#cod fanfiction

[leyavo]

Simon Riley x Mute!reader

───⋅☠︎︎⋅───

Simon already knew sign language, it surprised you when he approached you at the shops and relayed your message to the worker. Your notepad and pen are halfway out your bag when he speaks to the worker, telling him that he doesn’t think ya deaf so there’s no need to raise ya voice mate.

You sign him a thank you and go your separate ways. But as Simon’s walking across the car park, you suddenly appear and offer him coffee, a cheap one from the adjoining cafe but that’s the best there was. He takes it, helping you put your shopping in the boot and giving you his number. You scribble your name and number on paper, ripping it from your notepad and passing it to him.

Simon stares at your name and number for the rest of the day. Your neat scribbled writing slanted over the lines, crumpled paper and blue ink. Your text makes it feel like fate, like he’s meant to be with you.

And it’s not long till you’re spending more time together. Moving in to his spacious flat and creating a home.

It doesn’t matter that he’ll never hear his name on your lips, because your gaze lingers on him. You both take extra time and care to understand each other, to live in the present. How your attention is just on him and his on you as his eyes dart from your face to the movements of your hands.

He calls you Mouse, you’re so light on your feet that he doesn’t hear you approach. “Missed ya�� Mouse,” he says as soon as he shuts the front door and toes off his boots.

You might not talk, but you give him verbal cues. Humming whenever you’re satisfied, a low squeak whenever Simon accidentally scares you whilst you pad around the flat in the darkness of night.

Loves that you hum along to music in the morning whilst you make coffee and he stands over the cooker with breakfast. Has loads of your sticky notes stored in his bedside drawer and has one in his wallet with him for all times.

Simon trains a dog, “to keep ya’ company whilst I’m gone.” He does agree it looks a bit like him. A German shepherd, Gizmo because you both love the gremlin films. Funny how he doesn’t like baths either…

Takes Simon a while to get used to the guys voices when he goes back to work. Noticing the loud echoes trailing after Johnny’s words, Kyle’s snorts as he tries not to laugh at whatever story Johnny’s telling him or the drumming of Price’s finger on the table. He can’t wait to collapse into bed in the residential house and savour the silence.

The silence reminding him of you. A quiet comfort he can’t seem to explain to the guys when he retreats to his room early each night.

Your communication whilst he’s away is mostly text, a few video calls just to see your face and some hummed verbal responses. Anything to see the smile on your face.

───⋅☠︎︎⋅───

[Masterlist]

[homeofthelonelywriter]

A little gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader

It all started just a few weeks after you began streaming. Gaming had always been a hobby of yours and after some encouragement from your friends, you created a Twitch account and just started streaming whatever you were playing at the moment. It was truly a variety, going from cozy games like Animal Crossing to more hardcore games like GTFO or Call of Duty. The latter one was where you were randomly paired with him. The infamous, and very popular, Ghost.

He was another streamer, known for his content, but also for his mystic. Aside from the fact that he had the habit of disappearing every now and then, he also never showed his face, only his voice drawing in his thousands of viewers. But it was enough. However, his just as mysterious social media helped. Girls and guys alike were drooling over his shirtless gym pics or the one with just his forearm and hand, the veins protruding. You had to admit, you were one of those girls, although you would never admit it out loud. Especially the ones of him with his helmet on, in full biker gear, in front of his machine? You could stare at those for days.

The moment you saw his name as one of the players in your team, you choked on your drink, almost coughing it up all over your keyboard. The few dozen viewers you had, also pointed out who you were paired with and you just hoped that the low lighting and shitty face cam you had, hid the blush on your cheeks~~, it did not~~. In the beginning, everything went well, as you slowly melted, the more Ghost spoke. As per usual, you had turned off your in-game voice, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself, as a female gamer.

But rather quickly, it was just you and Ghost left. “You got a mic, mate?” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, about to respond via chat before some courage sparked inside you and you quickly activated it. “Yeah, sorry.” It was silent for a few moments before he answered in a low purr. “’s alright, love. Let’s get those fuckers, yeah?” You couldn’t help but giggle softly while nodding. “Yeah, let’s get them.”

The rest of the round went well and you managed to mostly ignore the comments in your chat, which slowly started to grow with viewers, about how cute you and Ghost were. No way that he would even be slightly interested. With just one opponent left, you were about to take the shot, when your cat jumped up onto your table, startling you. A quiet yelp left your lips, and Ghost’s response was immediate. “Are you okay? What happened?” As quietly as you could, you shooed your cat away, but not without getting shot in-game. “Fuck…I-I’m sorry. My cat scared me and I…shit, sorry Ghost, I…” As your character lied on the ground, you watched as his character came sprinting over. “Don’t worry, lovie. I got you.” He quickly healed you. “There you go, now go get him.” He could have done it, easily. But he let you do it and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The match ended with your team winning and you were about to say goodbye to the mystery when a steam message popped up. Here’s my Discord @ghost.real. Hit me up if you want to play, yeah? With a permanent grin, you added him, before continuing your stream.

While in another match, you were blissfully unaware of what was happening, until a friend who was modding your chat for you, messaged you. GIRL HE RAIDED YOU! Startled, you looked to your right and noticed that she was right. Your viewers were now in the hundreds of thousands, your follows and subscriptions went through the roof as you just watched with a stunned face.

Good night, love. Your eyes followed the message until it disappeared in your chat and you still couldn’t believe what was happening.

A/N: Definitely didn't write this because I'm crushing hard on one of the guys I game with. No, no way. Also, wouldn't mind turning this into a small series, you guys interested? Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

@dravenskye @herefor-tojis-tits @lucienofthelakes @tessakate

[darth-mortem]

Here is my new Ghoap fanfic, where Soap tries to make some important confession to Ghost.

Action, injures, caretaking, confessions, nobody dies. 2498 words.

Run, run, run. The thought beat in Ghost's head in time with his heart, and yet he knew he wouldn't make it. Not with Johnny wounded, leaning heavily on his shoulder, and moving only thanks to stimulants. Not when they had to fight for every step, and the ammunition was running out. Not after the explosion split 141, cutting off Ghost and Soap from the shortcut to the exfil point.

Johnny caught his foot on some debris, and it almost caused them both to fall. Bullets whizzed by the lieutenant's ear, and he growled from the excessive effort, but he managed to drag Soap to a piece of concrete wall that could serve as temporary shelter.

Gently lowering Johnny to the ground, Ghost peered out and killed the enemies who had almost caught up with them with three well-aimed shots. The return fire forced him to duck, and he glanced briefly at Soap. The latter was breathing heavily, a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his lips, and it was clear that the stimulants would not last long. Ghost didn't even know how seriously Johnny was injured. There was no time to examine him, so the lieutenant had to take his sergeant's word that he had stopped the bleeding before they met. Both were covered in soot, dirt, and concrete chips, so it was impossible to see the wound visually.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“Ready, Johnny?” Ghost peeked out again to fire a few shots. “Then let's go!”

Throwing Soap's arm over his shoulder, he jerked him up, and they, ducking, ran to the next shelter.

Johnny's radio was broken, smashed by a bullet, but Ghost could hear Price's voice in his earpiece. Concentrating on running and avoiding getting caught in the crossfire, the lieutenant didn't even try to make sense of the captain's words over the noise of the interference. Only when Ghost found himself in another relatively safe place, he shook his head, and finally Price's voice, which had sounded as if from afar, came closer.

"Bravo 0-7, do you copy? Do you copy, Ghost? What's your status? I repeat, what is your status?"

“I'm solid.” The lieutenant exhaled hoarsely. "Soap is down. We're trying to get out of the kill zone, but we're not going to make it to the exfil point."

Ghost spent a few seconds of silence on the earpiece to kill two more enemies, then dropped into cover and quickly replaced the magazine of his assault rifle. The situation was complicated by the fact that after the battle group exfil, the remnants of the object were to be destroyed by a bomber that was already in the sky waiting for clearance. Ghost had only a rough idea of the strike zone, but he realized that he and Soap had not yet left it.

“Ghost, you need to get out of there as soon as possible.” Price spoke again. “You have no more than fifteen minutes, do you copy?”

“Aye.” The lieutenant gritted his teeth, fired a few shots, and then picked up and dragged Soap with him again.

Johnny tried hard, but the stimulant was wearing off, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to move. He was almost hanging on Ghost's shoulder, using all his remaining strength to move his legs. He could no longer see anything in front of him, did not analyze the situation, only ran, fell into cover, and ran again when the lieutenant lifted him to his feet.

“Simon.” Johnny exhaled heavily when they were in a more or less safe place again. “I can't take it anymore.”

“Shut up.” Gust ordered gruffly.

He peered out, fired a few shots, and dropped the rifle. He was out of ammunition for it, but he had a pistol and several throwing knives.

“Si...” Soap wheezed, trying to focus his eyes.

“Hold on, Johnny.” The lieutenant's voice, always so calm, sounded like a plea. “I'm not leaving you, so hold on, or we're both going to die here.”

They ran again, or rather walked, because Soap could no longer run. There were no more than three minutes left before the bomber approached, but Ghost could already see a place ahead where they could hide. It was probably still within the strike zone, but a deep enough gorge offered a chance of survival.

“Just a little further.” Ghost muttered to either Soap or himself.

He had one grenade left, and he let the enemies get closer, threw it, then lifted Johnny on his shoulders and ran. There was an explosion behind him, followed by screams of pain, fragmented commands, and more gunfire. Bullets whistled and hit the ground, kicking up clouds of concrete chips. Ghost zigzagged, trying not to stumble, and then jumped, covering the last few steps to the gorge. He lost his footing, and they both rolled down the steep slope. The lieutenant was dizzy, but he heard the sound of bomber engines, pulled Johnny to him, and covered him with his body, pressing him into the ground.

“We're too close!” Soap groaned hopelessly, his fingers clutching at the straps of Ghost's vest.

“It'll be okay.” He replied, looking into his sergeant's pain-stricken blue eyes. “We're not going to die like this.”

Johnny didn't believe it, but he smiled weakly anyway. If they did die, let the last thing Simon saw be his gentle and warm smile. Soap loved this man so much and wanted to tell him so much, but he never dared. Maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment, or maybe he was just afraid that his feelings would be unrequited, and by telling him about them, he would destroy their friendship. However, is there any reason to be afraid now, when they are both probably living their last moments?

“Simon!” Said Soap, trying to shout over the bomber's engines, which were roaring unbearably loud. "There's something important I need to tell you. I've been wanting to for a long time."

“You can tell me later.” Ghost replied just as loudly, and then they both heard the whistle of bombs being dropped.

The lieutenant clamped his hands over Johnny's ears, both of them squeezed together, trying to blend into the ground, and then the fierce force of the explosions stunned them both, and debris fell from the sky. Several of them fell nearby, and then Ghost felt blows to his legs, back, and finally his head. The helmet protected the lieutenant's skull, but the blow was so hard that he passed out, slamming his forehead into the ground next to Johnny's. He felt the lieutenant's stout body heave and expected the next piece of shrapnel to hit his head, but it did not.

Silence reigned, broken only by the disgusting squeaking in his ears. Soap groaned faintly, not hearing his own voice, and tried to gently move Ghost off of him, but he didn't have the strength. The wound was throbbing with pain, the hastily applied bandage was soaked with blood, and Johnny's whole body was shackled with deadly weakness. Only now did he realize how tired he was. He wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, but he understood that if he gave in, he would never wake up, so he continued to fight. The squealing in his ears began to subside, and Soap tried to shake Ghost's shoulder.

“Simon!” He called, and this time he heard his own voice. "Wake up, Lt. Please come back to me!"

Johnny spoke quietly because, firstly, he was exhausted, and secondly, he did not want to give away their location in case any of the enemy also survived. He repeated the lieutenant's name over and over again until he finally moved. Raising his heavy head, Ghost looked at the sergeant and then slowly slid off him, stretching out on the ground next to him.

“You were right.” Johnny said tiredly, turning his head to Simon. “We're not dead.”

“It's not over yet.” He wheezed in response and slowly sat down, feeling dizzy and pain in his leg where the debris had hit him. “Let's take a look at your wound.”

His fingers budged hard, so Ghost pulled out a knife and cut the straps on Soap's vest. Pulling it off, he saw a blood-soaked bandage underneath the torn clothing. It was bad, but it gave him strength. Fighting off nausea and dizziness, he took the first aid kit off his tactical vest, pulled off his gloves, and began to give Johnny first aid with movements he had learned to the point of automaticity. The wound looked quite dangerous, and Ghost frowned and tore open a package of bandages.

“This is going to hurt.” He warned.

Soap clutched at the collar of his jacket with his teeth and sobbed softly as he felt Ghost begin to stuff a bandage into the wound. He did it quickly but very carefully and meticulously, and it soon became clear that the bleeding had eased. Tears were streaming down Johnny's cheeks, and it took him a while to hear Simon asking him to breathe as he sealed the tamponade wound with a medical patch. The bullet remained somewhere inside his body, but it was impossible to get it out in these conditions, so he could only hope they would get out of here quickly.

“Don’t close your eyes, Johnny.” Ghost said unusually softly, pulling gloves over his bloody hands. “Stay with me.”

“Aye, sir.” Soap replied, trying to focus his eyes on the lieutenant.

“You wanted to tell me something.” He recalled the sergeant's last words before the bomber did its work.

Johnny's heart beat faster. He was afraid again and thought that now was absolutely not the right time, but he couldn't think of a way out. Ghost looked at him, tilting his head slightly to the side. Soap, having summoned up the courage, opened his mouth to say what was in his heart when suddenly shots were heard and bullets struck again next to them.

Ghost reacted instantly. Overcoming his own weakness, he jumped up, turned around, and fired his pistol at the enemy, who was looming at the edge of the gorge. The bullet struck him between the eyes, but he could hear more voices from the other side, rapidly approaching. Ghost almost groaned in despair: their position was extremely disadvantageous, and there was nowhere to run. And Soap is unlikely to make it through another race.

“Talk fast, Johnny.” The lieutenant gritted out, clutching his gun.

“I...” Soap began, but then they both heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

The enemies up there started to scramble and started shooting, but not at the two wounded soldiers. Instantly, a powerful, large-caliber machine gun began to answer them, and Price's voice came through the earpiece of Ghost's radio.

“Bravo 0-7, what's your status?”

“We're alive.” The lieutenant exhaled a sigh of relief as he looked up at the sky, where a helicopter flashed over the gorge. “You just flew right over us.”

Soon 141 reunited aboard the helicopter. Gaz immediately began to make sure that Soap remained conscious; Price contacted the base, informing them that a resuscitation team should be waiting for them and that the hospital should have an operating room ready. Ghost sat back and made little effort to fight the dizziness that returned as soon as the adrenaline level in his blood dropped. Price tried to talk to him and asked questions, but the lieutenant could not understand the words, and at some point darkness enveloped him and he passed out.

Waking up was difficult. Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it memories and sensations. Ghost remembered being taken away; he was warm; the smell of the hospital hit his nose, and the silence was broken only by the steady beeping of medical monitors. It took him several minutes to open his eyes. His vision was a little blurry, and Ghost slowly looked around: to his right was another bunk with Johnny lying on it; to his left, Price was sitting in a chair. Noticing the movement, he immediately stood up and leaned over the lieutenant.

“You two are lucky sons of bitches.” The captain said and smiled. "You have a concussion and a broken leg. Soap got the bullet out of his liver and a blood transfusion. I think he'll wake up soon, too."

Ghost wanted to say that this was good, but he had no strength, so he closed his eyes again, falling into sleep.

His next awakening was no better. Price wasn't in the room, but Johnny was already awake and, seeing that Simon was awake too, smiled weakly.

“Hey, Lt.” He said.

“Hey, Johnny.” Ghost responded and barely recognized his voice; it was so quiet and weak. “You look like shit.”

“I feel the same way.” Soap snorted. “You don't look any better, though.”

Ghost lifted his hand with difficulty and ran his fingers over his face. He realized that someone, possibly Price, had put a balaclava on him and felt some relief.

“I'm going to tell you what I wanted.” Soap continued to speak. “And if anyone interrupts me again, I'm going to strangle them with an IV tube.”

Johnny could tell by the way Ghost's eyes squinted that he was smiling. After everything he had been through, or perhaps because of the medication, Soap no longer felt fearful or insecure. Looking at Simon, he smiled and said:

"I love you. Not as a friend."

Ghost was not at all surprised to hear this; on the contrary, he felt a pleasant warm wave of joy spread through his body. He had been feeling the same way for some time, but unlike Johnny, he hadn't been willing to talk about it because he didn't think he was worthy of love and happiness. He was sure that any relationship with him would only ruin the life of the one who dared to have it, but he still allowed himself to get closer to Johnny. And now, looking into his blue eyes, Ghost thought that maybe it was time for him to leave the past in the past and stop running. To accept the fact that he was not to blame for the way his loved ones' lives had turned out; to believe that it didn't have to happen again; and, finally, to allow himself to be happy.

“I love you too, Johnny.” Simon said in a hoarse voice.

Soap's eyes shone with joy. Of course, this was only the first step, and they still had a lot to discuss and a lot to do, but it could wait. Johnny really wanted to hug Simon, but it was impossible now, so he just reached out to him through the narrow passage between the bunks. Ghost did the same, and their fingers touched.

“I think we're both going to get leave after this.” Soap said. “Will you come with me?”

Ghost didn't know where Johnny was taking him, but he didn't care; he smiled and answered:

“Aye.”

[khioneee]

simon is possessive and obsessive.

“you’re mine.”

the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed through the room, each thrust harder and faster than the last. the force of him inside you was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. a broken cry escaped your lips as your orgasm hit, tearing through you at the unforgiving pace he’d set. your body trembled beneath him, bouncing uncontrollably with each thrust as you clawed at the floor, desperate for anything to hold on to.

tears blurred your vision, but even through the haze, you could see him—ghost. his massive frame loomed behind you, the white skull mask glowing dimly in the low light. his blue eyes pierced through the shadows, flickering occasionally into a deep, predatory stare before shifting back, as if a monster lurked just beneath the surface.

a shaky, heated smile curled your lips as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—wrecked, helpless, taken completely by the man behind you. every thrust sent shockwaves through your body, and the way he possessed you made it clear there was no escape.

simon leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and rough. “i’m going to make you watch me take you over and over again until you’re nothing but a numb, broken thing.”

then he slammed into you harder, pulling a ragged cry from deep within you. your nails scraped the floor in desperation, but there was no reprieve, only his unrelenting rhythm.

“i’m still angry,” he growled, his words vibrating through you as he thrust deeper, faster. “and i’m going to make sure you understand, love—no other man will ever satisfy you again.”

his pace quickened, every thrust a punishment, every motion a claim. you could feel it—his rage, his desire, and the dark promise that dripped from his voice. and in the mirror, it was all laid bare: the power he had over you, the way he unraveled you completely.

simon was taking you, body and soul, and there was no turning back.

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Alpha!Kortac with a new recruit!Reader who's being courted (or attempted to be) by every alpha on base.

All of them try to show off with their various positive attributes, winning fights, showing off conquests, etc.

But then there's König. König takes the time to really truly learn Reader. He learns what reader likes, their favourite scents, fabrics they like, music, everything. He learns it all.

So when heat season comes? On reader's doorstep there's about 20 different scent items, labelled from various alphas.

They're all big blankets, or hoodies, all theirs.

But then there's König's. He brought a box.

It's shirts, all your favourite colours and fabrics, some freshly bought, others from his collection. In the bottom is a fluffy blanket, it's comfortable looking, too. It has a note on it, which reads "Saw this in the autumn and it reminded me of you. I've been making sure to scent it frequently for you." With a little crown doodle. It's from König.

It's not a massive surprise to him whenever he sees you on his doorstep, trying to tug him to your nest, thick with heat smell.

[guppybibi]

John Price who absolutely loves it when you nag him. Would kill someone just to hear you scold him about smoking another cigar today. Who wouldn't appreciate all the nagging you do for him? He doesn't understand all of the other husbands who despise their wive's nagging, you wouldn't have nagged in the first place if you didn't care for their wellbeing in the first place!

Like he accidentally left the faucet slightly open? He could already hear your sweet voice lecturing him on and on about water conservation and such. You not only care for him, but the environment too? He scored a goal he never even knew he was missing the whole time!

Or maybe he casually skipped a meal to clear off his workload? Oh boy, he could practically see the outline of your shadow, approaching his office with a hearty meal and a frustrated pout. His imagination was doing wonders while he thought about what you plan on saying upon entering the room, perhaps you'll just step in and shove a spoonful of whatever food you have into his mouth?

He could die happy if he hears you telling him off about putting the toilet paper under instead of over (which is apparently the right way, from what I've heard) or for not taking out the trash earlier in time. John Price is a simple man, who appreciates the simple things in life, by your words alone he can already tell how much you care and value him as a person and as your husband.

[cj-theyoungling]

Simon Riley x Reader

cw : Being drunk. This is pure fluff soooo.

synopsis : Simon goes to a pub after a mission and ends up getting a bit more drunk than he bargained for. After asking for you incoherently Gaz finally gets you on the phone.

author's note : This was inspired by this work I read while I was on the train and I had to put my two cents in. Simon might be OOC in this but it's my story so I get to decide how he acts drunk.

The sound of your ringtone fills your bedroom and wakes you up with a start. You fumble around the empty sheets looking for your phone, you squint at the brightness of the screen and answer once you see Simons contact photo.

"Hey! I think Ghost is asking for you. He's a little bit wasted right now." I man in a baseball cap says to you. You watch as he hands the phone over to Simon.

Simon's face fills the screen, once he catches sight of you the fabric of his balaclava folds in a way you know means he's smiling. "Hi baby." You coo at the screen. His eyes light up as he brings the screen closer to his face. You can tell he's drunk when he leans against Price as he replies.

"Hi doll. I miss you." He slurs his words together, between that and the usual muffling of his mask you can barely make out what he's saying.

"I miss you too Simon." This elicits what you can only assume is a frown from him.

"You don't call me that." He grumbles, you giggle in response and the sound of Price chuckling comes through the phone.

"Damn! You're whipped LT!" A Scottish accent shouts, also clearly drunk.

"Where are you love? I'm gonna come get you." You start putting on your sweatshirt and shoes, you laugh as you hear Simon ask Price the name of the they're at. You hang up, much to Simon's dismay, and drive to go get him.

You enter the mostly empty pub and quickly catch sight of the table full of burly men who all seem to be arguing over something.

"Well is she your wife Ghost? You have their last name saved as Riley." The one who answered the call says, now having shed his cap from earlier.

"Why didn't you tell us about her." Another man says, his hair is sticking up in a mohawk.

Price chuckles at their antics, having caught sight of you walking towards them. "Nice to see you again." He greets, giving you a quick side hug.

"Again?!" The mohawked one says incredulously. You chuckle and introduce yourself to the two men. Simon, suddenly alert once you start speaking stands and wraps his arms around you tightly.

"I missed you doll." He mumbles into your neck, ignoring the laughs from Gaz and Soap.

"I missed you more baby. Now let's get you home, you're wasted." You chuckle as you lead him away from the table. You wave at the men and get Simon into the car.

Once you get into the drivers seat Simon grabs your hand and holds it tightly. You smile as you begin to drive home. Making sure to take a few pictures when Simon falls asleep in the passenger seat.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[secretlovezz]

Casual intimacy with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

He loves to shower with you.

Hopping into a steamy shower together and washing each other's skin clean after you both get home from a tiring day at work. The feeling of you scrubbing shampoo through his freshly cut hair fingers softly grasping at the strands even after he tells you it's not necessary. Sometimes, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and squeeze as you wash your face. He'll kiss gently at your skin as droplets of water drip from your body to his lips and let his nose dig into the crook of your shoulder to inhale your clean scent.

He loves grocery shopping with you.

Getting to keep his large palm against the small of your back rubbing up and down every once in a while to show that he's with you. He likes to listen to your voice as you read down the list of things the two of you need and the way you point your finger and bossily tell him to fetch a certain item. He pushes the cart for you when it starts getting heavy with items even after you complain and tell him "You could do it yourself." He enjoys being strong for you, finds pride in being able to carry and hold all of the bags when the two of you get home from the shops.

Simon Riley really loves these seemingly little moments of intimacy with you.

[leyavo]

Part two: Human!reader x Alpha!Price [previous part]

Tw: blood

Alpha!Price telling you, “that you should really have a mark of an Alpha, Pet. Johnny’s scent ain’t gonna be enough against every other wolf on base.” You think about it for days, noticing Lieutenants and Captains lingering too long for your liking as they sniff your scent. As if they can’t pick up Johnny’s on you.

You sleep in longer with Beta!Johnny, shoving his face in the crook of your neck in hopes his scent will grow stronger, but nothing works. No, you don’t realise that Alpha Price’s scent has overpowered your senses and blocked you from reaping the comfort you used to get from Johnny.

So you reach out for Price.

And Price is more than willing to make that sacrifice. “I’ll be gentle, Pet. You won’t feel a thing.”

You don’t know why he’s asked you to meet him behind the back of the training centre. Stumbling around in the low lit perimeter, sticking to the wall as you try to find your way in the darkness. The hair on the back of your neck raises, John appearing from the shadows with a soft smile.

“Don’t be nervous, chin up Pet,” John says, his hand on the column of your throat as he angles your head to one side. “The second bite’s much more enjoyable.”

His canines sink into your flesh, the warmth of your blood stinging your skin as it trails down your neck and chest. The beat of your heart echoes in your ear, veins pulsing as his tongue laps up the red stains. The alpha leans back, his palm cupping the back of your head as you try to catch your breath.

Another hand slips around the small of your back and you lean on them. Head knocking against a firm chest, you glance up through heavy eyelids and blink up at Beta!Ghost. The cigarette in his other hand burns his fingers, ash eating a hole in the fabric of his glove.

“Now what’s Johnny gonna say about all this then?” And the way Ghost says it, it makes your stomach turn.

[COD omegaverse masterlist]

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Simon had been angry before, no question about that. But he had never been this angry. The moment the helicopter touched down, he grabbed your elbow and dragged you through the base, until you reached the building that was assigned to the 141. All the way, he ignored the concerned and annoyed shouts from the others. And you? You couldn't say anything to defend yourself. Not this time at least.

Simon had all the reasons to be angry, one could have. You were reckless, stubborn, almost got yourself killed in the process. And now you were bearing the consequences. So, you let him drag you through the base, ignoring the curious stares and the way his nails bit into your skin, even through the shirt you were wearing. 

As soon as you two stepped foot into the rec room, he pushed you inside, before stalking to you, glaring as if you were one of his enemies. But you knew better and you saw the worry and fear hidden behind the anger. 

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Price, Soap, and Gaz entered the room, looking worried. "Simon, calm down." Usually, Price's words would have worked. Would have gotten Simon to come to his senses. But you knew he was too far gone. 

"I wasn't thinking. I did what I had to, just like you taught me." You tried to square up to him, but the fire burning in his eyes made you back down. "I didn't fuckin' teach you to get yourself killed now, did I?" You sighed, frustrated, and glared right back at the giant in front of you. 

"You know what I mean. Don't act as if you wouldn't have done the sa-" He interrupted you, spit flying as he suddenly yelled. "That's not what this is about!" Your glare disappeared as your eyes widened in shock. He must have realized what he just did, taking a few steps back, his hand raking down his face. When he looked back at you, a quiet whisper that was your name, left his lips, but you stopped him.

"Fuck you, Simon." That seemed to get his anger going again. "Don't. You're on thin fucking ice right now, you understand?" Your eyes immediately found Soap's, who was already smirking. 

Just last week, he showed you a stupid meme, where someone said "You're on thin ice", and the other person started tap dancing. And in that moment, you knew what you had to do, no matter the cost. So, you stood up straight and started to tap dance. Or at least tried to. First, you had no clue how to, so whatever it looked like, it must've been terrible. And second, before you even got three steps in, Simon's arm wrapped around your waist and he threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Hey!" Not reacting at all, he walked out of the rec room, once again ignoring the others calling after him. Although, it was only Price and Gaz calling. Soap was standing beside them, bent over laughing.

Before you knew it, Simon put you down again. But it wasn't gently, no. Instead, he just threw you onto, what you quickly realized was, his bed. And when you heard the lock click, you knew you were in for a night.

A/N: I love all of you, hope you know that! <3

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon's desperate to find Riley a pet sitter after she suffers an injury in the field and can no longer work alongside him. Despite being desperate, he's also picky. He wants someone professional, organized, and perfect for the position. You show up for an interview - and while you may not be his idea of the perfect candidate, you're the perfect fit for what Riley needs. Unfortunately for Simon, you flip his world upside-down and melt his icy walls of stubbornness and anger, making him crave you like the heat of the sun. The worst part? You don't even know it.

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, brief mentions of animal injury (not detailed), pining, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, slow burn (?), cheating, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Chapter 1. Interview

Chapter 2. Rules

Chapter 3. New Trails

Chapter 4. New Tricks

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Chapter 6. Pup Cup

Chapter 7. Motivated, Sir!

Taglist is CLOSED - thank you to everyone who requested to be tagged in this story!

[khioneee]

‘honey, i’m home.’

simon, presumed dead for the past five years, appears at your doorstep, very much alive.

the knock at the door cut through the quiet night like a knife, startling you from restless sleep. rain hammered against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks. your heart pounded in your chest as you shuffled toward the door, dread curling deep in your stomach. no one visited at this hour. not anymore.

you hesitated at the door, hand trembling slightly on the knob. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it—letting whoever it was go unanswered. but something pulled you forward, a strange sense of familiarity, even though you couldn’t place it.

when you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

there, standing on your doorstep, was simon.

simon stood before you, drenched from the rain, looking like a ghost dragged back from the edge of the world. his hair clung to his forehead, water dripping down his pale face, and exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. it had been five years since you’d gazed into those stormy eyes—five years of grief, heartache, and learning how to live without him. his familiar eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and pain, locked onto yours. his clothes were soaked, his body thinner than you remembered, like he had fought every step of the way just to stand on your doorstep.

your breath hitched painfully. ‘wake up,’ you said to yourself, heart racing. ‘please… wake up.’

but you didn’t.

‘lovie…’ simon whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time. ‘i’m home.’

your mind swirled and shock paralyzing you. it felt like a cruel trick your mind had conjured. the world around you blurred, and your heart ached in your chest. it couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be here.

simon’s expression softened, and without a word, before you could react, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. he reached for you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation, and the breath left your lungs. his grip was tight, desperate, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. his cold, rain-soaked body pressed against yours, but you didn’t care.

he was here.

you froze for a moment, and then, slowly, your hands gripped the wet fabric of his jacket, your chest pressed against his. tears welled in your eyes, the disbelief crashing into a flood of emotions—relief, anger, and love. his familiar scent, rain-soaked, earthy, and undeniably him, flooded your senses, overwhelming you.

‘they told me you were dead,’ you sobbed against him, your fists clinging to his jacket as if that could keep him here. ‘they said your plane crashed. that you were gone.’

you clung to him, your heart shattering in your chest. he held you as if afraid you might slip through his fingers, as if his entire world depended on you being real.

simon buried his face into your hair, holding you tighter, his breath shaky. ‘every bloody day, i fought my way back for you,’ he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he’d endured. ‘you were the only reason i stayed alive.’

you sobbed harder, burying your face into his chest, your knees nearly giving out beneath you. all the years of mourning him, the endless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the desperate ache of thinking you’d lost him forever—all of it shattered in his arms.

but then, simon’s grip on you faltered. something had shifted in the way he held you. slowly, he pulled back just enough to look down at your hand. his thumb brushing over the bare space where your wedding ring used to sit.

his body tensed. he pulled back slightly, just enough to glance down at your hand, and his breath hitched. the wedding ring you once wore was gone.

‘where’s your ring?’ he asked, voice quiet but edged with something fragile, as if the answer might break him.

your throat tightened, guilt and sorrow clawing at your chest. ‘simon…’ you started, voice cracking under the weight of it all.

his jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked past you. that’s when he saw them—new photos hanging on the walls. the ones of you and him were gone, replaced by pictures of you and someone else.

it was like the air had been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenched, shoulders sagging under the realization. his face a mask of exhaustion and heartbreak as the weight of what he was seeing sank in.

you looked away, guilt pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. ‘i waited…’ you whispered. ‘even when they told me there wasn’t a chance you were alive, i tried.’

his face didn’t change, but the subtle pain and betrayal in his eyes was unmistakable. ‘i came back for you,’ he uttered softly, almost to himself. ‘i told you i’d come to you.’

‘i thought you were gone,’ you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. ‘i didn’t know how to keep waiting when they told me you’d never come back.’

simon’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. despite everything, his touch was tender, grounding. ‘i didn’t survive just to be a memory, sweetheart,’ he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. ‘i fought every day to come back to you. and if i have to fight again… i will.’

you leaned into him, your heart breaking and mending all at once. the years apart, the lost moments—they still weighed heavy, but he was here. he had kept his promise, and that was all that mattered now.

‘i told you i’d come back,’ he said, voice low but steady. ‘and i’m not going anywhere. not ever again.’

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Imagine Johnny coming back from deployment and he goes to open 'er (your legs) up and then all you see is horror on his face.

You shaved. That's it. No period, nothing scary down there. But to him?

Guys he's fucking BAWLING. I think if this was his first time since coming back from deployment he'd lose his shit AND ACTUALLY CRY.

"bonnie... Ye shaved 'er bald," he says, having to keep from crying, "what'll keep 'er warm in the winter?"

[guppybibi]

Girl Dad!Simon who had to get his newborn baby girl taken away from him because he was practically drowning them in his tears. (He denies that it ever happened now)

Girl Dad!Simon who went dead asleep after the delivery, it was unintentional of course, he wanted to help you as much as he could but his body just dropped on it's own. The worst part was is that he basically missed all of the baby's 'firsts' although he managed to wake up just in time for the first nappy change.

Girl Dad!Simon who spends a little bit too much of his free time staring at his daughter. It only worsened when you guys finally got dismissed from the hospital, you tend to find Simon crouching by the crib and watching the baby's every move pretty often. It's like bird watching, he says when you ask him.

Girl Dad!Simon who sobbed more than his daughter during her first day of school, was going to say the most melancholic goodbye but she just excitedly runs off to school and leaves her dad hanging.

Girl Dad!Simon who refuses to miss any important event in her life, no matter how small it is. Will literally call during a mission so he could see his daughter's piano recital.

"Simon? Why do I hear gunshots??"

"Don't mind 'em luv."

"How do you even have your phone right now??"

"Sneaked it."