#Medic Reader

[charliemwrites]

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

[yawnderu]

K-9 & Ghost coded.♡

[hyperfixiation-station]

🥺 hi. I get so anxious asking for requests. So I’m sorry if it’s weird. But could I please please Pleaseee get a ghost x fem reader. Hurt to comfort. They were on a mission and she’s there for medic help. Not even to fight. But she got taken by the bad guys. And she gets tortured for information that she doesn’t have. And they play mind games with her. Making her think that they will never come rescue her. They really fully break her body and break her mind by the end of it. But before she thinks she’s about to finally die, Ghost and the others come and save her. And it’s about how the only person she feels safe with after all that is ghost and just him helping her heal and get back to the woman she was before all this. I want it to hurt my soul. 😭 but then there’s hope at the end of it bc they have each other.

My Heart Will Go On

Don't be, I love when people ask me things, and I looooved this request so much!!! I too like to torturehave fun with my OC's :)

TW: Blood, torture, manipulation

Pairing: GhostxReader

Part 2

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen at all, actually. It was just another mission, another day on the job. You went out with the boys as usual, their assigned medic as theyghost refused to work with anybody else. You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was your soft demeanor, your gentle touch, the way you never judged himthem for anything hethey did. But whatever it was, they liked you, and so with them you went.

You hung back at the evac point, also as usual. Sitting in the truck, first aid kit on your lap, a comm in your ear as you listened to your boys and made sure they were all okay. It was a tense fight, gunshots and pained grunting filling your headset. You were on edge, rocking back and forth as you listened for your que to come in. In fact, you were so focused on the comms that you didn’t even notice the danger you were in until it was too late.

Your first cue something was wrong was when the comms went silent. The sounds of battle filled your ears for hours before getting cut off abruptly. Your hand shot to the comm link, fiddling with it as you frantically tried to reconnect, worried something was wrong.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

“Ghost?”

“Price?”

“Gaz?”

“Can you hear me??” Your voice got more and more panicked as you got no response. You yanked the headset off and shrugged your vest on, kit in hand as you slid out of the truck.

Your second clue something was wrong was when you looked up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at your face. You didn't even have time to ask ‘what’ before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, princesa.” You blink hard as the blindfold is removed from your eyes. The light is blinding, the splitting headache you got from being pistol whipped only intensifying under the harsh lights.

“Who are you?” You manage after a moment, eyes slowly focusing on the man in front of you. He is large, easily over six foot, and built like an absolute unit. His face is covered by a black balaclava, though his scarred, tattooed forearms are on display.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” His voice is deep and smooth, and if you weren’t in the situation you are in you would have asked him to keep talking.

“‘M not! I don't-"

“Don’t lie to me Princesa. I don’t like liars.” A shiver runs down your spine as his tone darkens.

“But I’m-”

“Ah ah lovie, I am one asking questions here.”

“I wasn’t ask-”

“SHUT UP!” You flinch back at the drastic change in tone, the sound sending bolts of pain through your skull.

“Oh sorry Princesa, did that hurt?” Seriously, you are going to get whiplash from his bi-polar personality, “Forgot you have concussion. Let's get you Advil for that and then we see if you talk, yeah?"

You watch with blurry vision as he leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The sound sends waves of agony through your pounding head, and by the time you can focus again he's back.

All it takes is one well placed blow to the head, an attempt to get you to pay attention, and you're out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know anything I swear! Please! I don't know anything!” The sobs tear raggedly out of your throat, already raw from screaming. Your voice is scratchy and broken, but still you can't stop begging.

“I don’t know anything” You sob. Those words, I don’t know, had become your motto over the past few daysweeks(?)

“Oh Princesa. I know.” He croons, running a finger down your bruised face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time was meaningless. Has it been 2 days since you were captured? Two weeks? Months? You don’t know. Your meals come at staggered times, and your captors never come at a routine time. The lights turn on and off at staggered times, nothing in a set pattern, a system created to mess with your mind.

Not that you know that. This wasn’t the kind of life you lived. You were a medic for heaven's sake. Your hands had been built to mend, to fix, to heal. Not to clutch at broken bones, to scratch against cement, to be chained and broken. You arewere a gentle creature, not designed for this world of torture and terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They no come for you." You moan as the words pound through your skull, nearly unintelligible.

"Wh'...y'say?" You mumble, voice scratchy and broken.

"You're friends, Princesa. They are no coming for you." He sighs and moves next you, prodding your side with his steel-toed boot, "You are replaceable, your skills are easily replicated, they no spend time and resources to find a simple medic."

"They…'ll c'me." You wheeze, refusing to belive that Price, that Gaz, that Soap, that Ghost, would just...leave you.

He laughs in response, digging his toe into your side until your gasping in pain.

"We shall see, Princesa. We shall see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t built for this. Weren’t built to recognize the manipulation, the mind games. Weren’t built to survive the two-face man who was reshaping your brain. The man who was your greatest source of pain, but also your only friend. The man that flayed your flesh open, but soothed and bandaged you when it was all over. This man, who was slowly becoming the only thing you could trust in your unstable world. He may bring you unbearable pain, but he brought you comfort too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That looks bad, Princesa." The man lightly touches the bones sticking out of your forearm. You whine in pain, clutching it to your chest. He chuckles, wiping your blood off on the cell floor.

"Let's get that fixed up, yeah?" His voice is soft, and gentle, and the nicest thing you've heard in a loooong time. His touch is the same, gentle caresses of bruised and broken skin, revolting and appealing at the same time.

Oh, it's utter agony as he sets and stitches your arm with no pain killers. You scream, back arching, lungs heaving, body seizing.

But after? Oh it's heaven. He holds you, cradling you against his warm body, making sure you don't go into shock, telling you you're a good girl, and that you've made him proud. You hate yourself for it, but you can't help but preen at the praise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He brings you a calendar. One month. It’s been one month since you got taken.

“It’s been over a month.” He says, a deep voice tinged with pity, “and no sign of your…friends. I’d give up being rescued if I were you, because they clearly have.” You can barely hear him as you stare at the paper in his hands, 31 days marked off with big, bright X’s. 31 days that you have been trapped here. 31 days that your squad…hadn’t come for you. Is he right? Are they really not coming? Did Ghost really give up on you? Are you-

“Ay Princesa, I even did what you asked. I sent your squad pictures and videos that even the greenest tech member could pull some coordinates from, but nothing. It’s like I said. Your ‘friends’ don’t care for you. They are not coming for you. I am your only friend in this place. Tell me, who bandages your wounds, who feeds you, who makes sure your living space is comfortable?”

“Y-you do.” You whisper uncertainty, “But…you also hurt me, don’t you?”

“Oh Princesa, I wouldn’t hurt ya if y’ would just listen. It not torture if you're disobedient. It's just…punishment.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, “And you just back-talked me. Do you remember what happens when you try to give me sass?”

"I get…punished." You mumble, cheeks flushing with shame.

"Obviously, you fucking idiot. I mean how."

"I…you…I have to do affirmations."

"Look at that, y'r gettin' it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Say it again." He snarls. You sit in front of a mirror, face bruised, bleeding, and swollen.

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends…'re n-no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'v'ble…I 'm r'pl'c'…able." You whisper for the hundredth time.

"Again."

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

"Again!"

"I 'm r'pl'c'able, my friends 're no'...c'min'...I 'm no' l'vable, I 'm r'pl'c'…able."

He makes you keep going, repeating those 4 sentences until you literally can't make sound anymore, a fact he tests by seeing how much it takes to get you to scream. You pass out before he gets anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ghost?"

"Simon?"

"Please."

"Why are you not coming for me?"

just FYI if the timing seems disjointed and the speech is wierd, that is intentiweird,

anyways I hope you liked it!!!!

[doggoboigaugau]

Medic!Male Reader x TF141

B*TCH WHY I HAVE NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS‼️⁉️

🔥HOT STUFF🔥 below 😍🤟💥💥💥

He's so bbg 😫🫶

He's just a baby🥺🥺

KEEP READING FOR THE 🔥🔥HOT STUFF🔥🔥 I PROMISE

😏🙏 ofc LT we'll be ur good lil boy

💞💞💞

[blingblong55]

Stay professional- 141

A/n: I have no idea what picture to use…

Based on a request:

Doctor reader who has incredibly dark humor that most times their patients/the guys think their serious --- GN!Reader, doctor!reader, platonic!relationship ---

A/N: Just the jokes ig because my head is a mess rn

The first time meeting you did scare them. "You have very little time," You told Price as you fixed his arm during the flight. His eyes widened, "what?!" Gaz, Ghost and Soap swore the injury was minor. "What?" you asked and Price swore it was the morphine messing with him. "Oh, no…you aren't dead…dead.whatever I said, I meant, with the scar…you have very little time with this scar, it'll heal fast," you reassure and he breathes a sigh of relief. "Who the hell got us this doctor?" Ghost asks the team and you shrug. "I'm not even a doctor, just an infantry soldier," you casually mention and Price nearly faints.

"Oh, I'm kidding!" you laugh. "Y'all need to have some humour," you nudge Gaz who was beside you. "Humour? Humour?! Look 'ere you little-" Ghost gets stopped by Price. "Not now, they have a needle in their hand." Your hands working fast to get Price ready for the long way back home. Now and then check on him and then glance at the others. "Weather is nice out there?" Soap and Ghost glare. Gaz stays silent. "Not a friendly team?" You look at the three men. No one said a word. "Good thing I showed up, huh," you once more try and make the flight back to baseless awkward.

---

It was months since the initial welcome they gave you and now they've gotten used to you. Well, not really but you just believe they are.

You were sent back for them on a different occasion. More men in the team as they had just come back from another long and deadly mission. You were fixing a patient when one taps on your shoulder. After some conversation, you tell them, "Take one for each day of the week," the pills sit on your palm. "But there's only three pills," the soldier said. Price sighed. "Exactly." The man's life flashed before his eyes. "I'm just kidding, these three will help until we get back," You pat his back and the man's life comes back to him.

---

Price and his men were in the infirmary when you walked in. White attire on you as you walked to a man who had been waiting for results. His file on your hand as you walk to him. Ghost listened to whatever bull shit would come out of your mouth. "So, what's the problem doctor?" the ill soldier spoke. "What's your zodiac sign?" You casually ask. "Uhm…cancer I believe." You nod, "what a coincidence no?" The man was about to tear up when you walked away and to the next patient. Ghost was beyond bewildered as he watched you leave the man.

---

Another time when the team was left with a gasp was when you had to inform a child that their parents had died in combat. The little girl didn't know where to go or who to until they tugged on her white coat. "Excuse me, doctor, can you help me?" The little girl said. You knew well who it was, and out of nervousness, you said, "I wish I could, but I'm currently helping families and you're an orphan."

Price was left with an audible gasp from his sergeants and a deep chuckle from Ghost.

---

A soldier who was known to be the barracks bunny got tested and you had to deliver the news. Once more, 141 was there for a routine checkup when they saw you walk to the person. "I have your diagnosis," you carefully said. "Well what are the results, I don't have all day." The soldier said. "Well it's a clear positive for being a slut, but you go and slay your way on their infected dicks, honey," you walk away from the patient and to them. "Gaz, you're up next, then Soap, Price and then Ghost, we need a serious talk sugar," you walk into your office.

"Seriously, the rookie?" Soap looked at his lieutenant.

---

On another mission, Chimera and 141 worked as allies, and Soap got injured. You walked to him. "Hi, how are you?" You ask as you sit beside him. "I'm fine, thank you." He says politely. "So why the fuck did they say you need medical attention?" Price rolled his eyes as Gaz chuckled when he understood the joke. "To work, doctor," Price's gravelly voice said.

---

A young recruit needed serious medical attention after a bomb exploded by him. After hours of working on his body, Price who commanded the soldier came up to you. "Is he okay? The bomb exploded by his left side-"

"He's all right.." you chuckle and then apologise. "Sorry, uhm..yeah… stabilised" ---

It was time for you to end your shift, the men after some time got used to you and just waited for you to walk with them. "Night, doc," Soap walked his way with Gaz to their rooms. "You have some dark humour, doctor," Ghost comments. You grin, "Well you know what they say," you shrug. "What do they say?" Price made the accident of asking. "Dark humour is like food-" Price walked away when you said that. "R/N, don't you dare finish that sentence," Ghost commanded but gave you a fist bump. "Good one though," he chuckles.

[sunshinefox35]

Incorrect Quotes Pt 5

Can TF141 still be saved

König: Did it hurt when you fell-

Horangi: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

König: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Horangi: ...

König: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

Ghost: Why did you think that would be a good idea, Sergeant?! Reader: I didn’t say it was a good idea I just said I thought it would be fun, sir.

Soap: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective? König: *crouches down* Ghost *kneels down* Reader: *sits on the floor* Soap : ... Soap : I hate all of you.

MedicReader: Damn, the power went out.

Roach: Don’t worry, I’ve got this.

Roach: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

MedicReader: What-?

Roach: I swallowed a glow stick!

MedicReader, on the verge of a heart attack: WHY WOULD YOU-

Gaz : Horangi and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us.

Price : What did you do?

Gaz : He chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and-

Horangi: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

Reader : Watcha doin? Roach: Stealing one of Ghost's masks Reader : Scandalous. Reader : Can I help?

*Rudy TEXTING Alejandro *

Rudy: Mi sol ( my Sunshine) Rudy: Baby Rudy: Angel Rudy: Mi Vida Rudy: Babe Rudy: If you don't answer me, the pet names are going to start getting meaner. Rudy: Bowl of cereal that's been sitting out for like an hour.

Soap: Change is inedible. Ghost: Don't you mean inevitable? Soap, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

MedicReader: Why would you think coins were edible?! Soap: Roach ate a coin in front of me so I tried it as well MedicReader: ... Ghost: he was eating chocolate coins Soap: Soap: ah

Price: What are you drinking? Reader: Vodka. Price: Straight? Reader: No, gay. Why?

König: Horangi, I'm sad. Horangi: *Holds out arms for a hug* Naww babe It’s going to be okay.

Soap: Ghost, I'm sad. Ghost, nodding: mood.

[writingoddess1125]

Medic for Task Force 141

The life of the Medic for TF 141 Headcanon

HIGH THOUGHTS 🍃🚬

• In the dictionary If one was to look up the words 'overworked doctor' your photo would come up.

• As the sole medic for Task Force 141 you were the only one they trusted with any of their medical needs. Some COUGH König COUGH Ghost COUGH wouldn't even go to the barracks medical bay unless forced to- And even then they would just leave.

• So you were hired- After the former medics for the team had quit in quick session. 8 in 3 months to be precise...

• Maybe it was your skill, or great bedside manner but they brought you on. A fairly new medic with some years of experience.

• At first they didn't respect you- Not. At. All. Gaz would flirt or tease, Soap would prank your office, König would shyly run away and Ghost would just straight up ignore you... But all of them would never let you treat them. No matter how bad their injuries were they would opt to do it themselves.

• It wasn't till the 4th month of being on the team did you finally snap- It was know by the team rather famously "The Day Satan Arrived"

• You were sitting in your office, Frustrated and looking at the resignation letter on your desk when you heard loud ruckus from outside. Getting up you go into the common area and see Soap pulling out a bullet from his arm- Talking with the rest of the team as he tried to treat himself. So much blood- so messy.. and they were just doing it themselves with a cheap kit from amazon. Your degrees, Years of service all met nothing to them...

• Something in you just... Snapped?

• You grabbed the flowerpot that had been placed near by and dropped it on the floor.

• The loud crashing snapped them from their ignoring you, even Ghost seemed surprised and immediately could tell something was wrong. Soap raising a brow as you slowly walked over to him.

• "Oh its the Green Med- AH!!" He screamed as you reached forward placing your sharp nails right into the cleared bullet hole. The rest of the team shocked by this as well and froze unsure what to do.

• "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?" He screamed in pain as you dug your fingers deeper into the bullet hole and gripped him by the bone. A chilling smile on your lips-

• "I'm going to patch you up silly~" You say with a sugary sweetness and you began to drag him to your office by holding his literal bone. And slamming the door behind both of you once you secured him in your dungeon.

• The Task Force standing outside your office with wide eyes and a shiver of fear as all they heard was screaming from Soap and yelling from you.

• Price even walking out at hearing the commotion- taking a drag of his cigar as he looked back at his team who were wide eyed like puppys. "What did you lot do?.." He questioned softly.

• The door opened and Soap was shoved out- properly bandged up and looking like he had gotten back from a battle for his life. He looked as white as snow as two yellow pills were throw at his head which he barely caught with his uninjured hand.

• "Next-... I SAID NEXT!" You screamed and Gaz was shoved forward into your office. Clearly the next sacrificial lamb-

• They learned that day that you were going to treat them- liked it or not... and it was best to go to you willingly then be attacked and get stitched up by force...

• That was 4 years ago and you were now a seasoned and crucial member of the team.

• The team respected and adored you, Taking you with them to pubs and just making you one of them. It was amusing to them all, As they were quite large men and yet you the medic was the one that bossed them around to get proper medical care.

• It filled you with a sense of pride.

• Being well trusted, you respected some members wish to be anonymous- For both König and Ghost who you would let them wear different medical mask or roll up their usuals to treat if they managed to injure their face.

• While it was never spoken about, they knew you had access to all their lives and information. Yet had once told them that you had only looked at the medical and personally burned or marketed out the copy of anything that should never be found.

• I.E family names, addresses, or any information you knew they didn't want revealed. They

• Now that they had gotten comforble with you and saw you- It introduced a new problem... they were now always in your damn office and always Injured.

• "How the hell did you get shot in the ass?! Again!?" You yell as you are taking tweezers to Gaz bare ass cheek for the second time that month.

• "How did you cut your chin again?" You mumbled at Ghost as you have his mask rolled up just enough to stitch his chin. Him giving a hum "Shrapnel-" Hearing this you sigh. "You have Shrapnel in you somewhere don't ya?" You pausing your work for just a second to hear Ghost Sigh- aka all the confirmation you needed

• "König- I need you to stay still" You say softly as you try to clean his hands for the 4th time but he kept getting a nervous tick- a uneasy sigh leaves him "Tschuldigung.." He says softly as you set to try again.

• "You're getting another STD panel-" You deadpan at Soap as he stares at you slack jawed. "What I asked for Tylenol!" You stare at him with blank eyes. "STD panel-"

• You and Price both standing next to each other, holding cups of tar black coffee as you open the bottle of extra strong migraine medicine and take 4 before passing it to Peice who takes 5. Silence only looming over you two as you share the medicated bliss.

• You easily stitched up Ghost 4 times a week, Soap you had to constantly relocate his shoulders or legs, Price went to you for migraine medicine nearly every day, König went for hand injuries and something for his anxiety, Gaz seemed to be a Bullet magnet so you had to yank put metal or close up grazes on his body.

• It was like a constant revolving door to your office- And when you went to the field? Oh it was hellish. You packed 4x the amount that normal medics would just for the team. Remembering having to walk barefoot through a forest cause you used every tourniquet you brought and had to use your shoes and your spares.

• But it was worth it. You took pride in your job and loved your team- Hardasses or not

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley x Medic! Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

—

Authors Note: I’m finally updating again 😫, I’ve been busy with my studies and advancing in my Japanese before I leave next year, gotta be prepared and working extra hours for the money 🤪, but either way. I was able to get a few requests completed and will make sure to update as much as I can!

Request: Remember the quest where graves seize all Los Vaqurous (Dunno the spelling sorry- ;-;) and have to kill both ghost and soap? What if Reader who is medic from Ghost Team and Graves saw the potential and decide to have Medic Reader for himself so he seize Reader too. Follow the plot of the game, they got Reader last after saving Alejandro and his team. Happy ending where Reader said "You found me... " and Ghost reply with "I always found you" :D

Warnings: Language, background, reader is a medic, soft ghost, slight angst, mentions of past trauma, Graves is a creep, Spanish language, Price likes reader.

Word Count: 1.9K

Tag: @keera9534

—

—

Y/n was the teams best medic, being picked by Price himself due to knowing how good he was at patching up the team and providing the proper medicine. He first joined the team when Price was in need to medical help after taking a bullet to the abdomen. When they brought him in, the nurses and doctors were far too frantic and full of worry as they ran around the medical wing checking on other wounded soldiers and trying to attend to them, leaving Price with no medical attention. The captain had tried to patch himself up since it wasn’t the first time that he’s gotten injured and had stitched himself up.

But the situation was far worse and the bullet had been lodged inside which made it difficult for Price to get it done himself. It wasn’t until one of the rookies quickly stepped up, attending Price and making sure that he’s given the proper attention. The captain was too drowsy to fight off the rookie due to blood lose that Y/n acted quickly, ignoring Prices cursing and pained groans while he worked on his wound, using the proper tools to remove the bullet and get him stitched up.

Price noticed how fast the rookie worked and how quick he is to stitch and patch him up. The captain was left in surprise and impressed by his work only for the rookie to get in trouble by doing something he wasn’t stationed to do. That same day Price took interest in the rookie and asked Laswell about him, getting his records and reading into his life and finding out that the young man had gone to the best medical schools and ended up here.

The kid was reckless, but knew what he was doing and Price liked that.

Y/n was the first to be recruited by Price, getting trained in combat and how to handle a gun in order to keep himself alive while out on the field with the others. After a few months Price later brings in Ghost into the team, scaring the poor rookie when they first met. The doctor found him intimidating due to his silence and the skull mask he wore, rarely talking to Y/n whenever the two were in the same room or whenever he was patching him up.

The two only spoke whenever they were on missions, but never in private.

The doctor figured that he wouldn’t be getting along with Ghost for really long time since they rarely spoke, only for that to change when one of the soldiers that he was helping started hitting on him. Flirting with him and finding excuses to see him whenever he was injured and the doctor grew irritated by it. It all happened when the Solider grew upset with Y/n ignoring his snarky flirting, cornering him and growing desperate only for Ghost to randomly appear behind man and pull him away from the doctor.

Ghost had given the man a deadly look that frightened the man easily and was quick to scurry away. Y/n appreciated Ghosts help and offered to buy him a drink as a thank you which Ghost easily accepts, giving the two a chance to finally talk with each other out of base and non work related. That night was all it took in order for their feelings to grow, sometimes tip towing around each other, but it was clear as day that the two liked each other deeply.

Their relationship deepened as the years went by to the point where they ended up dating for a two years, working together in the field along with Gaz, Soap, and Price. The three knew how inseparable both Ghost and Y/n were that it wasn’t a surprise when they were assigned to work under the Shadow Company, getting the know Graves who they followed orders from.

His time working with the Shadow company was strange. Y/n sensed that something wasn’t right when he was grounded by Graves and to stay in base and work as a doctor from there, which he did not like. Their were times where he tried to get in communication with Ghost and to tell him about the strange feeling he was getting only for his requests to speak with the lieutenant to be rejected which only made the feeling worse.

It wasn’t until the night that Graves decided to go against them that all hell broke loose.

The alarms of the base were going off and the sounds of shouting and protests were being heard.

Y/n was rushing out of the medical room, looking around with confusion and worry as a few soldiers were running around the place. “Que esta pasando?” He asks one of the soldiers running down the hallways as they quickly tell him that they are being rounded up in the main lobby. It doesn’t really reassure him about the alarms going off and heads towards the lobby.

“Round them up!”

“Get them in the cells!”

He stands over the lobby to see Graves shadows rounding up Alejandros men, pointing their guns at them and forcing them into cells. The image alone lets him be aware of what is going on, noticing one of the Shadows spotting him and calling out. “We have one on the balcony!”

“Shit!” Y/n is quick to duck down when they shoot their guns at him, making him run out of sight and trying to find a way out of base without getting killed.

He’s able to make it down the first floor without being detected only to turn the corner and come face to face with Graves. “Easy, doc.” He says while grabbing him by the arms, stopping his struggles when he noticed three shadows behind Graves and armed. “I ain’t gonna hurt you doc, your far too special.” Said Graves as Y/n glared at him, gritting his teeth in anger as he pulls his arm away from his hold. “I knew something was bad about you.” He points out while his eyes remain on Graves, keeping a close eye on him as the man chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s already too late. Your friends are probably dead by now since my shadows are hunting them down as we speak.”

Y/n scoffs. “I guess your leaving me for last to kill?”

Graves grins. “Oh. Oh no, you—“ He takes a slow step forward while Y/n takes one back. “You I will keep, your a good doctor and I will be needing you for sure, but for now I need to make sure you don’t escape.” Graves signals the three shadows towards Y/n, “Lock him up, separated from the others while I clean up this mess.”

Y/n takes a step back from the shadows and tries to fight back, kicking and punching them only for them to grab him by the arms and wrists and pining him against the wall, grunting and glaring before he’s dragged away from Graves who only watched with a sinister smirk on his face. He’s taken to his own cell, tossed inside without a care while they locket the door on him.

“Son of a bitch!” He shouts, slamming his firsts against the metal door and pulling on the handle, knowing that it wouldn’t work already. “I swear to god when I get out of here I am going to kill you!” He goes on, throwing out his own threats to anyone who can hear him. He doesn’t forget Graves’ words and how he was hunting down his team for all he knows both Soap and Ghost could be dead, but refuses to believe it. Soap was a great shot and Ghost.

Well, he was something else.

A simple shadow couldn’t kill him.

Simon had been through far worse condition. When they were a few months into their relationship and the trust between the two was growing, Simon had gained the courage to finally talk to Y/n about his past. When Simon told him about his time as a kid and the way his father treated him made the doctor realize how bad his life really was and the reason why he joined the British military. Y/n didn’t judge Simon nor did he ever bring up his traumas whenever they were alone, only thinking about it in silence.

Their conversation deepened their bond and the two grew closer than ever.

While Y/n paced around the room he tries to figure out a way out of this cell, checking every crook and cranny as his fingers skim over the barred windows only to curser under his breath when he doesn’t find anything. “Dammit, Alejandro this place is sealed.” He mumbled out to himself.

He checks under the bed, hoping to find anything that could help him and crawls underneath. “This could work.” He finds the metal bed frame to be rusty, crawling out and using his strength to kick a piece off, groaning with each kick until the metal piece falls off, taking it in his hand and working quickly to scrape it against the concrete floor, sharpening it enough to use as a weapon.

Before he could finish up the sound of gun shots is heard from outside his cell, causing him to freeze as the alarms of the base are going off again. He doesn’t stop to think and quickly continues to sharpen the metal and quickly finished up. He holds it in his hand tight while standing close to the doorway, preparing for anyone who comes in.

The sound of gun shots grows louder, hearing muffled shouts in the background as he keeps his eyes on the metal door. The sound of tumbling bodies gets him alerted while holding up the sharpened metal piece, moving closer to the door as chains rattle on the other end, he pressed himself against the corner as the door is prided open.

The doctor doesn’t think and is quick to react, swinging his arm down at the shadow entering his cell, but his hit us quickly blocked. He kicks his leg and brings him down on his knee, using his other arm to wrap around his neck and hold the sharpened blade against his neck.

“Y/n!”

The sound of a familiar voice gets his attention, looking up to see Simon standing on the other side of the door along with Rudy and Alejandro who stared with wide eyes by how fast he is to defend himself. “Ghost?” He breaths out, looking down to see who he has in a headlock only to see Soap. “Shit, Soap—“ He quickly lets go of him and lowered down his own weapon.

“No worries, mate. Understandable reaction.” Said Soap with a nervous laugh while slowly getting up from where he kneeled.

“I thought…” Y/n starts, eyes focused on Ghost who approached him slowly, taking the blade from his hand and tossing it aside while the doctor stares at Ghost. “I didn’t think you’d come for me.” He whispers and Ghost gives off a soft chuckle. “I’ll always come for you.” He responds back, reminding the doctor that he would never leave him behind.

“Come on, lets get out of here and get somewhere safe.” Alejandro is quick to speak up while they leave the cell and help out Alejandro’s man out of their own cells. “Here.” Ghost reached for one of his pistols and hands it to Y/n who takes it into his own hands and cocks the gun. “Why do I get the small one?” He pouts out, getting a reaction from the other man who rolled his eyes. “You’ll get a bigger one once we are out of here.” Y/n chuckled softly at his response. “That’s a promise.” He whispers loud enough for Ghost to hear before following the others out, getting them to safety.

[rpreaperperson]

MOM

Reader is a combat medic, a BIG sweeth tooth and a mother to 141 boys (dont forget can cook too) a waifu material

In case with Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

MasterList

Warning!!: jelly and OOC Ghost, and jelly Soap

You grunt from your chair stretching your arm up, exhausted with the examination paper that one of the nurses gave you

“guess I need a little snack time..” after tidying up the paper you walk into the door and think of what will you make for your snack time

As you open the door there in the doorway stands a tall man with his skull balaclava on his head, you jump a little placing your hand on your chest

“Oh my God..!!” you gasp

‘Seriously this man going to be death of me’ you thought while calming down your heartbeat

“Doc” he casually greets looking down at you

“Simon! what’s wrong? you need something?” you notice his eyes narrowing

“.....I heard Johnny got some sweets”

“Uhh..yeah..well like the usual Johnny, right? I mean is not unsual for him to got a sweets from me” you tried to explain the strict Lieutenant, remembering the first time you gave him sweets after Gaz, Soap, and Price

You could say that he is...

“you know the drill Doc”

“must you always do that Simon?” you could almost feel him smirk under that balaclava planning something devious

“..hmp of course he’s the one who brags about it” Ghost crossing his arm on his chest

...Quite delight especially when that time you cook for them

 “Fine...” you sigh shaking your head, both of you heading to the kitchen

.

“Chocolate cake? or cheese cake?”

“Chocolate one”

“Okay..guess I have make it for – “

“NO I WANT IT ALL TO MYSELF” his gruff voice boomed as he glared at you

“okay..okay hun! Geez..what happen that make you like this Simon?” you ask while preparing the utensils and the ingredients

“Jhonny fault for swaying the sweets you gave ‘im in front of my face...tauntingly” he leans on the counter watching you preparing the cake, you glance at him and sigh tiredly

“of course..Jhonny you’re the source of it all”

“dont forget you’re the one who spoil ‘im”grunt Ghost

“well..being the oldest one and having 5 ‘lil brothers will doing it to you” Ghost just huffs, he already knows about your family condition a part of him feels envy...but then he is in love with your motherly side enough for him wanting to married you

“Im waiting Doc...” you just hummed at him fully concentrating on the task, Ghost just stared at you fondly

He knows that you didn’t want any help when you making something for the rest of the team, and says that they only making it worse so he makes the tea instead

.

.

“mhh..good as always Doc”

“ehehe thanks Simon~”

Then in the hallway Soap who had just done from his training smelled a delicious scent, rushing into the kitchen his body hunching nose sniffed around the room like a dog searching for the source of the scent

“DOC! Y-you make something?” he cried out at you who now cleaning up the utensils, if he has a dog's tail you bet it’ll wag excitedly right now

“Uhh..yeah..” you pointed at Ghost who was busy munching the medium size chocolate cake with his balaclava pulled up to the bridge of his nose, both Ghost and Soap stared at each other

The lieutenant squinting his eyes at Soap, while the Scottish man stared at the half-eaten cake

“Ohhh~ LT, you’re – “ Soap swaying way to the cake tried to persuade Ghost to share, and...

HAUMPH

“Mmmhh...ish gooddd..”

Your eyes widen in disbelief so does Soap with jaw open wide his bulk arm reaches the cake.. trying to reach the cake, crushing his hope and dream into dust

“sorry Soap not gonna happen...” wiping the chocolate from his mouth, taking his cup of tea

“Appreciate the cake Doc, its delicious as always” he approaching you

“always?!” Soap shriek snap his head at you

“u-uh yeah y-you’re wel – “suddenly he kisses your cheek while staring at Soap tauntingly then pulled down his balaclava and walking away from the scene, with a blushing face you touch the cheeks he kisses

‘Oh dear...he’s REALLY gonna be death of me..’

Soap stand there fuming not just eating the whole cake in front him, he just kiss YOUR cheeks?!

‘oh..its on now...LT’  you sigh glance at Soap

‘maybe I’ll gave him mine instead’

[vixezn]

Yandere! Wally Darling x Medic! Reader

🩹 - When he first saw you, he was excited that the neighborhood has gotten a new friend!

🩹 - After you settled in, he was quick to visit you! Your house looked so interesting, it was obvious you were special.

🩹 - As he walked in, the first thing he noticed was how many doctor supplies there were! 

🩹 - When he found out that you liked taking care of others and had medical supplies on hand, he found it adorable!

🩹 - Sooner or later, he was enamored with you! You were just so thoughtful! You even changed the saying ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away’ to ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor close’, just for him! 

🩹 - (He felt so special when you told him why you said that, made him fall even more in love!)

🩹 - You fit in with the neighborhood so quickly! You were the missing piece! 

🩹 - You tried to join in on other people’s hobbies, like Julie’s jump roping, Sally’s acting, and even Wally’s painting! But you always cared too much to do so! Oh, don’t trip on the sidewalk! You’re standing a bit too close to stage’s edge! Oh my gosh, is that red paint or blood? Go wash yourself off!

🩹 - Wally loves it when you take care of him! Giving him ice packs, asking him to sleep better, To go outside, To not stare at them when they sleep! Oh, he loves the attention you give him!

🩹 - He loves it so much that he would pretend to be hurt just so you could give him a bandaid or an ice pack! He has a whole drawer full of the leftover bandaids you’ve given him, he just can’t throw them away, they’re from you!

🩹 - Since you can’t tell the different between red paint and blood (You grew up without any painting supplies), he uses that to his advantage! Oh no, he went to the picnic with a little red on his knee? Better need another bandaid!

🩹 - If/when you finally realize the difference between red paint and blood, you disregard any time he comes to hang out with it.

🩹 - And he absolutely hates that he lost some of your attention! Does he need to get hurt on purpose?..Does he need to use someone else’s blood?

🩹 - When he complained to Home, he realized a way to get all of your attention! When he asked Home about it, Home agreed to help him! Such a wonderful friend, Home is!

🩹 - When he asked you you hang out at his place to paint, you were ecstatic! Hanging out with a close friend, who wouldn’t?

🩹 - At his place, he asked you to go replace the water, third room down the hall!

🩹 - When you got to his bathroom to replace the water, you just couldn’t help and check to see if he has enough medical supplies, what if someone got hurt and you weren’t around?

🩹 - As you opened the drawer, you were surprised to see it full of.. used bandaids? What? When you looked closely, they were all yours that you gave him!

🩹 - You checked the next drawer and there were just photos upon photos of you. You staggered back and hit a smaller body behind you.

🩹 - “Hello, friend. I see you were just a little.. too curious, weren’t you?” He giggled, before something swung at beside your head.

🩹 - He felt gravely sorry for hurting you, but he needed to help you get settled in his place without struggle! Oh dear, the gash on your head seems serious..

🩹 - But he was sure you could help yourself with healing up! After all, you’re really good at that.

OSNSKDMSND I TAKE REQUESTS 

[knightprincess]

Magic Medic (Part 2 of 3) - The 104th

Words: 2k Note: This part includes the OC Iseult Devitt.

"Here we go again," commented Comet as he entered the Wolf Pack's barracks on Christophsis. The latest orders came through for all personnel, Clones, Civvi, and Jedi. Along with it came the regular confusion regarding the civvi medics. It was again revolving around their favorite, Iseult Devitt.

"What's up?" called Warthog from across the room. He was lounging across his bunk, his arms resting behind his head. Sinker and Boost attempted to paint something on the durasteel walls, although it was anyone's guess what it was meant to be. Perhaps it was a loth wolf or maybe a crystal fox.

"According to the latest orders, we get Iseult back," began Comet, interrupted by Boost celebrating the news that the sarcastic medic would be among their ranks again. Wolffe would be happy, at least when he wasn't protesting and attempting to argue with her. "But she's also supposed to stay with the 501st too."

"Wasn't she supposed to be on Commando tour for her last rotation?" asked Sinker, dropping the paintbrush and spray paint he'd previously held. "Maybe Wolffe knows. He seems to like stalking her as of late," he added, quickly fleeing behind a durasteel crate upon noticing Wolffe already in the room. He was quietly completing the overdue paperwork at the nearby desk.

"Wolffe doesn't know," replied the Commander, without lifting his head or taking the attention away from the reports and other paperwork he'd neglected for months. "She's as much a mystery to me as she is to everyone else."

"Didn't get far with the stalking, huh?" called Warthog, ignoring the glare Wolffe all but threw at him. "I dare say she's got under the skin of others too. How can she not with that devious charm," added the pilot, chuckling at the thought of others having to deal with the quick wit, sarcasm, and overall loud personality. Iseult was a flirt, a playful one, but a flirt nonetheless.

"Imma comm Jesse, see if he knows what's going on," Comet said, reaching for the communication device he had previously abandoned at the end of his bunk. Hope shimmered in his eyes. The boys of the 501st would know something or at least be able to help solve the seemingly endless mystery.

"Maybe Iseult's a clone like us?" Boost yelled excitedly, hoping he had found an answer to their bugging mystery. After all, they'd all witnessed the sarcastic medic seemingly teleporting, and the Jedi had, too, although they didn't seem overly bothered by it or, if they were, didn't show it.

"That brings up more questions than answers," spoke Wolffe as if to shut the absurd theory down before it took on a life of its own. "Who is she a clone of? Who cloned her? How many are there?" listed the commander, forcing the wolf pack to think over the logic before getting behind the Iseult clone idea.

"Kaminoans, they made all of us after all," replied Warthog as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. "Wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. They've done work for others, too."

"If that were the case, we would have seen Iseult clones wondering Tipoca City as we did as cadets," grumbled Comet, anguished to be the one to shut down the clone theory. "How many Iseults are there anyway?" he asked; he knew there were at least two after the Rex date incident. One had stood either side of him, at least before Rex appeared from his detour, then one disappeared as if she'd not been there in the first place.

"I swear there is more than six," said Sinker confidently. "What, there is. We have our Iseult, the deviously flirt one here with us; the 501st have the angel; the Guard kept being tormented by the one they call the minx; Clone Force 99 have a sarcastic one of their own; the 212th has the nerdy one, and the naughty version has pestered Howzer," he listed as if to add evidence to Boost's earlier claim of clones.

"Don't forget the playful one that keeps winding Gregor up," added Wolffe, chuckling to himself upon remembering Fox's rant about the Iseult minx, how he swore the seemingly ordinary medic just come and went as she pleased. "327th, 41st, and 13th haven't been affected yet," continued the commander, curious if there was truth behind the claim of clones or if it was all an elaborate and well-thought-out prank of some kind.

"Hey, how come they get away scot-free?" questioned Boost, almost offended by the idea the three battalions, in particular, had seemingly escaped the chaos. "Scratch that they don't know what they're missing," he added, quickly changing his tune. The Iseult clones had brought endless mystery, curiosity, and distraction when they needed it most.

"Maybe she's some form of artificial intelligence," mumbled Warthog, hiding beneath his pillow the moment the idea he quickly determined as dumb passed his lips.

"Iseult … a droid?" began Comet, a grin painting on his lips to hear Wolffe bellow out with laughter. The idea was horrendous, but at least it brought their tormented Commander some amusement. "Honestly, that would explain why she crashed into the wall and seemed perplexed by rayshields."

"Doesn't explain why Howzer wasn't knocked senseless when she clobbered him, though," replied Wolffe, recalling witnessing the act. Howzer was drunk and slurring his words, believing he was complimenting Iseult; instead, he'd offended her. She'd quickly told him so by whacking him upside the head before walking away. "First and last time he insulted her."

"And we're only just hearing about it now?" replied Boost, sitting on the crates to the side of the masterpiece he and Sinker had been working on.

"Jesse said their angel has a different name," called Comet, puzzlement painting on his features. "Said there one is called (Y/N)," he added before determining the boys in blue were simply ribbing them again. No doubt, it was revenge for the howling prank some months before.

"Two medics with different names but the same identification number?" started Warthog, looking over to Wolffe as if to confirm that he, too, was baffled by the mistake. "Either there was a massive mistake, there are clones under the same number but different names, or we're missing something," he added, noting when Wolffe didn't seem all that bothered. He was amused, yes, but not bothered as much as one would have thought.

"I'm contacting Iseult," spoke Boost, reaching for his communications device with the hope the medic in question could solve their perplexing mystery. Maybe answer their questions about how she could be in so many places simultaneously.

"She's with the frat boys," growled Wolffe, as if remembering the other troopers who seemed just as attached to Iseult. Three of them never failed to flirt with her when the chance arose. The other always seemed to be in a playful banter war with her. "Set to return to Coruscant just after us unless they rerouted to Kamino or given another assignment," he added with a low grumble.

"At least we know she can be in two places at once," worded Warthog, "Comet said she was with the 501st, and we know from her she was assigned to the havoc lot," he added, managing to stifle his laughter at the thought of their Iseult causing just as much if not more chaos than the combined experimental unit.

"Iseult, my favorite sarcastic medic," began Boost when the attempt at making a holo call connected. Iseult's video feed appeared along with the boys of Clone Force 99, or at least two of them. Tech and Hunter. One twirled a vibroblade, and the other fiddled with a circuit board.

"Boost my favorite lunatic," replied Iseult, a smile on her lips. "Don't tell me one of you boys lost a limb. While I've been away," she added so casually that it was like complimenting someone.

"We were hoping you could help us with your mystery," called Warthog, moving to sit on the bunk below his own. At the same time, both Hunter and Tech appeared to pay a little more attention, as if the Iseult mystery had been a topic that haunted them, too.

"Iseult mystery?" enquired Tech, intrigued by the news of such mystery surrounding their medic.

"They think Iseult is a clone," grumbled Wolffe, his voice more brutal than intended. Despite that, Iseult's laughter came through loud and clear.

"Not heard that one before," admitted the civvi medic, a bright smile upon her lips. "A new favorite me thinks," she added.

"Did float the idea of you being a droid too, but none of our theories make sense," voiced Comet, witnessing as Warthog once again hid beneath the nearest pillow, still embarrassed by the idea. Even if Wolffe once again chuckled at the amusement.

"They're trying to work out how I can be in two places at once," spoke Iseult, cluing the pair of enhanced clones into the mystery and rather imaginative ideas they'd come to answer it. "And your answer is super simple, boys. I use magic."

"Iseult two said the same thing," Comet answered upon hearing the answer. "Jesse said Angel Iseult and Rex were up to something, too," he added as if trying to gauge if there was indeed more to the mystery than met the eye.

"There has been no documented case of civilians using magic to …" began Tech before Iseult wrapped a hand over his mouth, a sweet smile as she did so. At first, Tech seemed startled but didn't appear to protest further, instead glancing over to Hunter as if silently calling for aid.

"Angel Iseult and Rex are working on the final touches of a plan of mass pandemonium," sweetly replied Iseult. However, a mischief glint lit up her eyes, suggesting there was far more than met the eye, and the answer to their seemingly complex mystery was simple and something all thrust far missed.

"Remind me to remind Wolffe to interrogate her when we all get back to Coruscant," said Sinker when the call ended. This time, Wolffe looked around in confusion, not entirely understanding why he needed to interrogate their favorite medic.

"Forget that," started Warthog, suspecting Wolffe knew something they didn't. Perhaps he had other ideas he'd yet to share. After all, when the commander lost his eye, Iseult was the one to patch him back up again. "What do you know about Iseult?" asked the pilot, side-eyeing his commander as if to gauge the reaction he got. "And what she's up to?"

"What she's up to, not a clue," replied Wolffe, admitting his innocence when it come to the pandemonium planned, although he could make an educated guess on where it would take place. Either at the military base or 79, depending on her mood. "As for what I know about her, what's in her file, and a couple of her favorite things," he added as if attempting to hide the relationship that had bloomed between the two of them. She'd succeeded in getting him to ignore rules that prevented him from being like any other being in the galaxy, and she'd helped him find who he was outside of being a soldier.

"We're gonna be invited to the wedding, right?" asked Sinker, ignoring the heated glare expertly thrown his way, at least before the deer caught in headlights look painted on Wolffe's features. "Yeah, you're even less subtle than Iseult," he added with a wide grin.

"Cute though, our medic of magic tamed our commander," added Boost, as if he were a hopeless romantic waiting for his chance at love.

"You watch too many romance films and series on the holonet," replied Wolffe, returning his attention to the reports demanding to be done, at least before they become more of a burden and punishment than they already were.

"We miss her too," started Comet, knowing all the theories and playful banter that revolved around Iseult was their way of filling the gap she left behind when she was not with them. "Tell her that when you see her next," he added, receiving a small, subtle nod from Wolffe in confirmation of the task placed before him.

"Better yet, give her a kiss from us," called Warhog, darting from the bunk he'd been perched on, launching toward the refresher door in the hopes of getting there before Wolffe caught and strangled him.

Part 1 - Part 3 Knight Princess Masterlist

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Chapter I

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

Simon Riley and his pathetic efforts to get close to the new medic will earn him a scar or two

or

Simon Riley is crushing on an uninterested, tired medic.

''I don't mean to be rude, but I'm getting tired of seeing you here.'' Your blunt words are met with a quiet chuckle, the masked man looking up at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

'' 'M trying not to get injured, bird.'' Oh, but he isn't. He's actively getting injured just so he can drop by and get your help. It's stupid, really, how his obsession with you began. He thinks about the first time he saw you, standing right next to Price, an unamused expression as he went on and on about his team, telling you stories of their missions and time together and despite how bored you looked, your attention was solely on him.

He took that chance to look at you, to truly admire you, noticing the way you pull up your glasses every few minutes even when they're not sliding down your nose, the way your eyes were focused only on Price, paying attention to no one but him, legs crossed while sitting next to Price, your face resting on your hand.

''Clearly not trying hard enough.'' He can't help the way his cock twitches at your bored tone, the small frown on your lips just making him think how pretty you'd look with his cum all over your face— he shakes his head softly, trying to get his mind out of the gutter, focusing on the fast and professional work you're doing on his injured arm, pulling the skin back together with a beautifully done stitchwork.

''It's hard being out there.'' He tries to make conversation and all you can do is hum in acknowledgement, gaze focused on the way the needle digs into his skin, coming out of the other side just to be pulled back together with the thin, transparent thread.

''Y'know Gaz was hanging from a chopper by a bloody rope?'' He knows you're close to Gaz, he has seen you talk to him often, and so he tries to desperately make conversation again.

''Scared the shit out o' the old man.'' His efforts work as a small snicker escapes your lips, stopping working on his stitches as you collected yourself. You look up at him with an amused glint in your eyes, nodding your head. God, he has never seen something quite as beautiful.

''Cap told me about it. Poor guy had his whole waist bruised.'' You let out another small laugh before turning your attention back to the deep cut in his arm.

''If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're getting injured on purpose.'' His heart almost stops as your cold eyes look back up at his, an eyebrow raised, yet there's a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you notice his lack of response.

'' 'M not.'' Is all he can say, the knowing look you give him enough to make his blood boil, traveling all the way down to his throbbing cock, thankful for the black hoodie sprawled across his lap to prevent the blood from leaking into his jeans. You ignore all the... beige flags, knowing he's not stupid enough to actually get injured on purpose. You finish stitching him up, throwing away the tools used and the bloodied gloves.

''Keep the wound dry for 24 hours, if any of the stitches come off or the wound opens, come to me.'' You softly pat his shoulders, a small yawn escaping your lips as you look up at the clock on the wall; 0200.

''Tired?'' He asks sarcastically, earning him a way-too-hard pat on the shoulder. Simon woke you up at 2 in the morning, claiming his wound couldn't wait. It wasn't even as bad as he made it seem, though you appreciate your work with the TF141 more than you let on, so you decided to help him. It isn't the first time he wakes you up at outrageous hours, claiming to need help for things ranging from a pathetic paper cut to a gunshot wound. This time, his arm was the only thing affected, a cut big enough to need stitches.

''Very. Now get out.'' Your hand sneaks into the back of his uniform, tugging softly and he gets the message, standing up and allowing you to guide him out of your office like he's a child. He doesn't care if it's you.

''Goodnight, Simon.'' You can barely keep your eyes open and he feels a slight sense of guilt at keeping you up, knowing you'll have to be awake again in less than 3 hours.

''Night, Doc.''

[NEXT]

[my-writings-and-musings]

Earthspark Bumblebee x Medic!Reader

It's time for more soft Bumblebee x Reader content because the world always needs more. This one has Medic!Reader patching Bee up after the events of episode 18, so if you haven't seen that far ahead then spoilers!!

You'd never seen him remain in power down for so long, but considering the shape Bumblebee had been in when you first saw him, you didn't begrudge the Scout a well deserved rest. Even if it had come at the expense of your own…

Unable to sleep for many reasons, you checked your phone for the time, and couldn't stop your tired eyes from widening as you saw it was already close to five in the evening. Considering the Maltos had called you around six or so in the morning, that meant you'd been in the Dugout for over ten hours. It was impossible to believe so much had happened since that first slightly panicky call from Dot; just her synopsis of the series of events that had led to an unconscious, injured Bumblebee in the Dugout had taken the entirety of the half hour drive from your home to theirs. You'd pushed the terrifying details of underground bot fights to the side in favor of focusing on your patient, who only had you until Ratchet could return from his current mission across the globe and find a way to meet him somewhere clandestine for more secret repairs.

Though you were far from confident working on your own, you'd patched up the worst of the Scout's injuries to the very best of your abilities, and were at least certain it would cause him no further pain. Unfortunately you didn't have the tools to repair his armor completely, and GHOST would have had questions if you dropped by on your day off to grab the necessary supplies. Technically that meant you'd done everything you could for Bumblebee at the moment, but you still couldn't bring yourself to leave. A subtle twitch along his frame from what you assumed was a dream made you smile, affection and protective instinct rising up inside you.

In your defense, you hadn't seen Bee much since the events at the Racetrack. Between your job patching up the bots and the need to keep GHOST in the dark, you'd had little time to speak over covert channels and none to arrange a meeting of any kind. All you'd really been able to confirm was that he was alive, and that Optimus had a distant optic on him. This chance to sit with him on his berth and ensure he got the care he required was something you needed more than you cared to admit.

Not especially concerned about your own sleepiness, you pushed down a yawn and walked to the head of the berth where the Malto kids had lovingly piled a mountain of pillows beneath their beloved teacher's helm. You couldn't help but smile again at the utterly adorable sight and everything that had led up to it. Goodness, the kids had been so worried for his sake, asking repeatedly if there was anything they could do to help. It had taken a solid five minutes of assurances before they'd finally left you to your work, and that was only after you'd allowed them to ensure he was tucked in and comfortable. Looking over the mass mosaic of human sized blankets they'd stacked over the scout warmed your heart. 

A soft murmur in his sleep and a resulting twitch of his arm prompted you to check your work for the umpteenth time, lest Bumblebee wake to any pain or discomfort that you might have missed previously, and you kneeled by his side without a word for a better look. Using as little pressure as possible, you brushed your fingertips over the warped metal with a small cringe of sympathy as you traced the outline left by the massive tooth that had cracked right through his armor. It wasn't the only ugly injury he'd endured since your last meeting. You had noticed countless others at various stages of healing, telling you the Scout had been living a rough life since his recent fateful encounter with GHOST. The sympathy you felt was matched only by boundless hatred for your backwards employer.

Hearing a small hitch in his peaceful snores, you withdrew your hands in fear you'd caused unwanted pain, but a shift of his helm and a twitch of his doorwings signaled the mech was waking up regardless. Before you could move back to a more respectable distance, Bumblebee opened his optics with a bit of a start.

"Who's there?" he slurred in a rush, accustomed to waking up on alert but still far too bleary to be intimidating. You merely waved and remained where you were, giving his optics a moment to adjust to the dim lighting before they settled on you and lit up in recognition. 

"Hey, sleepyhead." you greeted gently, trying so hard to keep the overwhelming emotions out of your voice. As happy as you'd been to see him at all, being in his presence again for the first time in weeks had your heart absolutely aching. Goodness, it was impossible to put into words just how deeply you'd missed him. 

"Y/N?" he said with more clarity, the shock of seeing you bringing more of his processor online. Catching himself, he cleared his vents and backtracked into the far more formal register you two used when others might overhear, rolling onto his side and lifting his upper body to face you at a more respectable distance. "Sorry, I mean, uh, Doctor Y/N." 

You held up your hands to encourage him to relax, chuckling softly at the little song and dance the two of you maintained to keep your relationship secret. "You can drop that, it's just us."

Bumblebee sighed in a small measure of relief, doorwings relaxing on his back as he looked past you to the dim room beyond. "Where-?" he cut off as soon as his sharp optics traced the details of his private room, which had been left untouched after his sudden departure. A flurry of emotions passed over his face, confusion chief among them, and he furrowed his brows in concentration as he searched his still halfway offline processor for answers. Questions started spilling forth when he turned back to you. "How did I get back to the Dugout? Isn't GHOST keeping this place under wraps? What about the-?"

Talking through his thoughts allowed enough memories to resurface for Bee to connect the pieces, and before you could offer any kind of explanation or assurance his face lit up with alarm and he sat upright with enough force to send multiple blankets and pillows flying across the room.

"The kids!" he cried out in a near panic, looking ready to throw himself off the berth and charge out to face any potential threat to his family. "Are they okay? The last thing I remember is Mandroid-"

Medical training to keep a patient calm kicked into gear. You stood upright and held up your hands to get his attention as quickly as you could, trying not to slip on the tangled nest of blankets in your hurry.

"They're all grounded, but they're fine!" you explained as soon as his optics were on you, quieting your voice when the news allowed him to sigh and sit back in open relief. Considering how his night had gone, you didn't blame him for the panic. Between his injuries, Mandroid returning, the danger to the kids… It seemed best to give him a very simplified summary of what had happened after he'd passed out.

"They had to tell Dot and Alex about you so they could call me, but you only needed a patch job and a few infusions." you explained, leaving out the whirlwind of emotions you'd pushed through while providing his care. Seeing the bot you adored after weeks apart, only to have him presented unconscious and dangerously low on energon with fresh injuries to boot, had been a little much for your exhausted brain to endure at the crack of dawn. It hadn't helped that you'd been unable to get any sleep since thanks to your nagging concern, and you had to smother a yawn just to finish talking. "Thankfully I'm off duty for today, so I've been able to keep an eye on you."

Bumblebee went quiet for a moment to process, optics averting in thought before the information settled and he shook his helm with a somewhat heavy sigh. Returning his gaze to you, he replaced his thoughtful frown with a soft and somewhat bashful smile, emotions reserved as always.

"Sorry about your day off." he said quietly, somehow conveying his boundless gratitude for all you'd done in the form of a humble apology. 

You chuckled, but the words broke a dam within you, cracking right through your efforts to stay strong and allowing a flood of emotions to wash over your heart. The two of you had been close for a while, had been more than friends longer than anyone knew, but these past few weeks and especially the previous twelve hours had made it abundantly clear just how deeply you cared for this mech. Though you weren't quite ready for the "L" word yet, you weren't sure how you'd ever handle losing him, and even this brief scare had made it abundantly apparent the very idea terrified you. It was far too much to process on so little sleep.

Thankful for the dim lighting, you bit down on a quivering lip for as long as you could before the ache became too much to bear. Abandoning a playful quip in reply, you threw your arms about his neck for a hug, something you'd never before been brave enough to do. Bumblebee startled and made what sounded like a gasp of surprise, but made no effort to move away. The hum of his spark was tangible against your skin, and you welcomed it with a sound of pained relief. You allowed your voice to crack as you drank in every little bit of his presence. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Before embarrassment could make you doubt the gesture of affection, a sizable arm tenderly wrapped about your tiny form, his warm armor all but enshrouding you as he pulled you close. You allowed a few tears to splash against his yellow paint, sighing as the world finally seemed to make sense for the first time in weeks. It wasn't clear how long the two of you stayed like that before you rediscovered your voice. "It's really good to see you again, Bee. I missed you."

"I missed you too." he replied softly, thumb stroking comfortingly up and down your back as he took his time letting you go. When he finally did so it was only partly, his grip loosening but his hand staying on your back as he leaned away to look at you while he spoke. Regret was heavy in every syllable. "I would have tried to send more messages, or visit, but-"

"I know, Optimus has kept me in the loop." you said, interrupting only to prevent him from blaming himself further. You allowed your hands to linger on his shoulders, the divot of a somewhat fresh scar bumping against your fingers as you did so, bringing back a host of worries that had followed you for weeks. "I've been so worried they'd hurt you, or catch you, or-"

It was his turn to interrupt out of concern. "Hey, I'm fine now, right?" he said playfully, slipping a hand beneath your chin. The touch warmed your heart, especially as he guided you to look up at him with the gentlest lift of his digits. His face softened in the way it often did when he opened up, optics brightening and flicking away as the faintest hint of a pink flush bloomed across his cheeks. "Thanks to you, anyway."

The praise hit its mark, and you dropped your gaze to hide a reciprocal blush, unsure how the two of you had gotten so soft for one another. Perhaps the absence had made all your tiptoeing around seem foolish now that the stakes were clarified. If the two of you could lose each other any day, what good did it do to hide and delay?

In addition to melting your heart, his words pinged a medical protocol in the back of your mind, and your concern couldn't help but gently steer the conversation to his care. A careful hand on his guided the attention there first. "You'll still need some reconstruction, I'm not big or strong enough to handle that without my tools." you explained, being a bit more openly tender than usual as you traced your fingers over the welds you'd applied to clean up the mangled armor and mesh. Bumblebee looked ready to reply with a compliment to counteract your matter of fact assessment, but you cut him off, the strain of so much emotional turmoil on just a few hours of sleep making you quite weary. It took everything not to yawn as you spoke. "You should also keep resting up, I can tell you've been pushing it lately."

Bumblebee didn't argue, but you knew from experience he would catch that you were tired, and as soon as he opened his mouth you were proven correct. "Maybe, but I bet you could use some sleep too." 

"I'm fine. I'll sleep later." you assured with a wave of your hand, hoping to get him back in power down before it became too difficult to hide the full extent of your exhaustion. You knew it was futile now that Bee had figured you out, but you still had to try. It was simply impossible for you to just admit you had needs without being pushed.

"If I need rest, so do you." Bumblebee countered as expected, and for once his gentle concern cut right through your walls. Before you could nod and suggest grabbing some of the many pillows and blankets to construct yourself a makeshift bed in the corner, the Scout cleared his vents and made a small space beside himself, one perfectly sized for you. His voice faltered through an adorable attempt to sound smooth. "There's… plenty of room on this berth."

It was impossible to deny how perfectly you'd fit in the space between his arm and his chest, or how warm and safe you'd feel getting some much needed sleep beside his spark, but before you could reply Bumblebee finally noticed the ridiculous abundance of blankets and pillows that had been layered around him. "There's also plenty of… pillows and blankets too… why… why are there so many-?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself, a bit too loopy from a lack of sleep to explain how his students had gone to great efforts to ensure he was comfortable. "Very long story." 

"Sounds like something for after we wake up." he said with a soft chuckle, able to hazard a guess as to how he'd ended up cocooned. Nodding in agreement, you allowed yourself to yawn and give your eyes a sleepy rub, suddenly unable to resist curling up and letting your body get the rest it needed. It hardly mattered that your sleep schedule would be a mess when this was done. 

Bumblebee shifted backwards to make more room, awkwardness returning as he tried to ensure you had a comfortable spot with plenty of space. "Here, let me uh… oh!"

Too tired to feel any kind of embarrassment, you plopped down just beside his chassis, facing his front and resting your head on his shoulder. It was perhaps the closest the two of you had ever been, and nothing had ever felt more right. The hum of his spark quickened from the contact, but from the way he curled protectively around your smaller form you knew it was far from unwelcome. Still, you looked up to him for explicit confirmation before getting settled. "This okay?"

"Yeah, definitely." he replied easily, helpfully offering all the blankets and pillows you needed before getting comfortable at your side. You didn't fail to notice how he adjusted your bedding after you'd settled into the crook of his arm, his digits lingering for the shortest fraction of a second on your arms before he laid his helm back down with a whisper. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Bee." you replied just before sleep claimed you, your last sensation the warmth of his frame curled lovingly around your own. 

[b00ks1ut]

It’s All About Trust

Joe Liebgott X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, war, fluff (an attempt anyway I think), swearing, Briefly mention of reader being a medic, reader has a shit ton of siblings (relatable), not that many physical descriptions if any, mentions of death, normal Band of Brothers stuff

Sorry if this is bad. I’ve never written any BoB fanfiction and really have like hardly any writing experience at all so hopefully this isn’t horrible. Please give me feed back if you want. Thank you! Also sorry for the ending. It’s kinda abrupt but it’s the best I could get lol

Bois Jacques is hell. A very very cold hell. Nothing could truly combat the cold that seeps into everyone around me. Not even the plainish slop they feed us in an attempt at food. Or in the current case, cold, hard “pancakes”, or that’s what Domingus says they are.

Don pokes at his and calls after our ever so kind cook, “Joe these smell like my armpit!”

“At least your armpit is warm.” Skip grumbles from Malarkey’s side as he holds his pancake up for emphasis.

“You want syrup with that?” Domingus sasses back to him.

“Joe, be honest, what’s in these things anyway?” Don asks the retreating man.

“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey.” He replies.

“I won’t eat Malarkey.” Spina shoots back quickly causing us all grouped up to let out a chorus of laughs.

Julian brings back the topic of Babe and Spina’s run in with a German on their search for 3rd Battalion. “Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share, huh?”

This happens to hit my funny bone and I let out a snort leading to the rest of the men’s laughter to only further increase until Peacock comes around looking for Dike.

“Try battalion CP, sir.” I tell the man. The rest of us wait for him to walk away on his hunt for the company CO before we break our into giggles again.

“Try Paris.” Skip laughs.

“Try Hinkle.” Malarkey adds, only increasing our laughter and before I know it tears are pricking my eyes.

Spina begins his less than great German impression and I have to leave before I piss myself laughing.

I seem to run into a brick wall in my way back to my foxhole, tears of laughter still stinging my eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that (y/n/n).” A deep southern voice speaks from above me.

I take a look and send a smile at the blonde who’s got me held by the shoulders.

“You’re all good Bull, no harm done.” I tell him as I step out of his hold. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done.” He repeats before walking away with a smile sent to me.

I continue to make my way back to my temporary home of a frozen foxhole. I look down to find none other than Joseph Liebgott.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the rageful Jew. I don’t think it’s any specific thing that made me so drawn to him but rather his whole entire being.

On the other hand he’s never shown any direct attraction to me. Sure nearly all the men of Easy have sent me a glance at least once but I don’t blame them, I’m one of the few women they’ve interacted with past a single night in around 2 years. But past a glance none of the boys have soberly tried anything.

Especially Joe. He’s not unfriendly to me but he’s never really gone out of his way to interact with me. Not until now.

He’s sitting alone in my foxhole, hands tucked under his armpits, gun leaning in the dirt next to him, and his eyes intensely trained on the line.

“Joe? Did you get lost?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Uh?” He looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Not lost, just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Luz’s hole is like 2 over that way.” I told him pointing in the direction of the jester’s own hiding place.

“Well good thing I wasn’t looking for George then, yeah?” He says with his trademark smirk. “I can leave if you’d like me to, though.”

"You're fine, but can I ask a question?" I asked as I began the short descent into the frozen foxhole.

"Shoot away (y/l/n)." The Californian told me, looking back at the line across the cold, white field.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm don't mean to be rude but you've never put any effort into having any interaction with me." I asked sitting across from him and stuffing my frozen hands into my jacket pockets.

"I'm just trying to be friendly. No time better than the present, right? Do you have a problem with that? I can leave if you need me to." Joe had begun to get a little defensive but that's hardly surprising when he'll jump at a chance to be upset, whether isn’t reasonable or not.

"Why now? There's hardly a point in making friends when fucking Babe and Spina barely just ran from a Kraut fucking foxhole so excuse my confusion at your extremely sudden olive branch when we're all about to be sent home either on a stretcher or in an enveloped as a piece of shitty metal with our names stamped into it!" I grabbed my dog tags and shook them for emphasis. It took all of my self control to not start yelling or crying, but I could feel the sting of unshed tears at my eyes. "We're all going to be blown to kingdom come by all of this damned artillery." I whisperd.

"Hey. That's not true. We've made it this far but look at us. Sitting in this frozen hell hole and you're alive, I'm alive, and so is Bull and George, Don, Babe, Doc, Skip, Penkala, Perco, and Buck and Lip." He began listing some of the guys we had been with for so long. "I know it's scary and there's not a single thing I can promise you to make anything seem ok, because I'm scared and I have no clue what's going to happen even 10 seconds from now but one thing I can tell you that might make you feel slightly better is that you've made it this far. You made it through Sobel's shitty personalty, Normandy, Carentan, and I know that if you have made it this far without a scratch then what can take you down? You’re what, one of nine kids back at home, you managed to talk and work your way into the airborne and then continue to be an absolute badass throughout boot camp and combat!” He took a break to really look at me and I took that as an opportunity to defend myself and my feelings.

“I’m really flattered but don’t you think I’ve been too lucky? I’ve come so far with nothing more than a bruise and I’m sure the next thing you know I’ll be blown to pieces! I don’t know why I thought I could do this, Joe! I’m fucking terrified and there’s no where to go!” I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes and in a sorry attempt to stop them I look to the sky. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Hey, you can’t go thinking like that. You’re going to make it out of here alive. I need you to believe that because trust me when I say that you are the toughest damned woman I’ve ever met in my life.” He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

The tears couldn’t be held any longer and the dam broke, salty waves rolling down the sides of face into my hair line. A sob escaped my lips before I could muffle it with a fist that had been stuffed between my lips only seconds too late.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, (y/n), we’re all feeling it, you’re the only one brave enough to let anyone see it.”

I let out a scoff. ‘Brave’ is not the right word to use. “I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here crying, doing nothing to help anyone around me who has it worse. I’m a a medic for fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t be crying when I routinely see how bad I could have it.”

Joe had only pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around me, essentially cradling my shaking form. “Don’t you see? That’s what makes you so brave, (y/n). You see all these men in so much pain and put yourself in harms way to make sure they get patched up and safe. You are completely allowed to be overwhelmed and scared and cold and any other feeling a person can have. Not one man here would blame you for being upset right now. They know that as long as you are safe so are they, because when shit goes down you’re always there to help us.” He was talking so softly and so gently that I couldn’t help but cry harder.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered , wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry Joe.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Doll.” He gave me an affectionate pat. “Just know that you are such a light in the dark here, and not one of the men in these woods would judge you right now.”

I gave him a weak smile and sniffed, wiping at my eyes and nose. “Thank you, Joe, really. I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh don’t mention it, just don’t go telling anyone that I give out cuddles, I can’t have my reputation ruined like that.” Joe snickered with his smirk and a pat to my side.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t go telling people I cry.” I tittered and wrapped my arm around his neck.

“Your secret is safe with me, (y/n).”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“It’s all about trust. I trust you, you trust me; that’s how this has to work, yeah?” I was nearly bumping noses with him and if I wanted to I could just lean in a little and kiss him. The thought quickly crosses my mind but part of me knows better.

“I trust you, Joseph Liebgott.” I meant it, with more of my heart than I thought was still there.

[skelletonscloset]

Ok- I have a request for a small RE fic. It’s been burning a hole in my brain: something where Leon comes back from a mission or something with some serious injuries and the reader (who maybe has some kind of medical background or smth??) has to like- convince him to let them take care of him.

Idk I’m honestly not super picky I just think it would such an interesting idea for like- angst but also comfort yk? Literally go wild

OMGGGG thank you soooo much for this Resident Evil request!! i lovedddd writing it!! i hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mild language and depiction of wounds.

Angst/comfort

1.3k words

~ ☠️

𝔹𝕀𝕋𝔼 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔹𝕌𝕃𝕃𝔼𝕋

You were called into work on your day off. of course you were. USSTRATCOM wasn’t good at respecting time off or vacation, always pulling people into a big mess that takes weeks to clear up.

It was late, roughly one in the morning when you got the call from Hunnigan, her worried voice over the phone begging you—almost commanding you to come in. Her words were so panicked, so fast you barely had time to make out the words “Leon” and “injured” but that was enough for you to realize why you needed to come in.

The drive to HQ felt longer than usual, maybe it was the fact your sleep was interrupted, or maybe it was the context, the fear. The building was almost completely empty when you got there, save for a few people finishing up reports and agents being sent out on other missions.

“There you are! come on, he’s in the infirmary,” Hunnigan instructed.

You were one of the few medics that had the skill level to treat whatever injuries he had and one of the only ones who was easily available and not out on their own missions. Hunnigan nodded towards the closed door, saying a few final words about what to expect and then walking away.

With a deep sigh you readied yourself. It was never easy dealing with injuries, and the way Hunnigan made it sound these had to be some pretty serious ones.

The light in the room was bright and harsh with multiple cabinets and drawers filled with medical equipment. Leon was on the bed, a grimace on his face and his eyes squeezed shut.

His honey blonde hair was messy and beads of sweat still hadn’t dried on his face. As you approached him you analyzed the injuries you could see. Scratches and cuts littered his face, a gash in his right arm and thick red blood seeped through his shirt.

“Leon what the hell happened!?” You urged as you got closer to him.

“The hell do you think?” His voice was dry and strained, one of his blue eyes opening to peer at your worry stricken face. “It’s alright.”

Your jaw tightened as you reached over for some cleaning supplies, “I think you pushed yourself too hard and did something stupid. and now you’re suffering the consequences. So no, It’s not alright.”

“Yeah well what am I supposed to do? Civilians needed help. I couldn't just leave them there.”

You dabbed a cloth with ointment around the slash on his arm, he hissed in pain. Sometimes you hated how righteous he was, how unwilling to give up he was. But it was something you’d always admired of him anyway. “Listen to me, I know you like to help people, Leon but you need to be more careful. The spain incident and Los Illuminados should’ve been a wake up call that you aren’t invincible.” You hoped that despite your lecturing him, he could understand it was out of concern

He only scoffed, “I know that.” And then he went back to being silent.

You gave him a look before taking out a roll of bandages. “You’re lucky this wasn’t too deep. what caused this?”

“A knife,” he said, rolling his head over to study your movements, eyes fixated on the way your hands carefully wrapped up his bicep in medical gauze.

You shook your head and gently grabbed the hem of his shirt. “I need you to try and sit up, I need this off so I can check the wound.”

He muttered a few incoherent grumbles of disapproval but ultimately subjected to your care. He heaved a deep groan as he sat up with your help. You slowly peeled off the shirt from around his frame and grimaced at the sight of a deep wound, either a stab or bullet entry on the side of his torso. Based on the diameters it looked as though a knife was pushed in and twisted before ripping out.

“Goddammit leon..” you muttered, immediately grabbing another cloth to clean around the wound. “You'll need stitches and I don't have access to anesthesia or lidocaine. so it looks like you’ll be biting down on a belt or something.” It was your attempt at a joke to help ease the tension.

He rolled his eyes, lips pulled into a thin line. He looked so exhausted, dark bags under his eyes. “do what you need to do.”

You walked towards one of the cabinets and pulled out some gloves, thread, and needles. In the corner of the room there was a fridge and freezer used to cool down medicine or preserve it. You grabbed a piece of ice and walked back over to him. “Here bite this.” you handed him a large medical bite wafer. “I'll make this quick.”

You eased the pain in the wound by rubbing the ice carefully around the cleaned edges before slipping the needle into his skin. Your eyes shot up to monitor his reaction in case it became too much. His jaw was set and his eyes shut.

You continued to stitch him shut, a few groans of pain escaped past the wafer as you finished up. After cutting the string and bandaging him up you sighed “all done.” He spit out the wafer into the trash and rubbed his jaw.

He opened his eyes and gave you a weary look. more sweat accumulated on his face and his breathing was more rugged and uneven. His face was still littered in bruises and cuts.

You grabbed a third cloth and dampened it, “Last thing, let me just clean you up then i’ll get you painkillers and give you instructions for what i need you to do following this.” You gently cupped his cheek, turning his face towards you. Tired blue eyes gazed up at you, thick brows furrowed in discomfort.

You dabbed the cloth against some of the cuts and wiped away some of the dirt. Your voice was shaky no matter how much you tried to relax it. “What happens when you get hurt you don’t make it home Leon… what happens when you don’t even realize you got hurt til it kills you. What if-“

“It's not going to happen,” He grabbed your wrist and raised a brow. His voice wasn’t angry or tired. It was gentle and smooth. “I know what I'm doing out there, I promise.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Of course I don't, but it doesn’t change anything.” You bit, pulling your hand from his hold and continuing to clean his face.

Once again his voice was soft and quiet, “Trust me, okay? Or maybe I just need to start having you assigned to my missions too.” Towards the end his tone was more snarky.

“Maybe. If it stops you from being so damn stubborn.” you scoffed out a laugh and set the cloth down.

You gave him a once over as you cleaned up your supplies and disposed of what wasn’t necessary. “Okay you need to be on bed rest for three weeks. And no you cannot get out of this sooner.”

Leon only rolled his eyes again but nodded, knowing all too well that arguing with you clearly wasn’t worth it. “alright alright..”

You patted down your clothes and brushed off your hands. “I'll send Hunnigan in with your medicine and I'll visit you tomorrow.” And with that you turned around.

You halted in surprise when you felt his grip around you wrist, “wait.”

You looked over your shoulder, “Yes, Leon?”

“Thank you. Seriously. Probably would’ve been worse off if it weren’t for the many times you’ve had to take care of me… so.. thanks for worrying. Even if it’s stupid.”

You almost argued back on that last point but held your tongue. “Of course leon. Any time.”

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Thank you for writing my Tarantulas request!!! It was amazing and I loved how it turned out. If I can do another request I'd love to see more Earthspark Megatron x human Reader, the last one you did of them in the supply closet was so good! I'd love to see more of their relationship and how they avoid getting caught when they get intimate in public/semi-pubic areas. Thank you! Cant wait to see more of your writings!

No problem, I had an absolute blast writing it!! The spider needs some serious love!

Also I can do that! Fair warning I went a WEE bit overboard but I think you'll enjoy Medic!Reader and Megs getting it on in the medical bay at GHOST! I cannot express how much I love it when bots and their humans sneak off for some fun, especially when the size of the bot in question forces the two to get creative.

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

From behind the cover of your welding mask, you allowed your face to pinch tightly in concentration, eyes focused entirely on your work as you carefully closed up what had once been a sizable metal gash. Thankful that the wound had been a clean one you'd been able to treat independently, you moved as quickly as you could without sacrificing control, wanting to minimize the lingering discomfort for your patient. Megatron had the highest pain tolerance you'd ever encountered, but even after applying a localized anesthetic you could feel his uncomfortable tension beneath you, just as you didn't fail to notice the small sigh that passed his lips when you finished and disengaged the flame.

Careful not to lose your balance, you crawled back along the big bots sizable torso before removing the mask for a clear look as well as a breath of fresh air. The injury looked a great deal better than when he'd first limped into the medical bay about twenty minutes prior, and you were confident it would improve further after your patch had some time to settle, but the mech had made you work for that sense of assurance. You could still clearly recall how your heart had absolutely flipped at the sight of him cradling his bleeding middle, even if he'd still had the capacity to crack a joke before laying back on the medical slab while you gathered your tools in a rush…

"That should do it." you said with a sigh, a little spent from the ordeal but pleased with the outcome. Megatron, with his upper half supported by the inclined berth, looked down the length of his frame to meet your gaze.

"Excellent work as always, Doctor." he said in a mix of praise and a tease, emphasizing your title to mock the formality the two of you had to fake when others were present. Granted, you were currently alone and the doors had been locked for privacy, but that had never stopped him before. A small shift of his middle and a noticeable lack of pain did, however, bring more genuine appreciation to his voice. "That does feel a great deal better, thank you, my spark."

You smiled at the term of endearment before giving his wound a final once over, ensuring it was as good as it could get before his self-repair protocols took care of the rest. "I'll need you to stay here for about another hour while it sets, just to be safe." you instructed when satisfied, confident that this would be nothing more than a faded scar in a few weeks time, so long as it was given the chance to heal. Areas of considerable "flexibility" were tricky on bots, compelling you to give another reminder as you packed your tools and prepared to climb down. "The last thing I want is for it to tear, and that'll be a lot less likely if you relax for now."

Megatron scoffed at the suggestion, a reaction that neither surprised or phased you. "An entire hour? Am I really so delicate?"

"You will be if you don't listen to me." you replied with a roll of your eyes. It was predictable that Megatron would object to you "fussing" over him, even if all you required was for him to take it easy. He complained about such things every time they were prescribed, but with you the big bot tended to comply… more often than not. You were hopeful this would be one of your successes as you slid off his side and walked to the lift that ferried you up and down the bot sized berths. Your departure quickly got his full attention.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to file the supplies I used for the repair." you explained with clear distaste for the fact, leaning back on the lift railing so you could face him as you shrugged your shoulders. The displeasure and sarcasm were overt even without the added roll of your eyes. "GHOST protocol."

The towering warrior put on what you dared to call a pout. "Am I simply supposed to sit here in the meantime?"

"We've got data pads and there's a bot sized tablet on the charger. I could set you up with whichever you prefer, but I do need to submit that report sooner rather than later." you said as you prepared to hit the button to descend, hesitating because you really would have preferred doing anything over the drudgery of typing reports. Getting some time to chill with your partner would have been a welcome change of pace, but GHOST didn't allow much leeway when it came to its tyrannical bureaucracy. 

"Fine." Megatron huffed dramatically, giving you reason to pause as you fixed him with a raised brow. Though he wasn't in any position to actually contest, and he thankfully remained quite still on the berth as you'd ordered, the big bot was almost making a show of how unhappy he was. As he seemed to be marginally more theatrical than usual, you found yourself willing to take the time to try and figure out what he was playing at as he continued to whine. "If you are truly comfortable leaving me to languish in utter boredom…"

"As your doctor, I'm confident you'll survive." you replied, playfulness tinged by a hint of curiosity. Tilting your head and narrowing his eyes, you made it clear you knew there was some kind of game being played, and wanted to be let in on it. "What are you getting at, Megs?"

His pout shifted to include a hint of a smile, confirming for you that he was indeed playing at something.

"If only there was someone to keep me company while I recovered…" he mused with obviously mock melancholy, reaching out to cup your tiny body and gently pulling you towards him and away from the lift. "Perhaps those reports could wait a little longer, yes?"

You rolled your eyes, now confident this was all just a plot to make you stick around for his sake and nothing more. For all of his gruffness with others, the big bot hung on you like a needy cat, making it quite unsurprising he'd be gunning for some personal time even after getting stitched up. Ordinarily you were happy to indulge his desire for your presence, but keeping your job unfortunately took precedence over keeping him company. "If I don't get it in before the next half hour, the system will send out an alert when it does its automatic supply check. Is entertaining you for twice that amount of time more important than stopping a false alarm?"

Something small shifted in his entire demeanor, but being over thirty feet tall made the change abundantly clear to you even if you hadn't a clue what it meant. Thankfully, he didn't keep you waiting, his faint smile shifting into a full smirk as he spoke.

"I can get all the entertainment I need in… five minutes. Ten, if I'm thorough." he purred, scarlet optics intensifying their gaze as he went from merely watching to drinking you in, servo at your back pulling you closer. A reflexive flush rose up in your cheeks. You knew that look well, it had preceded countless rushed dives into closets or warehouses and on one especially spontaneous occasion the cargo hold of an unmanned carrier plane… but you never would have expected to see it now. Suddenly it was all too clear what he had been playing at.

The disbelief and total exasperation was as apparent in your voice as it was the hand you threw up into the air. "Seriously? You're horny now?"

"Can you really blame me?" he replied with a laugh, amused by your reaction but hardly disheartened. He lowered his voice and allowed it to rumble through your tiny body, and in spite of everything it was just as effective on you as it always was. Having his careful digits at your back only helped his case. "I did have a very attractive human practically seated on my lap."

"A human with a welder!" you replied with a wild gesture to your pack, where the tools capable of slicing a bot were arranged with care. Considering he still had the fresh wound on his stomach, you couldn't imagine how he had it in him to be frisky, but judging by the intensifying lust in his optics the pain was doing little to dissuade him. 

"What would you say if I told you that made it all the more appealing?" he said after a moment of silence.

He was just fucking with you now. He had to be. There was no way he seriously wanted to bang after having his organs sewn back in, you refused to believe it, it was too much even for him.

"You… you're utterly ridiculous." you said in a bit of a daze, tempted to pinch yourself to test if this was all some crazy dream. You halfway wondered if he was recording this for some kind of inevitable gotcha that would come at any moment, and felt so silly you couldn't keep the laughter from tinging your voice as you continued."I'm saying you're utterly ridiculous."

Megatron somewhat carefully clapped a spare hand to his chassis as if he'd just been dealt a devastating blow. "Oh no, you wound me further…" he teased, making you wonder if you were dating a warrior or the planet's biggest dork. Trying not to give him the satisfaction of a smile, you had to admit to yourself that it was much harder than it should have been to remember why you'd needed to leave in the first place. Fixing you with a smirk, he once more tugged you closer, and this time your body failed to resist in the slightest. "I fear I may need medical attention all over again."

"I'm going to repeat myself; you're utterly ridiculous." you said simply, medical training swooping in where your professionalism failed. "Plus, if you push it and that patch breaks, I'll have to redo all my welding, and I don't think either one of us wants that."

"No…" he conceded in a not at all serious tone. Allowing the silence to hang until you raised a brow in anticipation, the mech went from smirking to grinning with devilish delight, his sharp canid dentae peeking out as he purred low enough for you to feel the rumble of his voice through your tiny organic body.

"But that merely means I need to be careful, or more accurately, creative."

The servo at your back scooped up your tiny frame without effort, compelling you to grab on for stability as he hefted you clear off the berth, raising you to his helm so quickly your ears popped from the change in altitude.

"Whoa!" you cried out in surprise, clinging to him as you suddenly found yourself a good twenty or more feet from the nearest surface below. You had ample practice being handled by bots, but this one had caught you off guard, as Megatron was always the type to practice caution when maneuvering you in his massive servos. Less than gracefully wiggling yourself into a more dignified position, you met his gaze with a pout, preparing to give him a piece of your mind before demanding to be put back down. No matter how little you wanted to complete your task, it had to be done, and no amount of his antics could change your mind…

Except when your optics met his up close, you found that to be patently untrue. The desire in their depths was like fire, burning so bright it seemed to see straight through your token resistance and to the molten need burning just below your skin.

"Come now, love…" he purred, lifting you to his helm and setting you down to straddle his chin. The touch between your parted legs was like an electric prod, melting away all the stress of your position and speaking to the frustration even you hadn't been able to see. Biting your lip to keep yourself quiet, you recalled the discipline that would follow late reports but found the threat hadn't the slightest hold over you anymore. All that seemed real was the warmth of his frame against your tense body, and the hum of his voice as he continued, making quite a point to let you feel every syllable. "Let me show my doctor some much deserved appreciation. The reports can wait."

Just able to keep from moaning, you sighed and waged one final war in your head between lust and responsibility, finding it obvious who the victor would be but giving it a go regardless. When your body made the decision you knew it would, you picked your words carefully to avoid giving him too much satisfaction.

"I'm giving you five minutes." you said in a blatant lie, setting the stage so you could claim to have simply lost track of time once you were finished. The answer pleased him greatly, and he pulled you a little ways up his helm, resting your crotch just above his lips so you could feel each and every word humming up through the fabric and into your waiting pussy. 

"Not a problem. I work swiftly…" he purred. The vibrations were enough to pull a tiny gasp past your parted lips as he hummed in delight, fully aware of what the stimulation did to you from past experience. Not wanting to give him absolute satisfaction, you kept yourself quiet save for your own smirk and a sarcastic retort. 

"Is that why I have to patch you up so often?"

The open taunt drove him wild. You'd always been one of the few humans, the few beings, to not only speak to him openly but fearlessly, and he expressed his appreciation with a request so rushed it came out as a pleading demand. "Take off your pants."

"Give me a second, kind of hard to undress without a proper spot to sit…" you replied as you slipped out of your protective lab coat to reveal your scrubs. Though kicking off your shoes was easy, straddling his chin left you without much of a foothold or a way to wiggle free of your pants, forcing you to awkwardly grab them and your underwear as you tried to shimmy out of both. Megatron was hypnotized by the sight for a moment, his optics locked on your increasing exposure before he decided it wasn't happening swiftly enough. You let out a single sound when you were unceremoniously lifted up to hover over his lips. "Oop!"

Dexterous digits took hold of the fabric you'd already pulled down and gave a swift, decisive tug to yank them down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. Yipping in surprise, you regained your wits quickly enough to balance yourself when he set you back down, your exposed pussy coming just inches shy of his lips before you found footing on your hands and knees.

"Is this proper enough?" he asked, fully aware of how his heated breath teased you. 

"Yes!" you gasped, unable and unwilling to keep yourself from reacting to his encouragement. The fact he was right there had to be as torturous for him as it was for you, and looking into his optics confirmed as much, their fiery depths drinking in your nakedness in the same way a starving bot would drink in a cup of cool energon. Not wanting to be entirely at his mercy, you hovered above his lips, palms splayed against his cheeks as you took a deep breath and met his gaze without flinching. "So get to work, you're on a tight schedule."

His glossa was out the instant you finished the last syllable, allowing a cry to slip out of your open mouth as he swirled the tip over your lips to ease them open, delighting your folds with the hot, wet, hungry touch. Sharp dentae were bared beneath you as he spread you just the way you liked. Moaning and setting your hips heavily on his face, you were thankful for the locked door as you allowed yourself to get loud, letting him know just how good he was with your voice. The wetness that made you all the easier to open up was another clue he read and tasted quite eagerly.

You moaned his name as he used his massive size to his full advantage, pumping the length of his glossa up and down your soft folds to please you from clit to entrance, compelling you to ride him with your full weight to get more of the stimulation. More than strong enough to support you, he happily welcomed your efforts, looking more lost in his own ecstasy by the second. An approving purr rumbled all the way up your legs to make your world spin around you.

He shifted, and you caught his servo moving downwards in the corner of your eye. Following the movement, you watched in a fog of ecstasy as he opened his modesty plating to allow his spike to swing forth, smirking at how quickly it rose to its full size and throbbed with need. You'd clearly gotten him just as riled up as he'd gotten you…

A hot glossa sliding inside of you knocked the smugness off your face and replaced it with a helpless open mouthed cry of euphoria, your hips thrusting against him to help his reach go as deep as he pumped in and out of you at the perfect pace. Using his free servo to cup your back and press you down against him, his other pumped his spike rapidly enough to make you briefly concerned before a heavenly prodding of your sweet spot evaporated everything beyond obtaining release.

Weeks of being underappreciated and overworked had left you with plenty of tension for him to clear away, and you could almost feel it melting out of you as your orgasm began to build, hot ecstasy filling your body and compelling you to grab at his digits to keep yourself upright. Megatron tightened his grip around you in response, letting out a moan of his own at your lack of inhibitions. Sharing the pleasure only made it that much better for the both of you.

An aggressive swirling and sucking of your clit gave you everything you needed for an explosive orgasm, one you announced by throwing back your head with an admittedly theatrical cry. The response from the mech beneath you was as immediate as it was satisfying.

Watching you writhe in the euphoria he'd caused proved too much for the warrior, and he overloaded seconds after you, deep moans of satisfaction rumbling through you in perfect time to the throbs of your pussy. Between the vibrations and his glossa you saw stars and had to let him fully support your weight, shaking hands clinging to his digits as the both of you rode out your shared pleasure loudly enough to shake the berth below.

Thankfully Megatron had just enough sense and strength to adjust you when he finished painting his own chassis with his release, inching you back to his chin so he could get the greedy gulps of air necessary to cool his internals. Dizzy but satisfied, you had just enough clarity to giggle at the situation, pushing back some of the hair that had stuck to your sweat soaked forehead as you looked down to see if he was faring any better. Judging by his expression of nearly unconscious bliss, you considered the two of you to be doing equally well.

"Megs?" you pressed, leaning forward to pat his cheek. "You okay?"

"More than okay." he responded with a tiny chuckle, cracking open his optics to grin at your half naked form. Using his digits to haul yourself up on shaking legs, you settled for sitting back on your heels when they proved too weak to hold you upright, a very common occurrence after such sessions. Helping you sit more comfortably, he smiled with more softness than satisfaction. "I believe we both needed that."

"I still need to file my report, but I won't pretend I don't feel a lot better about it." you acknowledged with a stretch, far more limber than you'd been just a few minutes prior. Though you still needed to get your work done, this had proven an excellent use of your time, and you were about to say as much when a glance about turned up empty of a few critical items.

"Where are my pants?"

His exhaustion halved in an instant, devious sparkle returning to his optics as he used the most obviously mock voice of concern you'd ever heard. "I haven't the slightest idea." he purred with delight, making you pout at what an impossible pain in the ass he chose to be. He'd give them up eventually, you knew that from experience, but in the meantime you were going to have to deal with even more of him being impossible. You made your mild annoyance known with a raised brow and two hands on your hips, a reaction that only delighted him further. "I suppose you'll have to remain here with me after all." 

"I still have my welder, you know." you said as you leaned forward on his face, trying not to crack a smile at his antics. You failed when he grinned and pulled you in, the adoration in his optics equal only to the amusement. 

"That still makes it all the more appealing."

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, knowing but no longer caring that the reports would indeed be late. It wasn't like GHOST could screw you half as hard as he could.