#simon riley x nurse!reader

[imaginedreamwrite]

Entirely Unconventional

Part 5: A loss of sanity

48 hours since you had seen Em and her husband.

48 hours since you had gotten her number from your student nurse, and only now were you texting her. You had hesitated to reach out to her after she had left her number for you, making excuses for why you couldn’t be willing to talk that had all fallen flat.

You were off for three days before you would return to work for four nights, and during the that time since you’d left work, you’d been plagued by those same invading symptoms that rattled you.

48 hours since you had seen them. Ghost and König.

48 hours since you had left the hospital, and it felt like there was a bug burrowing its way into your head, slowly eating away at your brain tissue to create a path somewhere in your mind.

You tried to ignore it, the radio static that was driving you mental. You tried to forget the phantom pain of…something affecting you mentally. And then you started to place blame on whatever you could to rationalize why this was happening.

It was because you were tired, overwhelmed, and stressed. It was your body’s way of telling you that you needed to unwind and settle yourself.

You were feeling this way due to guilt of ignoring someone who, despite the years and the lack of keeping in contact, was your best friend. You thought that maybe if you had called her, texted her, the guilt wouldn’t get to you.

You loved Emilia, she was your best friend. Not only that, but you loved the time you spent together in your dorm room, both of you spending hours late studying. You missed skipping class occasionally to go get coffee after a late night out drinking, you missed having long conversations about everything and nothing.

She was your best friend; she was your sister, even though she wasn’t blood related.

One of your biggest regrets was not keeping an open line of communication after you both graduated, and she had moved to Scotland. You wished you would’ve taken time to continue talking to her, to try to keep your friendship alive.

Her family lived a few miles out of the village, on a piece of land they’d had for decades, however Emilia didn’t go to high-school with you.

Instead of going public, she had gone to the only catholic school in the small county, a favour to her parents who wanted her to avoid being influenced by the rowdy public school kids. If only her parents had known that Catholic school was almost worse than public.

When you went to university, you were assigned to the same dorm, recognizing each other from around town way back home in your small state. The two of you became fast friends, bonding quickly and becoming each other's much needed sisters. The two of you had spent four years becoming each other's rock and confidante, promising to be as thick as thieves for the rest of your life.

When you had both turned 21, in your third year of nursing school, she had convinced you to pay for the test that was offered when you became of age. It was a test to determine, or predict with incredible accuracy, your soulmate or how many soulmates you could potentially have.

And in even rarer cases, lacking a soulmate entirely. It was enough to make you anxious, a pit in your stomach at the very idea of fate being that cruel.

If you had gotten the test, paid for it and received the results, would you ultimately be satisfied with potentially not having a soulmate?

And having free rein over your future? Or would you be burdened by disappointment and inadequacy at having no one?

You were hesitant when she first suggested paying for the test. You didn’t understand the schematics of how they had predicted, and determined to a certain accuracy, what you could expect.

In the end, she convinced you and you both paid for the test, completing any requirements, physically, mentally and emotionally, to get a glimpse into your future.

And when the results had come back nearly a month and a half later, you were riddled with anxiety again. The envelopes were thick and heavy, information about the results and what they could best estimate was shoved inside with a girth that nearly broke the envelope entirely.

“This is it!” She had been so excited, so eager to rip open the envelope once it arrived. She hadn’t hesitated for a moment, not a single damn moment, as she tore it open and began reading. Overzealous and impatient, she had read it out loud to you with increasing excitement that would’ve been contagious if you hadn’t felt like you were on the verge of being sick.

“Open yours! Come on!” She pleaded with you from her side of the dorm room, her results and all the other information given to her already tucked away. “I wanna know!”

You had sat down on your bed with hesitancy, your fingers losing grip of the envelope’s perforated edge. Once you managed to grab hold, you ripped it open and cautiously reached your hand in.

You were treating the envelope and its contents like they were a dangerous animal that could’ve struck you violently, instead of the lifeless, inanimate objects they were.

Your hands shook as you held the cover letter of your results, the information coming to you as fast as your brain could process it. It took a hell of a long minute for you to re-read the letter, and another to process what it said. You had been quiet, reserved, while Em seemed to be champing at the bit to hear what news you’d gotten.

“Two,” you spoke breathlessly, your hands that were holding that damned letter were shaking as you continued to read to her, “two soulmates with an accurate measure of 95%.”

“Two! Y/N, that’s incredible!” She was happy for you, constantly upbeat and hopeful for the future had allotted her with a direct and powerful sunshiny personality. “I am so happy for you!”

Your stomach had flipped, anxiously acknowledging what was likely an inescapable reality. The initial reaction you’d had was to keel over and vomit as your body was flooded with overwhelming emotions that rattled you.

The results were neither what you had anticipated, nor what you thought fate should have in store for you. You knew you would be regarded by some people as incredibly lucky to have two people to look forward to meeting, and hopelessly damned by others.

“95% chance of having two soulmates,” you exhaled sharply, taking a moment to gather your nerves before you felt like you could breathe properly, “a 5% chance that they’re wrong.”

You still hadn’t understood the process behind the tests, the process that could accurately predict a portion of your future love life with only a five percent inaccuracy.

It was in your last year of school, a few months before graduation, that Em had met her future husband. She had been visiting distant relatives in Texas for some kind of reunion and through sneaking out to go drinking one night, she had met him. She was sparse with some details, and you couldn’t blame her, though you had heard a few things about him.

They met at the bar in Texas that she had snuck out to, surrounded by a few friends who were equally imposing. Her soulmate had spotted her from across the bar, so captivated by Em and her light that he’d ended up spilling his draft on himself.

She said it felt like love at first sight, like puzzle pieces had just fallen together. And when she returned she had gotten her signifying soulmate mark, a compass that appeared on her right arm leading her to her other half.

You were envious when she told you, despite your earlier objections. The way she had talked about meeting him, it made you hopeful for your experience.

After graduation, she moved to Scotland where her soulmate, and future husband, had been born and raised. She got a good job, a really well paying job, and you had finished your nursing course.

The two of you had grown apart as she was focused on her life, and you’d returned to your small town, diving right into work at the county hospital.

Four years have passed.

Four years without ever meeting your soulmates or having any possible idea where they could have been. You waited, remaining hopeful for the first two years, that like Em, you would have that same opportunity to meet them. That hopefulness had faded, never completely leaving you, but giving you speculation about the whole idea.

A text, simple and straightforward, had been the first you sent. The message wasn’t necessarily overly friendly, but rather it was cordial and respectful. You found it hard enough to type the words out on your phone’s keyboard and send it, despite spending four years living together and growing a relationship that made you feel like sisters.

I took care of the chart and the medication. Have you heard how he’s doing?

In return, Emilia had sent you a text that was much warmer than the one she sent you. Her bubbly personality shone through the message with exclamation points and emojis that visually conveyed her happiness to hear from you. One message was all it took to know that she hadn’t really changed since college, she was still as happy and kind-hearted as she had always been,

And it was another reminder that she and her husband Johnny were really, truly compatible.

Hey, missed hearing from you! Can’t believe it’s been four years since we last saw each other! Johnny’s fine, and he’s back off to work! Could I call you? I have something I’d like to talk to you about.

Yeah, I got time

It took less than you expected for her name to flash on your screen, with the option to accept the video message or deny it by pressing the red phone button on the far-right hand on your screen. You had negated your instincts to cut the call short before it had a chance to begin, instead you’d allowed the call to come through.

As the call had been accepted, and it was connected, Emilia’s face had appeared front and centre with a smaller portion of the screen dedicated to you, set in the top-right corner.

There were few details you could see through the call, a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table with a note attached to the glass, and a stack of binders to the left of the flowers like pertaining to her work.

“It’s so sunny there, I bet it’s warm. It’s raining here.” Emilia had shifted her phone or tablet, whatever she was using, to give you a look at the kitchen window and the weather outside. You could see the soft and small raindrops rolling down the window, almost peacefully and cozily, adding to the atmosphere of her home.

“It’s been really nice, actually.” On your days off, and the remaining hours you had before you went back to work, had been spent keeping your mind busy and off the symptoms that were constantly affecting you. “What did you want to talk about?”

You didn’t skirt around her, or the insistence on talking to you through a video call rather than through texting or a phone call. You wanted to know what she had to say and why she wanted to see you, to look at you. And through the screen you could see it, a look in her eyes and the flash of something unseen on her face.

“You know how I asked if you had found your soulmates?” She was easy to read, that was another thing about her that never changed.

It seemed she always had a lack of a poker face, and even in the hospital room when she’d given you that story, you swore she was lying. It was a sense you had about her, though you never questioned her.

“I still haven’t.” You spoke bluntly, your attention directed toward the background behind her, and that framed picture of her husband and her.

The picture wasn’t of their wedding day, it had been inherently significant at all. She was sitting on his lap somewhere outside with her arm around his shoulders and one leg crossed over the other. She was beaming at the camera, her free hand holding a beer for herself or him, but the way he was looking at her was otherworldly.

Johnny was looking at Emilia as if she were the very reason he was alive, as if she was his whole damn world. He was looking at her with such inescapable love that it almost gave you butterflies.

“Listen…when you find your soulmate you learn to recognize the signs of…you know, and when you were helping Johnny, I think…” You didn’t need her to say it, you knew what she was implying.

You knew what she was trying to say.

“And they’re already…well, I should have told you earlier, and I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, but… Simon & Konig, and you now…” The way she spoke had reintroduced a kind of pit in your stomach, the sense of some kind of upending weight upon you.

It was the same feeling you’d gotten in the hospital room, the same heaviness in your chest that made you wonder if you were sick, or losing your mind.

And then the feeling of whatever hellish bug was crawling through your mind had given way. It was instantaneous. The flood, of whatever crazed symptoms had hit you, came in which such potency and power that you drew yourself back into the chair you were sitting on with a sharp hiss.

Sound, voices, echo loudly in your head over and over again.

None were in English, none had been anything you could understand. It was all foreign to you, it was aggressive and deafening, the sudden shouts in anger were too much. It was too hard for you to control your bodily autonomy, and in a moment you felt everything you’d eaten come back up, acid stinging your throat.

Dieser verdammte wichser! Das war mein! Mein Ziel! Ich werde ihn jagen, seine Eingeweide herausreißen und ihn mit ihnen hängen! Er ist fertig! Ich mache es kaputt!

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Em’s worry echoed through the screen, you heard it, and you’d barely gotten a quick goodbye out before you ended the call.

You pushed the phone off the side table it was sitting on, and pulled yourself off the chair to the floor. You were dizzy, rattled and completely vulnerable to this torture afflicting you.

You were too focused on the hell that was going on in your head, and the molten fire that was burning you from the inside out. Heat coursed through your veins, it felt like your blood was about to boil inside your body.

Over and over, you heard yelling in what you thought was German, with enough force and intensity that it could have shattered your eardrums if you hadn’t heard it in your head.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You cursed and turned your head, vomiting again from the intrusion and the thundering screaming in your mind.

Over and over, endlessly, you were being held captive by something, by someone. A plague, an unseen demon, was taking your mind hostage and filling it endlessly with things you didn’t understand.

Whether minutes, hours or half the day had passed, it hadn’t mattered. When there was silence in your head again, you didn’t feel alone; you knew you weren’t alone. You could feel it, feel someone on the edge of your mind.

Ich wusste nicht, dass du da bist. Scheiße, ich wusste nicht, dass du mich hören kannst

Your body was weak, completely ripped of any energy you had. Your whole body was trembling, afflicted by a sudden and powerful fever that made you delusional.

You had truly lost your mind, you had completely lost all sanity.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math masterlist

COD masterlist

You had a plan, but never could have anticipated… this.

Ghost/Soap/female reader - throuple fic Please read this post

AO3 / all works are 18+

Part One You meet your new patient, and his Ghost. Part Two Deep breath. Part Three " You'll be with him?" Part Four Sanctuary. Part Five Johnny tells you a secret Part Six Simon does some digging Part Seven You get caught in a spell Part Eight The rock and the hard place Part Nine Simon and Johnny make a discovery, and a promise. Part Ten Dinner date Part Eleven Welcome home Part Twelve One step forward, two steps back. Part Thirteen Confessions Part Fourteen what's in a name? Part Fifteen Try Part Sixteen Therapy Part Seventeen A shock Part Eighteen Surprise

Timeline

Musings: Original ramble Follow up Q

Moodboard and playlist

[elysianightsss]

ANAESTHESIA | MASTERLIST

Pairings | Surgeon Simon Riley x Clinical Fellow Reader, Surgeon Price x Clinical Fellow Reader, Clinical Fellow Soap x Clinical Fellow Reader, Nurse Gaz x Clinical Fellow Reader, Doctor!141 x reader.

Summary | Simon was your high school sweetheart, Kyle was your rebound from Simon, Johnny was your friend with benefits for your first year at med school and John was the one night stand you couldn’t remember. Five years later they’re all working at the same hospital you’d just been transferred to.

Tags | Smut, Fluff, Angst, medical stuff I had to google to make sure it was accurate, awkwardness, mentions of blood, mentions of surgery and wounds, the hospital is massive, the guys pining for you while you try to ignore them, Simon being a dick, comedy gold, a written soap opera if there ever was one.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credit | @cafekitsune

[ghostaholics]

I’m laughing so hard with the enemies with benefits trope, it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.What if she gets badly hurt during a mission, and ends up unconscious for days, and Ghost stays by her side waiting for her to wake up and when she does, instead of a heartwarming conversation they instantly start to insult each other

The amount of time it took for them to stabilize her had been... long.

Too long.

So long, in fact that they'd had to resuscitate her twice during transport and somewhere in between their (inadequate, by his standards) attempts at life-saving measures and him taking over compressions (he'd bullied his way onto the carrier, of course, much to the displeasure of the rest of the medical flight personnel and was the only one willing to continue even after they'd seriously considered calling the time of death), there was a brief moment where he'd really thought she wasn't going to make it. And for exactly 34 minutes, he'd kept thinking to himself what a goddamn shame it'd be to lose her (not for himself, but for the 1-4-1, the good of the team, obviously). Except then they'd found her pulse again, faint and barely hanging on just under skin, albeit still there – thank-fucking-Jesus – and Simon had finally allowed himself to let out a sigh of breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding the entire time.

It's been about 72 hours since she was initially transferred to the trauma center by helo (or 71 hours and 53 minutes if he wants to get really technical, not that he’s keeping track). This surly, hulking beast of a man managed to fold himself into that tiny hospital chair – has a damn crick in his neck now, stiffness in his muscles from that pathetic excuse of a recliner. And he's had to camp out as a sniper for lengthy intervals before, slept on the ground or up against a fucking tree depending on the situation without complaint, so this should be any different, but he's had to shift positions frequently just to take the edge off because it's bothering him that much; Christ, the things he does for her.

And after waiting all this damn time, he's finally rewarded with some evidence of actual consciousness – the too-thin, threadbare hospital sheets stirring with movement out of the corner of his eye. Simon rises from his seat, completely neglecting his lunch (hadn't even really been able to eat properly until recently, because his appetite was pretty much shite after the whole cardiac arrest thing) and strides over to check on whether or not she's waking up.

She blinks, groggily, eyes adjusting to her surroundings and trying to place where exactly she is before a shadow passes over her line of vision and blocks the annoying fluorescent lights. It’s – oh.

Simon's face comes into view, peering down at her with an expression that she doesn’t quite recognize. This one’s new; she doesn’t have a name for it, but if she were to hazard a guess, it seems an awful lot like concern – or at least his version of whatever that may be. She watches him quietly. Her gaze isn’t as disoriented anymore and she tracks his hand, the way it comes up to cup her jaw, warm palm sliding over her skin in an invitation to lean into his touch.

“Really glad you woke up,” he murmurs, low but still loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic beeping of the bedside monitor. And Simon, being Simon, doesn't forget to add, “There's so many reports I've been waiting for you to sign off on.”

She closes her eyes with a small smile gracing her lips. Her voice is rough from disuse, but the sarcasm behind it is a familiar sound. “Wish I'd been out for longer. Was nice not having you nag my ear off – best damn sleep I've gotten in ages, y'know.”

[konigsblog]

doctor!141 where they have nurse!gaz, gynocologist!price, dentist!soap and pharmacist!ghost??

gynocologist!price fucks your tight hole and stretches you out, using a speculum and ruining your pussy by rutting into harshly, gasping and moaning for more and more as he fucks deep and hard into you.

nurse!gaz next door hear all your desperate gasps and mewls, using your mouth while price forces you to look into his intimidating eyes as he talks any issues or any prescriptions you'd get.

pharmacist!ghost who gives you aphrodisiacs and gets you all sticky, after you beg gynocologist!price for his thick dick, you'll suck or simon in the back of the pharmacy, letting him degrade you and finger your full pussy.

dentist!soap who fucks your mouth to calm you down. giving him big doe eyes while he reassures you you'll be alright, easing your fears as he slides down your throat. you always beg for his thick and hard cock in your mouth, sucking on it to calm you down 'til he begins working on your bruised mouth, puffy and swollen lips :((((

dentist!soap was based off a request, credits to that anon for dentist!soap

[kakashiislut]

No one asked for this, but I’ve been thinking about this and me and @kioplama had some giggly chats about it. So hehe, hope you enjoy.

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Part 2 here!

Warnings: Mentions of Simons past, concussions, scars, blood, malnutrition, needles, and more. 

Authors Note: heyo! Maybe this will be a series, who knows!!!! Basically, Y/N is a underground nurse/doctor and she finds lil old Simon passed out in front of her house and she takes him in to care for him until he’s all happy and healthy.

Word Count: 1,096.

Part 1/?

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The Solider~ Ghost x FemNurse!Reader.

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“What the fuck is that” You mumbled, squinting your eyes to try and get a better look. Moving your curtain to the side, you stared at the massive black blob that laid almost 50 Ft away from your house. It wasn’t moving, but you could see the outline of a hand and maybe even a head.

Taking a step back, you reached into the entryway table and pulled out a Glock .19, pushing it into the back of your pants, you made your way out the front door.

You walked carefully to it.

It was indeed a body, a body that was unresponsive, but you could hear some mumbling. Using your nurse strength, you pulled the body onto its back and stared down at the odd mask and military clothing. “Sir, are you breathing?” You asked, trying to sound as professional as possible. “Sir! Can you hear my voice!” Leaning down, you could hear him say something.

“Roba? Is that your name? Sir, is your name Roba?”

Getting behind him, you hooked your arms underneath his armpits and began dragging him towards your back door.

—

“Oh My GAwd!” You let out a loud huff as the man’s body finally hit the hospital-like-bed you kept downstairs. “I never regretted having an entire hospital downstairs more than right now- ow! My back-“ You whined out, rubbing the sore spot on your lower back. Getting him downstairs….well…if he knew, it would probably break his pride.

If he had any left.

You got “scrubbed in” as fast as you could. Slipping on a pair of scrubs over your clothes, getting into some gloves and even putting a mask to your face.

You had everything. Of course you did, you’re a pretty famous underground nurse. You worked with petty criminals, politicians that needed embarrassing or private work done, even with poor people who couldn’t afford basic help. Though licensed as a nurse, your knowledge and expertise went as far as a doctor.

You took off the mask first.

“Wow…you’re..something” you mumbled, placing it to the side, your fingers searching for a wet wipe to clean his face a bit. Once clean, you checked for any sort of cuts or wounds.

The man had a crooked and bumpy nose, with a massive scar coming across of it. His eyebrows were brown and messy, with once again, another scar vertically cutting through it. His hair was dyed blonde and grown out, some of it covering his face. He had a Glasgow smile cutting up the right side of his face and his cheeks were sunken in.

Very obvious sign of malnourishment.

Peeling open his eye lids, you flashed a light and watched how they simply didn’t respond. His pupils seemed to be uneven and you heard the smallest groan slip out of his mouth.

Concussion? Seriously. Fuck.

“Roba? Can you hear me?” The man licked over his dry and cracked lips. “No.” He mumbled, “no? No What?”

The man went silent again.

—

It was bad. It really was. When you cut off the man’s shirt, his body was littered with unimaginable scars and wounds. His shoulders were burnt and messy. He had a hole between his ribs. What seemed like 100 gunshot and stab wounds. His body was also littered with many messy and faint tattoos. The most prominent and taken care of was the one that adorned his forearm.

Lucky for you, those were all scars and seemed to be in the man’s past. The bloody ones…weren’t any better. His skin almost seemed to be peeling, he had a branding on his pelvic bone that stuck out, and shards of glass and wood stuck into him.

His ribs were sunken in and his skin seemed to be almost purple and red. The man needed something in his system, STAT!

Infection. Infection. Infection Was all that ran through your mind as you hurried to grab a IV bag full of fluids. You searched his cubital fossa for a vein and when you got a good one; you injected him with the needle. Letting the bag drip its liquid gold into his system, you cut off his pants.

Not as bad. But his legs were skinny and taunt.

His wrist was also broken. It seemed cleanly broken though. Like someone purposely did it to inflict pain.

You’re not worried that he might be a horrible person, you really aren’t. You’ve worked with people in the mafia and so much worse. If this man deserved all this to happen to him…then who gives a shit!

—

“Finished!” You huffed, sitting down in your chair and breathing heavily. Working with a limp body was super difficult, you barely had control over it. You used over the counter Antibiotics for his infection and a “homemade” cast for his wrist.

To heal? He needs lots and lots of nourishment.

Sliding your wheely chair to the closet, you opened it up and searched for a pair of handcuffs. To be safe. Of course. You wheeled back and attached his good hand to the railing of the bed and a sense of comfortability washed over you.

The painkillers you injected into the IV bag will keep him asleep, make him a little drowsy, so he’ll for sure wake up screaming and thrashing, confused where he ended up at. While he had his beauty sleep, you searched his pants, vest, side bags and the broken down backpack he had on him. Messy and dirty clothes made up most of the bag and you made a mental note to wash them in your softest and best detergent.

He had a bag of essentials in the smaller pocket of the military backpack and you took them to the bathroom in the basement. He had no phone, just a loose watch that had a broken screen. His vest seemed to be missing something, like some sort of system was ripped out of it.

The man had no ID.

The man seemed to be no one. Like he didn’t exist.

Cleaning up the mess you made, you didn’t need to worry about weapons as the man had nothing on him. Maybe, he himself was the weapon. You left upstairs, locking the door on the bottom of the stairs, and then the door that led to the stairs. You washed his messy clothes and stitched up the ones that had tiny holes in them. You made a homemade tomato soup and kept it warm until he would wake up.

Before you left upstairs, you snapped a photo of his face. Your “friends” could help you.

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Heyo! Sorry for making this kinda short and maybe a bit fast paced, but I’m to excited thinking about their little interactions they’re gonna have in the next part! I hope you like it and leave some comments for any misspellings or ideas! My request box is also open ❤️

[random0lover]

Siren!reader x deaf!141 member

(Mini idea in tags)

[dawnwriterimagines]

Innocents among you

Part Two to TRAITORS AMONG US

SIMON RILEY X FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 X FEM!READER

Summary: Your torture is over, but is it really? There is only the torment in your mind now. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the flowers at your hospital bed and the tormentors awaiting the relief of your forgiveness.

Part 3!!

Part 4

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

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You flatlined twice, almost as soon as you were handed off to the medics.

Committing themselves to doing CPR before bringing in the defibrillator for an electric charge to your sudden cardiac arrest. "Clear!" They restarted your heart just outside the hallway of your cell, Simon held back by Price as your heart stopped again within the same minute and panic ensued. Johnny and Kyle hearing the news, rushing up towards the hall, their footsteps probably the echo that you held onto as your heart rate picked back up.

Clearly, you lived.

You didn't have the luxury of going comatose immediately after. As you would've preferred.

You'd awoken hours after the medical team carried you off to the infirmary. Still on edge, still plagued by discomfort and cold, despite the lights of the recovery facility and the nurses that paraded around you.

Morphine wears off in about 6 hours, so you were up wailing in agony within the same time. Clearly no one expected you up so soon, but you hadn't slept in days, at least not more than an hour. Jerking up involuntarily, hands all over you to keep you down and steady, you could hear a familiar doctor's attempt to calm you down. But, the blistering pain that radiated from every pore in your body was ringing so loud, a present noise that blocked everything out.

So, at first, you'd been terrified, attempting to clutch onto the first thing you'd woken up to. But, you couldn't move, at least not voluntarily.

With the damage to your spine for countless hours, days, and what you had discovered to be two fucking weeks of endless torture, you'd undergone three difference corrective surgeries that would 'possibly' fix the nerve and circulatory damage done to you. It had left you nearly completely immobile since your admission into the infirmary. The doctors were quite astonished that you were even alive...

The nurses were patient enough with your panicked state to slowly ease you out of your stupor. But, at times it wasn't easy, especially when you didn't even know where you were at first. Since you couldn't see...

You were blind for about four days. Everything a tinted red for a few more after you'd regained your sight.

Fevers plagued you for the week, skin that was raw and inflamed from the severe cold and constant dousing from the pipes, you couldn't move if you wanted to.

The first thing you'd been graced to see were the multiple arrangements of flowers, lilies, white tulips, hydrangeas, roses...typical assortments of regret and remorse.

"Can someone throw these away?" had been your first words.

The nurse who had been checking over your vitals looks over at the flowers, the were all over the desk, even on the floor lining the windows, once they ran out of space to put them. It was beautiful. But, she knew why. Everyone knew why. You were quite famous here in the infirmary, as you were in special unit. "Of course."

They were out within the day. The room bare once more.

And then you saw them outside your infirmary window. Just a glimpse. Around the time you were still getting your sight back.

Seeing them for the first time since everything made bile build up in your throat, a screaming fear that created a pulsing headache.

Kyle, Johnny, Price and...you didn't see Simon.

Price was...a statue. Not moving an inch. His hand against his mouth, covering up the aching distress anyone could see on his face.

Kyle was pacing, back and forth and back and forth. Making an offhanded comment at one of them every few seconds.

But, Johnny was talking, pointing spitefully at someone out of your view.

He was there too then. Simon.

Turning away from the window, you couldn't look at them anymore.

"Don't let them in," you breathe out to your doctor as she sets down a trayed mug on your sliding table as she sits you up to drink a hot cup of tea, which you had requested. "Any of them. Please." You were still so cold, you couldn't imagine dealing with any type of cold weather for a while after dealing with this.

She's confused a moment, before turning to the doorway, where she recalled seeing the four men waiting outside in the hallway. She's seen them just sitting there for days now, they wouldn't beg or argue to come in, they'd just wait. It's not like you were cleared for visitors yet anyway.

Every morning she clocked in for the job, there they were. Sitting there like abandoned children, awaiting the moment the door would open to be welcomed inside.

It was like they never left.

Of course she knew who they were to you. Word spreads fast on the base. Especially for a Task Force as 'famous' as they were around here.

Squeezing your shoulder, comfortingly. Feeling protective, your doctor spoke, "Of course," she slides the mug forward a bit, taking the teaspoon to stir once and lift it to toward your lips to sip. "Blow," she guided.

You did. And sipped.

And it was warmer than any blanket they'd wrapped you in.

---

Prior to being able to trudge around on your own, with the help of a crutch you'd been given to go to the bathroom by yourself finally, the nurses had sponged you down in bed. Your spinal surgeries led to you being at risk if they made efforts to remove you from your bed for anything more than a medical emergency.

Mostly, because you're terrified of the showerhead....and it's pathetic, but no one judges you for it as you opt for a sponge bath every time instead. Even if you're shaking as the water slides down your skin even now. The last thing you needed on top of all this was to develop aquaphobia.

Today was the first day you could do it on you own, limping your way to the bathroom with your crutch. The smell of bleach is much stronger in here, it stings your nose.

You stared at the metal stool left tucked at the side, walking around it as if it would pounce up and attack you, you try not to look at it. You'd been doing well without panic attacks for a few days now, just hold it together.

Taking a breath, you reach out to the handle for the spout, glancing up at the showerhead, before back down. Swallowing thickly when you begin to turn it before pausing, hearing the water rush up the pipe to spill out. Turning it back up just as quickly, shutting off the pipe, you inhale deeply, trembling now, hand up to the chilled tile to steady yourself.

You'll try again, you had to.

Drip...

Drip...

Unable to help yourself, the sudden rush of paranoia that runs through you is terrible, a hoarse cry leaves you. You shove yourself away from the shower stall, back ramming into the doorframe, catching yourself, and away from the showerhead as the water drips, slowly from the faucet.

Drip...

Drip...

As panic tightened its grip around your chest, your breaths quickly turned to short, sharp gasps. The room spinning, colors blurring into a dizzying whirlwind. You turn swiftly, nearly knocking yourself off your feet as the thudding of your own heart startles you, you can hear it in your ears, in your hands, in your feet.

You press a trembling hand to your chest, clawing over the area, trying to slow the frantic pace of your breathing, but it only seemed to escalate. The small room narrowing to a black hole of fear and suffocation, every gasp began to disorient you, turning lightheaded.

As tears welled in your eyes, you collapse against the side wall, sliding down to the tiled floor. Slamming your palm against your chest, once, twice, as hot tears leave streaks down your bruised face, you beg your lungs to expand and wait for your breathing to regulate.

Beginning to sob uncontrollably as you hit yourself in the chest again and again and again, waiting for the moment you found yourself able to breathe.

Why did this have to happen?

You remember the violent swing of the baton against your face, the sting it leaves afterwards, the immediate spotting of bruises forming. The memory startles you, receding back into yourself, back to that day.

"It wasn't me..." you cried loudly, in the empty room. It echoes against the tiles.

Simon wrapping his hands around your neck, staring you down as he squeezed, maliciously. You couldn't breathe as your lover shook with the strength he uses to hold himself back from taking your life.

"I'm sorry," you hiccupped. "I'm--I'm sorry," you're not sure when you crawled yourself into the corner, the lights of the bathroom flickering off dimly from your lack of movement. As you're drowned in darkness, the water dripping from the spout, the cold tile against your skin, it's too much. You scramble upwards, running out of the bathroom.

The automatic lights flicker back on inside, but you're too in your head to notice.

Stumbling down to your knees as you feel the rip of a ruined stitching tearing along your side. "Ah!" comes your startled cry. Making it to the side of your hospital bed, you fist your hand through your sheets, unable to stand yourself up.

Taking pained breaths against the sterile sheets, you bury your head in them, cursing whatever luck you thought you had in this life.

They were your family...

All you had for so many years...

As your breathing slows to distraught, agonized huffs of air, sniffling to yourself as you catch sight of your face in the metal frame of your hospital bed. The dark purple bruises beneath your eyes as the swelling gradually went down, the still bloodshot left eye of yours, the twelve stitches on the left side of your face. So gruesome you knew it would scar you for life, a permanent reminder on your fucking face.

Anger bubbled up inside you at the sight of it. At the memory that would always follow when you'd look at it.

Anger that you hadn't been able to properly feel until now.

Anger that you feared to have until today.

"Are you alright?" the sound of his voice makes you visible tense.

Simon.

He's here.

You don't turn to face him, if you did, you'd revert back to the person you were cowering into moments ago. "The door was open...I just--" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "Lemme help you up."

Hearing his footsteps suddenly moving closer, you speak fast. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" you scream over your shoulder, tucking yourself further away from him. "Do NOT move."

He stops in his tracks. You catch the sight of him in the metal framing of the bed, he's a blur in the metal, but you notice his mask is gone, he's Simon Riley now, not Ghost as he appeared to you in the interrogation cell.

"Don't you dare get any closer," you spat.

"I heard you," he spoke, carefully. Mouth opening and closing, before speaking again. "But, you don't have to be stubborn. If you stay there any longer you could tear your stitches."

"Whose fault is that?"

Simon shifts his stance on his feet, waits a second. "I know. And I can never begin to tell you how sorry I am for what I did. What we all did to you," he says, quietly. "The intel we discovered...or that was forged, it came from a source we've used a dozen times, (Y/n), we thought it was true. It had to be. We've never been misled before."

"So..." your nails bite into your skin, you make an amused sound, biting down on your lip for a moment, till it hurt. " That's what you came here to say, huh? What you waited days to--. Is this you justifying--"

"No, (y/n), that's not--"

"--why you tortured me, strangled me, stripped me, in that fucking cell, Simon?"

"We had to believe it, at the time..."

"Was I not a trusted source?" you argued. "Had I not proven more than a thousand times that you could trust me? I've fought next to you, laid in your bed, given you my love, my trust, I--" you shook with rage at the time and energy wasted on time family, this relationship, if the end goal was always meant to just be this.. "I thought that was at least half the reason you decided to marry me..." at the mention of your relationship, you could see the way Simon nearly lost his balance, hands coming up to run along his face. "You told me you would kill me in that room..."

"I was just talking, I wouldn't have--" his voice cracks as he whispers, trying to convince.

"When you left, I thought you'd come back to kill me any minute, or Price, to spare you. I waited to die for two days, terrified out of my mind. I wondered about heaven, not if I'd make it... but what it'd be like, what I'd be missing out on," you thought back to your time in that cell, a haunted expression Simon couldn't see. "While you all got a good nights rest, woke up for some bacon and eggs, and listened to the warden tell you that your prisoner was framed...for a crime you'd already punished her for..." you stuttered on your breathing, tears flowing silently.

Simon inhales deeply. "I could never expect you to forgive me. I-I had taken my hurt out on you, I thought you did it, I was so sure. I couldn't hear what you were saying, I just could see the evidence, and I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love. I'm truly--" he gets to his knees behind you.

"Get up."

"I can never tell you how sorry I am---"

"Simon."

"I never should've done this to you. If I could ever--" his voice rising with distressed breaths, you didn't have to look at him to see his face a mess of sorrow, tears that would mix into the stubble on his face.

"Simon!"

"--make it up to you. If you could ever find it in your to forgive me, (y/n). I'll spend the rest of my life--" he gets closer, reaching out.

Whipping around, stiffening completely as you feel the graze of his fingers across your skin, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" you shove your back against your bedding, your hand swinging and flying across his face. His head snapping to the side as he pauses, freezing up where he kneels, having completely forgotten your request to stay put. "What's the matter with you! Even now? Even now, you can't just listen to this one thing?!"

"I-I'm sorry..." He looks at you, finally seeing your face clearly and up close since it all happened. Finally he can see the bruises along your face, the blood that fills your eye, the dark bruise still around your neck.

Seeing him. He looks rough. Honestly, he looks terrible. His hair shaggy and falling over his eye. Dark circles with bags under them. Pale, and thinner than he should be.

His jaw clenches with guilt and he averts his eyes, you continue. "How could I forgive you for this?" you stare at him, "I could forgive you, if you hadn't let them chain me up like an animal. If you hadn't watched them drown me for hours, beat me black and blue and left me screaming for days. I could forgive you if you had just believed me even for a moment." you feign thoughtfulness. "How about you look at my face. My wrists. My legs! MY FUCKING SPINE, SIMON!"

"Nothing I can say or do, will ever make any of it ok, I know that. And I can't ask for you to ever forgive--"

"What could I possible owe you in this life, that makes you think I'd even think about forgiving any of you for the things you did to me?" you gritted out, angrily.

Simon's head drops, a slow, shuttering sigh leaves him. "I'll never stop trying to make this right. Never."

"...Get out, Simon."

"I'm sorry."

"Simon."

"I'm so sorry..." he reaches out again.

"Ghost."

He's silent this time, fingers tensing, out in mid air.

"I never wanna see you again."

"I love you, (Y/n)," he confessed, eyes feral and wide. Pulling at the ends of your slip.

"I don't want to hear that, Ghost," kicking away from him. "Stop it."

"I couldn't stop even as it happened--"

"Shut up. And get out," shaking as you sneered at his desperate attempts. "It's over, Ghost."

"And I took it on you. It hurt so much, I couldn't think," Simon's face twisted with agony and remorse. "I'm sorry!"

He was making you lose your goddamn mind, you broke. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" screaming at one another as overwhelming tears escaped your eyes.

---

It's quiet in your hospital room, it's empty now, the door closed this time.

The door knob turns and opens again a moment later. "Oh no, Ms. (L/n)!" luckily it was your assigned nurse, who takes your arm and fixes it around her shoulder before helping haul yourself up to your feet. "What're you doing on the floor? There's a call button for a reason," she scolds as you sit on the edge of your bed.

You're quiet.

Alarmingly so for your nurse, who notices the pulled stitching that creates a line of blood down your side. "If this is about what happened to you..." the nurse started, speaking carefully, pulling a lining of gauze from the side to press to your skin. You don't even wince at the pressure, even when she begins to clean and replace the broken stitch. "Don't let it break you. Not even further than this experience already has..." she says, while through the last stitch and prepping a bandage.

"I've been broken long before this," you whispered, looking towards the afternoon sun shining through your window. "This. This didn't break me, no," you admitted, before glancing up with glossy eyes, rage hidden beneath a profound look of sadness. "It destroyed me."

Her hand pauses at your side, your words startling, turning to see the tear that slips down your cheek. Knowing now how deep your scars were from this, before gently sliding the last of the bandage across your skin. "Do not think you are irreparable. That time can't heal your wounds."

"But, there's always reminders," touching the stitches on your cheek, "some things can't be forgiven."

"I never said to forgive..." the nurse interjected. "If you could, after all this, you're stronger than any woman that could be named."

You snicker at that, humming soundly. "That's an interesting thought. I guess I'm one of the weaker ones then."

"And yet, still the strongest I've ever met," she finishes. Pats your cheek, "click the button next time. Save us both the heart attack."

"Noted," you assured.

As she's prepping to leave for her rounds, you open your mouth, once, twice, before clearing it. "Is it possible, someone could help me out--the water..."

"Of course," the nurse says, quickly. "Don't worry, I understand. I'll get everything set for you."

As she walks away, you breathing out your appreciation, you take a long inhale, swallowing down the heaviness in your chest.

part 3 OUT NOW!!

Tag List:

@m3ntally-unstable @dreamsarenicer @ttsbaby01 @theweirdgeninistuff @shelbycillian @azxulaa @kthehoeforfictionalmen @amusling @v1x3n @nobodycanknoww @thesinsoflust @asexualbuthorny @poisonedsultana @blackhawkfanatic @character---obsessed @yunggoblin @teenagellamaangel @hanniebanggi @nym-phos @gastonlover9000 @lyssa-211 @doodle-cat16 @haven-1307 @kneelforloki @delphiakira @just-going-through-the-motions

[ghostedeabha]

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Entirely Unconventional

Part 8: A Night Out

Your eyebrows were knitted together, your head tilted to the right while you studied yourself in the mirror. Music, something randomly selected by your streaming service, was playing in the background, while you debated your choices.

It had been weeks after that fated night, and the communication between you, Simon & König had come to a complete standstill.

It was as if they’d completely shut you out and blocking your ability to hear them in your head. Not only that, but it felt like whiplash, from the first time you’d heard their voices, to the moment they all fell silent.

And with their silence had come some kind of relief.

The feeling of having some kind of normal hold on your mind was relieving, it felt as if you could function normally.

However, there seemed to be an emptiness, a kind of loss that surrounded the lack of them being there. It felt as if there was some small chip missing from you, a piece that seemed insignificant at first until you realized how much you needed it.

Like some kind of resolve, you hadn’t known how used to the feeling you’d become until it was gone. You hadn’t known how much you had grown used to the idea, until it was quiet.

And then you felt alone, complete vacant with a mind that felt empty.

It was really, truly, like they’d put walls up between yourselves and them, built hastily yet securely until there was nothing but empty static. It was unnerving, and it was irritating like a bug bite that you wanted to itch but could never find relief.

What you required was a distraction; a night out to forget everything and remember that your life didn’t revolve around the time you spent at the hospital.

By the time you had finally found the time to go out with some of your coworkers from the hospital, to some popular club in the city, it was long overdue.

Your original plans to do something like this had been put off twice now, and finally, you were able to make it work.

There was nothing you required more than an opportunity to cast aside your work and remember to have fun. The decision to go out was easier made than the one centred around what you wanted to wear.

The chance to let loose and let go of everything that happened in the past, to feel normal and have a night out with your coworkers in the city, was too tempting to pass up.

And since the two of them had gone silent in your head, you’d been needing some extra company.

Whether you wanted it or not initially, you’d grown used to having at least some of their thoughts there. Even the feeling of having them there had brought you comfort, but now it seemed like they’d set up some kind of walls to keep you distant.

It was a back and forth game, and you’d felt like a child playing Tug-O-War with yourself.

You didn’t fault them for this, not really. But you were confused, and you were at odds with yourself. You didn’t know how to feel, how to react.

This bond, their connection with you, felt incredibly intimate. Even in its infancy, it felt like it been ingratiated into your life with the same value as being able to breathe.

It was slowly become so entwined in who you were as a person, that having it turned off left you feeling cold.

That bridge, becoming silent almost overnight, had thrown you for a loop. It had left you confused, at odds with yourself about why they had done it, and why now of all times had you been shut down.

That’s why you were looking forward to going tonight, to be out and to relax or unwind. It had been planned and cancelled, rescheduled and altered until tonight.

After weeks of being cancelled, or rescheduled, your coworkers being sick or having last-minute emergencies come up, now it was finally happening.

Now you could forget your confusion, your stress, your fear and take a load off.

“No boyfriends, no husbands, no soulmates…” Chey had text you earlier that day to confirm, reminding you they tonight is about fun, “I’ll be there at 8!”

Eight, almost to the dot, is when they’d come to your place.

With a text to tell you they were there, you’d given yourself another chance to look over what you were wearing. It was a last opportunity to change your mind about you decided to wear that had been on the opposite spectrum of your scrubs.

Instead of the loose fitting scrubs that filled most of your closet, you’d chosen something that was tighter, more form fitting to your body for a change.

It started with a skirt you’d dug out of the back of your closet, something that was bought impulsively. Black and made of faux leather, the skirt was high rise and the hem fell to the middle of your thighs, with matching slits on the right and left of the sides. It had hugged your hips without being uncomfortable, giving you enough room to move without feeling restricted.

When you had dug further in the back of your closet, you came across a long forgotten cross-back top you’d used in your last year of nursing school. It had been nearly four years since you’d used when you had your waitressing job, something to earn money before graduation.

You’d thrown it on with little care, hoping that the shades of black matched enough to not look out of place. Piece by piece, you’d given yourself something nice enough to wear, something that made you feel like an entirely different person.

At work, you’d keep your hair out of your face, secured from anyone possibly grabbing it. It had been a fair warning you’d learned in nursing school, even in your practicum’s, after learning about someone who’d been attacked by a patient.

Her hair had been grabbed, and she was pulled down to the bed and bitten by a man who was delusional and going through withdrawals. Your professors had drilled it into your hair to keep your hair away from anyone who could grab it, who could use it against you.

Now you could let it be natural, without it being secured or pinned. Another change in your usual practice, another small and seemingly insignificant way to relax.

Outside, coming? Your phone chimed from your nightstand, the message concise and clear. After reading the message, you turned locked it and slipped it into the pocket of your jacket, finally grabbing your ID to leave.

You had seen the headlights from your window, and you’d made your way down the stairs of your rented townhouse, to the front door. You picked up your shoes and slipped them on your bare feet, hesitating before you went outside.

Your stomach felt like it was in knots, you’d been hit with a rising surge of anxiety. Your palms had become sweaty, your mouth got dry, and you knew your heart was thrashing wildly in your chest. Panic, rising and unrelenting pressure hit you, rendering you to feel short of breath.

Your hand was still on the door handle, halfway through the process of turning the knob to open it. You were frozen in place, unrelentingly pushed and pulled by this steady incline of panic. It had come from out of nowhere, slamming into you as a tidal wave that completely enveloped you.

Breathe. Breathe. You reminded yourself, mentally coaching yourself to try to calm down.

You closed your eyes, gripping the handle in your hand with all your strength, and countdown from ten in your head.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…one

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…one

You count backward in your head three times before you started to feel yourself returning to normal. It might have been a sudden and unexpected anxiety attack, it might have completely taken you by storm, but it was getting better.

Counting down in your head, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing had ailed you.

It had eased you until you could open your eyes again, returning to your task of turning the handle and opening the door. When the chilling air hit your face, you were further pulled from that ransom burst of panic that rattled you.

You didn’t understand what happened, you couldn’t comprehend why you’d been suddenly rocked by such an intense state of trepidation.

It had come from nowhere, all while your mind was still. You hadn’t heard them, Simon or König, your thoughts were your own, so why had you been so panicked? Why had you had such a visceral reaction?

Regardless of what happened, you pushed on. After leaving your rented townhouse, you turned and locked the door behind you, shoving your keys into your jacket pocket. You righted yourself and then hurried down the front steps of your place to the car that was waiting for you.

You opened the door to greet Chey, watching them as they leaned over to look you up and down before their lips were pulled into a hand-smirk. They looked at you with approval, that you didn’t need, and just as quickly tossed you a compliment that settled into you.

“Damn! You’ve been hiding all that behind scrubs?” Chey gave their second nod of approval and waved you into their car, with their music blasting. “Look at you! Holy shit, I’ve never seen you like this!”

“Is it over the top?” You questioned them, yanking the end of your skirt down while rubbing your thighs together. “It's been like two years since the last time I’ve gone out. And dressed up.”

“Two years? Shit.” They waited until you had fastened your buckle before they peeled away from the curb and tore off out of town, passing the single light within the limits.

The two of you drove down the rural roads, travelling from gravel to a single – lane highway, until you met the far more driven road. It was an hour, maybe more, from your town to the city and while the trip had gone quick, it was relatively quiet.

Chey had been blasting music from the moment they picked you up to the moment they found a parking spot and cut the engine, with few conversations in between.

You’d told them a week earlier at the hospital that you’d found your soulmates, although you had a suspicion Chey already knew. The student nurse you’d had that night had likely told all the nurses, and any techs, about the two beasts, the two giants that had come through.

No one would forget a night like that, not when those two men were unlike anyone you’d seen around town or even in the county. They were taller, stockier and carried an edge to them that startled everyone who was working then.

And even after, you hadn’t been able to hide what happened. Night after night, day after day, you’d been affected by them.

You were hardly subtle in how this all had influenced you, with the headaches you’d been afflicted by. They had known, and when they asked what was going on with you, you had come clean.

Not about what they did, about who they were, or why there was a kind of edge to your voice. No, you had told Chey that you found your soulmates, and that they had found you.

It was a kind of weight lifted off your shoulders telling them, letting it all out and laying it on the table. Having someone apart from Em know, at least that you’d found them, was relieving. It was giving you a better chance to breathe.

Still, they hadn’t said anything. They hadn’t asked questions, and you were grateful for them. You were grateful that they didn’t press you for more details, although you wondered if they could ask tonight.

You wondered if Chey would finally have their curiosity get the better of them when you were with your mutual friends and coworkers. Likewise, you wondered if they would try to ask you when you were around the table drinking with your friends, and honestly, you almost hoped that she would.

There was so much going on right now, so much that you’d wanted to unleash on them. You wanted to tell them the entire story, just lay it out in front of them, aside from Simon and König’s past.

The past that even you didn’t know. You didn’t know what happened or even the beginning of what they had been through, but damn did you want to know.

As this whole situation had grown, as you had been marked as theirs and they as yours, you found you wanting to know. You found yourself hoping to deepen this connection, uncover their past to be a part of their future.

Fate paired you three together.

Your futures were intertwined, you were bound to be together regardless of anyone’s other intentions or desires. Regardless of their trepidation or anger, their resentment and hesitation, their determination to shut you out, Fate had decided.

Fate wanted you three together. It was fickle, it was endlessly driven to bring the three of you, your wants or needs irrelevant, together. For some reason that was entirely beyond you, you were meant for each other.

“They’re all over here!” Chey had directed you from the entrance to this club they wanted to head to, after paying the cover charge and checking your ID, to the back where your friends were.

“Hey! You made it!” Upon approaching the table, you could see they had already ordered drinks for you and Chey.

The table had been occupied with five shot glasses, one for each of you, and another five glasses filled with chasers. In plastic bowls on the table to the left of the glasses were the limes and salt, a standard when shooting tequila.

“You first!” Chey leaned over, speaking loudly in your ear over the music, directing you to find a place to sit. “You need it more than I do!”

You stepped carefully around the table and ushered yourself into the middle, stuck between one of the radiologist techs, and one of the nurses who was strictly on days.

As you settled yourself back against the booth you were in, an all too familiar sensation came back to you. The feeling of that mental bridge, the familiarity you had with both of them being in your head, was back.

Whatever they’d done to keep you out for the past few weeks, whatever they’d done to keep you at a distance, it was over. They had come back to this mental melding, they had come back to the middle of this all.

Long time no see. Your voice echoed in your head, greeting whoever was there listening to you from wherever they were in the world.

Tequila, love? That’s your drink of choice? Simon spoke first, an unruly edge to his voice, almost condescending as he mentally reached you.

Not a fan of tequila? Too strong for you? The glasses were grabbed, yours as well, and had been held out to you. It was cold in your hand, though you’d almost let it slip from your hand as he spoke again with a gravelly and husky voice, his accent thicker and heavier.

Kentucky bourbon. Have a shot for me. Don’t do anything stupid.

So, you do care. I knew you did.

Not in the slightest. You wondered if he had been lying to himself, or to you, and then you heard his voice again. Be a good girl tonight, love.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

I don't think you ever miss Peach. Everything you write always hits hard 💗

Winter driving, or the ability to drive in hazardous conditions, is a major thing where I live.

People often overestimate their abilities or just lack the skills, proper equipment, and wreck… usually by sliding off the road.

Anyway, this makes me think about you, reader, driving a mountain pass in the dead of winter. The kind of winter where the ice is like glass on the trees, where the windshield of your car makes you feel like you’re in the millennium falcon during a hyperspace jump, where the air is so cold it hurts your chest. During the day it might be nice, the sun could be out, the wind could be warmer, but at night… everything is treacherous.

And maybe you’re not an experienced driver, in the snow. Maybe you don’t have great tires. Maybe you’re driving just a bit too fast, and before you can correct it, you’re spinning out of control, wrecking into a grove of thick trees. The last thing you can feel is the trickle of blood, dripping down your face, and the last thing you see… are the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

When you wake, it’s in a bed. Your head is killing you and your shoulder, upper arm are screaming in agony. But you’re warm, and bundled under a heap of quilts, hot water bottle under blankets by your feet.

What happened? You try to sit up, but can’t, squinting in the light of the morning, and when you try again, putting more effort into curling your spine forward, it hurts so badly that you yelp.

That’s when you see him. A man steps out of the corner of the room, from the edge of your peripheral… and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye.” He coos, coming closer and you get a better look at him, handsome, sweet face with an overgrown mohawk and brilliant blue eyes. “Ye had a terrible accident.” He says, ceramic mug from his hand clinking down onto the table next to you. “Pure luck we found ye when we did. Ye might’ve died out there, hen.”

“I-“

“Here. Drink this.” He pours something from a kettle into the mug, lifting it your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even lift your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes at the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” He murmurs, re tucking the misplaced blankets around your shoulder. You’re feeling woozy all of the sudden, maybe a little sick, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, tallest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” The bigger one says to the mohawk one, and he grimaces, trailing fingertips along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.”

“It’s been four days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Four days? Your brain latches onto the time. Since when?

“Ah know.” He slumps. “Tomorrow?” He sounds hopeful, and the brown eyed man nods.

You’re starting to fade, listening to them talk, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that confuses you until you’re losing the battle to sleep, not with it enough to hear the click of the padlock.

[elysianightsss]

ANAESTHESIA | PART ONE

Success comes with a lot of perks. The way people view you changes. I only found out after I succeeded that success is meaningless when you have no one to share it with.

I lost the only family I had. I lost the desire to make a family too. So, I traded a family home for a nice car. You smiled as you open the door to your black Volvo S90. The car smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin spice thanks to the new air freshener you had bought yesterday.

The light brow leather seats were what initially caught your eye when you bought this car. But then again with the money you had been offered in your hospital transfer, it didn’t matter what the colour of the seats were.

Placing your shopping bags on the seat behind you, you began to drive home. Home was an apartment above the restaurant Farah had bought. Your best friend had moved to the city with you to start her dream of opening the best restaurant slash bar slash karaoke joint in the city.

You were so happy when she told you, so happy that you weren’t going to lose her too. Still there are things you lose that you never forget. Simon comes to mind whenever you think about that. Your parents were both dead, that’s something you couldn’t have prevented, but loosing Simon. You could’ve stopped that.

You remember the first day you met him like it was yesterday; Both troubled. He owned a motorcycle and you wore short leather skirts. He’d punch guys for looking you up and down but never discouraged you wearing those outfits, it was almost like he was glad to have a reason to inflict pain. He was rough and immature. But you were so young back then, it almost seemed normal.

You know better now.

You parked and made your way up the back steps to your front door, “I’m home!” You had barely taken your shoes off and slipped into your fluffy slippers when Farah came rushing out with a ladle in her hand.

“Here! Here! Taste this!” She pushed it against your lips and watched eagerly as you slurped down the rich tomato sauce. “Good?” She waited with raised eyebrows, only seeming to relax a little with my nod. “Ah I knew it was good! The new sauce for our pasta, I’ll have Frank make a bigger batch tomorrow.” She squealed and basically skipped back to the kitchen.

You laughed at her, such a cutie. Dropping your shopping bags by the door, you shrugged off your coat and followed her to the kitchen. Looking around to find saucepans and jars upon jars of red tomato sauce.

“Um Farah? Honey? I don’t think Frank will need to make anything with the amount you’ve already made.” You looked at her like she was a little crazy and maybe she was with the way she whipped her head around to look at you, left eye twitching slightly.

“But it needs to be fresh for the customers.” She almost pouted, you felt bad. Or you would have done if she didn’t look like she wanted to become an axe murderer just to hunt you down.

“Of course.” You backed out of the kitchen, slowly. “I’m gonna take a shower.” You whispered then darted out the room, making a run for the bathroom.

A long hot shower to wash away your day was exactly what you needed. You hadn’t even started yet officially, but you wanted to get a feel for the place. The massive place. It was three times as large as the last hospital you worked at, it had north, south, east and west wings and fourteen floors.

Infinity hospital was one out of four overpriced hospitals created by the Queen long before she passed. They were the top four hospitals in the country and you’d been asked to join the biggest and best one.

It had four huge cafeterias, one in each corner, and even sleep rooms for the doctors and nurses on call. Rooms with three bunk beds in each, scattered around the hospital for doctors on extra long shifts to rest. Common areas for studying and even a library there.

It was amazing when you’d gone in to see the place. You’d wanted to look around at your own pace and see exactly what you wanted to see not what the tour guide wanted when she rushed you around a week ago.

Then after hearing the commotion that a mob boss had a head injury and his gang was making a fuss about the doctor on call not being there. You pulled on your white lab coat and made your way to the emergency area, but they were already pushing you out the way for not being a male doctor. To say you had to fight some of the gang members was an understatement.

Your years of women’s self defence classes and jujitsu classes paid off as you kicked the gang out just as the boss had a hemorrhagic stroke. You rushed him to an emergency MRI to see he had bleeding on the brain.

A nurse you couldn’t remember the name of now, had told you how you couldn’t do the surgery as the on call doctor was in charge of all surgeries today. To then find out he’d left the building you’d scoffed and rolled your eyes moving swiftly to change into scrubs and perform surgery on the mob boss.

After the successful procedure, you passed the man over to the nurses to keep on top of his health until your rounds tomorrow. You even got a Thankyou from him when he woke up. Who knew your first day at your new job would be so eventful….and stressful.

Shopping was always therapeutic for you, so filling those bags that still sat by the front door was your way of blowing off steam after a hard surgery and a team of staff that were loyal to a surgeon who hadn’t even stayed at the hospital for any emergencies that could have happened.

You dried your hair, and got into bed ready to snuggle down after a long day when your phone dinged.

Come to level 8. East wing to discuss your actions today.

- DR. Riley

No.

You replied straight away and without hesitation. This doctor Riley could wait until tomorrow. It was midnight and you had an early and very long shift tomorrow. There was no way you were going back to the hospital now. Especially not to ‘discuss your actions’.

Must be the doctor in charge of the surgeries yesterday, you thought as you slowly drifted to sleep.

“Farah! I don’t tell you how to do your job, you don’t tell me how to do mine!” Frank huffed, looking down at the annoyed woman in front of him. Frank woods, a true gem that Farah had met during a culinary class. He had just quit his last job when Farah had contacted him about becoming the chef for The 141 restaurant. He snapped the job up quick.

“My job is to tell you how to do your job!” Farah scoffed, and the bickering continued.

“Why didn’t you tell me it started already?” Joseph Allen, courier by day, bartender by night came into the kitchen eyes on the pair fighting.

“They started early.” You answered, handing him a cup of coffee.

“How long they been at it?” He pulled up a stool next to yours and sat down.

“Ten minutes already.” You sipping your own coffee as you watched the entertainment in the form of Frank and Farah arguing about how the onions are supposed to be sauté.

“Okay I gotta get to work, fill me in later please. I wanna know who wins this time.” You giggle at Joseph who shakes his head with a laugh of his own but ultimately agrees to your terms.

You leave with a bye to the kitchen staff and head on over to the hospital. It was like fate when Farah managed to buy the building practically next to the hospital you had just been moved to. You took one last glance as the lit up 141 sign above the doors before heading over to start your shift.

Simon’s head was about to explode if he had to hear how great this new fellow was one more time. It was only breakfast and the cafeteria was full of people who were talking about how amazing she was.

So amazing she couldn’t even meet him to discuss her performing surgery on a patient without his consent. “Well don’t you look happy this morning. Someone spit in your coffee?”

“Piss off John.” He cursed the man who had placed his food tray on the table and sat down in the chair opposite him. Kyle sitting down next to John with a fat grin plastered to his face.

“Seen Johnny this morning? Need to go over some things for surgeries today.” John had asked Simon who seemed to be in a particularly bad mood this morning. But if the news spreading around the hospital was anything to go by, he could guess why.

“No. Why don’t you use this miraculous thing invented. It’s called a phone.” Simon gave him a fake smile before a real smirk began. “Though since they were invent before you were even born I suppose I can let it slide you not knowing and all.”

“Oh shut up.” John barked but laughed non the less. He was a good sport like that, he wasn’t even that old but his friends just loved to poke fun, even with the small age gap between him and Simon.

Pulling out his phone and hitting the contact named ‘Scotland Yard’ he put the device to his ear. A few rings and Johnny answered, the two discussed matters of the day while Kyle continued to tease a very grumpy Simon.

“I know there’s a new fellow but we don’t know if she’s even fully trained yet——yes I did hear about yesterday but-“ Johnny continued to argue with John about his beauty sleep being majorly important. He’d been assisting with all of John and Simon’s surgeries while the hospital looked for a new fellow after the last one left. Now that she was here he could finally get some rest.

The murmuring that was already loud in the north cafeteria began to get even louder. It had all three men looking around confused to see where the outburst had come from. A huge crowd of people drew them in, all of their eyes landing on the one thing they never expected to see again, you.

“John? John!” Johnny’s voice came through the phone but John couldn’t look away from you, couldn’t even form a single thought. “Ah fuck this. I’m coming down there.” The beep beep beep from the call ending was ignored just as much as Johnny had been. John was star struck looking at you how gorgeous you were. You didn’t look that different from that night, so beautiful under him and so willing. The picture forever burned into his memory, but he never thought he’d see you again.

Kyle’s eyes were wide as he watched you smile and shake hands of the staff that were gushing over you and your actions yesterday. After your break up he did so much to try and get over you, some things he’s not so proud of. Going to medical school because of your determination to be a doctor was something he was very much proud of. He thought of your patience every time he dealt with a difficult patient, he thought of you. But he never thought he’d see you again.

Johnny arrived from one of the sleep rooms where he’d been napping to see a crowd of people, unusual for Infinity. His breath caught in his throat when one of the members of staff moved to the right a little to reveal you.

You, his friends with benefits buddy that had eventually had him wanting more. Had him wanting dinner and a movie. Had him asking you to come with him to Scotland so he could introduce you to his parents at Christmas. Then things had turned sour, you had never wanted any of that. You made that clear and so had he. Getting attached wasn’t supposed to happen and finding your things packed up and gone when he was went to apologise the next day after your fight was like a wound on his heart that still throbs every time it rains. It was throbbing now, he never thought he’d see you again.

Simon had short circuited. He was sure someone would need to rewire him to work again. He was frozen. You, his Bonnie. The Bonnie to his Clyde, stood there all made up like you had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You hadn’t. Was your hair always that colour? He’d pushed you so far into the back of his head to forget his precious Bonnie that he couldn’t remember. Fuck, how could he not remember? But then again, he didn’t think he needed to remember. He never thought he’d see you again.

Yet here you were.

To be continued…

[jayybugg]

nurse

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ghost avoids you but it's not what you think.

Warning: Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Ghost?, Smut (18+), Use of Y/N, Language (?).

Word Count: 4.6K

Note: Now, I know in my master list I said that right now I would only be writing for the Slytherin Boys......but I have spiraled back into my Call of Duty, specifically Ghost. Now this is just an experiment, I don't know how this will go over but if you guys like it then maybeeee I'll post my other fandom fics that I have.

Also! This is a birthday gift for my beautiful gem, @slytherinslut0 , so everyone thank her and wish her a happy birthday. As always, @cafekitsune is on the banner.

Taskforce 141 didn’t pay any attention when they were told that they would have a new nurse on the base. They assumed it would be another male, just like everyone who got employed here.

So, only one could imagine their shock when the base’s doctor, Dr. Moscaw, introduced a pretty little thing like you to the team.

“This is Y/N. She will work under me. Your first point of contact for anything medical-wise.” Moscaw spoke, “Don’t go scaring her off, boys.”

There were grumbles and protests as Dr. Moscaw left you with the team. You cleared your throat as you gave them all a nervous smile. All their eyes were on you, surveying you almost like prey. A certain man with a skull mask being the most intense one. “Um, right. You all desperately need an annual check-up. So, whenever you all have a moment, please stop by the medical ward. I would love to update your records and meet you all.”

Before any of them could say anything, you had scurried off.

Over the next few weeks, they all came in one by one. Introducing themselves as you went through updating their records.

First came Captain Price. You liked to think that he came in to lead by example and not to get out of his mountain of paperwork. Then Kyle came in the next day. He begged you to call him “Gaz”, saying that nobody on base ever calls him Kyle.

Not long after Gaz came, Johnny waltzed into your office. He was flirty but overall friendly. Johnny, just like Gaz, begged you to call him Soap like everyone else. He was the one who referred to you as a breath of fresh air amidst the testosterone-filled air. Often, he and Gaz came to your office. They always claimed to be checking up on you, but you knew it was because they were hiding from their duties.

“Where is…. um, Ghost? Or is his name Simon? It’s two first names on this file.” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of information in his records. Soap chuckled, glancing up from his phone to you. “Ghost is the name he’s gonna give ‘ya. It’s the name that we all know him by.”

“A field name, I assume?” You asked, looking up from your computer. Gaz and Soap nodded. “Yep. His name for plenty of reasons, but that’s neither here nor there.” Gaz waved his hand dismissively.

“Well, is he going to come in for a check-up? He doesn’t have another doctor or anything listed.” You sighed. “His medical record is empty. There is nothing on here, other than his name and height. No birthday, no past medication history, nothing.”

“Of course, that’s all that’s on there. That’s all anyone knows about him.” Soap laughed. “He’s not gonna come in here for a check-up.”

“What? Why not?” You asked, closing your computer.

“Too much information.” Gaz shrugged. “Nobody knows anything about him. It’s a shocker that he even allowed his real name to be on those records.”

“So, nobody knows if this guy even goes to the doctor?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “That’s insane.”

“Ya may be right, but that means nothing to Ghost.” Soap said.

“And insane is basically his middle name. The man does whatever he wants.” Gaz added.

“Do you think he will come in if I just ask?” You pondered to the men.

Gaz and Soap glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you bat those pretty eyelashes at any man on this base, they’ll be eating out the palm of your hand,” Soap said.

“But Ghost isn’t like the average man. He’s not easily swayed like most.” Gaz added, “But I mean, it won’t hurt to try.”

With the encouragement from Gaz and Soap to just try to ask him, you spent the next few weeks attempting to track Ghost down. Unfortunately for you, he lived up to his name very well. It was like every time you went looking for him, everyone had “just seen him.”

Eventually, you found him, by pure coincidence. You were walking to your car, getting ready to leave the base for the day when your eyes landed on a 6’4, muscular man who donned a skull balaclava. You hadn’t seen him since the day that Price had introduced you to the team. He seemed bigger and a bit more intimidating than before, but your determination outweighed your nervousness.

You walked up to him, clearing your throat. Ghost stopped fiddling with his motorcycle to drag his eyes up to your face. His eyes were dark and analytical as he scanned your face before tracing down your body. You felt self-conscious of his wondering gaze.

“Whatcha ‘ya want?” His voice was deep, his accent coming out heavier than you thought it was.

“Um, I’m the new nurse.” You squeaked out before clearing your throat.

“I know.”

“Right.” You took a deep breath. “Your medical records are empty and you’re the only one who hasn’t come in for a check-up.”

There was a brief silence between you two as you waited for him to say something, anything. When you got the hint that he wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to just push forward and ask.

“Will you come in for one? And maybe introduce yourself a little more?”

Ghost stared at you a little longer before turning back to his motorcycle. “No.”

Your eyes widened at the blatant refusal. You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Do ‘ya not know what ‘no’ means? Aren’t ‘ya educated?” Ghost grunted; his back still turned to you.

“You can’t just…. You must fill out these records somehow!”

“No, I don’t.”

You narrowed your eyes at Ghost, huffing slightly. “It’s mandatory to at least get an annual check-up.”

“So, I’ve heard. Don’t care.” He spoke again, throwing one leg over the motorcycle. He started it up, gripping the handles. His eyes focused on your face again as he revved the engine.

“But-”

Before you could even think about responding, Ghost had sped off, leaving you in the dust.

“And he just sped off?” Soap laughed. Gaz smacked his arm, giving you an apologetic look.

“Ignore Soap. He has a terrible sense of humor.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “But we told you he was hard to sway.”

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t want to come in.” You groaned, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to get to know me?”

“It’s Ghost, you aren’t supposed to understand him.” Gaz shrugged. “But I doubt it’s you that he’s against.”

You let another groan, causing the two men to chuckle.

“Hell, Darlin’, you might just make the man nervous as hell. As you can see, we don’t have many pretty females around here.” Soap leaned back in his chair, grinning at you.

“Me? Make Ghost nervous? Please.” You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. Soap shrugged, “You never know, he could be.”

“You never know,” Gaz said, agreeing with Soap.

“Whatever.” You muttered, ending the conversation.

Weeks had passed and Ghost gave no sign of even considering stepping into the medical ward or trying to talk to you. He evaded you any chance he got. You told Dr. Moscaw and Price about the predicament with Ghost. Both waved it off and said, “He’s Ghost, that’s just how he is.

When your official first three months of working on the base had come around, Soap and Gaz had invited you out to the bar to celebrate.

“It’ll be everyone. Cap, Laswell, König, hell, even Ghost said he would come.” Soap smiled at you. You scoffed slightly at the revelation that Ghost was going to show his masked face at the bar. “Are we sure he’s coming for me, or rather, the drinks?” You asked, your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you.

Gaz chuckled. “He refused to go until we said it was a celebration for you.”

“Funny that the man that evades me wants to come to my celebration.” You muttered.

“You know, he’s probably around you more than you think,” Soap said, causing you to look up at him with a raised eyebrow. Soap shrugged, continuing, “I mean, he’s known for being around without others knowing, hence the name Ghost.”

“Like he sees me, but I don’t see him?” You asked. Soap and Gaz nodded.

“Think of it like he is collecting information on you. The poor guy lives and breathes our missions and the military. It’s all he knows. It works with the idea that you make the man nervous.” Gaz said, patting your back as he and Soap filed out of your office.

Gaz’s and Soap’s words stuck to you. Maybe you had gone about approaching Ghost all wrong. He was quieter than Gaz and Soap and obviously more secretive, given the blank medical record and the mask. Maybe you should let him approach you, let him feel you out to see if you’re trustworthy or not.

When the night of the celebration rolled around, you promised yourself that you would not pester Ghost. Despite the growing need to get to know him and your nursing instincts to make sure he was healthy; you were going to let him come to you.

You walked into the bar, tugging slightly at your dress that rose from sitting in the taxi. Your black mini dress hugged your curves and had a low neckline that showed off your cleavage with your matching strappy heels. Although Soap and Gaz had to you to come dressed up, you debated calling the taxi back and going home to change. You were going to be with your co-workers, who were most likely going to be in jeans.

You sighed, pushing open the door to the bar. Your eyes snapped over to the large table in the back of the bar where all your coworkers sat. “Y/N!” Gaz yelled, jumping up from his seat. He grabbed your arm, escorting you to the table. Everyone shot you a smile, except König and Ghost, who both donned a balaclava. Although, you could tell from the crinkle in König’s eyes that he was smiling at you.

“The guest of honor is finally here.” Laswell smiled at you. “Congratulations on sticking it out at the base for three months. I must admit, I thought these boys would scare you away by now.”

“No, I’m tougher than I look.” You joked, “Plus, everyone is nice. I felt welcomed.”

Gaz and Soap gave Ghost an unmistakable side eye that you caught, and if you caught it, then everyone at the table caught it. You also didn’t miss the narrowed eyes that Ghost gave back to Gaz and Soap.

“A round of shots! For our new family member.” Price winked at you, giving you a warm smile.

That’s how the night went on, chatting and drinks getting passed around. It didn’t take you long to get buzzed. You kept true to your promise to yourself and didn’t go looking for interactions with Ghost.

However, you felt his eyes on you. It was like they never left you, always following your every movement.

It felt familiar.

Ghost stayed quiet the whole night, not cracking a chuckle at any jokes or taking part in the conversations. His eyes wandered the bar as if he was looking for any type of escape. Whenever your eyes met his, he looked away, his eyes hardening in the process.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You said, feeling the alcohol finally run through you and back up your throat. Although everyone was too occupied with their conversations to hear you. You stumbled your way to the bathroom, pushing open the door. You wasted no time, bending over the toilet and vomiting what little contents that were in your stomach.

“I knew I should’ve eaten before….” You whispered to yourself.

“Yeah, ‘ya should have. Not very nurse of ‘ya.” A deep voice echoed behind you.

You jumped, turning around, clutching your chest as your eyes landed on Ghost. He stood behind you, arms crossed, as he leaned against the stall door.

“God, when the fuck did you get in here?” You asked, your eyes traveling down his figure. This would be the first time that you had ever seen Ghost in civilian clothes. Even on relaxed days on the base, Ghost wore full tactical gear. Tonight, he opted for a compression tee and black sweatpants, as if he was planning to go to the gym after all of this.

Which wouldn’t be surprising for Ghost.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.” Your eyes landed on his sleeve, which seemed to move as he unconsciously flexed his muscles.

“I know ‘ya didn’t.” Ghost said, offering his hand out to you. You took it gratefully, standing up to your two feet. Ghost handed you some mouthwash and gum, along with your purse.

“Didn’t want nobody shifting through ‘ya stuff.” Ghost said when he saw the look that you gave him, “Also thought ‘ya might want to touch up ‘ya make up.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a small smile. He nodded, turning on his heel to leave out the bathroom. You swigged the mouthwash around, spitting into the sink. You freshen up your makeup before popping the piece of gum in your mouth.

You made your way back to the table, sitting down when a waitress came and dropped a personal pan of pepperoni pizza in front of you with water. “Oh,” You looked up at her, “I didn’t order this.”

“One of your friends ordered it for you. Told me to bring it when you came back to your seat.” She smiled and walked away. You glanced down at the pizza with a smile. Pizza was your favorite greasy food; it matched the rumbling of your drunk stomach perfectly.

You looked up at Soap and Gaz, the only two people who would know about your guilty pleasure food. Soap was leaning against the table flirting with another waitress while Gaz made bets with Price on football games. You decided you would thank one of them later when they weren’t busy.

4 am finally rolled around, causing the night to end. Gaz had called you a cab, walking you out as everyone said their goodbyes. Ghost had already mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the night. Once Gaz got you settled in the backseat, you smiled at him. “Thanks, Gaz. Oh, and thank you for the pizza, too.”

Gaz raised his eyebrow. “What pizza?”

“The pizza you ordered me when I went to the bathroom.” You clarified.

“I didn’t order you a pizza, hell, I didn’t even know you went to the bathroom.” Gaz said before chuckling a bit with a mischievous smirk, “The only person who ordered food was Ghost.”

Before you could ask anything more, Gaz tapped the roof of the car and your taxi pulled off.

You went even longer without seeing Ghost after the bar. It was almost as if he had just disappeared into thin air. You tried to question Gaz and Soap, but they claimed they knew nothing about it. Saying that it was probably a “lucky guess” but if anything they had told you about Ghost was true, nothing he did was just a lucky guess.

You pushed all your questions to the back of your mind, as you knew you weren’t going to get any answers any time soon. You were cleaning up the office as your day was ending. 141 were out on a mission, a relatively relaxed one, so your office was quiet and easy to pack up rather than having to tell Soap to stop touching stuff every 5 minutes.

You hummed to yourself, not taking notice that your office door had swung open.

“You’re terrible at being aware of ‘ya surroundings.”

You jumped, a squeal falling from your mouth. “You have to stop doing that!”

Ghost stood at your door, in sweatpants and a hoodie. His arms crossed as he stared at you through his mask. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. You suddenly felt small like the room was closing in on you due to Ghost’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Ghost’s eyes seemed to widen, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there either.

“Give me a check-up.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing over at the clock. It was 7:35 pm, and the base was basically empty.

“It can’t wait til tomorrow?” You asked. Ghost took a step closer to you, “I thought you wanted to get to know me?”

“I do but-”

“Then give me the check-up.” Ghost grunted, sitting on the bench. His large frame made the normally large bench look small under him.

You sighed softly, getting out your equipment to start his check-up. You stay silent as you slip on your latex gloves after washing your hands. “So, I’m guessing something happened on the mission.”

Ghost looked over to you, his eyes coated in a small dose of confusion. “What?”

“I mean, you seemed very adamant about not getting a check-up before and now you’re here after a mission. I just assumed maybe something happened.” You clarified as you moved to check his heartbeat.

It took everything in you not to let your hands wander across his chest as you pulled away from him to turn to your computer and record the data.

“Nothing happened. Just built up some confidence.” He said, getting off the bench to stand behind you closely.

“O-oh…. confidence for what?” You took a deep breath, your eyes focusing on the computer screen.

Ghost didn’t answer your question, instead, he grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“You’re always around, smelling good. In these scrubs that hug your body tighter than any other scrubs I’ve ever seen.” Ghost muttered, “Always laughing at Soap’s stupid jokes. Always getting pizza when you know you aren’t supposed to.”

“I try to avoid you and ignore you, but you just crawl your little ass into my mind anyways. All mission…. just thinking and wondering what you’re doing.” Ghost continued.

“Is this your way of admitting that you’ve been thinking about me?” You asked.

Ghost stayed silent. His eyes stay trained on you, no words or sounds coming from him. His hand moved to take a piece of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

“Um, we should finish the check-up so we can go.” You spoke softly. Ghost ignored you, dipping his face into your neck. He took a deep breath. “God, you smell heavenly.”

“Ghost....”

“I need you.” He grumbled, “I need you all around me. I’ve learned everything I can about you and all I can think about is how I need to feel about you.”

“How I need to ruin you.”

You felt a knot in your stomach at his words, heat pooling inside you. “R-ruin me?”

“Beyond belief.” Ghost confirmed, “Give me the green light.”

You stayed silent as Ghost pushed his knee between your legs, pressing his knees gently against your core, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He lifted his mask to reveal his lips, pressing against your neck in soft, wet kisses. “Y/N. Answer me.”

“I….” You gasped for air, “P-please…do it.”

Ghost didn’t need to hear anything else. He lifted you easily, throwing you on the bench. He yanked your top off, groping your breast. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about these since the bar. So soft and plump…” Ghost grumbled, pulling your bra down and latching his mouth to your nipple.

A small moan fell from your mouth at the actions. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he pulled away with a slight “pop”. He left a trail of kisses down your chest to your naval. He tugged down your pants, throwing them in the same direction as your top. He groaned at the sight of the wet spot in your panties.

“So wet and ready for me. Huh, love?” Ghost said, blowing softly on your clothed clit.

You whined softly, nodding your head. He slapped your thigh, his eyes looking up at you. “I want to hear use your words. Let me hear that pretty voice that has been plaguing my mind for these past few months.”

You let out a sigh as Ghost pressed the pad of his tongue to your slit through your panties, teasing you. “Yes…. I’m wet and ready for you.”

“Good fucking girl, Lovie.” Ghost chuckled, moving your panties to the side to latch his mouth to your clit. He sucked and lapped at your clit harshly, your moans becoming uncontrollable as he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue teased your slit, flicking his tongue up and down.

He gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to him. His nose pressed against your clit, stimulating you more and more. “Oh God, fuck, Ghost.” You moaned, your hands reaching out to grip the top of his balaclava.

“That’s right. I want you moaning my name like it’s the only thing that pretty little mind knows.” Ghost muttered, slipping two fingers into you as he kept lapping up all your juices. Your thighs tightened around his face as you felt your climax coming.

Ghost groaned at the action, his cock twitching with anticipation. You tossed your head back as pleasure coursed through your body. “I’m about to cum, fuck, I’m s’close.”

Your words seem to push Ghost further into sending you over the edge. His tongue moved faster against you as his fingers matched his pace. Your mind was blanking from the orgasm that rushed over your body. Ghost pulled his fingers out slowly as he pulled away from your swollen clit. His mouth was covered in your slick as he smirked. “Taste so sweet, Angel.” He spoke.

He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, groaning at the warmth of it. You suck on his fingers, tasting yourself on them as you swirled your tongue around. “Such a good, eager girl. So happy to taste yourself on my fingers.” Ghost whispered, pushing them down your throat so he could hear your gags.

Ghost pulled away, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. His cock sprang out, revealing its large length. It hit his abdomen; the tip leaking with pre-cum. Your eyes looked down at him, eyes widening at the sight. “My God….” You whispered.

Ghost grabbed the base of his shaft, jerking himself off slightly before pulling you to the edge of the bench and wrapping one of your legs around his waist while propping the other one on his shoulder. “I need this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me.” Ghost growled. He rubbed his tip up and down your slick, coating it in it.

“Tell me how much you want this, Lovie. How bad do you want me to fuck you?” Ghost demanded; his eyes focused on you. You let out a whiny moan, looking up at him, “Please fuck me. I want your cock so bad.”

Ghost pushed into you, filling you up slowly but surely. Ghost groaned, sinking into you until he was fully inside you. “S’fucking tight. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt until it’s molded to only take my cock.” Ghost groaned, snapping his hips forward for a forceful thrust. A guttural moan fell from your mouth, as Ghost gripped your throat with both hands, pounding into you at a ruthless pace.

“M’been dreaming of this since the day I laid eyes on your fucking application picture.” Ghost muttered, “Such a pretty fucking girl. Batting your eyelashes at everyone.”

Ghost’s hands moved down to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your moans were drowned out by the loud slapping of your skin. If it wasn’t for the way that Ghost was viciously railing you, you would be concerned that someone would walk past and hear you.

“Such a fucking whore. Getting fucked in your office…. you like being railed after work? Hmm?” Ghost hissed out as you clenched around him.

“You look s’pretty being full of my cock.” Ghost muttered, leaning down to kiss and nip your neck. You whined, feeling another knot form in your stomach. You clenched around Ghost, making him groan. “M’close…. s’close…” You spoke in between moans.

“Go ahead and make a mess on my cock, baby. Cum all over this cock like the slut you are.” Ghost demanded. It didn’t take long for your legs to shake and for Ghost’s cock to be drenched in your climax. He slowed his thrusts, pulling out of you. You whimpered at the lost feeling.

“Get up, Lovie. I want to cum all in that pretty mouth of yours.” Ghost said, pulling you off the bench and to your knees. You looked up at him as he pumped himself. Slapping his cock against your lips, you opened your mouth to let him slip in.

“S’fucking warm. Fucking made to take my dick in every fucking hole you have.” Ghost muttered, his hand snaking around the back of your head to shove his dick further down your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you tasted all your juices that drenched his cock. Saliva trailed down your chin as Ghost thrust in and out of your mouth at an unforgiving pace. “A fucking slut you are, taking my dick so well. Fuck.” Ghost groaned as his hip stuttered slightly. His cock twitched in your mouth before ropes of cum shot down your throat.

Your eyes screwed shut as Ghost stayed deep in your throat, making sure you swallowed all his cum. He pulled out, bending down to level as you looked up at him. “So, this was going through your mind all this time.” You spoke breathlessly.

“Shocked, Lovie?” Ghost smirked, lifting you back to your feet.

“A little.” You nodded. Ghost tilted your head back to press a rough but gentle kiss to your lips. “Well, I suggest you get used to it because there will be more of that.”

“So, you made your move, huh?” Soap grinned wickedly at Ghost, who sat further down the table. Ghost’s eyes shot to Soap’s as he narrowed them at the man.

“Don’t even try to deny it, LT.” Gaz said, his eyes staying trained on his phone. “All the talk around the base is how a certain skull mask-wearing lieutenant is attached to the hip of the pretty little nurse.”

“She must’ve really made you nervous if it took you almost three months to make a move on her.” Soap teased.

“I did more than make a move on her, Sergeant.” Ghost spoke, “That pretty little nurse is now my pretty little nurse.”

Ghost smirked underneath his mask as he looked between Gaz and Soap. “So, it would do you both good to watch your hands the next to you hug her. Would hate to have to break your fingers off for wandering too far for your own good.”

Without another word, Ghost sauntered out of the meeting room, leaving Soap and Gaz dumbfounded.

“Hm, I was wondering when that boy was going to make a move.” Price hummed from his spot, “All that begging to hire her to this base and took nearly four months to even talk to her.”

“Wait, what? Ghost knew about her before she even got to base?” Gaz asked.

“Ghost was the one who pulled her application.” Price said, “Said ‘his future girl’ had applied, and I needed to get her on base.”

Gaz and Soap looked at each other before sighing. Of course, Ghost knew you before you knew him.

Because it wouldn’t be Ghost if he didn’t.

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Nurse!Reader x 141 and stickers

How I think the 141 would act if Nurse!Reader gives out stickers to all the soldiers they patch up on base: This is my first headcanon

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish absolutely fucking loves the stickers, like he's lowkey obsessed with getting one. His sketchbook is covered in the stickers you give him and if there's no more room for the stickers that's okay. He'll just buy a new one. Lowkey gets pouty and sassy if you forget to give him a sticker after patching him up.

And we are done. Good as new 

Soap wait's patiently with his hand stuck out 

What are you waiting for Soap?

Fur mah sticker. Obviously

Oh shit. Sorry, I forgot

Whit dae ye mean ye forgot? dae ye nae care aboot me anymair

Grow up you drama Queen

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Is a bit like Soap in a way he loves the stickers. They make him happy in this fuck up world, when he get's his sticker for being a brave boy, as you say, he wears the sticker all day as a badge of honour but if he looses the stickers randomly in the day he gets kinda pouty when he asks for another one 

Can I have another sticker please?

Did you loose yours already?

I didn't mean too! I think Soap stole mine. Pretty please can I have another one

You know the rules. Unless you're injured I'm not giving you a stickers

Cue puppy dog eyes

Goddamit Kyle. Fine, here's your sticker but don't loose it

Captain John Price felt a bit silly at first when you gave him a sticker. He's grown man, he doesn't need a sticker for getting patched up but he very quickly grew to love receiving a sticker off you. He asked if you'd tare the paper the sticker is on, they're easier to save then. He doesn't stick them anywhere but has a small box in his office where he stashes them. For safe keeping.

Why don't you wear the stickers?

Because it ruins them

Ruins them?

Yeah. I like to hold onto them

Do you stick them anywhere?

Nope. I have a small box specifically for the stickers you give me 

Simon 'Ghost' Riley thought the stickers were a stupid idea, he's a grown ass man. Why would he want a sticker for getting patched up? He isn't a child. That's what he tells you but secretly he adores them. He'll moan and grumble as you slap one onto his chest but the moment he's in his room, Ghost will carefully peel it off his shirt and stick it in a scrapbook. Once got a little upset you didn't give him a sticker, he left the infirmary pretending he didn't care but 1 hour later he came back

Why didn't you give me a sticker?

Because you don't like them. You said they were stupid

Well. That's because they are. M'not a child

Then why are you asking why I didn't give you a sticker?

Ghost quietly grumbling and sticking his hand out

Can I just have my sticker please 

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

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

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

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

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

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

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

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

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[ultravioletrayz]

GARBAGE MAN (18+)

toxic!simon 'ghost' riley x nurse!f!reader

Simon never meant to rough you up this bad, especially considering it was always your delicate touch that reduced the roughness of his scars and wounds. You attended to him so diligently, so kindly that it made him forget about how and why he was bleeding out of his arm or coughing up blood. The only thing that mattered was the fact that you were gonna fix it. Fix him. Not with your gauze and stitches, but with the concern that glistens in your watery eyes every time you see him limp into your office, all battered and bruised after particularly strenuous assignments.

But he couldn't help it. He's a rough, filthy man. A soldier, a hardened killing machine. Even in the face of a true angel like you, he just couldn't alter his own nature.

Your pretty face is smushed against Simon's stained pillows, the glasses perched on the tip of your nose almost cracking due to the weight of his massive, calloused hands holding you down to keep your back arched so perfectly for him. Tears are flowing down your flushed cheeks, which are the same shade of pretty pink as the round globes of your ass, slapped and groped cruelly by the man currently churning your insides from the back. Your moans and mewls, accompanied by Simon's curses and quiet groans, echo throughout his quarters. Your cute little pencil skirt and long coat filled with pens and notepads sits on the cold floor, almost taunting you for letting one of your own patients diminish you to a dirty whore in your place of work. But the way the intricate, bulging veins decorating Simon's cock massage the walls of your raw cunt has you sobbing, begging for more, your pathetic cries muffled by the damp pillows beneath you.

With his hand still tangled in your hair, holding you down and keeping you in the position he had to manhandle you into, Simon lets his free hand mockingly caress your soft, smooth sides, his touch feather-light to try and bring back some of that innocence of your previously professional relationship that he finds himself craving on lonely nights.

And when you've both reached your nth sloppy, depraved climaxes, Simon just can't bring himself to show you that same affection and care you always shower him with in the medbay. He shoves your clothes into your arms and kicks you out of his room before you even have a chance to compose yourself after being fucked into oblivion by the same man you've saved from the brink of death countless times before.

Integrity lost and shame overcoming your naked, bruised frame, you limp back to your own room, unable to decide whether you want to feel elated by the mind-numbing pounding you were just lucky enough to receive, or upset that you just gave yourself up so easily to such a mean man.

I'm back you guys!! Let me know if anyone wants a little storytime about the hiatus because MAN is there a lot to vent about