it was no different.

The office itself is cosier than you'd thought it to be, there hadn't been a lot in the waiting room, and even the receptionist was exceedingly nice. And still, you couldn't find it in your heart to be as nice back to her. Your tone earned you a glare from Simon, but the man wasn’t one to talk, he hated trips like these as much as you.

"There we go...you're all good, let me just go finalize your file, and you'll be good to go," the doctor smiles at you. He'd been nothing but gentle and caring ever since you entered his office. Not that he had much of a choice with the imposing figure that was Simon, and your own death glares sent his way.

He rises from his chair and leaves the two of you alone in the medical office.

You slide your legs off the medical table, getting back up into a sitting position so you could shrug your pant leg back down. As you had suspected, you really hadn't needed to go here, but Price's insistence was something you couldn't get around.

As long as you took it easy, didn't do too much running, then it'd heal just fine with no extra help.

"I don't like him," you mumble to Simon when he hands you, your boots.

"You don't like any doctors" he grumbles right back at you.

You give him a glare that he remains unfazed to. "Am I wrong?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow, a knowing look on his face that made something inside your heart twitch.

He was wearing a black surgical mask; one Soap had shoved in his hand before he left the house. Price kept on insisting that he not be an idiot, and actually try to blend in a bit more. There hadn't been much protest from him, but he did seem more tense without the usual skull mask covering his features.

It was easier to hide behind a mask. To not let people see any humanity in you when you take them down. Every cruel act would be confined to the mask, it would a separation of who you truly are.

They had tried to force a mask upon you, create an identity they could shape and mould. They had failed with the mask, so they took something much more personal from you.

His mask was a choice.

Yours hadn't been.

Carved with tooth and nail, wooden and strong, it had been strapped to your face. Only a knife could cut it away the meaning it held even after you put it to rest. You could almost imagine it, the flesh peeling down from your face as you try to cut away the sins beneath. You could cut all you wanted; no amount of blood would wash you clean.

It would be so easy too.

The doctor had so many tools in here, each and every one could be used if you knew how, and you did.

Cut cut cut

Wash away the sins

"Spider?"

Ignore him

Your attention is brought back to him. It still feels foreign, that nickname on his lips so easily, as if he'd never stopped. It sounded different, with his voice being deeper, more brute.

He always kept his voice a tad quieter when he addressed you, compared to how he addressed someone such as Gaz. It was different, yet still lacked the warmth he held for Soap.

You try to see past the cover of his face, but it all remains hidden to you. Even with the smaller mask. You should be able to see his face, the smooth skin beneath, his locks of hair. Instead, it's all covered in black shadows, creating a terrifying display of limbs and mass.

He reaches for you again, a steady hand to support you down from the table. You flinch away.

He tucks his hand back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. A defensive manner you'd say, but there are more layers to it. He lets out a deep-rooted sigh and turns away from you, picking up the backpack he'd brought.

Essentials, Price had said when he shoved it into his arms.

Essentials for what you can't quite imagine, you weren't planning on being out long. Simon unzips the bag, placing it on the table next to you to rummage through it. He picks out a wrapped sandwich, shoves it into your hands so you have no choice but to take it. He gives you a pointed look.

"You didn't eat breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry," you protest, but by the growl of your stomach, you aren't given much choice than to accept it. He keeps staring at you, and you realize a little late that he intends for you to eat it now. With a huff, you open it up and take a bite. It's actually not too bad.

The doctor comes back in soon after, forcing your muscles to tense up once more. He gives you a few painkillers, on the house he says, despite how you protest to it. Simon takes the bag for you, probably to make sure you actually kept eating your meal.

"Bloody hell...cold is starting to get annoying," Simon grumbles when the two of you exit the clinic.

"At least this place actually gets snow...most places I've been to recently have just been cold and wet...no snow," you tell him quietly while looking over at a young family of four going further down the street, probably on their way to the market.

"If we're lucky we'll have a white Christmas here too" Simon says in the same grumpy tone. He didn't seem all that excited about it. Maybe he'd rather be at home, and not out here. You'd understand that, not that you had anything to look forward to yourself.

"Lucky?" you raise a brow he doesn't get to see, your attention still darting between the people walking by and in and out of stores.

"Gotta look for the positives Spider..."

Simon gains your attention back with a wave of his hand, he gestures towards the store just opposite of the clinic.

"We should pop in before we head back...need a couple of things for dinner," He starts walking without much of a confirmation, forcing you to pick up the pace to keep up.

"Didn't Soap say he had a surprise for dinner?"

He lets out a rumble of a chuckle and shakes his head, "Yeah but something tells me it's not going to include a lot of actual dinner"

Soap has an eager smile when he leads the flock of you to his most recent discovery. He'd insisted the lot of you needed even a moments' relaxation, to do an honoured tradition within the group. It had been in your suspicions, but somehow you still find yourself slightly disappointed that it's just a bar.

"Beautiful corner piece of the town...or well...that is what ah was told," he takes the step down to the dark wood door. He opens it paying no mind to it's creaking in complaint; quiet music lures the lot of you closer to the dim lighted bar. He gestures with his head towards you, beckoning you inside.

You step forward with your question as you descend behind him, "are you sure this is really a good idea-"

An abrupt hand grabs your arm and saves you what could've been a nasty trip down the extra two stairs that comes after the door. "Easy! Watch your step," Soap chuckles, quickly letting go of your arm when you find your footing and take the last steps fully into the bar.

The rest follow close behind, some more eager than others at the prospect of a drink and some downtime without the stress. Someone answers your question, but you don't hear it. You're too busy looking at where Soap's touch had been, as if you expect burn marks to suddenly appear.

Three of the men walk past you, not minding your little stop in the middle of everything. They go to find a table in the back, taking in the rest of the bar. It's small and quaint, not room for many, but not a lot seems to even frequent this place.

You feel Simon's looming presence behind you. He's refusing to move past you, intent on not letting you be the last, for whatever reason.

You follow after the others. No need to hog the space and attract more attention than you undoubtedly already do.

The booth they've found sits up against the wall, close enough to the bar but also in the lower light of the back. Price and Gaz have taken a seat inward, Soap takes a seat at the edge next to Gaz and Simon next to Price.

You stop for a moment, contemplate where to squeeze yourself in. Soap moves further in and makes space for you next to him. You sit down with little other choice, but quietly appreciative of not sitting in-between the burly men. There was space to make a quick exit should you ever need it.

Simon's eyes meet yours briefly before you rip them away, putting your attention to Gaz and Soap who are already collecting the group's orders to go get them all some drinks.

"And what about you, Spider?" Gaz asks, an excited smile on his lips; he has a pretty glint in his eyes.

Of course. Alcohol.

When was the last time you drank any? Hard to say.

"Uh...yeah, whatever you're having," your mind is only been half there since the morning. Your thoughts occupied, as they often are. You survey the area, looking for the familiar faces, but your own mind sabotages your attempts.

The shadows are persistent.

You could only hope that the alcohol would silence them, even if only somewhat.

This was going to be an interesting night, that was for sure.

He set off enough time. A proper goodbye.

It's time to go. Simon knows it's time, the only way out of here is waiting for him, yet he can't get himself to move. The suns coming down, and you're still not here. He looks at his watch, the ticker going at a steady rate. It couldn't be his timing that was wrong. Despite your usual punctuality, you're late. 5 minutes he can handle, 10 even, but you're still not here and it's been 20 minutes.

And you were missing it.

Maybe you were still angry with him. Still too huddled up in your own thoughts of childish betrayal. He understood why you were upset, but he didn't understand why you were so hell-bent on resenting him for it.

He was getting his way out; you should be happy, right? It's what the both of you have been wanting for years. Since you were little kids and barely even knew each other. It was his only way out; he wasn't going to pass on it to keep you comfortable.

He would come back. He'd swear it to you, to any god that's never answered his prayers. He'll come back for you, to take you with him. When he's got enough money, a place of his own and a secure way out. He'll come save you.

He'll promise it as many times as he needs to, until you believe him, until you have enough reassurance to wait just a little longer.

But he can't wait for you forever.

He lets out a sigh, tugging his coat closer around himself. It's getting colder, the night air can be relentless.

"Where are you, spider..."

The graveyard looks lonely without you. It's hard to believe this is the place you've spent so many years, a morbid refuge only the two of you truly know. He could walk around blindfolded here if he had to, one time you even made him for a fun game. Perhaps it wasn't the most respectful thing for the dead, but you two kept them company in their cold, dark graves.

You'd all end up in the ground eventually, some sooner than others.

He had to go.

If you wouldn't come to him, he'd come to you.

He'd walked the way to your place countless times. Had sneaked around just the way you showed him. A rule the two of you had whenever you didn't come, typically you'd gotten grounded, because you never missed your hangouts, never. You showed him just where to step to not be seen, just where to hit the window to your bedroom to get it loose. A faulty lock that never got replaced.

He used his own precision to crawl into your room with as little noise as possible. A skill he hoped to refine when he got his place in the military.

He did it like clockwork, crawled inside like it was nothing.

But you weren't in your room, either.

It's not often Simon allows tears to rise to his eyes these days, but this hurt. It really fucking hurt. He was going to miss you way more than you knew, and you didn't even seem to care. Where the hell were you.

There had never been a whole lot to look at in your room. It was pretty bare-bones, always neat and clean because there were consequences if it wasn't. Too white and bare for his own taste as well. He might not be much better in decorating, but your room still seemed to be overkill in the amount of nothing it exuded.

Simon sat down on your bed, wincing at the creaking springs. He could only hope your absence meant that of your families as well. They'd never quite taken much of a liking to him, something about his lack of faith, something about his lack of showing it, or just about the family he came from. The reasoning never stayed the same for long.

"Oh, spider...what am I going to do with you..." he runs a hand over his face, following an exhausted huff.

He couldn't ignore it any longer. The time ticked on, and he didn't have forever. He didn't time, he never had enough time.

In a last effort to contact you, he grabs a page of your notebook, scribbling down a parting message for you. Hopefully you'd find it, hopefully you wouldn't hate him or blame him for how this is turning out. He tried.

He places it on top of your pillow, staring at it longer than he should. He knows he should get a move on, that the world won't wait for him, but part of him can't get himself to move. He still hopes you'll walk through the door any moment now. That you can get some time together, even if it's just a few seconds so he can kiss your lips and apologize a million times over.

The sound of the opening door makes his heart skip a beat; he turns around with a haste he didn't have before. He's disappointed to see it isn't you, only to be panicked at the knowledge that it really isn't you.

Simon is frozen in place, looking at the unfamiliar adult before him. He's got a piercing gaze, there's no question in his eyes, as if he already knows who and why Simon is here.

Simon's eyes dart up to the man's hair, something unnatural about the blonde colour, too bright and too slicked back to give off any comforting vibes.

"They're not here," his voice is icy cold, stating the obvious.

"I know-"

"You should leave, they don't need you here."

Simon's brow furrows at his words, taking offence to the near insult thrown his way. Who the hell even was this guy, and why did he care that much. One look at the time, and he reminds himself that it's not a fight he has the time for, not even to question the man.

"Yeah...whatever... I'm leaving...tell them I'm sorry I missed them," he walks towards the door, intent on leaving on more conventional means than he came in. He stops In front of the man, only now really realizing how big he was compared to Simon himself.

"Excuse me," he tries to walk past, but only receives another glare from him.

The message doesn't need to be spoken aloud for Simon to get it, but it doesn't make him any more happy about it. "Bloody hell, man, are you serious," he complains and crosses his arms.

"Get out."

The air has a crisp sense of the oncoming dark winter. Hell, it was practically in the middle of winter already by all the damned snow that just kept falling everywhere. It made for pretty scenery but came along with a cold Simon wasn't a fan of.

Still, it wouldn't keep him from ruminating by himself, smoke in hand, as he took time away from the stuffy atmosphere the bar started to adopt.

Unfortunately, Simon has a habit of stewing on old memories when he's left to his own devices. Typically, he goes over things in his past, painful memories like the good ones. Of his younger days in the military, of when he met Price, of how he became ghost, newer additions being his early relationship with Johnny and how it's evolved.

He finds it gives him a sense of peace to ruminate over his choices, whether good or bad. To analyse situations and prepare for similar ones, no matter the circumstance or person. Though ever since being shipped out here, his thoughts seem to only ever be on who his spider used to be.

Trying to piece together the puzzle of your mind and figure out how you became so. It's one of the greater puzzles of the universe. At least to him.

He exhales the smoke from his lungs one final time as his thoughts come to a close over the last memory. How he left you behind. Not a fond memory, and even then, his mind is a muddy walk to go through.

He pulls his cigarette away from his lips, lets the smoke run its course. There's not much left of it, and it was his last light. He'd be damned if he didn't savour it. He could likely bait Price into buying some more for him when he makes his own run to town for more cigars. If they even have any. The captain did have a particular taste, as much in people as his smoking habits.

This place hadn't been much help when it came to gathering intel. He was getting restless in the lack of progress. He knew it to be a delicate process, but normally he'd been able to probe somebody about something by now. He'd have a goal to focus on, instead he's left to wondering about too many things.

The only thing that was keeping him in somewhat of an amenable mood this evening was the towns’ ability to provide a decent drink.

If he was being fair to his own faults, he'd even allow himself to acknowledge how nice it was to be out with the entire team again, with you again. He'd been surprised to see you eager enough for a drink, finishing it off even faster than Johnny or Gaz.

It was nice to see you comfortable, to see you smile. Even if the alcohol likely had a part in getting you to be more open to them. You got a lot more daring, that was for sure, a lot more talkative. Not many of your stories made much sense, changing course and directive half-way through, but you did speak rather fondly of the old team you'd been with a few years ago.

Even if he hadn't been in on your life in a long time, he was glad you'd found comfort in others when he wasn't there to provide it. Even if you had changed, deep down you still kept the same quirks from when you were young, though of course more muted.

He exhales the smoke from his lungs along with a deep sigh. He wanted to get closer to you, but it felt like an impossible prospect. He didn't understand how Johnny made it look so easy, he could be at the ends of the earth, and he'd still make friends wherever that would be.

His attention is lured back to the door at the sound of the little bell ringing above it.

He watches as you come stumbling out of the little bar, almost tripping over your own feet as you take the three steps up. He raises a brow at your form, you definitely hadn't looked that drunk when he was in there. What the hell did you drink.

"You alright there, Spider?"

You garble out some nonsense before coming to stand beside him, leaning all of your weight back on the wall behind you. "Yeah...M'fine..." you said in the most unconvincing voice he's ever heard. He keeps his eyes on you, surveying your expressions. He wasn't about to let you barf all over him.

"You know... I wish I'd found you a bit earlier...you're all so nice..." you let out a little huff as if you'd been running for a while. You let out a quiet giggle, something he truly doesn't think he's ever heard you do, at least not like that.

"Yeah... It's good to have you back, Spider..." he almost allows himself to spout out how much he's missed you. It hangs in the back of his throat, right along with his emotions. It's not the time. He doubts you'll even remember this conversation in the morning. But maybe that was all the more reason to do it.

"Why did you even join up, spider?"

You don't answer at first, and he thinks that maybe you've already clocked out mentally for the night. Your head turns to look at him, something unreadable in your expression. "You never came back..." you sound sad, small in your voice.

His brows furrow, his mouth slightly open before he snaps back to reality and takes another puff of his cigarette. He realizes this is probably the first time you've seen this much of his face without the mask. He'd been lucky enough that it was late and not many around to stare at his ugly mug...but you.

He feels out of place under your gaze, an odd need to crawl away and hide in the darkest corner he can find. It's a foreign feeling with you.

"Figured I needed to do something with my life, and it's not like I had many other opportunities waiting for me back home," you turn your head away once again. For a moment, you sound completely sober, the conversation doing more for you than any amount of cold air ever could.

Then again, the more you seem to stand there, the more your grimace widens. In a swift motion, you push yourself away from the wall, putting your weight back onto your unsteady feet. You push past him, to the edge of the building, the little alley gap in-between.

"Hey where are you going!" he shouts out confused. You turn the corner of the building, disappearing into the darkness. His brows furrowed as he took another puff of his cigarette, hoping you'd emerge shortly after. Maybe you just needed to walk it off?

When he hears the horrid sound of your retching, he knew he was wrong.

"Oh, bloody hell," he throws his cigarette to the ground, crushing it against the pavement before hurrying over to turn the same corner. Surely enough, there you are. Bucked over and barfing up your insides, which seems to be more stomach acid and alcohol than any food.

His movements are as gentle as he can make them, not keen on having you flinch away from help when you're like this. He places his hand on your back, the other supporting your shoulder so you don't fall over. You don't seem to react at all.

"Steaming Jesus, ah was wondering where ye ran off to."

Simon turns his head, seeing Johnny come closer to the two of them. "How much did they drink..." Simon grumbles in a worried tone. When you seem finish puking, he helps you back up, steadier on your feet this time. With a groan, you lean back against the wall behind you.

"Ffffuck..."

"Didn't think ye drank that much...don't hold ye alcohol too well," Johnny gives you a cheeky grin.

You tip your head forward, losing your balance like a newborn foal. Simon is quick to act, gently cupping your cheek to hold up your head, so you don't hurt yourself. "You need to get back to the house and sleep this off..." he didn't think your tolerance would be this shit, but he doesn't recall you ever having much of a tolerance to begin with.

"Help me with them, will ya" Simon moves your arm, helping you use him as support. Johnny takes your other side, helping you lean on them both before they embark on the way back. They help you stumble back out of the alley, where they're met with the questioning stare of Kyle.

He lets out a low chuckle at the sight, "time to go, then?"

He'd found it amusing then, more frustrating now. "Spider- no- do not-" he puts a firm hand on your waist so you don't trip over your own legs down out of the car. You lean all your weight on him, and he has to do a mental double take to not keel over right along with you.

Getting you inside is a struggle and a half. Simon isn't sure where your little spouts of energy are coming from, but they surge through you at a random pace. You're almost worse than when you had just gotten freshly drunk in the bar itself.

"No, no... we need to.... ffgh-" you try to tell him something, but he doesn't have half a mind to listen when he needs to get you inside as quickly as possible. You refused to wear a jacket, and he will not have you freezing out here without you even realizing it.

Johnny comes up next to him, helps walk you inside, despite your little protests and seeming urgency to be somewhere else. "C'mon, let's get ye inside" he hooks an arm around yours and together the two of them manage to get you in.

The way to the bedroom is just as annoying and long as it was to get you to the car and back home in the first place. And then as the three of you reach the door, Price calls Johnny away intending on talking to him about something important, leaving Simon to bring you in and into your bed.

"There we go," Simon huffs as he gets you to lean on him again so he can close the door with a click. He tries to walk you in the right direction, but fails to steer you towards your own bed, charting a course for the one he and Johnny shared instead.

It didn't matter too much for one night, the three of you could switch if needed.

"C'mon love onto...the...bed," he manages to walk you backwards until the back of your knees meet with the bed and makes you fall down on to it with a huff. You mumble something incoherent again, writhing a little bit until you seem to deflate on the mattress.

Simon lets out a deep huff, standing back up to look at your dishevelled form. He'd dealt with Johnny drunk enough times by now, but at least he wasn't trying to run in ten different directions as if you were either late to something or running for your life.

Seeing as you'd clearly be incapable of taking care of yourself before you fell asleep, he might as well get to it. "Okay Spider...let's get you ready for bed," he mumbles and crouches down to take off your shoes, one and then the other.

"Mh...no..." you writhe a little bit.

"It's alright...you can sleep in a minute," Simon assures you, but he's not entirely sure if you even hear him. He walks over to your closet, rummaging through for something else to wear. He's stunned by how little you have, it's barely a hunt for it, it's right there within eye height.

He brings the other set of clothes over to your bed, not paying too much attention to your mumbling. He leans back again, running a hand over his face. How exactly was he supposed to do this. He doubted that you would change clothes if he asked you.

"M'sorry love but...well...you gotta," he lets his words trail out realizing you were definitely not listening to any words of assurance he was trying to give you.

Just gotta get it over with, and quick, you were starting to rile up again, and he wasn't about to go chasing after you again if you got another sprout of energy.

He leans over you and unbuttons your pants, but he hesitates as he pulls down your zip. Something in him feels awkward, and he switches his course of direction to your shirt instead. His hands gently reach for the edge of the white fabric.

"No-....m'not......can't....ready...."

His hands take a hold of it and with just as gentle movements he starts to pull it up your torso.

"No- NO! Father, please! Not again-"

He lets go like he's been burned. His eyes wide as he takes a firm step away from you in pure shock. His own heart pounds, his mind reeling to understand what just happened. You clutch your shirt around your abdomen, your body shaking like a leaf in the wind. Your body scrambles to lay further away from him on the bed.

His own hands shake, the worst-case scenarios running wild in his mind of all the possible ways he could've just hurt you.

And still, he doesn't understand your reaction.

"Spider..." he says quietly, carefully. You don't respond to it, so he calls your name even softer.

Your breathing is too rabid for his liking, but he doesn't want to risk touching you again. He doubts you'd react positively to it, and he knows that feeling.

At first, he's at a loss at what to do, how to make you calm down, but he realizes it's really so painfully simple. There's nothing much he can do, but he can do what he had wished someone had done for him way back.

Careful to not collide with your shaking form, he lays down beside you. You instinctively roll onto your side and curl up even further, but you don't turn away, so he takes it as a good sign. Your eyes are shut tight, and your body still trembling just as bad as before.

"I'm here..." he whispers quietly, without knowing if you can even hear him. He extends his hand between the two of you, he doesn't touch you, but it's there whenever you're ready. He doesn't know how long the two of you stay like that, and whatever Price needed Johnny for, he's glad it's taken longer than expected.

He doesn't move, almost doesn't dare breathe any more than necessary as he keeps his eyes on your form. His little praises and words of encouragement doesn't seem to do much, but his heart feels desperate.

Simon takes notice of every little movement, of every twitch and hitch in your breath when you slowly open your eyes to meet his. They're glassy, tears threatening to spill over, but they never fully come.

His hand grabs unto the sheets beneath to not reach out and touch your cheek, to be ready to wipe away any tears that may fall.

"M'sorry..." your apology is quiet and raspy, and for a moment it feels like you're still just the scared kids from back home, trying to survive in a world that's not built for them.

"It's just I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself..." he cuts you off sharply. He doesn't know if it was the right call from the deflated look on your face. You nod, biting your lip softly.

"Simon..." your voice is soft and searching. Your shaking hand bumps into his, and he takes it in his, feeling the coldness of your skin.

"It's okay..."

"Please don't go."

"I won't."

His answer is firm, it's the truth, and he would swear it to you if you asked. He's not going to leave. Not again. Never again. He's here to stay whether you push him away or not, he's here by your side, watching. Always.

He makes a decision on a whim without forethought. Simon's arm hooking around your waist and pulling you closer until he can envelop his arms around you and keep you close to his chest. You tense at first, before you relax in his hold, resign your drunken state to him in favour of falling asleep in the arms of the only person who's ever truly made you feel safe.

"M'not going anywhere, Spider..."

Simon doesn't dare move as you lay your head to his chest, and feel his heartbeat beneath his skin. He doesn't dare move when he hears your breathing even out. He especially doesn't dare move when he can feel your body go lax, and sleep take over you.

The door to the room opens with a quiet creak, and Johnny's footsteps comes closer to the bed. "Mh ah see ye got a head start then..." Johnny's smirk is too wide on his lip, and Simon could easily wipe it off if he wasn't holding something more important at that moment.

"Should ah be offended? Jealous even?" Johnny is merely teasing, but it still elicits a groan from Simon.

"Get in here, dumbass."

Johnny lets out a quiet chuckle, looking down at him with a fond smile. "Let me just...scoot in here..." he crawls unto the bed, struggling to make room for himself, but with a bit of adjusting to your sleeping form, Simon manages to make space for him.

"Are you done wiggling around trying to wake them?" Simon mumbles with a thick layer of sarcasm.

"Ah am not trying to-"

"Ssh!"

Johnny settles in, unashamedly cuddling up to your sleeping form and peeking at Simon over your head. "Goodnight, grump" Johnny whispers quietly, reaching over you to squeeze his arm. He lets out a quiet sigh, letting his own body relax down into the mattress.

"Goodnight, Johnny" Simon murmurs, watching Johnny ever so slowly join you in the realm of dreams.

As he lay there with two of arguably the most impactful people he's ever met, he can't help but feel a sense of warmth within him. Not a physical warmth, but a warmth that blooms in his heart. It's unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. The thoughts that occur with them are dangerous, unsure, things he'll undoubtedly have to entertain when the sun rises again.

But for now, he's content with holding his unknowing world in his arms, and let the warmth lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @kaoyamamegami @lilynotdilly @chickennn-soupp @spicyspicyliving @ellabellabunny123 @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @haipasa

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resident-idiot-simp · 6 months ago

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Inspired by this

Ft: @steriotypicaloutlaw & @existentialgaybirdnerd

I like to imagine Simon just randomly shows up places to do things for fun since he's legally dead. A random marathon here. A random convention there. Maybe there's a thread on 4chan or something wondering who the hell this guy is

Bird- "I swear I saw this guy before, he won (extremely specific race)" and there's a whole board about him

He just shows up around the world randomly and does incredible feats and then disappears again

Bird- "This guy shows up, kicks everyone ass at ANYTHING, then disappears without a trace. He's gotta be a superhero of SOME SORT"

Someone catches him in the wild one time holding the hand of this dude with a mohawk.

StO- Imagine Gaz having followed said board, also never saw Ghost without the mask or balaclava, and then he sees him there and he's just like, "I get to see him live!" And then Price reacts the way he does and Gaz is just like, "Wait! I know mystery Batman guy?!?"

Bird- "Mystery Batman guy is my SUPERIOR OFFICER? "

But they can trace Soap they know who this guy is. Imagine like a million people from 4chan just dog pile him in every social media platform wondering who the hell the man is. Soap knows about this I also bet you money ghost haunts the thread he knows everything he does this stuff on purpose at this rate.

And he made soap promise never to say a word. So soap gas lights like he's never gaslit before. I don't know who you're talking about that is not me you're delusional. 'It is you though'. No I was never there with a person ever in my life.

Bird- "Idk who tf you think that is, but I'm way more handsome than that"

Of course they can't fool Gaz but they do recruit him into the game. Laswell also knows about this

Bird- Laswell had been on the board since it started lol

At first it was just to make sure his identity didn't get leaked and now it's just for fun

Bird- She gives them vague hints in the wrong direction, photo shopping specific events that didn't happen to make it seem like he gets out more than he does.

Bro one time the catch Ghost in Cancun just surfing. No one knows where he went after they tried to follow It didn't work.

Bird- This man has fans all around the world but they can never get a picture of him without his permission.

What really gets people is he can be found across the world in very short periods of time. People assume he must be like one of those hidden billionaires.

Bird- That's why he's Batman to them

One time they got a picture of him super injured though and now they are convinced he's a superhero

Bird- There's a whole folder of circumstantial evidence of him being hurt and everyone going "evidence he's a superhero"

He is most often found is not in ridiculous events in Scotland and that is more evidence that he's connected to John MacTavish even though MacTavish denies everything. People are unsure if MacTavish is like his sidekick or butler or secret boyfriend/husband.

Ghost convinces him to do weird events as well and dominate them just to confuse the forum.

Bird- They're both superheros in their own right just a few months later according to the forum

One time the are spotted together at a log throwing competition. Then MacTavish at an art exhibit (Ghost is barely visible in the background). Next week in Cuba doing an eating competition.

Three days later San Diego Comic-Con. No one understands anything that's going on.

Bird- Ghost and Soap have a fun time reading through all the shit. They're in full cosplay too, they're only recognized because of Soap's Instagram story the day after and then everyone explodes because they SAW them but didn't recognize them until them. Ghost as scream and Soap as Jason.

Imagine one time they just show up on TV or the news in the background

Bird- There's a parade going on in the background and they show up as performers or part of the audience. The news reporters don't catch them as they wave enthusiastically to the camera.

They come to the conclusion that they know about the forums and then it becomes trying to dig out the rat.

Bird- They try to sus out the account that could be one of them, little do they know Ghost is one of the longest running ones there so his account isn't suspected at all times.

I imagine a random selfie gets uploaded to the forum as well.

Bird- He posts a selfie from a "found" social media that just HAPPENS to be "deleted" before anyone else can access it.

The people on the forum are extremely happy though that this random probably superhero is playing along.

He shows up in the Winter Olympics next. And he crushes the biathlon by a scary margin. After he gets the gold he proposes to Soap

Soap's bio gets updated to John MacTavish Riley. Soap continues to gaslight. That has always been my full name YOU'RE all delusional.

I imagine they only get their answers possibly after they all retire

Bird- Simon gets unkilled by law and is allowed to retire with Soap. They make a video explaining how they were fucking with people for entertainment and post it to the forum and everyone loses it lol.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #john soap mactavish #soap x ghost #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #kate laswell

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batwritings · 1 year ago

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Words of Affirmation

I saw a tiktok from someone named ColonelCakez as König and their caption read how to some, König is a character in a video game. But to them and many others, he's a comfort. I got to thinking about my own mental state, how down I've been about recent events in my personal life and how I'd love to hear comforting words from these characters that hold such a special place to me and many more. So here are a few words from CoD characters that you may need to hear. I may do one for Obey Me and even the DSMP if people want it. :) Please remember how special and loved you really are. Enjoy!

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

Simon "Ghost" Riley "Are you going to spend all your time moping or are you going to do something about it?" You look up to Ghost who slowly sits on the steps beside you, his more casual mask loose on his face. "I...don't know how," you mumble, watching the rain fall to the ground. "But you know there's something you can do. Pick a spot, the easiest spot, and start there."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish "Easy mate, take a breather," Soap tells you, both hands firm on your shoulders. "Now look at me. It's not all gonna get fixed right now. But it will. The world's not going to explode from a few mistakes. Take my word on that one aye?"

John Price "Quite bottling it up," Price's voice is soft, a fatherly hand on your head. "The more you bottle, the worse the aftermath will be. Let it out yeah?" He holds you firmly as you cry into his shoulder.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick "I know what it's like to feel like the world is falling around you, away from you," Gaz says quietly, sitting next to you in the barracks. "But only if you let it. You have the strength to break your fall and get back on your feet. I've seen you do it before, you can do it again."

König "You need to give yourself more credit meine liebe," König kneels in front of you, holding your hands with such tenderness. "You are doing the best you can with what life has handed you. Do not listen to their opinions; they don't know you. Put on your ear protection and keep doing your best."

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin "I know personally how hard it can be when you feel trapped, like the world is against you," Horangi's voice is warm and soft as he holds you against his chest. "But you have claws. You have the ability to fight back and take your life back. Fight for it."

Nikolai "Come now my friend," The pilot says with a knowing smile. "You have not failed. Only needed to stop for repairs. When life hits you and turns your perspective upside down, you need only turn it back around. It is not impossible, you've seen how I do it." He smacks his helicopter a few times, making you crack a smile.

Nikto "We know all too well what it is like to feel like you are alone, that you have nothing. That you are nothing," Nikto tells you, leaning in the doorway to your room. "Sometimes you have to learn that it's okay to trust others and let them in again. They aren't going to hurt you as badly as your mind is making you think."

Sebastian Krueger "Having people leave hurts, especially when it's outside our control," Krueger sighs, lifting the netting to take a drag from his cigarette. As he blows out a puff of smoke, he continues. "But forcing yourself into a life of isolation is worse. There will always be opportunities to patch the damage to your heart."

Philip Graves "Turn that frown upside down sunshine," Graves tells you with a pat on the back. "Neither of us are going anywhere till the job gets done. And trust me, it'll get done just fine."

Alejandro Vargas "Don't look so down cariño," Alejandro tips your chin up to look at him as he gives you his signature sharp-toothed grin. "Los Vaqueros have your back. You can rely on us; you're not alone."

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra "Hey what's wrong amor?" Rudy questions, holding your face gently. "It's all going to be okay. We're going to figure things out one step at a time okay? You and me." He puts a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "Promise."

Valeria Garza "Come on chiquito/a, let's get you up," Valeria helps you to your feet, brushing dirt and dust off your pants and shirt. "Try again yeah? You think I took the title of El Sin Nombre without falling off the bull a few times? You can do this."

Kate Laswell "Everyone makes mistakes, I'm certainly no exception," Laswell puts her hand on your shoulder. "I've seen you do this before, I know you can do it again. Go prove them wrong, take no prisoners."

Alex Keller "I've been through my fair share...and you see what happened because of that," Alex points to his prosthetic before standing and you watch it support his weight. "But that was only one part of who I am. I'm a hell of a lot more than that, and I know you are too."

Farah Karim "I know what it feels like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders, like everything is riding on your success," the resistance leader tells you. The rising sun paints her in an ethereal light as she smiles at you. "It is always important to remember who is in your corner, and who will turn their back on you when the war is over. Remember how to trust but not make yourself vulnerable. Guard, but don't push away those who would help you."

Keegan P. Russ "Choices are never easy, especially when you don't know the right ones to make," Keegan puts his mask back on as he approaches you, knocking his forehead into your oh so gently. "Whatever choice you make will be the right one for you kid. Don't second guess yourself so much, you know yourself and your situation better than that."

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dtrghost · 2 years ago

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omg this is my first time requesting but TF141 with a reader whose love language is insulting them ( they probably insult her back 😭) thank you!!!

That is so me. Literally.

Synopsis: TF141 With a reader who just can't help but insult them, yes. This contains Johnny, Simon, Price, and dearest Kyle

Warnings: 18+ Content and references to smut, cursing, etc

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Now with this guy, it definitely goes both ways. At first he was confused and rather offended with the insults you threw at him, followed by your head falling back to laugh at what he thought was him. You noticed how he got upset and quickly reassured him that you meant no harm by it and that it was just how you showed you loved him. He found it weird at first, but he accepted it, knowing that he meant the world to you and simply followed along.

"Hey Ghost, maybe if you weren't so ass at shooting we wouldn't have to do this stupid training exercise." He huffed, rolling his eyes at your wheezy laugh as you put your sniper down for a minute, cackling loudly and hitting your chest to get some air into your lungs.

"Right, I hit your cervix pretty when I was fucking you like a slag last night." You gasped, both of your cracking up even more as you gently shoved him. Now, there's a downside to your language, because god forbid you crack a joke about him that he didn't like, especially when he was already mad to begin with, like after a failed mission, he'd be sure to let you know just where your bad mouth would get you.

"Just like that, my perfect little slut." He'd moan, fucking your mouth and forcing his cock deep into your throat as you gagged and choked around him.

"Put that dirty little mouth of yours to better use."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

He didn't get mad, he first gave you a puppy look, thinking you meant the insults you threw at him. But when you took your time to explain yourself, he'd laugh it off and gave you the go ahead. Johnny had nothing to be insecure about, he was hot, he had money, and he was the youngest candidate to pass the SAS selection, so he took what you said with a grain of salt.

"Weird they call you soap, smells like you haven't used any in days." He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around you with a wolfish grin.

"Alright lass. I'll let you have that one." You had been right at the time, he just got back from a mission where he sat in the mud for god knows how long and then had to lug his ass to the landing zone in the rain. Don't get me wrong, he'll bite back lightheartedly, but he loves soaking up your love for him, even if it isn't the most conventional.

But when he's not having it, you get to see the less light, funny side of him. He'd been fucking you stupid, pounding into you madly with his hand wrapped around your throat. You begged for him to let up, your legs shaking as tears rushed down your cheeks.

"Sorry lass? Couldn't quite hear ya. Mind tryin' again for me?" And he'd squeeze tighter to ensure not a word was heard from you.

"This'll teach you to behave darling. Remind you to address your sergeant properly."

Captain John Price:

This man is a DILF. Hot damn. To be frank, he's a laidback captain. He's not going to overreact and threaten to dishonorable discharge you for insubordination and disrespecting a superior officer because you told him he had a small dick. At first he was a bit surprised how comfortable you were insulting him with his rank, but if anything he liked it. He liked a challenge, though it was an easy one for him.

"You never react ya know. Why is that? The rest of the team bites back and you just, take it." He chuckled at your observation, shrugging and shooting a quick glare at the man who almost took a sit next to you at the bar you both occupied.

"I know you like the back of my hand princess. The insults you throw at those soldiers are far different than the ones handed to me. It's love princess, all it is." He then relentlessly teased you about the deep redness in your cheeks which you countered with eye rolls and mocking faces, because he was right, and he knew that. He analyzed everything you've ever said and done to him, how your body reacts, how your eyes portray every intention and emotion you're sending him.

But, just like the rest. Sometimes Price had to fuck the brat out of you. You'd made a comment, and he was having a rough day.

"How's the sex life then? Old man like him able to keep it up?" Soap joked.

"Some viagra wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'd actually get me to the yellow brick road." DAAAAMMMNNNN. Was the essential reaction. Of course you drew back and told him you were kidding, but the tight grip he had on your waist was a tell tale sign that he didn't like what he heard.

"You sure about that love? Don't wanna take it back before it's too late?" He whispered huskily into your ear. He knew you wouldn't, he knew you liked being his dirty little slut.

"That's it. Taking your daddy's cock like you were meant to. You reach that yellow brick road yet love? fuck sure looks like it, you've made a mess all over m'cock already."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

You and Kyle fit perfectly, like a match made in heaven. It was like a challenge between the two of you on who had the better insults. He's incredibly intelligent, 500 IQ lookin ass. But sometimes you were just that much better, and he accepted that wholeheartedly, because at the end of the day, this was how you showed your love, and he wanted nothing more to embrace that.

Sometimes he'd even reward you. He'd get touchy (more than usual) and the day would end with him on his knees in front of you, worshipping your pussy and body like it's what he was made to do.

"I'm so lucky to have such a smart, clever girl like you. Fuck you're perfect in every way." And you were. Even if you could be the meanest fucker on the planet.

And that's it!! I'm sorry if it didn't meet your expectations or you had something different in mind but based off what I've read this is what I think they'd be like!! Thank you for the request @angieisbroke and I hope you enjoyed <333.

#fanfic #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap mctavish #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley smut #johnny soap mactavish #price smut #gaz smut #soap smut

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decaf-mother · 1 year ago

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Childhood Friends With John 'Soap' Mactavish

MDNI

Johnny Mactavish x GN!Reader |Can be seen as platonic or romantic|

For @glitterypirateduck Soap It Up challenge.

Dialogue Prompts: 1 & 3 & 33 & 30

Warnings: Fluff, Angsty at the end

Johnny is super affectionate- that's just how he is. Never hesitates to put his arms around you or give you a pat on the back.

He's a complete tease to the highest degree and absolutely will mess with you, holding the remote away from you to initiate a play fight, grinning ear to ear with a jokingly cocky "Why don't ye come over here and make me!"

Expect to always be welcome at his parents place and even if you don't exactly have a good relationship with your parents- his will absolutely adopt you and call you their own.

Creating your own form of a language that only you two seem to understand, a single glance and raised eyebrow can say so much... Which obviously leaves Price, Gaz and Ghost very confused.

Jokingly flirting and saying the dumbest puns or pick-up lines, trying to see who cracks first and can't pretend to be serious any longer. "Ye know... I was told to chase my dreams- so here I am." "Oh my fucking god-" "Hah! Ye cracked! I win!"

Don't bother trying to push him away when something is wrong, he sees straight through it, settling down beside you and offering you your favorite candy like when you were kids. "Don't ignore me."

He's incredibly protective over you and it should be known that if anyone dares to hurt you- they'll have him to answer to. Tears streaming down your face with a bruise on your cheek, him mumbling a low "Who did this to you?" While helping comfort you... Next thing you know he shows up at your house with slightly bloodied knuckles. "Aye, I took care of it. Dinnae worry I'm fine... They're technically fine too."

Johnny always had a habit of getting you two into trouble, never anything serious but a little bit of mischief is just too hard to resist. "You're a bad influence..." You mutter while keeping look out for Ghost. "Aye, but you like it."

Wrapped in his arms as you have to let him leave, mumbling over and over for him to please be careful and come back in one piece... Tying a friendship bracelet you wanted to wait till his birthday to give to him around his wrist as a good luck charm, that one small action making his insides turn to goo and his heart clenching at the look on your face. "Promise you're coming back..." "I promise."

{@sofasoap @gothgirl6-6-6 @soupbinsoup @sarraa-26 @caramlizedtomatoes-deactivated2 }

{More Content}

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baohanhanesel · 9 months ago

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Manhandling. Ft Best friend Simon Ghost Riley and Boyfriend John Soap Mactavish.

Mention: Simon Ghost Riley, John Soap Mactavish.

The title is self explanatory. The reader does not have feelings for Ghost but Soap might just have... and she might just reconsider.

They were just spending free time in Simon's backyard. It was a completely empty huge space with high enough fences which shows nothing to the outside world.

The house was isolated, it was probably his choice because of the mask, or the desire to have privacy overpowering the desire to feel human.

Because Reader had thought again and again that living here off deployment cannot make one feel anything else but trapped.

For Simon Riley, he liked what the trap offered him in the price of his humanity.

Reader was sitting down on the big table next to the soft couches. Simon's back was turned to her ( which meant a lot for Simon. He trusted the people in his house.)

Reader stole a glance, lifting her head from the paints on the table and checking on Simon's relaxed posture.

She turned to her painting, in the peace of the house. There was no danger, and sure as hell no rush. She laid the brush on the canvas and towered over the small space she was trying to go into detail on.

Reader was hunched over the canvas, her entire attention was on the brush as of now. Her eyebrows furrowed and she wore an angry face to concentrate.

She laid the red stroke on the petals, and when she pulled her hand away her body pushed forward because of the hand smacked against her bottom.

She snapped her head up, startled.

John's laughter filled the air and big arms came wrapping around her waist.

"Is going well?"

Reader sighed.

"Shameless, John. That's what you are." But she didn't seem phased.

"Just takin' revenge for yesterday, bonny."

Well, she had to give that to him...

"Why back early Johnny?"

"Didnae have any good lads tae entertain me for a wee"

"Asking for a spar, Sergeant?"

"Yer up tae it Lt?"

Simon smirked, his eyes squinted into a smile.

Reader caught John's eyes glancing at the smile and then the scar on Simon's face. It wasn't everyday he took the mask off after all, but now that they were home it was okay.

Simon cracked his neck to the side and stood tall, moving up to John just as he let Reader go and they moved to the empty space of the huge garden.

Reader placed her brush down and plopped herself on the couch Simon was previously splayed on.

"This will be good, won't it?"

It ended as expected. Men covered in dirt. John lost a fair amount, but landed a few good hits which was also the very reason Simon was sitting down on the ground right now.

"Yer a saint, Lt."

"Don't know any other man that could say that to me after getting beat, Johnny."

"Aye aye, that true that true."

Reader hadn't taken her eyes off.

She noticed the intense gaze and hung her head down to whisper to herself.

"There is nothing wrong with me right?"

Reader was no better of a woman, John's hair was disheveled and she liked the sight of it. But it wasn't like she was that affected.

She swallowed her own thoughts pretty fast for the scenery she found herself looking at .

John had lifted Simon up and threw him over his shoulder.

Her eyes' shot comically open.

Reader laughed nervously and started fidgeting with her fingers while she tried to keep her disbelief underwraps.

John walked up to her, his hair disheveled to a natural beauty and his bright smile still as energetic. He was sweating, she could smell it from here but for reasons she does not want the answer to, she was not bothered by it. Well she was bothered. But for all the wrong reasons.

"Ah'll go to the shower," John announced before bending over to place a kiss over her temple. His breath was hot, and he was panting slightly. Simon hadn't protested to getting carried away.

Was it something that occurred...? Reading Simon's body language meant he trusted John to not drop him. Was he used to getting manhandled by his best friend?

Reader cleared her throat, making eye contact with John.

"Lright, y'all reek." Reader finally managed a sentence. "Don't use too much hot water."

"Dinnae worry lass, me and Simon are savin' it."

"What"

Simon let out a grunt, patting John's back unamusedly. "If you are carrying me, do it properly Mactavish. Do not get dirt on my carpets."

"Yes sir." And without even minding the woman, they left for the shower. Together.

With an upset sigh, Reader hung her head low and started rubbing her temples.

The worst part was, she couldn't find it in herself to get jealous. The sight was far too delicious to intervene... And what about them showering together? They probably saw each other more than Reader saw John's body. It was only rational. They were best friends, they saved each other's lives on a daily basis. What was so wrong with bathing together to save the hot water in Simon's sorry excuse of a shower?

Me, she thought. What is wrong is that I am not with them, she screamed internally but couldn't find it in her to voice it aloud.

#call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #johnny mactavish #simon riley #soap x reader #best friend ghost #boyfriend soap #john mactavish x reader #soapghost #but platonic #but also not #Everyone but Soap is a thirdwheel #I wasn't gonna share this but ohwell #tryna keep it alive.

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la-petite-lapin · 10 months ago

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Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

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

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

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

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

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

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

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

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

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

"Um... maybe an extra week."

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

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

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

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

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

We both laugh at that.

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

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

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

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

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

"Winnie? You still there?"

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

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

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

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

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You alright, love?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tali, can you come here please?"

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

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

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

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sirenmoth · 1 year ago

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Too Good To Be True

John Mactavish x GN!Reader

Johnny gives me cheater vibes, dont like? dont read (sorry to all you soap lovers)

CW: ANGST, cheating, hurt/no confort, sexual themes

It was too good to be true, wasn't it?

A lonely Friday night out with friends at some random bar turned the most bliss filled night ever. A handsome man was talking to you, arm over your shoulders, chatting you up all friendly and flirty, introduced himself as Johnny, he looked too good to be in some rundown bar, but when he asked if you wanted to go back to his place of yours, who were you to pass it up.

It was the best sex you were had, Johnny was to attentive at what he was doing, treated you like a deity, and he was your devoted follower, you don't think you've ever cum so hard in your life, not even from toys. Mind fuzzy as you laid next to him, his aftercare was poor but you didn't expect it from a one time thing.

But it wasn't, it became a weekly thing. You'd text, meet up, fuck. That was the pattern, until he disappeared one day for months without a word, that's how you found out he was military. He left with no word and then reappeared out of the blue at your door, begging to be heard out, foolishly you agreed, you heard him out, you let him back into your bed, into your life.

When he asked you to be his partner, how could you say no, he made up for his time away, gave you adoring pet names, showed how much of an attentive boyfriend he can be. Giving you flowers, going above and beyond any previous partner you ever had. Early morning cuddles and midday coffee dates, drinks out with his friends, late night movies and dancing in the kitchen, by all accounts Johnny was perfect, more than perfect.

That's why you ignored the signs. Maybe that's were it went so wrong.

Overtime he came home late, smelling of beer and cheap perfume, excuses for missing dates and suddenly leaving. He called you paranoid when you asked if there was someone else, accused you of not trusting him, saying what did he do to deserve this?

"Ye being paranoid, there's no one else."

"I only love you, Bonnie"

"Don't ye trust me? Why don't you trust me?"

"What did I do?"

On and on it went for months, the more you asked the more defensive he got, he stopped opening his phone around you, stopped giving you flowers and taking you on dates. Months he was away and the paranoia was eating you alive, it was always there, so when your friends suggested a night out when he was supposed to be away, you took it.

That's how you caught him, hands on some random person, grinding against them, whispering in their ear. You saw red, tears in your waterline as you walked over to him, slapping him in front of the person, in front of everyone there before hurrying to leave. Crying as you walked home, crying for being so naive, unsure if he was chasing after you or not, phone buzzing, unclear if it was him or your friends.

Getting home and crawling into bed, body and mind numb. Were you really that foolish to ignore everything, foolish to believe his lies. Johnny got home at two am, the obvious signs of sex written all over his body, you were still in bed, wrapped up in a blanker but you could feel his eyes on you, hearing him sign and walk away, you look over your shoulder. Spotting his phone, you reach for it against your better judgment but the images of his appearance and what you saw burned into in your mind like a tattoo.

You open it, greeting you like bright red warning flags were notifications from multiple people, his friends you meet, and others. The others he was sleeping with behind your back.

Were you really this blind?

There they sat, the evidence of his actions, chats from them, some from before you got together and some after, some he clearly met on deployment at the places he visited, some you assumed to be barracks bunnies. You scrolled over them again and again until you couldn't anymore.

"I miss you"

"When's your partner leaving, i need you."

"Can we meet again?"

"When you back on base Sarge?"

He called them the names he swore he only called you, took them to places he said that were only for you two, your special date spots. And the images, oh god the images, the videos, you couldn't take it. Was it even real what you had? Hastily you texted a friend asked to stay the night and called a cab, packing everything you could think of in this state, taking screenshots of what you could, sending them to yourself, you don't know why. Maybe proof that what was happening was real, proof to remind yourself of who the man who claimed to love you truly was, proof of what he did.

Not even sparing him a second glance as you left, you bloodshot and tear-streaked face looked him, the defeated and hurt look on your face as you got into the cab. You ignored his requests to get your attention, his requests to explain himself.

"Bonnie let's talk"

"Stop being a dramatic bitch and answer me"

"If you fucked me once in a while i wouldn't of done this"

"It's not my fault, answer me"

Your phones buzzed and buzzed on the ride to you friends place, and continued to do so as you showed them the screenshots of what Johnny did, what Johnny was sending you, yet again you broke down. It was all too much to handle at once.

"You only have yourself to blame"

Did his friends know? Did they encourage what he was doing? Your brain was desperately trying to make sense and piece together what happened, what you saw. How could you live after this, after what Johnny did to you.

The way he betrayed you.

The look on his face when you left, not an ounce of remorse nor guilt for his actions was present in his expression, nothing but the expression of a man thinking your were overreacting.

You know he'd go on with his life like this never happened, like he never ruined your trust and find a new victim who was as blissfully unaware as you were when you first met him. But you? You were left to live with the guilt and hurt of knowing what Johnny did, the empty feeling that you weren't enough for him.

Maybe if things were different he wouldn't have cheated and this couldv'e been avoided.

Maybe he'll learn from his mistakes, but you doubt it, a man like Johnny never learns.

The messages and calls were still coming, more spaced out but still there as another reminder, turning off your phone, you stare at the ceiling of your friends guest room. The events replaying in your tired mind like a broken movie reel stuck on repeat.

It was too good to be true, wasn't it?

#john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #cod men x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod angst #soap x reader #soap x you #call of duty x reader

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sioishere · 1 year ago

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COD Angst

Warning(s): I don't really know how to write so please bear with me. Also, Price is not in here. I couldn't think of a prompt for him. You can put ideas for me. I will get to them as quickly as I can.

-Simon "Ghost" Riley

If Simon had children, he would be so terrified of becoming like his father that he'd separate himself from them.

Not showing up for dances even if he's free, not picking them up from school, staying in his room most of the time, etc.

He'll shut down when confronted about it. Going silent, not responding, and basically it looks like he's ignoring you.

He's not.

He heard every word you yelled. He saw every tear that was dropped.

He wishes he can be the father you pray and wish for him to be.

But he just can't

"Oh my god Simon! This is the fifth recital! Do you understand that those kids love you? Why can't you just be here?" You screamed, tear filling your eyes remembering the look on your daughter's face as she realized he wasn't there.

Simon had just been sitting there as you got your anger out. His head was down and you could barely hear his breath. The tears that were gathered in his eyes didn't fall as he listened to the well-deserved insults you were throwing at him.

He looked up only hearing the six words that made his heart drop lower than hell itself.

"I think I want a divorce..."

-John "Soap" Mactavish

John would be so secretive because of his job.

It's not his fault, but you just can't bring yourself to act like things are fine when he disappears for a month or two.

When he comes back, it's like he never did.

His body was there, but his mind wasn't.

He'll keep his phone and computer away from you, hiding everything.

Keeps a room locked in the house for weapons.

He gets a call at like five in the morning and leaves with just a quick kiss.

You tear up as he leaves, remembering all the times he left you alone in the seemingly colder house.

You kept repeating "Just a few more years of this then we're done."

It didn't help.

It was your birthday, and yet here you were sitting in front of the blown-out cake as your husband was getting ready to leave. You had tears streaming down your face as you just broke down. Johnny rushed into the kitchen, hearing your cries. "What's wrong?" He asked while sitting next to you. You just kept crying, only able to get one word out.

"Why?"

Johnny sighed. You had this conversation before. "I have to." "No! You chose this mission! You had a choice whether not to go." You sobbed as he just sat there, shocked. The people had given him the choice of whether or not to go on that, at least on a month-long mission. Why did he choose to go? You don't know, but you couldn't think, hiccuping as you sobbed.

"Leave."

"Love,-"

"Go!"

You screamed at him as you got up from your chair and threw his bag at him. Johnny could tell by the pissed but hurt look on your face.

You were done.

-Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (Sorry this one's a little short. Couldn't imagine my baby doing this..😅)

Kyle says hurtful things without even realizing it.

He's blunt and so honest it hurts.

You try to appreciate it, but at times it gets stressful.

Especially, when you already have insecurities..

You were staring at the mirror, poking at your thighs. You just didn't like something about them. As you were worrying, Kyle walked in with headphones blaring, not noticing. "Hey, babe?" You called for him, but he didn't answer. So you turned and tapped him.

"Babe."

"What." He set down his headphones, looking a little annoyed. He turned around to see you. You ignored the comment and looked up at him with uncertainty. "What do you think about my thighs. I mean, like...Do they look bad or?.." You rambled until he looked at you weirdly.

"You called me to ask about your thighs?" He asked coldly. You stopped talking and just looked at him. "What?.." He scoffed and turned back to his phone. "It's thighs. Maybe instead of whining, you could actually do something about it."

You just froze, not sure what to say. Emotions passed all through you, but the strongest one was anger.

"Excuse me?" Kyle sighed and looked back up. "If you have a problem with your thighs, then solve it. I don't know what to say." You just stared.

"I think you've said enough."

#ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john mactavish x reader #angst #ghost x male reader #gaz x male reader #soap x male reader

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wormwoodartemisia · 5 months ago

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@xintothewoodswegox 🍀🥃🍻

I wasn’t really planning to but this was just the wee bit that was missing to actually make me start to post all my silly little ideas... Probably not what you expected, but I now make it your problem, anyway! 🤷‍♀️😉💋🫂

Inspiration immediately hit me when I saw this:

This is my icon (I got permission to use it from the artist, Notesz, and I love their CoD-art, among others!), the bigger version to fully experience its magnificence. 🥴🖤

THERAPIST JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH...

My version, at least... 😏😋 Civilian afab!reader, no specific desciption, no use of y/n Warnings: Absolutely no smut - instead, Soap using a ridiculous amount of pet names because I need him to... Furtive approach of making him sound a bit Scottish now and then, but I'm still very shy about it... Reference to abusive relationship, but I have the impression that tw is not needed. Let me know if I'm wrong! Short appearances: Price & Ghost, only brief mentioning of Gaz About 2.5k words, starting below the cut.

SHENANIGANS

It's gonna be ok...

You are more than relieved that the address is the same as before. A change would have been more than inconvenient. This place is known to you, every staircase, exit, door in the building. You know what to expect, where cars can park, which closeby places are crowded and where to disappear if needed.

Therefore you don't hesitate before entering the building where your therapist has got their office, first floor. From this height, getting away out of any window might be manageable in case it has to be, even for you, or so you hope and wish that you'll never have to find out...

You are more than grateful that it's not a total change. When your therapist told you they had to postpone your next session for several months due to some scientific research and a book that had to be written, you were about to quit, but they immediately tried to comfort you: "Of course you will not be alone in this situation. I've found the perfect stand-in for you, one who can absolutely meet your needs, trust me. Doctor MacTavish will fully take over this office while I’m working abroad. You just keep coming here for your normal appointments and clarify the rest with him."

You were led to the exit, they shook your hand and left you standing there, speechless, the news fresh like a bleeding wound. This was how your last session ended three days ago.

The situation itself was too surreal for you. So you simply accepted there was no suitable aftercare and that you wouldn't be introduced to Doctor MacTavish properly. There were too many thoughts on your mind to ask yourself if any therapist would really let their office be fully taken over this way...

When you enter your therapist's (your new therapist's) office, you notice that nothing, absolutely nothing has changed. There's still no secretary in the anteroom and despite the fact that you are perfectly on time, your knock at the door to the main office is shy. The deep male voice that bids you enter is a bit muffled through the closed door, but audible enough for you to instantly like its sound - very much so.

The moment you open the door to step in, the man on the other side of the room gets up from behind his desk to greet you with a radiant smile that directs the view away from his remarkable eyes and to his mouth with that striking scar on his chin. He comes over to you, holding out his hand to shake yours. For just a second you are too stunned to react properly. This guy is as far away from how you imagine a therapist as you want to be from your fucker of an ex-boyfriend...

He's quite tall and massive, slightly tanned muscles he knows to put on display - but not as some wannabe poser. He simply isn't afraid to show his self-confidence, clearly earned one way or the other. His casual blue jeans do his muscular legs some good, the woven brown leather belt around his midsection a nice devider to accentuate his upper body. A soft dark blue T-shirt hugs his frame like a second skin.

While you keep staring, your eyes wide, he has locked the door and performed the act of greeting (which includes taking your hand) all by himself because you are not much of a support. Without any effort he holds eye-contact with you - and this is the meanest thing to do, for you immediately fall for that sparkling cerulean blue. In fact, his intense eyes were the first thing you noticed about this man. (Not to mention his mohawk - which has never suited anyone better, you have to admit...)

When he strides back to his desk, reality sets in again and you recall the warm feeling of his strong hand holding yours in his. There is his scent in your nose, a perfume of woods and leather and the essence of green - moss and fern, maybe?

You watch him walk, his broad shoulders, muscles rolling beneath his skin, and you catch yourself staring at his arse. You are somewhat shocked about how blatantly you've just sized him up when it is his brains you need.

It's a literal necessaty to shake your head twice in order to get rid of your - let's say - more physical thoughts. Only that it can’t get easier for you: He doesn’t sit down behind his desk again, but is now leaning at the front of it, facing you, half-sitting, his legs extended and crossed in the most relaxed style, his arms folded over his chest - in such a decorative way that you must notice the tattoo on his right forearm.

The smug grin playing on his lips adds to the mischivous glint in his eyes. He is well aware of the effect he has on you - obviously nothing that makes him uncomfortable - on the contrary. You even get the impression that he lets you have your fill before he finally says your name - just your first name. Your former therapist always called you by your surname...

"Such a pleasure we finally meet."

You nod once and, after clearing your throat, you agree. "The pleasure is mine, Doctor MacTavish. "

He quietly laughs at that, not condecendingly, but with a warmth that immediately forces your lips into a soft smile as well.

"Just John, please. We don't need a doctor, do we?" He notices your hesitation before you finally nod. "Oh - ok. John. As you please." Again his all-consuming smile. "Ever so polite, hen. Now lie down."

The way you stare at him, incredulously, your pretty eyes wide as saucers, is a sight to behold. Grabbing a notebook, he straightens up again and points to his right. "The sofa, lass. Isn't tha wha therapy's about?"

You feel a bit stupid because you are totally convinced that - of course - you would have understood this completely unambigous statement had it come from your former therapist - or any person fitting your image of how a typical therapist should look.

Meanwhile John has reached the sofa and the two armchairs facing it. Your former therapist always kept their place behind their desk while you were seated in front of it on a normal chair, but this option seems to be unacceptable for John.

You swallow. "Well, ehm... I'd rather sit, in case you're good with that?" No problem for him. "Ach, have yer way, dearie. Ah'm good with a lot of things. Ye mind if ah?" He lets his Scottish brogue show and doesn't wait for your answer before he himself drops onto the sofa unceremoniously, the door in view. His notebook is resting on his chest while he stretches out his legs and puts his arms behind his head.

You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly lower your body into the soft armchair. For his part, he's also watching you, somehow expectantly - as if he is about to ask you next which film to pick and where to order some take-away food... You're not sure how to feel about this man - and you're an open book.

"Ye have yer doubts, luv, haven't ye? What is it? Tell me."

Yes, what exactly is it? you wonder. Of course you can’t tell him that you've never heard of a therapist as hot as him - because that's not really what puts you off (distracted you somehow at first, yes, but that superficial notion would pass). He's too close, too fast, isn't he? Doesn't seem to believe in professional distance...

You opt for a more diplomatic explanation, one that holds enough truth in itself. "It’s just... I guess, I expected someone older..." He donnes you a knowing smile. "Let me assure ye that ah'm old enough for the job and ah dinnae lack experience, if that's wha ye're thinkin."

In fact you do not doubt that he’s got some wide range of different experiences. You only muse if it's the kind of experience you need while you take in his extraordinary tattoo and the prominent scar on his chin as two visible hallmarks made flesh to tag to the ambivalent feelings you have towards your new therapist.

John follows the movements of your eyes and touches his scar, grinning. "Boys are boys, ye ken? And ah must admit that ah wasn't born a therapist." He adds your name, almost like an afterthought.

"That so? For how long have you been a therapist then?"

His smile doesn't waver. "Been a few days", and with that he winks at you. "How about this? We take a few sessions, get tae know each other, and then ye can decide whether we go on or nae. What ye say?"

You consider his proposition. The fact that it is him your former therapist has chosen as their surrogate clearly drips in his favour - but you are a bit afraid that therapy with Doctor MacTavish - John - will be something entirely different from before... However, does 'different' have to mean 'worse'? You lean back in your armchair. "Ok. How do we start?"

John hasn't changed his horizontal position so far and seems to be comfy on his sofa. "Tell me somethin about ye, hun." - "Haven't you read my patient records?" - "- course ah have. Gnawing self-doubts, trust issues, traumatic experiences in yer relationship. But ah want tae hear ye talk. Choose any random topic and we speak about it."

For a second you are tempted to go for the weather forecast or your favourite animal, but this idea is only short- lived. Instead, you go for something new you would have been willing to let your former therapist in about soon. "I don't sleep much these days. I have nightmares." You don't look up, so he reassures you with a low, calm voice. "Go on."

You shrug. "That's all."

John looks at you pensively. "So ye do sleep." - "Pardon?" - "Yer dreams. In order tae have nightmares, ye need tae sleep first. Or do ye mean that ye refuse tae sleep for fear of havin bad dreams?"

You're not sure you see much of a difference, but you think about his question. "I fall asleep. Then the dreams start and after some time I wake up in cold sweat. And repeat." - "Have ye thought about takin sleepin pills? They could help ye with sleepin through the night." - "So I wouldn’t wake up from the horror? No way!" - "Don't ye want tae know how the dream ends?" You blink. "I... No? Can’t be a good end. I mean... have you ever even had nightmares, John?"

It's the first time that his smile changes its tone into something tinted, a lopsided grin with a grave seriousness. He sits up and leans forward to you, his notebook now next to him, his arms resting on his knees, before he starts to speak. "Ah ken the weight of nightmares, bonnie. 'ave seen some trauma in ma life", he hesitates, "Therapist stuff, ye ken? Ah dream about getting shot sometimes. Or being blown tae pieces."

When he doesn't add any more information, you feel the need to ask: "And then?" He purses his lips: "Then the dreams take a bearable direction - or start again."

You stare at the man in front of you, he holds your gaze unblinkingly. You frown. "I don't understand in how far this can be helpful to me, John." - "Priorities, luv. Ah usually tend tae choose sleep over some more or less vague fears. Ma body needs tae recover so that ah dinnae have tae let the nightmares come true." He hesitates once more. "In a metaphorical way, of course. When ah'm awake then, ah can think about the bad dreams and work through them. Might take some time, though."

The impression he gives you is one of sheer honesty. You're intrigued: "And what have you found out? About your nightmares?" - "Just the obvious. Fear of being unable tae get the job done, fear of nae being able tae support those who rely on me, failure in general. All the therapist stuff ah'm going through. Ah really get stuck into it, lass." He smiles the gravitas away. However, you can feel that he means it. This is more than just a job for him. He's always on a mission to save lives. That's real. He wants to prevent death if and when it's in his power. He for himself has to deal with an immense amount of emotional pressure every day.

You can feel all the emotional pressure as well - but for you, there’s always the other pressure, too. The invisible threat of a former boyfriend who was quite close to being the literal death of you.

You don't think less of Doctor John MacTavish just because he has surely never experienced that his life was literally at stake. Your lives are just so different... "I only hope that I'll never become one of your nightmares, John."

A boyish grin: "Ach, dinnae fash, bonnie. Chances are up for some sweet dreams."

⬛◼◾▪️Meanwhile, outside▪️◾◼⬛

"I still believe Garrick would have been the better choice", Ghost rumbles while they are waiting for you to leave the building again. In the driver's seat, the Captain takes a sip from his coffee, flashing the masked man next to him a look out of the corners of his eyes. "Soap's got some useful background knowledge from previous missions, some intel Gaz clearly lacks. Not to mention that Kyle couldn't make it back in time, right?" Ghost slowly shakes his head, almost unnoticeably, so Price adds: "You think MacTavish can’t handle the situation and take it far enough?"

Now Ghost barks a laugh: "Bloody hell... I'm not worried about his interrogation skills or acting abilities. 'm just worried that he might take it farther than he should - and we might get more than we've bargained for." - "He thinks she's that dangerous?"

It's a harsh laugh as response that the Captain gets to hear from his Lieutenant instantly. Ghost keeps his eyes trained on the entrance of the building when he answers: "This bird's not too dangerous. Yet I wouldn't guarantee she can’t take him apart..."

⬛◼◾▪️▪️◾◼⬛

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. But when you think about it, you have to admit that your choice of words was a perfect set-up...

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, John. I'll think about your words, I promise, but for now, I'd love to change the subject." Luckily, your therapist is more than willing to fulfil your wish.

"That's fine. Now it's ma turn tae choose a topic. Let's talk about relationships. Just in general. We needn't necessarily come tae tha specific partner of yours. Wha was his name again, hen? Macaron?"

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #therapist soap #x reader #Hades - i really did it...#me writing #wormwoodartemisia #icon therapist #my 🧼#no smut

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

Text

A wall of silence

Masterlist with OCs AN: My friends @sofasoap @siilvan and @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot inspired me for a tiny backstory to a A heart full of pity. This happens a day before the main story.

Characters: Lieutenant Olga (not yet Zhar) Samoilova and Doctor Heather Green (an OC of @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

As usual, Olga came exactly 3 minutes earlier for their appointment.

"Doctor Green, Lieutenant Samilova re-"

"Cut it, Olya, how many times do I need to ask you." Heather stood up from her desk and moved a chair closer to the one, on which her patients would usually sit.

For many years Heather monitored the now so-called Task Force and some things never changed. Soap turning their sessions to a little stand-up of John MacTavish, Ghost sharing much more with Price than with her, Gaz balancing between the calmest logic and a raging storm of emotions. And Olga, trying to be the quiet, the 'i'll cause no problem', the 'please don't banish me' one. It felt as if she knew, how every answer should sound in order to make a perfect report.

No matter, how hard Heather tried, she couldn't get into Olgas ears - to her psychologic evaluations were not an instrument to help her, but an endless test, she had to pass with flying colors in order to stay in Prices group.

So without any big hopes Heather asked, how Olgas week went so far.

"Great! The mission planning is almost done, I'm waiting for the Captain to give me all clear, I also controlled the amount of resting hours as you advised, here is my report, I also sent a copy on your email address..."

Heather listened patiently as Olga recited an obviously prepared in advance answer. Behind all the razzle-dazzle, her patient tinkered till the last smallest detail, Heather still saw a very scared girl, who was willing to do anything to stay in the Task Force. If Heather was honest - she didn't want to corner her own patient, when she already was in a survival mode for a long time. But there was no other choice.

"Tell me about the last Sunday."

"Had a nice training session with the Sgs, worked on reports, had a walk, about an hour long. Then there was some gathering in one of the hangars, but I left early. Read a book, not a work-related topic, as you suggested. And thats about it!" Despite Heathers concerns, Olga didn't tense up. The same smile was plastered upon her face as she reminisced on her weekend.

"And what made you leave the gathering early?"

Olga looked down for a moment and sighed. "Gaz? Or Soap?"

"Olya, darling, don't get the wrong picture of it: nobody in the 141 is trying to find any imperfections in you, or make you go. They are worried about you. One of their own makes you frustrated, there is something going on between you two, and they want to help." Heather reached out to Olga, touched her shoulder, but her patient just froze and looked back with an unfocused gaze. Trying to guide her out of the blackout, Heather added, "you can always tell if you're uncomfortable. With me or with Nikolai."

"Nothing is going on between me and Nikolai." Lieutenant came back to senses. "I joined the gathering, I left early, because I got a new idea for the mission plan, that's the story. We didn't say a single word to each other - there was no conflict, doctor."

"Darling, it was a gathering to celebrate Nikolai coming back to our base after a long leave. And you stood up and left the hangar the very next moment after he entered it. This doesn't scream 'nothing is happening' to me. And I`m afraid, that you look at how everyone appreciate him, and hide something, that makes you so distant. You see, how we greet him every time and think that nobody is going to take your side once you reveal the reason behind your reaction to him. I want you to know, it's not like that."

"Doctor Green, it is not my place to lecture you." Olga leaned back, defending herself from any possibility of a physical contact with Heather. "But it takes a very special personality to serve, where that man served. I know, you all believe that ultranationalists are the worst, that they represent everything thats wrong with Russia. But I assure you, they are just kids in comparison to what beasts are lurking in Kremlin. And that man served them. Maybe he still is."

Heather understood that their time was almost up and made the last attempt to make her point.

"Olya, I can't manipulate on Nikolais background. I won't deny, he worked for the FSB, but I can't draw a conclusion from my or your emotions. But what I can do is to analyze the facts. You see a monster right there, and you feel like you are the only one, who sees his real nature. Neither I nor anyone from the Task Force can change your perception. But I can share, what personally see, when I look at him."

When Olga hesitantly noded, Heather went on.

"I see a guy, who cares for his friends, even when it remains unnoticed. A guy, who found out, one of the TF was on the brief medical leave for a minor reason and his very first question was 'do they need any medication or anything?'. A guy, who is always asking if every member of 141 is ok. A guy, who looks at somebody, he cares for, and smiles broadly even though they don't have an opportunity to touch base with each other."

"Doctor, I'll stop you there. I am aware of Nikolai's and our Captain's friendly bond."

"I'm talking about Price, Olya. Everything, I just told you, was about Nikolai and you."

In a dead silence infesting the room, Lieutenant shook her head. The last words that reached Heather were muttered quietly.

"He is lying. Lying to you all."

***

Price came half an hour after Olga left: Heather wouldn't want them to stumble upon each other in the hall. Doctor Green still had a small hope, that Captain would change his mind about Olgas upcoming mission. But when Price asked her, if his Lieutenant was ready, that hope was forgotten.

"John, she hates him."

"That I know." Prices deep voice echoed in the walls of her office. "My questions was, is she able to work with him. This mission is critical, if Olga makes it - we are promoting her. So, please, give me a sign."

Heather took a pause. She didn't want to torture Olga, when she's already living in constant stress. At the same time she understood how much this mission might serve Olga and the whole Task Force. Heather didn't like, what she's about to do, but something told her, it's the right thing. So she finally answered Price.

"She will do anything for you."

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mv2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #mw2 fanfic #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #cod x oc

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kalixora · 2 years ago

Text

It is what it is

Part 3

Alexia! Play Low by SZA

@tapioca-marzipanpan @do-leannan @yooforia @fruitymoonbeams-blog @xheera @angelsquid @makastaco @random0lover@lovecats12345

Summary: You weren't seen as a high-ranking solider, and you were stuck in a position you didn't want, directly by General Shepard's side. You get a call one day about a new opportunity that will help you.

. Reader is presumed female

Note: I've never played any of the games, so please excuse any inaccuracies. Due to the use of Google Translate, any languages displayed may potentially be incorrect.

There will be explicit sexual content, as well as instances of harassment, cursing, and drug usage.

Callsign: Hound

You sighed as you closed the door to your room. Once more, it was only you and no one else. Your childhood memories ran through your mind with each blink as you walked over to your bed and laid down.

Every memory, every voice, every touch, every emotion, He was there. He was never far away. Fuck. Participating on this task force very likely did not completely expel you from him.

Knock knock

You groaned and jerked your eyes wide. A somewhat apprehensive Soap was waiting for you at the other end of your hasty opening.

He briefly diverted his eyes from yours before flashing you a timid smile. "Uh- Captain wants us in his office in 30."

“Okay.”

"Are you alright? I didn't in any way hurt you, did I?" Soap inquired as he examined your face.

You shook your head. "Nothing wrong, Soap; thanks for checking on me." You started to close your door, but Soap sighed and placed his palm on the back of his neck.

“Hey listen Hound…”

“Yes?”

"If you ever want to talk lass, I'm willing to lend ya an ear, I doesn't really take a genesis to something's bothering ya," Soap said.

"Nothing's bothering me Soap-"

"Johnny, you can call me Johnny, John MacTavish."

"Oh... Y/N, I'm Y/N."

"Y/N, that's a nice name, your parents picked a beautiful name for a beautiful lass," Soap smiled at you.

You nodded at him, "Thank you... I'm gonna get ready now."

Soap nods, "Oh right, sure, I'll see ya later then."

You rested your head against the door as you shut the door and then closed your eyes once more. Your eyes began to burn with a hot torrent of tears that were begging to be let out. It's not like Soap knew; he was just complimenting you, and in all honesty, nobody else knew either. They are unfamiliar with you. Expect Price and Gaz. You had to keep it silent. They have only known you for a short while, especially Soap, whom you hardly even know. They can already tell something is wrong with you. You had to keep it on the low. Ensure that nobody knows. Your siblings or perhaps even a pet could be lost with just one mistake?

. . . . . .

Price greeted you as you stepped into his office, you stood next to Ghost as Price began to map out a mission to you all. From what you've gathered, it was a rescue and intel mission, which meant you had to go undercover to obtain information on a captive. You scanned the map Price had drawn out, pointing to the area you'd all be flying to. There was a safe house nearby where you would all go to prepare for the mission.

After you were all departed, you couldn't help but have the uneasy feeling that Price was closely observing you; it's probable that the others were also aware of it. Maybe it was because you were new to the team?

You started packing a few things and tossed them to the side as you mentally prepared to leave at nightfall.

Night fall came on the the plane you went, so how you got stuck sitting next to the captain of the team himself with Soap sitting right across from you. He glanced at you from time to time but never really said anything but give you a small smile.

"Don't mind him," Price whispered to you. "Mate's got a staring problem."

"You don't say," you snickered. "Say... Price? Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What's your life looking like right now? Aside from all this? You have a partner yet?"

Price chuckled, "So this is how you wanna pass the time huh? Alright I'll bite, can't catch a bloody break with this job."

"Why don't you try someone on base?" You laughed, "A good-looking guy such as yourself shouldn't have any trouble finding someone."

"Solider..."

Ah shit

You gulped slightly.

Price was attractive; what was there not to like about him?

He was affable, and from previous operations with him and Gaz, He was a gentleman. He was always cordial to you and treated you as an equal; he never made you feel like you had to be anything other than who you are or that you had to prove something to him. He was sincere with you. All he needed to know was that you were good at what you do. And you were god damn good.

Admiration for him was easy to hide from him; he was an inspiration not only to you, but also to Gaz and those around him. Next to him, you unwind.

Not drifting asleep, but your body felt at relaxed, and it was reassuring to know that Price was here, right next to you. In essence, he was your friend. Someone you can trust with your life...

Maybe you should tell him about Shepard? It wouldn't hurt, right?

"Thanks..."

Price mumbled a little. Knowing you might or might not have flustered him, you smile smugly. "You're very welcome, Captain."

The rest of the trip went without a hitch thanks to Soap's ability to start conversations and share bits and pieces of his life with everyone else, with the exception of Ghost, who you weren't too surprised by. The most of what you learnt about him came from Soap or Gaz.

Once you all landed you all began to head to the safe house on foot to a remote location. Once you got there you let out a groan, the place was small probably had one bathroom too. You dropped your bags and rushed towards the bedrooms, there was two. A master bedroom and another room that most likely was a kids room, it was painted a light blue with two beds on each side of the room. One bed had a brown stuffed animal on it. It even had a little red bowtie with a tag on it.

You felt a presence behind you as you entered the kid like bedroom.

You went towards the bear and picked it up checking the tag.

"Make up date soon ;)"

You whirled around, pushing the bear into whoever's chest you could find and fleeing the room.

"Woah what's wrong lass? You look like you seen a Ghost- ah see what I did there!"

Ghost walked out of the room hie eyes scanned you and Soap as he held the bear on his hand. "You scared of a stuffed bear?"

"No- no, I was about to puke…" you said as you pushed by Soap and into the bathroom. "Jet lag or something- I haven't been on a plane in a long time…"

You were on a plane. Liar.

"Do you need anything?"

"Nah- I'm fine, just give me a sec," you replied, your breath unsteady. You gazed down at your twitching arms, feeling dizzy and feverish. You were on the verge of puking. You went to the toilet and gagged rashly, without a second to spare.

On a mission, you weren't even safe. How did he find out? Kate should have been the only one who knew the location of the safe home; the less people who knew, the better. Unless this was a mission authorized by him, was this a way to keep track of where you were at all times?

Something has to be there-

There was simply no way-

How the hell did find you?

Were they in on it? Someone told him. Was it Soap? He's had his eye on you since you came…

Ghost, someone so elusive, must be full of betrayal...

Gaz would never do anything like that.

Price would not do it either, then who would?

Was that Kate?

No, she unknowingly saved you from Shepard.

Knock Knock

Your hurled once more The room seemed to be getting smaller by the second. It had no qualms about swallowing you completely. Your heart was beating, your body stiffened; you hadn't even been shot yet and you were already feeling like a fool.

Knock Knock

"Hound, I'm coming in alright?"

You coughed, turning your head to look at who walked in.

"Capitan..."

Prince kneeled down next to you placing his hand on your back, "What's wrong love? You broken?

"...No, it’s nothing I'm fine-"

"I know you better than that Hound, let it all out, you need to rest."

You nodded as Price gave you a water bottle, presumably his.

You sat upwards tilting your head so you can drink the water, Price held you head as you did this. You took a few deep breathes with his help and managed to calm down a bit. He helped you into the bedroom.

Price sat you on the bed, you grabbed his arm. what the hell are you doing?

"Lieutenant?"

"Stay- please."

Price stared at you for a moment then nodded, "Are you sure?"

"Yes..."

You can trust him

“Alright… I’m going to get changed, Gaz put your stuff in here already I’ll knock before I come in.”

You nodded as you watched Price grab a bag and head out the door. You were alone… but there were still eyes on you. Hidden ones probably in the walls or in the stars in the sky. This whole situation just isn’t fair. Why you out of all the lieutenants, the moment of fuckery that’s happening is just unpleasant.

You got up from the bed your legs still like jelly, you grabbed your bag thankfully Gaz put in right by the bed. You grabbed some clothes to change into and put them on making sure at least neatly put your uniform back on top of your bag and got into bed.

After a few minutes there was a knock on the door, you said a brief come in and in came the captain himself. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants. He gave you a small smile before putting his stuff beside the door then heading to the bed right next to you.

Price let out a sigh then a small chuckle, “I never knew you had plane sickness.”

“It’s been awhile okay.”

“I thought you took a plane coking over to base?” Price asked you turning his head to look at you.

You sink into the bed not looking back up at him, “Felt sick too.”

Price hummed, “You sure about that Hound?”

“Yeah…very sure…”

“Y/N.”

“Yes sir?”

“Your broken.”

You looked up at Price, his eyes scanning yours and never did he drop his gaze.

“I’m not-“

“I know that look Y/N, it may have been a good few years since we’ve spoken but believe me my memory is still as sharp as ever.”

“…goodnight John…”

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