#I love reading the gaz x reader fics I fucking love it
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Shoutout to all the Kyle "Gaz" Garrick fics out there they're usually the fluffiest and softest fics that I've ever read after a long day. All my homies love Gaz writers.
#call of duty#I love reading the gaz x reader fics I fucking love it#They're always so soft and fluffy AAAAAH#sleepy's thoughts#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw#cod#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick
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I love your hybrid fics!! could you do headcanons of 141 with a hybrid puppy reader?
I wrote a puppy!reader before in case you haven’t read it yet, but here ya go! Ps. I got the idea from @konigsblog.
Puppy!Reader headcanon
Pairing: Task Force 141 x puppy hybrid!reader
Cw: training, blowjob, piss kink, watersports, fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, rough sex, creampie, PinV, unprotected sex, DUB-CON, choking, double/triple penetration, handjob, corruption kink, tell me if I missed any.
Wc: 1.2k
It started out innocent, pure curiosity to see what you were able to do and what you weren’t. It was simple skill checks, training you with commands they heard you listened to and practising your obedience towards your superiors.
Soap took it upon himself to practise everything - a sinful pleasure, near wrongful of him - with you, from heel, to sit, to down, to bow, and everything else, you listened very well. He thrived on the feeling of superiority and power over you, someone weaker and innocent —another pup. He’s the one who started it all, the more intimate touch, the hungry stares, the lingering gaze when you trained and the arousal felt when he pinned you to the ground.
Ghost followed next, watching Soap play you like a harp, pulling every string to have you do what he wanted and to make every sound he hungered for. He’s more possessive with his touch, scuffing you and holding you down by the neck if he thought you were misbehaving, pinning you beneath him when he wanted to show you who was superior or making you kneel between his big thighs.
Gaz was slower than the two, more sympathetic to your plight: an innocent and little pup thrust into a Task Force of big and gruff men. He couldn’t emphasise, but he could try and understand you, imagining your pain and difficulties, until he saw your tearful eyes staring up at him when he had you under him, losing your spar. You had your tail tucked between your leg, big puppy eyes staring back at him and ears stuck to your head, the sight drove him mad and he couldn’t stop himself from following in Soap and Ghost’s footsteps.
Price was the last to join in because he had to watch and gauge his team’s liking of you. If everyone was satisfied with you, you would stay; if his team disliked you, you’d go without a second thought despite his liking of your puppy-like character. How fortunate that they all liked you, from your pout, your wide eyes and enthusiastic tail, to your need for praise, overexcited personality and attention-seeking whine.
From then on, things get more touchy, more intimate, bordering fraternisation. They have you kneeling while they fill out paperwork, fingers scratching the back of your scalp, just behind one of your ears until you’re panting and whining for attention. Mostly Price and Ghost since they held the rank of commanding officers of the base as well as their Task Force. Soap and Gaz had more time to sit around, have you sitting on their lap and nuzzling their cheeks and neck to cover them in your scent. They would stand so proudly after being scented by you, walking around with the slight smell of you on their bodies.
It stayed behind the legality of physical interaction until it wasn’t, crossing the line with sexual training and favours. Your dumb, puppy mind was unable to comprehend what they were doing yipping and barking when Price slid a hand under your waistband and plugged you with his thick fingers while Ghost held you by your scuff, stopping you from moving too much. He fucked you open with his fingers, stretching your tight cunt open until he could fit four fingers comfortably, leaving you slobbering all over his hand. You were whining so loudly that Ghost had to shove his fingers down your throat, listening and grinning at you choke and gag, throat closing around his dirty, gloved finger.
Once Price thought you stretched enough, he mounted you like you begged for, wailing like a bitch in heat for his cock to rut into you. He turned his obedient and strong puppy into a cock-hungry whore, and he made sure to fill you up, staining your gummy walls with thick white cum.
Then he lets Ghost break you in from the back, watching you from the old couch in his office, staring at his cum leaving from your pussy and down the curve of your ass that Ghost was determined to use as lube to fuck you. Ghost spreads you out with difficulty, you squirm as much as you were before despite being exhausted and drunk on cock. He snapped at you and landed a few harsh slaps on your thigh when you bucked your hips up, greedy for more than Ghost was willing to give, but when he bottomed out in your sensitive rim, the wrinkled skin wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, you were unmoving. You let him pull as many orgasms from you as he wanted, even letting him piss inside your greedy ass. After all, dogs used piss to mark their territory; so why couldn’t he and Price do so as well?
Soap and Gaz were delegated to training your throat, teaching you how to blow them. Sometimes Soap would have you kiss the leaky head of his cock, red and engorged, throbbing with excitement at just the thought of having you suck his cock. He mumbled orders, correcting you whenever you gagged from taking him down so quickly and showing you how to properly take him whole. Gaz was softer, slowly coaxing you into doing it rather than pushing you to like Soap did - Johnny had a habit of getting overzealous too quickly - and praised you. He would pet your head, and buck his hips in slow and gentle rolls until he could bottom out, your nose touching the base of his trimmed musk. Gaz was gentler, the guiding hand; whereas Soap was as much of a puppy as you were, excited and energetic.
When you were properly trained and had acquired the right techniques, they didn't waste a second to jump you as a team, you had three holes so you could take three of them at the same time. Soap laid beneath you, driving his hips upwards and into your slick cunny, panting and gasping as loudly as you were, moaning and groaning out your name; Ghost hunched over you from behind, ploughing into your ass without remorse, one hand gripping your hips to still you from getting bucked off by Soap and the other pulling the base of your tail, feeling you tighten whenever he pulled too hard; and Gaz encouraging you to deepthroat him, watching his lengthy shaft disappear down your hot throat, hissing and throwing his head back when you tightened around his sensitive head.
All of this happened while Price sat back, admiring the sight of his team’s bonding time with their puppy, lazily pumping himself, spreading his pre from the tip to base, his foreskin sliding along his motion. He could enjoy this without participating much, considering this sight a treat as much as it was to fuck you, but he’d wait until they were done and see if you could go for a few more before crashing. He still came listening to the wet and lewd sounds from you four, the loud squelch reaching his ears as easily as your little whimpers and erotic keens.
You can rest when they’re all done, holes swollen and leaking cum and face painted with cum. They bathe and take care of you afterwards, spoiling you with treats and cuddles, helping you move about when you’re still stumbling on your feet, and feeding you. You deserve it after your dedication to your handlers.
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders
#x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#cod mw2 x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley x reader#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap x reader smut#soap x reader#gaz mw2#gaz#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#gaz smut#soap smut#ghost smut#captain john price#captain price#john price#price mw2#price x reader#price smut#john price x reader#puppy!reader#puppy hybrid!reader#tw hybrids#tw: hybrid#tw: dub con
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BABE. WE NEED A FANFIC OF THE READER RIDING SIMONS THIGH LIKE RN, LIKE IMAGINE HIM BOUNCING HIS LEG UP AND DOWN TO TEASE THE READER OH MY GOD?
pairing - ghost x fem!babygirl reader
word count - 742
warnings - just some thigh riding, name calling, bad plotting and daddy kink!
a/n - got you baby! hope it’s okay. it’s not a complete fic but had to whip something up. let me know if you want something different. not proof read so if things don’t make sense oops I apologize 🖤🖤🖤
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You weren’t facing him. Weren’t witnessing the change in his eyes when he felt your cunts heartbeat against his thigh. Weren’t seeing the amusement in his grin when you didn’t make a sound about it.
So he only did what felt natural. Tease.
He knew how to get your attention while you just sat there in his lap solving a puzzle with your holes untouched and pussy dancing on his thigh. Ghost knew how to fuck with you.
You had just finished the border, putting the last piece in place before moving onto the next section of the 1000 piece puzzle that had a picture of a cute puppy on it with pretty pink flowers. How cute he thought, gonna ruin it.
Of course at this time you weren’t alone. The rest of 141 already joined in the same room while Ghost had plans of turning you into putty. Gaz and Soap were watching a movie while Price began to softly snore on the couch. Perfect.
Looking for matching pieces you were playing oblivious to Ghosts intentions, not even noticing his growing cock under you until you felt the first bounce and heard the light tap of his boot hit the ground.
Your eyes zeroed in on one of the pieces in your hand, coming back from your little princess world of everything perfect now that you know what Ghosts really doing. You were sitting in his lap and occasionally, but purposely fluttering your pussy all over his thigh. You knew he could feel it.
The bouncing of his leg continued and it only made you weaker, starting to lose focus on the puzzle in front of you while the only thing Ghost is paying attention to is your cunt bouncing against him. It wasn’t the first time.
It didn’t take long for your panties to soak. The fabric thin and rubbing against you, his pants having all sorts of pockets and buttons that you find one and press your sensitive bud into it. Fuck he was going to have so much fun with you.
Ghost sat lazily in the chair, watching and waiting your every move while he bounced his leg. Starting off slow before going into a continuous rhythm of trying to get you to come while the boys were in the same room, almost all of them awake. Ghost knows how fucking loud you are and is going to use it against you.
You roll your hips impatiently and deeper. Your feet hanging off the floor under you, only bracing on Ghosts thigh as the puzzle doesn’t exist to you anymore. All hope of you being silent and not giving into your boyfriends shenanigans was thrown out the door.
“Look at you baby. Fuck.”
Low growling in your ear, his pace slightly quickening to see what noises he could get away with. You squeaked, hands bracing against the table while you started to hump Ghosts thigh and he fucking loved it. Ghost didn’t need to look over to notice the shift in Soap’s body and it drove him mad.
Ghost wasn’t even fucking touching you and you were melting all over his leg, riding his thigh like it was his cock you were gonna cum all over. His cock stretched his pants tighter and tighter while you desperately dry humped the Lieutenant.
“Do you want them to see you? Fucking slut.”
His hands finally made contact with your hips as he brought you down even harder against his thigh, making you hump against him vigorously until he could feel your body start to go limp. He held you up effortlessly, pushing his knee up so your clit presses against the buttons on his pocket and rolls your hips in circular motions.
You’re panting, letting out a string of moans before Ghost starts to bring you to orgasm from words you never wanna repeat.
“Come on baby. Ride Daddy’s thigh until you’re making a mess.”
The puzzle pieces scattered on the table started to fall off the table while you whined and whimpered out moans, hitting the ground with just enough noise that Price opens his eyes while you’re shaking against Ghost and he holds you down harder, leaving bruises where he dug his fingers into your sides.
You dared yourself to look in the captain’s direction, turning your head ever so slightly until it’s brought back to the puzzle in front of you by a hand closing your throat.
#simon ghost riley#b answers#b writes#simon riley#ghost#simon riley smut#ghost smut#ghost x babygirl!reader#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#ghost x reader#ghost x reader smut#mw2#call of duty: modern warfare 2
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murphy's law
a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo
also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')
pairing: captain john price x gn!reader
summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.
no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'
no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price
warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself
word count: 8.6k
read it on ao3 here
✹✹✹
it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.
ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.
you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.
that should have been the first red flag.
the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?
you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.
you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…
it was going so… well.
bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.
"does this feel off to anyone–"
you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.
"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"
you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.
the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.
"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"
you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.
shit. fuck. fucking shit.
you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…
you really were alone.
well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.
your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!
snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door.
prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.
you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.
now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.
you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.
through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.
"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"
"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."
"that doesn't sound good to me."
it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.
"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"
hold on.
what?
"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.
the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,
"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."
charges. explosives.
all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"
deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.
this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?
and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?
the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.
your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.
the moonlight;
the window, the outside.
not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.
you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.
this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.
"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.
for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.
with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.
as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.
and then you hit the ground.
with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.
right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.
your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.
but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.
your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.
for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.
of course, it was too perfect.
the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.
✹✹✹
your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.
how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.
dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.
looking for you, presumably.
shit shit shit.
you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.
it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.
in. out. in. out.
in.
out.
every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.
no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…
the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.
someone was approaching.
the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.
the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.
the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.
your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?
shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.
lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.
his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.
shit. again.
his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.
a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.
shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.
you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.
where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.
pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.
he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.
oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.
you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.
with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.
somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.
now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.
"oh for fucks sake."
of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.
brilliant.
whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.
the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.
god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.
only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.
except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.
the car was gone.
it wasn’t there.
they weren’t there.
there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.
but no suv.
no teammates.
no john.
no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.
but they weren't here.
and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.
your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.
they were gone.
long gone, without you.
they really had left you behind.
a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.
a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.
you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.
it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.
✹✹✹
you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.
this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive.
oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…
your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.
they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.
either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.
✹✹✹
"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.
when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.
the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.
"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?
being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.
please, don't leave me here…
in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.
the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.
with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.
a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.
you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.
this was going to be a long night.
✹✹✹
hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.
the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.
ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.
you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.
this had to be them.
you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.
the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.
pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.
fuck. another injury to slow you down.
muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.
was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.
then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.
but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.
your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.
it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.
by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.
struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.
✹✹✹
one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.
just keep going.
limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.
how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?
you couldn't lose hope.
ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.
just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.
closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.
against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.
one foot in front of the other.
closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.
you taste the salt before you realise you're crying.
almost,
somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,
still too early to celebrate.
your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.
they had to be.
one foot in front of the other.
closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.
the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.
seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.
a distant beep. a red light turning to green.
the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.
you find the floor coming up fast.
voices are all around you.
you give in to unconsciousness.
✹✹✹
the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.
"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues, "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."
your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.
"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.
"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.
"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"
"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.
"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."
and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.
your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.
gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.
you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.
'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'
what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.
your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.
because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.
you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.
all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.
just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.
you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.
"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.
"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."
she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.
"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."
"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."
the doc hesitates as she works.
"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."
silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.
"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.
"two days."
you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.
i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?
you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep,
"you wanna be well rested, love."
but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.
the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.
"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."
she was right.
"...thanks, doc."
despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.
✹✹✹
you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.
the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.
but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.
as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.
it was his job, and he did it well.
you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.
but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.
then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.
you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.
"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.
well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.
he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.
"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.
john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.
"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.
fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.
"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"
he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.
fuuuuuck.
"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.
"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you.
"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.
in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.
"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.
"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"
another beat of silence.
"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.
"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.
"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.
your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.
you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"
he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.
"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."
the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.
"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.
john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.
you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.
"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.
"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.
you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.
"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"
"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.
"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"
"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."
he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"
"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"
"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you."
"that is a relief."
a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.
you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"
"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.
"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.
"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.
"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"
it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.
"john?"
"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."
was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?
the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.
"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.
"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."
slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.
"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.
"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.
"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.
you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.
"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.
"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."
✹✹✹
#john price x reader#captain price#captain john price#john price#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#call of duty#cod mw2#price fic#mw2 x reader#price x reader#141 x reader#first fic ive ever posted im scared#dont break my heart pls <3#roosterr writes
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more reading recs
because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.
as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.
pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.
there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.
i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.
without further ado...
Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader
"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.
The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader
DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.
Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting
Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.
Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader
Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!
Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap
This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.
Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader
Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.
Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader
I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.
Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader
I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.
Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader
Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)
pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader
Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.
plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost
Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.
~~
i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.
#sy fic recs#fic recs#i am a deeply corny person so we're gonna roll with my bad jokes and declarations of love and admiration if that's cool#if there's a typo i'm going to lose it#authors if i've mislabeled please let me know!!#dropping this like a bird at the door and skittering
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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list
☾ @moralesispunk
☼ Simon is a tummy man
☾ @guttednights
☼ olderboyfriend!simon
☾ @youronlydarlin
☼ loser!simon
⭒Just loser!Simon who's unknowingly a sex god
☼ sucking Simon's dick like crazy
⭒ Suckin Simon's dick so good he starts beggin'
☼ loser!simon who's unaware of just how big he is
☼ jus suckin simon's dick til hes overstimulated
☾ @undercoverpena
☼ Keep You Close
⭒ he's pretty sure he's in love with you. not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it.
☼ I'm With You
⭒ he knows how he feels, he knows how she feels. yet he fucks it up all the same.
☾ @bingoboingobongo
☼ In His Eyes
⭒ Gaz swears that there’s something going on between you and Ghost. Soap refuses to believe it until he sees it for himself.
☾ @ohmygraves
☼ After your leave you came back with a ring
☾ @peppermint-toads
☼ The night Simon retires
☾ @oceantornadoo
☼ Simon in love
⭒simon riley being in love but he actually just doesn’t know it.
☾ @shoukiko
☼ Ghost vs. Simon
☾ @konigsblog
☼ hickeys w Simon
☾ @suguann
☼ Husband!Simon
☾ @slvtforsimon
☼ bouncing on Simon's cock
☾ @tacticaldiary
☼ Capture in Tandem, Recovery in Tandem
⭒ "I'll give you a choice." He says, cocking the gun. "Shall I put a bullet through you, or her?"
☼ A Fighting Chance, Frayed Stitches Don't Hold
⭒ "When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.
☼ It All Comes Crashing Down
⭒ She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.
☾ @halcyone-of-the-sea
☼ Til It Hurts; part 2
⭒ You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?
☼ Harvest Storms
⭒ In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.
☼ Another Word for Protection
⭒ Simon Riley x Niece!reader (platonic series)
☼ Black Metal Bourbon
☾ @lovelyghst
☼ soft tummy simon riley
#codmw2#call of duty#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#soap might've died but at least we got to see ghost's bare hands#lets hope he can pound the sadness out of me ☹️❤️#simon riley angst#simon riley fluff#simon riley smut
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i absolutely fell in LOVE with your price fic holy shit. your writing is spectacular. then i read your request info and saw that you love keegan as well and my soul left my body.
So this is me requesting a keegan x reader fic bc i love this underrated man SO much!! maybe some enemies to lovers where one of them gets injured in the field and, thinking they're dying, a teary desperate confession ensues? lol im not good with prompts i just wanna see my man 🤧 thanks in advance i love ur work
(Don't) Go to War
Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader
Synopsis: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.
Word Count: 12.3k
Warnings: Angst, enemies to lovers, blood & gore, vulgar language, fluff & comfort eventually, suggestive (just a tiny bit)
A/N: Just a few more requests to get done, and then my inbox should be open again. I'm thinking I might do an independent Gaz fic too...but idk yet. Enjoy, Love!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
Some days it became impossible not to yell at him.
“I had the shot, Keegan!” Your voice carries over the hull of C-23 Sherpa, and you didn’t bother to stay strapped into your seat as the aircraft levels out around you. Thrusting your body up, your feet slam to the floor as you stalk over to the silent man who watches you with burning blue eyes, “If you hadn’t gotten in the way the target would be six feet under by now!”
Your face was twisted with rage, and a need for justice laced your brain like an inextinguishable blaze of fire.
Keegan and you had a violent streak of not getting along - to the point where Elias was close to separating the two of you permanently. It wasn’t entirely your fault, the man just got on your nerves when he acted like he could boss you around. No Man’s Land was your playground; you knew the trails, where to take shelter when needed, and what towns and backroads to avoid because of Federation occupation. You spent most of your time beyond the walls of Fort Santa Monica just like Keegan and the other Ghosts did – he had no right to lecture you out here.
He had no right to fuck up the mission.
“Kid,” The man in question warns, his form tense from where it leans against the wall. Around the two of you, the aircraft shakes from turbulence. Keegan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and behind the cloth over his face you see his lips thin dangerously, “I’d be careful what you say next.”
“Oh, shut the hell up!” You growl. The dirt and blood sticking to your skin makes you want to scratch at yourself with blunt nails; rip away the grime. Stomping up to Keegan you stand directly in front of him, a sneer heavy on your lips. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, “You have no right to tell me that. I worked my ass off getting that intel on Vidal Teo for months just for you to mess up my shot in no less than three seconds. What the fuck?!”
Keegan’s dead eyes glare from behind the stain of his black eye paint, the custom balaclava shifting as his hidden face moves. Over his arms, his fingers tense and tighten; a pulsing atmosphere begins to perforate the hull. The already strained rope was snapping.
Vidal Teo was a high-ranking commander for the Federation soldiers stationed in a large portion of No Man’s Land. He was instrumental in leading the frontal assault on the Fort – which had been getting steadily worse as the years went on. Vidal was a man marked for death, and your bullet had his name carved into the silver grooves.
He was yours.
“I don’t like your tone, Princess,” Keegan hisses down at you, but his intimidation tactics don’t work. He was large, sure, with a gargantuan build that made your shoulders square, but the anger in your blood pumped with vengeance, “I’m in command of the mission, don’t go mixing it around. You listen to me.”
“Not when Teo was right fucking in front of me,” Your head whips to the side, hands clenched as you point a single finger into the man’s chest. The two of you were so close you could feel his gear brush against yours when he breathed. Inside your form, your pulse sings, “If you hadn't fired that shot all of this would have been finished. Now,” You lower your voice as his enraged eyes bore into you, “He’s off in the damn wind. We’ll never get an opportunity like that again.”
“Back up.” Keegan stands straighter, arms falling to his sides, and at that moment a sliver of hesitance makes its way into your heart as his shadow looms over you, “Now. Before you do something you’ll regret.”
Clenching your jaw, your finger falls. No matter how pissed off you were at the Ghost, one thing he said was right. Keegan was in control of this mission – technically he was your superior at the moment. You should listen to him.
Listen? Your eyes flash, Like he listened to me? I told him to not fire while I lined my scope up…Why the hell did he do that?
“The sooner you’re out of my life,” Growling, you stare deep into Keegan’s eyes and only slightly shiver at the intensity. You could feel his breath coming out in strained puffs, wafting over your face, “The better. This is on you…All of my goddamn work down the drain…”
Jerking back as you grumble the last sentence under your breath, you storm past the Ghost’s stone-still figure and enter the cockpit, feeling his locked gaze on you the entire time. You slam the door shut, only serving to make the pilots snap their attention to you, mouths slack and optics wide.
“What?” You growl, glaring and practically releasing steam out of your ears. Damn that man and his stupidly handsome face…What?
The pilots quickly stutter back to their controls, backs straight, and heads forward.
Blinking, you scrunch your lips; your sense coming back to you as your shoulders deflate.
“Fuck,” Grumbling, you bring your hands up and place them on top of your head, lacing the fingers together as your elbows stick out. You glance remorsefully at the two stiff profiles, “Sorry, boys. Long day.”
Elias was going to lecture you again.
He always did when you and Keegan got into fights – they were becoming more and more recent in the past few months. From common disagreements about misplaced knives or weapons to full-blown yelling matches over accidents on missions, the recurring bouts of thrown words never seemed to end.
You were so incredibly sick of it.
Why were you always fighting with him? Why did every action strike you in the heart like a blade? You were always tense around Keegan, sending sharp glances at him every time he was in the vicinity and sharper words a second later. He did the same in return, it wasn’t like this was one-sided. The man was determined to push every button in the book, and damn it if you didn’t do that as well.
Keegan was a man on a high horse; arrogant, hard-headed, rude, and held authority like a stick you could beat someone over the head with. He demanded utter perfection.
Sighing violently, you lean back against the door and shove your palms into your eye sockets; head tilting back to rest on the cool metal and soothe the growing headache.
The problem was, most of the time the man was right when he told you something – whether work-related or not.
“Tango to the left – weapons hot.”
“Contact Scarecrow, Exfil in five. We have a group just above the pharmacy building.”
“West, Kid. Snipers scope, take ‘em down.”
No Man’s Land was supposed to be your playground and all of a sudden some other kid comes along; starts throwing rocks at the equipment with a damn painted balaclava over his face. You didn’t want someone telling you how to do your job.
Frowning, your teeth nash in annoyance.
This flight back to Santa Monica couldn't end soon enough, and now you had months of Recon intel sitting in your office to throw into the trash.
—
You grabbed at the pinned-up files with paper-cut fingertips, looking over the contents before frowning. Tossing them to the side, your ears twitch at the flopping sound of them flying into the garbage bin at your feet.
The bulletin board was bare of all the red yarn, maps, and intel that you had once hung up with pride. Vidal Teo was gone, and just so the board was once more empty. It was hard not to feel cheated, angry, but maybe a part of you felt emptiness as well.
All of that work… just for one shot to mess it up. And the bullet wasn’t even from your own gun.
“I swear,” You whisper, itching at your nose, “If I ever get up on a team with him again…”
Trailing off, your legs shift and carry you to your desk where you throw yourself down into the chair. Thoughts of Keegan made your brain race, mind going to try and understand why. Even if you didn’t like the man, at least on the surface, you still respected him.
So, why? None of it made sense. Why fire off into the city at an unidentified target and send Teo rushing for cover? Why not explain to you what had happened when you were back on the plane? If he had made a mistake and admitted that, you would have accepted it… eventually, of course, but you still would have accepted it regardless. You would have had to.
Licking your lips, you tap your knuckles onto the metal of your desk, playing a long-forgotten tune. You never heard the door open.
“Heard the Op didn’t go as planned, but at least the two of you didn’t kill each other. I’d have a helluva a lot of paperwork to do if you put a bullet in his ass,” Sitting up straighter your head snaps to the open doorway, seeing the stocky stature of Thomas Merrick with his arms crossed over his chest, “Still, though, heard ya’ nearly made those pilots piss their pants when you yelled at ‘em.”
“Merrick,” You groan out, tipping your head past the chair’s backing, your neck digging into the wood, “You’re acting like I try to be a bitch.”
“Are you not,” When you glare at him, the man’s dark eyebrow raises slightly, “Because you’re failing at it – often. Elias’s at the end of his rope with you two.”
Grumbling, your nose scrunches, lips pulling back in a small snarl.
“It’s not my fault. Keegan hates me just the same.”
“That any excuse to yell at a superior?” Merrick sighs, shaking his bald head and walking forward, “Thought I trained you better than that?”
Your eyes flicker to his own, but seeing the blatant disappointment in them, you find it better to look at the empty bulletin board. Swallowing stiffly, your feet shuffle on the floor.
“Look at all my work, Thomas,” Shoving yourself to your feet, you walk to the small garbage bin and pick it up; holding it aloft, you watch the Ghost’s Field Officer's lips thin. There was a mass amount of wasted paper, pictures, and yarn that caught his eye. You go and slam it onto your desk, hearing the clatter as the pencil holder falls to its side, “Wasted. Because of one man’s actions – how many people are going to die now because I couldn’t make the shot? Ten, twenty, thirty…?”
“Kid–” Merrick begins, but you cut him off – still angry at Keegan and trying to strangle down the guilt of pushing it onto Thomas.
“If you don’t mind, Merrick, I have a shit-ton of reports to sign and no time to do them,” Once more flopping back into your chair, you rub your hands over your face and feel the skin pull. If you were anyone other than yourself, you would be getting a reprimand for interrupting a superior like that but Merrick was something of a friend to you.
Closing your eyes, you let the darkness behind your lids flood you as you take a deep breath.
The Ghost leaves after a moment without noise or a sound of encouragement, but that was just how he was. You feel his dark eyes on you, lingering, before he closes the door behind him and stalks away.
Finally left alone in silence, you let your thoughts run to try and answer the age-old question that ravaged your mind.
“What happened to make us like this?” You whisper, hands falling to your lap as you stare off into the distance with blank eyes.
You had never given it much thought – sometimes people just didn’t like each other. Ingrained enemies written into the annals of time and cursed to forever be at each other's throats like rabid animals. But then you realized that this wasn’t high school and you were an adult living in a fucked up world full of death and war. Coworkers no longer had the privilege to talk shit about the other behind their backs or not communicate their problems; being out in No Man’s Land forced people to compromise and work together like a well-oiled machine.
And well-oiled was not the way to describe yours and Keegan's relationship…more like a run-down and rusty car that screams every time you turn the key; practically begging someone to put it out of its misery.
Blinking, you realize, perhaps for the first time, how much of a problem this predicament with Keegan really was.
This could kill us both.
All of this began, you knew, a long time back, and, as it usually did, it had started out beyond the Fort before bleeding back into the ramshackle place you called home. The both of you were enemies far longer than you had been friends.
Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your temple and slipping the expanse of your chin, but still, you stood outside Elias Walker’s door with a tense jaw; fingers itching to rip into Keegan’s flesh. They were speaking inside, their voices hushed as your boots pooled mud and dirt onto the floor like a brand.
“She…went over the ridge?” Elias asks, voice deep, “And she’s alive?”
“Hm,” Keegan makes a savage noise in the back of his throat, and you have to hide your panting breaths to hear it. The damn bastard was always so silent any sound would perk your ears, even if they were ringing with reverberations of spent bullets.
“Then I don’t exactly see what the problem is, Keegan.”
A pause.
“...She’s impulsive. Combative. Doesn’t listen,” There was an inhaled breath, and you feel your face burn at the profound gravel-toned words, lungs making your chest tighten as they zip closed as a bag would. But those next comments make you growl in the back of your throat, rage like fire in your heart, “I don’t want her. Kid’ll get the people she’s placed with killed if she’s allowed to do that again!”
A sigh through the shocked silence.
“Then what do you suggest I do? She’s a valuable asset, I can’t just ground her – the Recon work she does is vital to finding Federation strongholds.”
“I don’t care what you do with her, Elias. Just keep her far away from me and the boys. Kid’s not my problem. Never want her to be again.”
Whatever harsh words are uttered next are lost to you, because your legs are already carrying you down the corridor with brimming tears stuck in the corners of your eyes.
It was more the way he said it than the contents of the clipped sentences. Like you were less than him, pathetic, and unworthy. Nothing more than a rookie holding a gun and parading off into the wilderness to have a good time. That was what wrecked you.
The next time you saw Keegan it was only narrowed glances and clenched fists; terse words. When you snapped at him for the first time, you swear his eyes slightly widened, cold blue one second then boiling bright the next.
You liked that look on him – shocked into a different type of silence. A type of anger you could meet head-on.
Fighting with Keegan soon became too addicting to ignore, a constant activity that never changed like the destroyed world always did. A failsafe at the end of the day.
The anger had never dimmed, infecting you like a poisoned worm stuck in your veins and weaseling its way to your heart. It had only grown the longer you let it sit, and at the end of the day, you festered over the image of the Ghost’s face with his eyes digging into your skin. You stayed awake at night mulling over the arguments, taking the insults and words like bullet wounds to your heart with barely restrained tears; feeling guilty because you threw some back as well.
But what hurt you the most was that, before the hushed meeting in Elias’s office, you had looked up to him. To Keegan. Perhaps you had even enjoyed his quiet company at one point when the loneliness of No Man’s Land got to you. The terrain was incredibly quiet in between the violent hails of gunfire and, on occasion, it would make paranoia infect your bones like a cancer; producing shaking limbs and tense fingers. When Keegan was with you…you hated to admit this, but he made the silence better. More survivable compared to when you were alone doing Recon with only a gun and a combat knife as deadly companions.
Your narrowed lids flicker to the trash bin on the desk.
There was still a small pinch of anger – resentment for the waste and for words spoken in haste – but your mind pulsed to find an explanation. A reason.
There must be a reason that Keegan would fire off a shot into the city prematurely…obviously it was to hit a target, but why? And why hadn’t he told you the reason?
I’m gonna rip my head apart if I keep thinking this over, You warn yourself, huffing under your breath.
You had reports to write up – tell of your failure to kill Vidal Teo and how many lives that will ultimately cost in the future. While you were stuck with a pen in your hand, scribbling away even as the sun had set outside, you had no idea of the stare-down going on in Elias’s office one floor up.
—
Elias’s eyes are sharp, a wave of dark anger deep in the iris as he stands with his arms crossed behind his desk, “Why’d you fire?”
Keegan's feet are shoulder length apart and his arms are clenched behind his back, spine straight; a deep tension lives in the thick air, bearing down weight on the men. The Ghost was still in his gear, the balaclava and black face paint in all its glory situated over his head. That was his best form of armor, allowing him to hide the deep sneer over his cruelly scared lips.
“Tango. Off in the next building,” Keegan’s voice was low, harsh, and cut to a point. He didn’t want to be there – there were many more important things to be done than getting a lecture like a five-year-old.
His sniper rifle needed cleaning, rookies needed to be disciplined, and the treadmills were calling his name. He had to work off all the bullshit in his head.
“The Girl had the shot. Vidal Teo needed to die, Russ – she knew that well enough. I want an explanation as to why a high-priority target is still up and walking.”
The silent beast of a man keeps his body still, even if his head is pounding. Hot adrenaline was still in his veins from how you were yelling at him in the Sherpa, the memory of your rage-twisted face burning into the back of his eyes. He had never seen you that angry before; shaking with the need to release your displeasure onto him. It had slightly taken him aback.
Fighting with you was predictable. You’d both throw insults, get into each other's faces and cruelly break down each other's psyche piece by piece – the man knew what to say and where the unspoken line was just as you did. Fighting was easier than admitting there was something deeper going on, something that you two were hesitant to even speak of.
But, hell, you had never gotten that upset at him previously. And, problem was, even if he wanted to deny it, Keegan knew he fucked up. Bad.
There wasn’t a way in hell that he was going to tell you that, though. He wasn’t going to tell you that his finger had moved before his mind could, pulling down on the hair-trigger of his prized rifle like a fucking novice. Even now self-resentment was worming into him.
He had never felt that to this degree before. He didn’t like it – couldn’t afford to acknowledge it.
What gave you the right to provoke those emotions from him? Maybe I need to ask to have her transferred. Brat’s messin’ with my head.
“Miscalculation. Won’t happen again.” His feet shuffle, boots shifting silently over the floor like that of his title. Miscalculation – he doesn’t make those. Never had after ODIN hit the US. There wasn’t any room for them.
Keegan was a master of taking lives with a swift movement and a pull of a trigger; no one had ever known him to be reckless.
They had you for that.
Elias narrowed his eyes, head tilting, as a tightness is seen rippling through his jaw, “You’re going to have to lie better than that, Son.”
Keegan stilled, dead eyes boring into the other man’s. The sharp blue deepens, darkens. His shoulders set themselves, but the ingrained looseness is still there if someone looks close enough and spies it. Instinct is hard to fight.
“Elias?” He asks from behind the fabric of his face covering but utters no more.
Keegan was a man of few words – very few. Actions served him better, but in this room, there was no point to them. Walker was his superior; his Captain, but more so the closest thing to a brother Keegan would ever have. There wasn’t a choice in this, even if the men had gone through hell together as Ghosts.
“Don’t play me for a fool, Keegan,” The graying man mutters out, shaking his head and going to rest his hands on the top of his desk, “I’ve known you a long time. You don’t fuck up something like this. Never have. So don’t insult me with that half-assed answer.”
Elias pauses, sighing when Keegan just stares at him with blank, black-laced, hard eyes. The man was a damn empty slate, never moving, never giving away anything to betray his emotions.
“I want a full report on my desk in a week. I’m sure the Kid’ll have hers done in a day, but I want you to explain yourself. In detail. You hear?”
“Copy.”
“Dismissed.”
Keegan turns and leaves without another word, just a burning in his gut and a righteous sense of surety in his bloodstream. Your face slashes over his vision as he exits the room, he closes the door behind him and thumps down the halls. People move out of his way quickly, sending glances with pupils so tiny they practically disappear altogether; Keegan knew he was intimidating, especially with all his gear and smelling like gunpowder and blood. Didn’t bother him much.
It seemed like it didn’t bother you either, judging by how you were in his face screaming all the time.
Damn brat, Keegan thinks, itching at his nose bridge and sending stiff glances at the rows and rows of closed doors and windows, She doesn’t know anything.
Before long his feet had carried him down corners and hallways as his head pounded, and it wasn’t a surprise that when he shook himself out of his trance the entire make-up of the floors and walls had changed.
Wait…where was he?
His pace slows to a stop, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Where had he ended up while his mind was running at the thought of you? This had never happened before – the Ghost’s head was all out of sorts if he was talking walks around the Fort without a destination. Every action of his had a purpose, why was that now becoming anything less than fact?
Annoyance plagued him.
Sliding his eyes around, a certain office window catches his viper-like attention. It was the only one with a light still on, warm rays shining out into the hallway, and the shuffling of paper and manila folders flowing to his ears. The door was only minutely ajar, a sliver, and nothing more. About to turn around and leave the area, Keegan halts at the sound of a familiar voice grumbling. His heart jerks.
Blue eyes narrow, and that annoyance at himself grows to find an external outlet.
The hell is this Kid doin’ up so late? Doesn’t she know when lights out is? Fuck, looks like she can’t follow simple guidelines either.
With shuffling feet, he takes a step forward and has every intention to bust down the door and force you to the barracks; lecturing you on the importance of rest when he suddenly realizes something.
Why does he care if you get a good night's sleep?
Growling under his breath, he happens to get a glimpse of a moving shadow through the window that gives him pause with one gloved hand on the woodgrain of the door. If possible, he feels his body completely stop at the scene; his eyes flickering into a widened look.
And what was that tightening in his chest?
You were staring at the hung-up bulletin board, having dragged your desk chair over and situated it right in front of the bare rectangle that once held an innumerable amount of papers and information.
Keegan had seen it himself right before the mission had started. Your eyes lit up when you could tell him everything you knew about the target from his schedule to what he ate in the mornings.
Eggs with a protein bar. Two cups of milk.
You had gathered all of that info yourself – countless trips into Federation-occupied territory that left you coming back with bruises and deep lacerations. Keegan knew; he had watched you limping back through the gate with a shielded look in his eyes. But now the board was blank and useless, holding nothing but your knowledge that it was once filled with your labors.
The Ghost’s hand on the door loosens, and he takes a slow inhalation of breath as your tired eyes get glossy. When had you gotten those bags under your eyes? Keegan’s lips pull thin behind his balaclava. Had…had you always looked that tired?
Had you both really been fighting so much that he had stopped noticing the most basic parts of you that he had watched so closely before?
“I had it…” Keegan’s shoulders tense when he hears you speak, but he doesn’t move. A needle of guilt moved to dig deeper. Your hopeless sigh leaves him gritting his teeth, “Fuck.”
Digging your palms into your eyes, he watches you shake, limbs tense and hunched over nearly into a ball. He has the sudden urge to push the door open, not to scold you but to simply stand by your side. Tell you the truth.
Keegan’s eyebrows pull together, gaze flicking away from you so his brain can focus. But it was like a magnet was stuck behind his optics because it wasn’t long before his eyes flowed back to the small figure.
He stays there for a good while, watching, with a weighted chest and pounding heart. Keegan couldn’t really say what he was thinking about, but all of it certainly involved you. So why couldn’t he open the door?
When your head jerks back up, his eyes widen, body swiftly moving back.
By the time you look out the office window, his shadow is already disappearing down the hallway.
—
You nearly lose your cool when Elias tells you Keegan was accompanying you out into No Man’s Land once more. The bags under your eyes burned – weeks had passed since the fight, and you had gotten little sleep since then.
“Teo was sighted by one of the drones near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco. I want you and Keegan on the trail, and, hopefully,” Elias mutters as Merrick and Ajax listen in the background. Your apparent partner stands behind you, leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed, “We can put this to rest.”
Standing rail-straight, your face is twisted but you keep yourself under control. Even being in the same room with Keegan made you want to lash out. At your sides, your hands slowly clench into tight fists, and behind you, a sharp gaze digs its claws into your skull.
He’s watching you. Studying like he always does when he thinks you don’t notice.
“Sir,” You answer the older Ghosts blankly, lips stiff, “If you think that’s best.”
“I do,” Merrick raises a brow behind Elias, and you pretend not to notice as Ajax’s shoulders shake, “That going to be a problem?”
Ironically, Keegan and you both answer at the same time, a strangling silence before a snarled, “No, Sir.”
The pair of you shipped out in thirty minutes, but neither of you bothered to look at the other as you gathered supplies in the armory; grabbing magazine after magazine and strapping knives to thighs, arms padded with thick clothes and heavy black combat vests. Keegan was applying his face paint despite the dark color already stained into his eye sockets. You doubted it could come off anymore – the skin was probably so damaged by the chemicals it was pointless to try. Like some brutal birthmark. He slipped the balaclava over soon after.
The fabric covered the dark hair and strong jaw, slightly marred with stubble – long scars that grew harsher when his skin twisted; the angled lips below a sharp nose that had captured your attention the first time you had seen them. Keegan was undoubtedly handsome, carved from stone and silver – the remnants of that artistry only now glimpsed in his eyes as a cold reminder. It was funny, you thought, that someone so beautiful could be such an ass. You watched him, terse-like, and grabbed a revolver hanging from the rack, shoving it into your thigh holster.
He was acting off.
Keegan was more silent than he usually was; at this point, he would at least make a quick quip about your annoying habit of packing extra ration bars in your front pouch.
‘Gonna weigh you down, Kid, if you stuff one more of those damn things into your vest.’
But the more you sneaked glances, the more your feet started to shuffle in unease. The Ghost wouldn’t even look at you.
“You sick or something?” Your voice carries, echoing off the walls as you tighten the vest strap on your side. You had never bothered to be subtle when talking to the man – he appreciated bluntness, and that was one thing you could get behind.
“No,” Keegan slips past, suddenly colder than ever before, and disappears without another word.
Watching his back shift as he strides off, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and perhaps a bit of shock.
What the hell was that? You ask yourself, hands falling to your sides where they twitch. Keegan was damn confusing, but he had never been outright numb like that to you besides when you both first met. Your resentment flares in your breast, but with a shake of your head, you force it down. That wouldn’t help anyone, and you still wanted answers.
If this was how Keegan wanted to be then fine, you’d just have to ask Elias for his report when you got back and figure out for yourself why he had ruined the previous mission.
You grabbed a canteen of water and shuffled out the door, flicking off the light with a heavy finger and followed after the Ghost’s footsteps; dreading the Op but feeling your pulse beat at the thought of nabbing Teo once and for all.
This was ending. Today.
—
The aircraft landed just far enough away to be unseen by Federation soldiers and on the line of being annoyingly distant from the target. The hike would be through mountainous terrain – the land ravaged by the remnants of ODIN’s destruction and just beginning to heal. On top of steep cliffs, and sharp rocks, there would also be rampaging streams and thick foliage. Speaking from experience, you knew it was going to be a sweat-inducing mission…and that was before you got to the main point of it all.
Both of you disappear into the treeline after the pilot tells you the future Evac Point, hoofing it at a jog into the shadows and blending in like animals. Under your feet, the leaves crush, telling stories of where you placed your weight as the packs over your body jump with every jerk forward. Keegan takes the lead, silently expecting you to follow as your eyes stare into his back.
He still hadn’t talked to you. It made your skin crawl.
Watching his gait, you frown and clench your jaw. Why did it bother you so much? Wasn’t this what you wanted all along…for him to leave you alone?
Sighing, you hop over a downed log, seeing Keegan quickly send a look behind him at your form before snapping his head forward.
“There’s an old structure west of the Warehouse – a hunting lodge still standing from before ODIN was fired, I found it on one of my other Ops,” You call, moving faster to run side-by-side with the man. Dodging a tree, your tongue runs over your lips, “We should set up there – we’d have a clear shot.”
For a moment there was only the sound of shoved foliage, steady breaths, and clinking gear before Keegan replies.
“Affirm.”
He pulls ahead, and you’re left widely watching his shoulders, seeing the muscles under his attire ripple as they propel him faster away. Your eyelids narrow, a thin sneer flickering over your lips.
Keep your cool, You follow after, careful where you place your feet as the ground begins to ascend, If I get him in a good mood, maybe he’ll answer my questions later.
It was easier said than done, of course, and although your efforts were valiant, none of your plans to get him to speak to you landed. The hike ended with panted breaths and a setting sun, mist seeping like snakes over the rocks under your feet; the world was quiet, and try as you might you found a deep sense of loneliness in that. The pair of you were on top of a ridge, surrounded by deep green and gray. No birds sang, and no animals trampled the land – it was just the harsh wind and the creak of stretching metal from far ahead. The occasional smell of dirt that left your nose full of particles and led to coughing fits.
Perhaps Keegan had the right idea for a face covering, even if it was never intended for the reason of keeping the elements out.
The Warehouse was near a crater, one of the places ODIN had struck directly into the Earth, and teetered on the edge of oblivion as it was half-falling apart and drenched in red rust. Occasionally, as a tremor rolled through, pieces of it would fall off and slam to the ground a million miles away, deep into the crust of what was left.
Definitely a place for a safe house. No one would bother to look here unless you already knew about it or were hiding something.
Thinking to yourself, you rub the sweat off your nose with the back of your hand, eyes flickering to the hole in the Earth with shielded disgust. It had been over ten years, but the horror was still there. All of those innocent people…
“Here,” The smooth voice startles you, but your attention diverts quickly to the man at your side. His hands hold out a red cloth in his first and second fingers and pointedly avoids sneaking a peak at your shocked expression. Your mouth opens and closes, optics bouncing back and forth between the gift and the strange Ghost.
You could hear a pin drop if you had one to throw.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Your stench is going to alert the guards – wipe yourself off. I need to repeat myself, Princess?” With an unamused face, you snatch the textile and rub it over your heated skin, reveling in the dismissal of layers of salt.
“Asshole,” You mutter, “You better not have used this before me; if I get acne I’m shaving your head in your sleep and siccing Riley on you.”
“Sounds fun. Better make sure I’m dead by the end of it.”
“Trust me, I will. I’ll make sure to chuck your body from the Fort wall, too,” Sliding past him, you toss the cloth at his chest, “Hunting lodge is this way.”
You get so close your shoulders lightly brush, and although you hate the implications, the action leaves your chest tight as you inhale his scent of blood and shrill chemicals. Clenching your jaw, you don’t take in the way his warmth floods your veins or the cold gaze that follows your back as you walk away; briefly softening around the edges like a blunt blade before being sharpened once more under stone and rock.
Hearing his feet lightly caress the ground behind you, you let out a slow breath, shoving away a branch of a low tree and peeping back. Keegan's gaze locks on your own as if he was waiting for this, and you curse not being able to see his expression – but it wasn’t like that would give away anything either. The Ghost was blank, much like the bulletin board had been when you ripped your work from it.
Raising a dark brow, the man grunts under his breath in question as his large shadow leeks over your form.
“Nothin,’” You mutter and turn back, fixing the strap of your rifle and side step a piece of cut wood, looking like it was the remains of a windowsill that had been broken during the shockwave and flung from a house, “Thanks for the rag. Even if it did smell like Gun Oil.”
Blinking down at the forgotten object, your arms push through one more set of fauna and huff when you lay eyes on the run-down lodge that would be Base Camp. Rushing up the decaying steps, you push the paint-peeing door open and throw your hands out.
“And here we are,” Walking with acute familiarity into the one-room area, “Home sweet home,” You nod your head to the left, where a large window gives a clear view of the Warehouse down below, “We’ll take the shot from over there, but…here…where did I…?”
Stumbling to a stop, you take one step back and ignore the narrowed eyes on your back.
“The hell you looking for, Kid?”
“Shh,” You snap your fingers at a loose board near a broken-down TV stand, “There we go!” Jogging over, you place your foot on one end of the board and grab the now-propped-up opposite side with a heavy hand. Like a teeter-totter.
Tossing the wood away, you grab the stash you had hidden years ago and hold it aloft near your head as you turn around.
Keegan watches with small eyes, head tilted, and feeling a bit curious about where this was going. What were you holding in your hand…? Was that…?
“Chocolate bars? I thought those were under strict ration laws?” His booted feet carry him closer to you and the plastic bag holding three bars of the old treat, “Damn, Kid.”
The man didn’t ask how you knew they were there – at least, yet – but he had an idea. You had logged more hours outside than anyone else besides the Ghosts, and with your affinity to keep to your own, it was only common sense that you had stashes all over California.
“Special occasion,” You mutter, opening the bag and tossing him one. Of course, he catches it, flipping it over in his hands and rubbing a thumb over the wrapper. Keegan’s eyes filter back to yours slowly, and under him, his feet shuffle to shift his weight.
“Y’know these things are probably older than Fort Santa Monica, right? It’ll give you gut rot.”
“God, I hope so,” You rip the wrapper open and snap off a piece as you hear crinkling from the other bar being opened; you toss yours into your mouth and smirk, “Maybe Ajax’ll finally lend me his alcohol stash to help me out for once. Bastard keeps making excuses.”
The bar was a bit stale if you were being honest, but it was still chocolate in your books. Stuffing the rest of it in your side pocket, you slip the rifle from around your back and head to the window, with the butt of the gun you raise it up and bring it down. A corner of the glass shatters into a million pieces, falling to the ground outside like tiny stars and reflecting the dying light.
Far below, miles away, the Warehouse seems dead to the world, but your and Keegan’s trained eyes spy the microscopic shadows in the rust-strangled metal walls, slipping past like rats over the holes and windows.
“Visual?” The man next to you asks, pulling back down his balaclava, and your ears twitch as you gaze through your scope; watching with perfected focus. Pulling back with a grunt, you flip the gun and rest the barrel against the wall, sighing.
“Negative. There won’t be until the sun sets fully,” Keegan turns to look down at you, and the fabric around his mouth shifts into a frown. You raise a brow and explain, not needing him to ask his question, “I‘ve tracked this guy like a teenager on the internet who has a crush. I know his routine. When the sun sets he checks the perimeter with two of his guards, Fabián Julieta and Santos Rosa – I have reason to believe they’re his cousins, but it’s never been confirmed.”
“You sure he’ll do that?” Keegan scoffs, looking back out and tapping his fingers over his thigh holster, “There was just an attempt on his life. Not exactly the time to follow procedure.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to leave it to fate. Plus,” You can’t help but mutter, “We wouldn’t have been in this situation if you hadn’t messed up.”
The air thickens.
Keegan’s body stills, frozen like his bones had just been covered in frost and doused in frigid waters. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch with bated breath. But he notices the trap, it seems, because his neck never enters the snare laid out. The tension that had lived over you both like a dark cloud suddenly gained lighting, quick flashes of light over the sky.
“It’ll be too dark by then,” Is his only response – even if it’s clipped and growled out like a man ready to snap. He wanted to start an argument, you could tell with growing amusement. Keegan’s arms clench at his sides into shaking fists.
“Then it’s a good thing Ghosts can see in the dark,” You smirk, tilting your head to the side and beginning to reach for the rest of the chocolate bar resting in your pocket, “Isn’t that right? Make sure not to freak out and fire at the birds–!”
The hand latches onto your shoulder before you can process the man had even moved; eyes widening to the size of plates as the pressure snaps your body to face forward. You let out a light yip as your feet drag. Despite the hold being firm, Keegan’s fingers never dig too tight.
Your eyes level on his, gazing deep into his boiling blues that shimmer the longer you stare. Had the middle always had flecks of green? Inside your chest, your heart pounds like a drum as, behind the balaclava, his jaw clenches. Keegan’s breath is like a breeze over your hair, rustling it.
“Don’t…do that,” He says slowly. You just watch, wide-eyed, “Don’t speak on shit you have no idea about.”
Whatever had made your lungs constrict fled in an instant.
“What?” Your lips twist, “You mind telling me how I’d have ‘no idea’ about an Op I was supposed to come back with a confirmation of death on?”
You shove his arm off your shoulder and hate the way the chill of the air overtakes his warmth.
Keegan’s shoulders set, “Kid, I’m ordering you to–”
“Cut the shit!” You yell, finger going to shove into his face and watching his head whip to it before wafting back to your visage. If possible his shoulders widen even farther, legs tense and straight. This was it – your confusion would go no further, you decided, “You’re going to explain all of this, Keegan–!”
“Watch the damn volume–”
“Explain why I’m out here, why you messed up the mission–!”
“Listen to me. I need you to–”
“Why my fucking work was all wasted because you pulled the damn trigger and I’m reaping the consequences like an idiot with a guy who hates my guts–!”
“There was a sniper on the roof.”
Your rampage stops just as you were about to open your mouth once more. You stare at him at the bombshell, not even able to process it for a moment. Blinking, you realize you had moved Keegan backward so his back was pressed into the opposite wall; your body was pressed tightly up next to his. With every fast breath, you could feel your chest connect with his, and your finger was still against his peck, digging into the gear.
Sucking in a quick breath, you gathered what little courage you had gained and looked up into his face with a fire lit in your blood.
“...W-what?” Keegan’s body shifts and his arms go to grab your elbows.
He doesn’t move you, just gives them a firm squeeze and explains as his heart pounds in his chest. Under the cloth, his mouth is slightly parted, and his pupils are wide.
“Federation sniper,” He utters, blinking as your face goes void of emotion, “I didn’t know if he’d seen you yet, but I…”
The Ghost trails off as his thigh brushes yours, all of the pouches uncomfortable to feel digging into his skin, but worth it if he can make this right.
“Why…Why didn’t you tell me?” You whisper out, the skin of your eyebrows moving to press the tiny hairs closer together. This changed everything, “Why did you…?”
Keegan’s face is so close to yours that he can smell your shampoo through the dark fabric over his nose, suddenly suffocating on the comfort the covering usually brought him. Why was his heart racing in his chest? You were being irresponsible, yelling like that, and stubborn, hard-headed.
But, damn, if anger wasn’t a good look on you. Your body heat was leaking into him, making him swallow heavily.
“Because…knew you’d blame yourself,” He said simply, staring at you deeply as your expression softens just as Keegan’s body does against the wall; you lean in deeper to his hold, “Just didn’t expect you to take it all so hard.”
“What? You just wanted me to let it go?” You utter, feeling and finally admitting how addicting it felt to be this close to him. For the life of you, you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. What was happening?
“Again, didn’t know you’d take it so hard,” He raises a brow, grip falling from your elbows to lightly grab your hips. You force down a shiver, veins alight with molten lava at the strange contact. The Ghost continues, “Where’d you get the idea I hated you?”
Your throat swallows down saliva, not understanding the feeling in your gut.
Shit, You think, Maybe that chocolate was bad – my head’s spinning…All I can smell is Keegan. But why am I not trying to leave?
Just a moment ago you were angry at him, but now everything made sense. A sniper, God, he could have just told you. It would have fixed a lot of things.
You mull over his question; do you answer it honestly? But for some odd reason, your mouth runs faster than your mind – it always had, and certainly always would. At least around Keegan, that is.
A breaking point had been reached, wherever you went from here was entirely up to the two of you.
“You said you didn’t want me,” The man’s breath stills, and you feel it just as you hear it; his scanning optics halt their study of your features, as if he had been seeing them for the first time in this light, “That I’d get people killed…why…why do you think I always work by myself nowadays?” Your nose begins to hurt, eyes falling to Keegan’s chest. You try to shove it down, but your hand over his vest shakes slightly. Where was this coming from? Why were you telling him this? The source of your animosity, how you two became, at least in your mind, enemies, “I just didn’t want to be a problem.”
Muttering out the last sentence, you swear Keegan’s chest hitches, heart kickstarting.
“I…” He begins after a long moment of mutually avoiding eye contact. If you look into those beautifully cold blues you might break.
But voices from below snap whatever the both of you would externally loathe but internally revel in; the longing in the two pairs of eyes is replaced by duty and unsaid words. The action was mechanical, and both parties rushed to the window, with your fingers grasping the rifle and Keegan grabbing the binoculars from his largest pouch.
Like birds of prey, the two work in such sync that others would question if they even hated each other at all – and if they had seen the scene just moments prior the thoughts of denial would have been strengthened ten-fold.
Did you hate Keegan? Or did you hate what he had done? Now really wasn’t the time to question it, but as the Ghost called out the distance and spotted Vidal Teo in pitch darkness, you can’t help but mutter, “Knew you could see in the dark, Kee,” And lined up the shot.
Your finger pulls the trigger with little more than a second thought, and your shoulder catches the recoil with a grunt leaving your lips.
“Direct hit. Target down,” A soft hand squeezes your shoulder as you watch the body drop from the scope. Grim satisfaction breeds in your heart. Your eye roves to Keegan’s face, who nods his head at you, “It was a good shot, Princess.”
Face heating, all you do is scoff, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, well…I suppose you called it.”
“Really, you can’t just take the compliment?“
“Do you want me to beat you over the head with this rifle?”
You both stand up and send coded glances to the other, and where the backhanded comments would usually be hostile, the small differences in presentation lean more toward teasing than anything.
It was…nice. Foreign, but nice.
Chuckling, you toss the rifle around your back and listen to panicked voices echoing out from the warehouse. Keegan still stands near the window, with his back to it, while you inch to the door and itch at the back of your neck. He stares at you strangely, no doubt thinking about what you had confessed prior.
He had no idea you had heard the conversation with Elias. The Ghost’s chest constricts, remembering the words he had said in concern and anger. Had you really heard all of it? That would explain the sudden cold attitude that was mirrored back to him all those months ago.
Damn, Keegan blinks, and his head tilts as you stare back at him with a questioning expression. Your face was innocent with sweaty flesh filled with dust and grime. His fingers itched to wipe away the slash of black dirt from your forehead and, against his will, his stone blue softened to water in his eye sockets.
Your lips twitch at the rare expression. You had a lot to talk about when you both get back to base.
“We should get going before–”
Glass shatters, and a loud pop like an opening soda can startles you so bad you swore your heart stopped. Two things happen in that instance that will be ingrained into your head forever, carved like a scar in the fine tissue and tender to the touch.
One, his blood splattered your face, making you blink rapidly and reel back.
Two, the sound of Keegan’s hitting the floor – deadweight – and the loud gasp that exits his mouth, all the air expelled from his lungs not allowing him to even scream.
“Keegan!” You yell, rushing over and grabbing onto his shoulders, flipping him over with a grunt and panicked breath as you brush away the crimson from your eye sockets with a fast hand, “Shit!”
His body slams once more to the old wood, this time his back now on the floor. Blood pools down from a gunshot wound over his right abdomen, and your eyes land on it immediately, lungs struggling to suck down air.
Below you, Keegan lets out a wheezing sound, arm coming half-up to clench in the space above him, shaking violently.
“Fucken’...” The man gasps, and his body jerks, trying to move despite the hole in his side. Your fingers rip open your medical pouch, eyes darting back to the window. You lightly stand up, frantic eyes darting and freezing. Spying a glint of light reflected from the moon, you quickly dip back to the floor.
Sniper scope.
Rushing to grab Keegan under the shoulders, he yells out curses as you drag him to the side and out of the line of sight of the window. Tearing out a rag and a roll of gauze from your stash, you look at his face as you shove the cloth against the leaking wound, bunching the fabric and working it into the crater.
Keegan snarls, head going back to slam to the floor as his eyes flutter. Those blues of his were wide and whizzing back and forth in a primal display, and behind the balaclava, you could see his throat bob with strangled, open-mouthed, breaths. Fuck, fuck, fuck…!
“Hey!” You shout, bringing up one hand and lightly slapping his cheek as you lean your body weight into his side. Your heart was going too fast, it was going to break out of your chest if you didn’t get a grip. But…Keegan’s blood was staining your hands; leaking down your face to drip from your chin. And the fact remained that the Federation soldiers now knew your position and were rushing to the dilapidated lodge. You needed to get him out of here, “Keep your damn eyes open – the only person who gets to kill you is me!”
“What…what the fuck, Princess?”
“You heard me!” Your body was shaking just as much as Keegans as you gnash your teeth together, “‘Doesn’t listen,’ my ass, your ears work less than mine do.”
You’re panicking; using born and breed sarcasm and clipped words to ease you back into focus.
You had to move him – had to get him out of here. But would you be able to? He was big; far larger than you and weighed twice as much in muscle alone, not to mention the gear... Your mind did the math even as you pleaded with it not to.
He would have to help you on his own if this was going to work. And that meant keeping him conscious.
Keegan lets out a loud cough, and your fingers itch to move his face-covering so he can breathe better. But you unravel the gauze instead, going to shift his body to wrap it around the rag – holding it in place.
“Gotta’ move,” He snarls at you, trying to keep the pain at bay as it sweeps over him like waves of water, in and out, in and out.
“Working on it.”
Right as you tie off a tight knot on the already bloody wrappings, the Ghost tries to get up, an arm turning to slam to the floor behind him and vibrate as he forces his weight on it. Knowing that was a bad idea but not having another choice, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders and grunt. Bearing the brunt of his weight you hold your breath and angle your feet; shoving with all of your strength and gasping out.
“What the hell do you eat, man? Rocks?” As you grip with your free hand at his limp wrist, you take a quick glance at Keegan when you don’t hear a response. When he’s up, one of your hands goes to wrap around his waist.
The man’s eyes were fluttering fast, pupils retracted in pain. The blood leaking from him stains your body as you hike his form closer to you, feeling the warmth of the flesh enter your skin like a candle’s flame.
“Keegan!” You call, shaking his body. The man lets out a low groan, sharp eyes snapping to yours. You're taken aback when you see them immediately soften as they land on your panic-laced form, “You’ve gotta help me, okay?”
Speaking slowly, you hope he listens as he blinks at the blood on your face, eyebrows tensing.
“Copy,” He mutters and sends about the closest he can to a stiff nod your way.
Immediately all weight is taken from your hold and he stumbles to stand up straight, a hand snapping to his side as his feet drag.
“Not all of it! Idiot!” Growling, you rip him back to you, hissing in disapproval as he lets out a deep curse; nearly falling into you. Forcing him forward, you go as fast as you’re able to the entrance door and already a sheen of exertion is falling over your face. How the hell is he so heavy?
“Fuckin’ confusing, Kid…Just tell me what you– what you want, I’m bleeding out here,” Keegan barks, annoyance falling from him onto you. Was it really that impossible for the two of you to get along that you were fighting while he was seeping crimson all over you? You were getting along just a second ago.
“You’re impossible, Keegan Russ,” You lock onto him in the corner of your eye as you practically drag him to the door, shoving it open with your shoulder. Your fingers dig into his side and his wrist, trying not to get distracted by the strong muscle you feel writhing under your touch. Without meaning to, your grip had gravitated under his shirt, touching bare skin littered with scars and burns – hot and pulsing with life.
Your grip goes deeper, nails creating crescent moons in his flesh as you, somehow, get him down the stairs without falling flat on your face.
Did he just shiver?
“Evac point,” Muttering to yourself, you move faster, heart beating as shouts echo out over the hills, “Shit.”
“Focus,” Keegan utters to your side, “Don’t think about it. What…what’ll happen will happen.”
“Bullshit,” You growl and glance back to see the trail of blood over the ground. Shaking your head you stumble into the treeline, mouth open to help you suck down more air into your lungs, “If you expect me to believe that, you’re a fool.”
“..Maybe,” He coughs, and you have to pause for a moment and look in concern as dark phlegm splatters to the ground. No, you think, no not yet. He can’t do this to you, “Maybe I have been.”
“What,” You attempt a wet chuckle, not liking the conversation but if it kept him awake you would entertain it, “It only took you taking a shot to the side to realize that? There’s no hope for you, Kee.”
“Like when you call me that,” Lips thinning, you work your legs faster, dodging a rock and shimmying past a tree, “Sounds nice.”
Your face heats at the shock-induced confession, breath inhaled in a sharp breath.
You look at him, only to find his eyes already locked on your visage. The unrelenting optics ripped you open with how lucid they looked, even if his mouth seemed to have lost its filter. Taking it as a good sign, you tear your head back to the front, biting into your lips as your legs shake.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” You whisper, clearing your throat as Keegan lets out a small strangled sound from the back of his mouth as you stumble over a log on the ground, “But keep talking to me, yeah?”
“I don’t hate you,” He confessed with a soft voice, “...Was jus’ worried you would hurt yourself. Too hard-headed for your own good.”
“Could say the same thing about you,” Your lungs are burning, but you remind yourself it’s not even half as much pain as Keegan is going through. He carries himself so well, even holding some of his own weight to help you. How was he even still standing? If you had gotten shot like that, you’d be screaming your head off.
He’s a Ghost, You remind yourself, They defy all laws of nature and common sense.
“I’m sorry, Kid,” That makes you stop, body halting halfway through a step as your face blanks, panting out air and eyes popping out at the weak words, “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”
Swallowing down saliva into your dry throat, your mind tells you to keep moving. The meeting in Elias’s office…he was…he was apologizing to you? Stuttering only a moment, you resume your break-neck journey with a burning face and jumping heart.
“Apology not accepted,” You growl, sending a sharp glance his way. Keegan’s eyes widen in surprise – but they look slightly buggy, “When we get back to the Fort, you’re saying it again…When you’re not getting me all covered in your fluids.”
The chuckle he lets out startles you, but you resist the urge to bring him even closer to your form and bask in his heat. He was…nice to feel against you, you admitted. Strong. Comforting in a rabid dog sort of way.
“Yeah, but you’d like…like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”
…Did he just..? When your jaw drops in shock, he lets out another gasping chuckle that divulges into a coughing fit. Getting your bearing back, you roll your eyes above the embarrassment in your blood even as your lower body pulses. Your legs shuffle as your breath goes thin.
“Let’s keep the dirty jokes under wraps, too, okay?... Who knew blood loss made you into a fucking comedian? Mr. Stand-Up over here.”
“Hm,” Keegan grunts, wheezing in a breath. You watch a dribble of blood fall from the side of his mouth with a grim face, mind running.
He can’t die, You shake with nerves and adrenaline, I won’t let him.
There was a brimming affection for the man you had been forcing down like a mouthful of food, and his drunk honestly right now was throwing you for a loop.
“I’ll get you to the Evac point, Keegan, I promise,” The shouts were getting closer, and the Ghost’s eyes were falling closed once more.
You wanted to see his face – make him stare at you.
“Know you will,” His eyes clenched closed and you felt his weight fall more over you. Groaning breathily, you take it and continue onward with little concern for how your nerves tingle, “Y’know,” The next words he says are so muffled you barely hear them, but when your brain processes the gravel and sifts through the depth of it, you feel tears wet the sides of your vision, “I think I a-actually like you, Kid.”
Keegan goes slack, and the sounds of shouting grow ever closer. It takes everything in you not to scream out.
—
He wakes up with a buzzing in his ears and a bright light assaulting his eyes. It takes Keegan a good while to fully open his eyelids, flinching as the bulbs set into the ceiling seem to only get more violent as his senses come back to him.
A groan exits his lips, and the scent of bleach and sterile air makes his head rove on the hard pillow under it.
“Well,” A masculine voice results in Keegan jolting up like he was hit with an electrical current, body spasming at him to stay still but not able to stop the ingrained instincts in his head, “Took you long enough. Ajax was just about losing his mind for one of you two to wake up. Had to order him to go run laps.”
“Merrick,” Keegan clenches his hands in pain, but his eyes fall to the man sitting in one of the visitor chairs at the door. The Medical Ward's familiar walls soon entered his sight, and ignoring the flair of agony in his bandaged side, the dark-haired man brought a hand to his face. Keegan takes a deep breath and flinches, “Explain.”
“What happened,” Standing, the stocky man cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders before glancing down to his side. Merrick points over Keegan's shoulder and nods his head, “Is that the girl dragged your limp ass all the way to the Evac point with a bullet wound in ‘er shoulder. Took out a few soldiers as well – one helluva hot exit.”
Sneaking a peak back, Keegan was stunned to find a matching hospital bed not a few feet from his own, a rack for a curtain drawn back to allow a view of a woman asleep; her right arm was in a sling and heavily bandaged, the covers pulled back to her midsection. You. His eyes stay locked on your form, momentarily forgetting the pulling of sutures in his side.
You had…gotten shot. Protecting him.
“How bad,” His lips move faster than his head, a trait he was beginning to pick up and associate with only you.
“You needed to go into surgery–”
“Not me,” Keegan growled, itching at the gown that had been put on him. His eyes never left you, the peaceful expression on your face he had never seen before leaving a warm feeling in his gut. With a sigh, he mutters out with a tone far softer than it had been before, “Her.”
Merrick smirks, watching the rise and fall of your chest and seeing Keegan doing the same, just far more closely.
“Prescribed pain meds and on leave for two months. It was a clean shot – lucky for her.”
Keegan nods his head stiffly, moving the pillows up on the elevated mattress and leaning back with a throaty groan.
“I’ll go tell Elias you’re awake,” Merrick swiftly turns and opens the door, but pauses in the opening. The other man watches closely with a frown. Without turning around, Thomas utters, “Kid was pretty shook up when you wouldn’t come ‘round. You should fix that.”
The Ghost disappears and closes the door behind him.
Blinking at the wooden barrier, Keegan wastes no time in pushing back the covers of his bed and pressing his feet to the floor; hissing at the chill but only running a hand through his hair in retaliation. His dark eyes watched you as he gritted his teeth at the strain in his side, the faint ripping of stitches.
The pain didn’t bother him, didn’t sway his actions. His socked feet move over the floor to stand above you. He breathes slowly, sucking down cool air as he pauses for a minute or two.
“You’re something else, Kid,” Keegan whispers, cold eyes narrowing as his thumb goes to swipe away the dirt smudge on your forehead with delicate movements. He didn’t want to wake you.
The mirror across the room shows a beast of a man carefully cleaning the face of a woman who murmurs to herself, shifting closer to the hold with a small sigh. Keegan, whose lips quirk in a small smile that pulls at scars and black, irreversible, face paint, finds the warmth in his blood addicting. His heart slowly speeds up, and although crimson was staining his bandages, he couldn’t find it in him to go back to bed.
“If you keep doing that,” Your voice snaps him out of his stupor, and his hand is snatched back to his side in an instant; feet shoulder length apart and tense, “I just might die on you.”
The light above you plays in your eyes, bouncing off the color and reflecting it directly into Keegan’s iris as the skin of your eyelids peel back. You blink up at him, vision coming back into focus as you stretch your legs out under the covers.
Sending a small smile to his blank face, you chuckle, “What?” You groan, “I was being sarcastic.”
A smirk is all you get, a slight twitching at the side of his lips at the fatigue in your tone.
“How long?” Keegan asks, raising a dark brow. Knowing what he’s asking, you scoff, face bright.
“Only about five minutes. I caught the end of Merricks conversation,” You reply.
“Hm.”
“Don’t give me that look – I’m in the room, what do you want me to do…not listen? Tch,” Your hand presses into the mattress, shoving you up.
A hand splays over your back immediately to help.
Goosebumps litter your arms as Keegan’s grip lightly digs into your gown, assisting you where your other arm can’t. Sparing him a glance, you watch with heat on your ears and neck as his attention remains solely fixated on you. Blue breaks open your skin and infects you with its chill. Liking the feel of it, you let it in and embrace it.
When you’re sitting up, silence ensues, with Keegan’s eyes studying your body as you do the same. His hand remained on your back.
Does he remember what he said? You wonder, locking on the thick wrappings under the man’s gown with a frown, Or was he too out of it?
“Feelin’ alright, Princess?” Your eyebrows raise as he tilts his head.
“I should be asking you that.”
“We both got shot,” Keegan shoots back, and the black around his eyes creases as he deadpans at you.
“You passed out – I didn’t. Don’t blame me because you decided to take a nap, Big Guy.”
“So, you’re just full of nicknames now, are you?”
“Hm,” You smirk, voice low and teasing, “Perhaps…Raccoon Eyes.”
Keegan scoffs, turning his head away in exasperation. You were both the same people from hours ago, but something felt different – the air was lighter, bordering on sacred. Looking at each other with hesitant vulnerability, hearts yearning but not quite certain where to begin. So many jagged pieces of glass to buffer out, smooth along the edges, and pray that they became mosaics of brightly colored perfection that glittered in the sunlight. But you could still slice your fingers open, despite the years of practice and knowledge of that sacred art, feel the blood splatter the table and leak into the fine lines of your palm.
But, perhaps, it was time to try.
“I guess I owe you one,” You admit awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and feeling sheepish. This was new to you, “You saved me from a sniper but I couldn’t see the one behind you.”
“You owe me twice, then,” When you send him a scalding look, he puffs out a breath to show it was a joke and continues as you roll your eyes and smile softly, “..but, uh,” Keegan clears his throat, “Don’t…worry about it, Kid,” Your eyes snap to his side profile, blinking in shock as his eyes rove the room, watching the cracks in the floors as you gape at him. Why…why did he sound like that? Like the gravel in his words had smoothed over and was suddenly a paved road with moss along the edges; gentle to the touch. And why did your heart skip a beat at it, “Forget about it.”
“...What?” Your voice is small, genuine confusion whispered out as you watch the muscles in his face move. Keegan’s jaw was clenched, his nose scrunching as he rolled it and fixed his stance. It was adorable the way he was trying not to face you.
His head turns to his gear that Merrick had placed on the large table across the room. You watch him lightly limp to it, mind still trying to think through what was going on. His shredded hand goes to the back pocket of his folded cargo pants, and your ears twitch at a crinkling nose. The Ghost pulls out an empty chocolate wrapper and you feel your heart stop all together when he holds it aloft. He shuffles back over.
“It was alright, little stale, but not bad,” Those steel blue eyes slide to yours, and your face heats; throat tightens. Since when has your pulse rampaged like that outside of a gun battle? Keegan’s lips quirk into a slow smirk at your expression, “Not bad at all. I’m sorry that I ate it all.”
You have to look away before you pass out, all confidence now gone and dignity stomped on when you realized that you liked when he looked at you with those eyes of his. Your hand clenches over the covers, finding that double meaning with brimming affection.
Oh, you just hated him…but your breath still gets stolen all the same.
“Yeah, well,” Your hand goes to scratch at the back of your neck to ground yourself, “Don’t get used to it, Kee. That bar was worth like fifty bucks if we’d have just sold it.”
You decide his laugh is better than any old chocolate bar, and that you wanted to taste it on your tongue until the very sun died out. Until your bones were bleach white from age.
There was no doubt he remembered what he had told you as you dragged him along, scared and wishing he would stay awake; that was simply judging by the sparkle in his pupil and the way he was facing you now.
Smirking, you raise a brow and grab the man by the collar of his gown.
Ah, what the hell. Better to start strong.
When you smash his lips to yours, you decide right then and there when Keegan melts into you, his hand going to grip the back of his head, that maybe being enemies wasn’t so bad at all.
#keegan p russ#keegan russ#call of duty keegan#cod fandom#cod fanfic#cod#cod ghosts#cod keegan#keegan x reader#keegan russ x reader#cod x reader#cod x you#x female reader#female reader
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Bestie- I know requests are closed and ily and I apologize I'm really just writing this so the idea is in the air and now wasted. But I was wondering if you could do a fic of Price + 141 where reader accidentally used a pheromone perfume.
It WORKS tho, like WORK WORKS. The guys (or just Price ofc) just kinda run on instinct and are super like..RAR SEX ya know??
Also HII IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE REQUESTED!!! My birthday was the 15th, I'm now 20😐 but I also got a car so😋
Anywho glad to be back reading your stuff after I went away for a bit. LOVED the Marigold stories that came out!!!! Love that series sm. Thank you!!
-🌻🐾
aghh this is so late i’m sorry !! but happy late birthday and i hope you had a lovely day <3
here’s a birthday present for you x sorry it’s not a full fic, but i hope you enjoy anyway :)
18+, gn!reader, 141
price
he smells it on you and does a double take like what ?? what is that smell ??
you’re all like “what smell ?? 🙈”
starts rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat, trying to collect as much of the smell as possible on him — he’s gripping your hips and pressing you as close to him as he possibly can while he does it
pinching and grabbing at your hips each time you try and put some space between the two of you. he continues to rub his beard against you, it tickling your soft skin
he’s grunting and not really listening to you as you try and speak to him. the only time he responds is when you say that he can fuck you and he goes off !!
ruts into you hard, nosing up and down your neck, kissing along your pulse. he’s got a heavy grip on your hips, no doubt leaving indents, as he thrusts in and out of you
his sounds are deep, like grunts and groans, and he doesn’t talk much, so focused on that yearning feeling clawing inside him each time he inhaled the sweet smell of you
gaz
you physically show him the perfume and show you putting it on, and he’s all like “that will never work it’s fake 🙄”
spoiler alert: it worked
throughout the day, he’s following you around like a lost puppy, trying to put his hands on you any chance he can, even just holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your lower back — you feel so warm against him and you smell so good he can’t help it
if you applied some on your inner wrists, he’ll place gentle kisses there and along your arm, leaving your skin sparkling with tiny patches of saliva
he whines any time you pull your arm away, especially if you’re carrying on with your day at home as usual after putting the perfume on. he’ll whine and try to get your attention without actually trying to get your attention
when you finally give in, he’s eating you out like no tomorrow — you’ve sprayed a bit on your inner thighs, so he’s pressing his cheeks to them as he shoves his tongue inside your hole
is a whiner and whimperer !! so so desperate for more, tasting you on his tongue and smelling your heady scent
soap
he buys the perfume for you 100%
real cocky about it too. he knows it’ll work and he can’t wait to test it out
tries licking it at first, dragging his tongue across your neck or wrists, and you have to fend him off before the cheeky cunt licks it all off of you lmao
if you’ve sprayed some on your pillows/clothes, you’ll come home to find him burying his face in it, probably grinding his hardened cock into the mattress, moaning your name under his breath
he’s obsessed with you, but you can’t blame him, you’re fucking stunning !! he’s so happy just to start humping up against your arse, pressing his cock against you, moaning loudly
fucks you doggy, pounds you straight into the damn mattress with deep, heavy thrusts that have you mewling, his full balls slapping against you
moans loudly, and definitely kisses wet and sloppy along your spine, leaving a trail of spit as he fucks you harder into the bed
ghost
you watch his pupils physically dilate right in front of you as he catches the smell
he straight up starts salivating too
intrigued by the way whatever you’re wearing is effecting his body — drapes his body over yours carefully, whole body weight against you, your back against his front as he casually inhales in deep breaths
very attentive and loving — rubbing the fat of your thighs and arse gently, hands splaying across your tummy, interlocking his fingers with yours, massaging your shoulders and back
keeps his face buried in your neck the whole time basically. if he had been wearing his black paint, it’d be smudged all across your skin
mmm he fucks you nice and slow, and no matter the pigment of your skin he is sucking kisses and dark bruises all over your neck and chest !! his thrusts are almost too slow, but he’s grinding his pelvis against yours and making you tremble beneath him
praises you the whole time, telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are, how perfect your body is, how proud he is for you taking all of his cock <3
#captainfern#captainfernsalutes#call of duty#cod smut#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#call of duty mw2
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i n,need gaz
Please feed us more gaz content when you're feeling up to it🙏
Thinking about Gaz and the kinks he likes to indulge in
Pairing: Kyle Gaz Garrick x Top Male Reader
Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, power dynamics, mirror sex, facials, homemade movie iykyk, Gaz being a brat, nipple piercings, slight exhibitionism, drunk sex (consensual), possessive kink (kind of?), slight brat taming, hand jobs
A/N: I have a req for him lined up I just need to get to it in the sea of requests 🫣 but I can always share some more nsfw gaz hcs.. and y’all are welcome to use them as inspo for fics if you want , give us starving gaz enthusiasts something to read 🧎🏻♂️
First of all I don’t see Gaz as someone who’s into some ‘hardcore’ kinks such as cnc or watersports
However I imagine that Gaz loves wearing your tags or your jacket with all the medals on or whatever it is while he’s riding you, he just love the thought of a man with such authority being eager to fuck him
I imagine that Gaz as the kind of guy who has to have you in his field of vision all the time while you’re fucking him meaning he doesn’t like taking it from the back because he can’t see the faces you make, cant see how good he’s making you feel, and if you’re going to fuck him while he is down on all four it has to be in front of a mirror
I imagine that Gaz loves facials just bc he loves to watch you as you jerk yourself off, loves the faces you make, loves watching you as you eagerly stroke yourself, loves the way you shower him in praise once you cum in his face , will have you record those videos just so he can watch them while out on mission
I imagine that Gaz enjoys when your tags dangle over his face, he’ll even go as far as put them in his mouth just to quiet down while you fuck him
I imagine that Gaz also enjoys very little prep again because he’s eager and he kind of likes the burn that comes with it and you’ll usually let him have his way but if he’s pissed you off in some way you’ll drag out the prep, scissoring 3 fingers inside of him til he’s huffing and puffing for you to just fuck him
You wanna prep him? He’ll be the one to fuck himself down onto your finger. You wanna eat him out? Oh he’ll sit on your face, he’ll ride your tongue and be as vocal as possible about what he wants. You wanna tease him? Well maybe he’ll just go and find someone else to fuck him. You want him to ride you? He’ll do it his way, and he’ll set the pace
Which leads me to the next point, I imagine that Gaz rarely gives head, It’s not that he doesn’t care for your pleasure at all it’s just that he kind of gets lost in the sensation, he especially forgets about your pleasure when he’s riding your dick, not that you mind though. You love seeing him enjoying himself, setting his own pace, focusing on angling himself in the way it’ll feel good for him, and besides it’s kind of cute when he gets tired and all whiny, asking for you to take over, letting you thrust into him while he’s sobbing into your neck and telling you how good you’re making him feel
I imagine that Gaz is very big on foreplay; kissing, caressing, teasing he almost enjoys it as much as the sex itself.
Kissing: I imagine Gaz loves long hot make out sessions, grab at his tongue with your thumb and index finger, spit in his mouth or fuck him with your own tongue, it’s even better if you got a couple of piercings to go along with it, just the rattling sounds that come from the piercing as you graze your tongue with his teeth will have him so worked up. He also loves to taste himself on your tongue
Caressing: I imagine that Gaz is sensitive all over his body, so much so he’s got one or both nipples pierced and it’s so easy to rile him up when the two of you are laying around, just by tracing circles on his nipples. If you have tattoos on your body he’ll probably trace them with his tongue
Teasing: He’s the type of person you can do those silly challenges with like seeing how long one can go without having sex before one of you gives in, he’ll always win because he’ll have you so pent up from all his teasing.
I also imagine that Gaz loves taking risks, if he’s horny on a mission he’ll pull you in for a quicky when there’s a window of opportunity, same with giving you handjobs while sharing tent with the rest of 141, doesn’t even hesitate about making suggestive comments even when there’s other people there
I imagine that Gaz loves to rile you up just so that the two of you can have some heated make up sex, flirts a bit here and there until you drag him to the closest bathroom stall or take him to your bed, would absolutely never cheat and loses interest in whoever he’s flirting with as soon as he sees you making your way over to him
I imagine that Gaz is super vocal in bed, especially when he sits on your face, never too bashful to tell you how good you make him feel, and how he wants you to fuck him
I imagine that drunk sex with Gaz must be the best thing to exist because he probably gets so fucking giggly and so lovey dovey and so needy, and it’s so wonderful seeing all the tension bleed out of his bones, his work and all the worries that come with it long forgotten
I imagine that one way to punish Gaz when he’s being a brat is to blindfold him, the fact that he can’t see your face but hear your grunts and groans as you fuck him drives him insane
I just think that sex with Gaz must be super fun and super playful and it gets better and better the more you get to know each other and the longer you’re dating
#Kyle gaz garrick#Kyle gaz garrick x reader#Kyle gaz garrick x male reader#gaz x reader#gaz x male reader#gaz#call of duty#Alec writes#top male reader#bottom male character
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Character x Reader (Fluff) (Drabble)
(Alternative Angst Ending Included)
Context: You like giving/making trinkets to/for the love of your life (Character list below)
Links:
TLOU Masterlist
My rules for requests and characters I can write for
ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ
Disclaimers/warnings: Typical fandom things (read tags), OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.
Fluff:
You giving them a keychain or something of the sort and you think they clasp it on their belt loop or keep it in their pocket but that's actually not how they take it on missions with them because something from you is too valuable to actually be taken out like that where they could lose it.
Same thing goes if you make them jewelry, they think it's too fragile so instead they keep it back in their quarters/place underneath their pillow.
They pull out whatever trinket you gave them that meant a lot to you or you made yourself and they just stare at it reminding themselves that they have you. They hold it close to their heart as the found themselves finally able to sleep, still was difficult away from you.
With all the cruel and fucked up things they've seen in their life, you are by far the only light they have when they are stuck sulking in the darkness.
The one time you gave them a necklace, your favorite one and you begged them to bring it on missions because it was extremely sturdy and was in good condition after all.
They, in turn made a chain and clasped it on that so they can have it hanging by their belt loops so that enemies don't rip it off their neck. (The chain I'm describing are similar to the picture at the top but with chunkier and sturdier chains)
God forbid they actually lose or break something you gave them, they would cry or sulk because they know how much you value it and how your feelings would get hurt.
They were extremely surprised and relieved that you weren't mad at all at them because things like that just happen especially on missions. Instead of being mad, you gave/made them another one. They'll cherish it, that's for sure.
Angst ending below:
They swore to keep it with them to their graves and they did, the shouldn't have made that promise. It cemented their fate...
With their last breath, it was you they thought of. Apologies running through their head for being so weak that they know they're going to fail to come home to you.
Their cold body found in battle, tear and blood stained face while their eyes still open but no signs of life. In their fist was found of a memory of your love that kept them alive till then. The closed fist being held against their heart when they were found..
You couldn't help but fall to your knees, the world around you felt like it was spinning. Your lungs refuse to let you breathe along with the rest of you body betraying you, you choked out a sob. Clenching your hand against the pain in your chest withholding the item you gave them, only having realized that it returned into your hands once more...
Characters in mind:
Call of duty: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, König, Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski, Philip Graves.
Resident Evil: Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Chris Redfield, Carlos Oliveira, Jill Valentine, Ada Wong.
The Last Of Us: Ellie Williams, Abby Anderson.
A/n: The amount of tags I used on this post is ridiculous, it was a fucking miracle that I managed to fit everything in. This was originally just supposed to be a fluff fic but my mind was wandering off and I thought of making a part 2 but that seems like too much work for a little paragraph so there
ꕥ I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO ANYONE WHO WILL TRANSLATE MY WORK AND POST IT OR POSTING IT IN OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. ANYTHING LIKE INSPIRATION IS FINE, JUST TAG ME BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO SEE IT. THIS GOES TO ALL MY POSTS IN THE FUTURE AND BEFORE THIS ꕥ
#cod x reader#resident evil x reader#price x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#rodolfo parra x reader#valeria garza x reader#farah karim x reader#kate laswell x reader#alex keller x reader#konig x reader#horangi x reader#keegan russ x reader#roach x reader#nikolai x reader#philip graves x reader#leon kennedy x reader#claire redfield x reader#carlos oliveria x reader#jill valentine x reader#ada wong x reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson x reader#chris redfeild x reader#cod drabble#resident evil drabble#tlou drabble#Aethelwyne Lia writes
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let me love the lonely out of you
Pairing: John Price x gn!reader
Summary: Faced with your first off-duty Christmas in years, you’re excited to go home and see family. When it seems like Price doesn’t feel the same, you make sure he gets his fill of holiday cheer by coming home with you.
Warnings: Language, pure unfettered fluff with little to no plot lol
Word count: 2,162
A/N: Technically follows the events of this fic, but you don’t have to have read it to get the point
—
It starts off, as so many things do, with an innocent question.
“And how do you celebrate Christmas, Captain?” from Gaz across the rec room where he’s tormenting everyone with similar interrogations over his game of ping pong. 2-1 right now. Soap is losing.
Tucked into a loveseat in the corner of the room with a book you’ve been trying to finish for the past month, their banter has mostly been background noise. Now your ears perk up, though you keep your eyes on the page.
Price lets out a puff of air from where he stands reffing the game, drags a hand through his beard. His silence is punctuated by the tic, tac of the lads’ current stalemate.
“Quietly,” he finally says, “and away from you lot.”
Gaz and Soap both start in with their heckling immediately, which Price reciprocates in his usual manner. But a quick peek over your paperback reveals a strained humor in his eyes, and you suddenly wonder if he has anyone back home to celebrate with. A frown twists your lips at the thought. Cold-blooded killer you may be, but no one should spend the holidays alone.
Especially since you and Price are… well. You’re something. Sneaking around base to have sex without alerting the other members of your squad hardly needs a label, but it’s more than that. To call him your boyfriend feels juvenile, and ‘partner’ is terrifyingly official.
So you call him ‘Captain’ in public and ‘John’ in private and wonder if Christmas in Ireland might suit him instead.
“What about Hound?” Soap turns the question on you. Gaz takes the opportunity to score again.
You shoot a flat stare over the top of your book. “What about me?”
“Come on,” he drags the syllables out, “how do you celebrate?”
“Not in fucking England, I can tell you that.”
Gaz gasps in faux-offence. Soap cackles and manages to win a point while his opponent is distracted.
It’s Price who looks over at you with a question in his eyes, one that you tilt your head towards the door in answer. Five minutes later he tells the lads that this has been fun, but he’s got paperwork to attend to. Surely they can manage the score on their own from here. 5-4. Soap is still losing. Ten minutes after that you mark your book, have a stretch, and leave the tic, tac, tic of the ping pong game and Soap’s impassioned defence of MacTavish holiday traditions behind.
Price waits for you in his office. He’s perched with arms folded on the edge of his desk. You lean in the doorway to admire his broad frame and the way he looks at you, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in the air. You’re not sure how to say this.
“What is it, love?” he asks.
You duck your head at how easily the endearment rolls off his tongue, cross the room and cup a hand to his cheek. His whiskers are scratchy beneath your palm. You spend a moment idly rubbing your thumb across his skin just to feel the texture when he reaches up with his own hand to cover yours, warm and calloused and terribly sweet. When you look into his eyes you think you could melt into that blue, let the cerulean sea whisk you on its currents with no lifeboat or anchor.
“Come home with me,” you say. It doesn’t come out a question so much as a request.
He blinks in surprise. “Neither of us has had leave over Christmas in years.”
“I know, and if you have plans with your family I would never keep you from them. But if you don’t,” you forge ahead, mustering up all of your courage, “you’re more than welcome to join mine.”
For the holidays. Forever. You’re not picky.
John Price looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. Like you’re a wonder. A smile he can’t seem to help tugs crooked at his teeth as he melts further into your touch.
“I’d love to.”
--
You’ve completed covert operations in sweltering desert conditions and full gear without sweating this much. Quite frankly it’s embarrassing, especially given the cool December temperatures that have everyone else buttoned up and rosy-cheeked.
It’s just that you’re nervous. In all your years on this earth you’ve never once brought someone home to meet your grandfather.
The house that normally feels so welcoming looms ahead as you linger at the end of the drive. There’s a bushy wreath on the door that you’re sure Mrs. Murphy from nextdoor brought over, and the lights young Davey on the corner hangs every year glow soft and warm in the early evening light. The ‘Welcome’ sign you gifted your grandfather three Christmases ago leans up against the post box that’s still crooked where you backed into it as a wild youth on a brand-new license.
Nostalgia sinks its claws into you, but still you can’t take that first step.
“Does your granddad know we’re coming?” Price asks. His distraction is perfectly timed, coupled with an arm around your shoulders. He takes the leap for you both, and you can feel some of the dread ease out of your body at his touch.
“No.” You never tell him when you’re coming - his favourite surprise, he calls your visits.
“Are you trying to give him heart failure?” his brows are raised, caught between surprise and amusement.
“Your man lived through a World War. Showing up at his doorstep unannounced on Christmas Eve is hardly the worst surprise he’s gotten.”
Price laughs, but there’s a stitch of concern between his brows when he looks over at you.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks softly when you reach the door.
“I’ve… never done this before,” you admit with an awkward smile.
He mirrors the expression with a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart ache. “Me either. Shall we?”
You square your shoulders and give the old mahogany three smart raps that your grandfather would know anywhere. There’s a commotion behind the door as he shuffles to get it, and then it opens to your favourite gap-toothed smile in all the world.
“My darlin’, you made it!” he exclaims.
“Happy Christmas, Old Man!” you say with a bright smile. “I brought you a Brit to bully.”
Nerves forgotten, you all but launch into your grandfather’s waiting embrace. When you pull apart he’s quick to give Price the same treatment.
“This is Captain John Price,” you introduce as they clasp hands, “and this is my dear Old Man.”
“I’ve heard all about you, son,” your grandfather says with a twinkle in his eye. “This one says you’ve been enjoying my biscuits.”
You cough awkwardly and move everyone along inside, but don’t miss the shade of pink that dusts Price’s cheeks and the tips of his ears when he mutters a yes, sir, thank you, sir.
“Come in, come in, I’ve just put on a kettle.” Your grandfather eyes Price with the disdain and suspicion only a true old Irishman can muster. “We’ve no English Breakfast, so best get used to an Irish brew.”
You cackle bright and loud as he wastes no time taking the piss out of poor Price, who looks like he can’t decide if this is the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to him.
The kitchen is just as half-clean and kitschy as it’s always been. Mismatched dishware and loudly printed wash rags occupy every space that’s not taken over by unread mail or plates of holiday goodies the neighbors have dropped by. The kettle sings on the stove, caught just in time, and you make sure to snag the chipped candy cane mug that’s always been your favourite.
You turn to find Price staring.
Not at you, but everything. The walls are littered with pictures of you; as a child lined up for your first (and last) Irish Dance recital, as a teen with bad hair posed next to the clunker of a car you bought yourself, as a beaming young soldier with your squadmates after a successful mission. Your medals for exemplary service are inlaid on velvet and framed next to an old Polaroid of your grandfather holding you as just a wee thing, still in nappies.
There’s so much love in this house, hanging on the walls and poured in steaming mugs and squished into too-tight hugs.
There are other pictures, other children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but it’s painfully obvious who reciprocates that love. Who still comes around and who keeps the table and heart of an old man full. When he turns to meet your gaze Price has a misty look in his eyes that punches the air from your lungs.
Did he ever feel this kind of love growing up? Is it too late for you to give it to him now?
Your grandfather shuffles back in with his arms full of something bright and hideous to break the moment. He holds them out to reveal the ugliest jumpers you’ve ever seen.
“Can’t get in the Christmas spirit without a proper set of civvies,” you grin and toss the larger of the two over to Price.
It’s fire truck red and has a knitted reindeer pattern complete with bells sewn onto sleighs. There’s a soft jingle as he clutches it to his chest. Yours isn’t any better; an alarming shade of green covered in dancing elves.
You’re both quick to change. Price steps out with his arms wide for inspection, one he passes with flying colours if the smile on your grandfather’s face is anything to go by. He’s being a terribly good sport. You can feel how sappy your own smile is as you watch them together.
He herds you and Price back into the kitchen where somehow a space has been cleared for baking gingerbread men. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition that has carried on from year to year, but neither you nor your grandfather are particularly suited to the task.
You make up for it with attitude.
Somewhere between, “That’s too many eggs,” and, “Are you sure we have enough molasses?” and, “Get your fingers out of that bowl! We haven’t even rolled the dough out yet,” you manage to get a viable batch on a baking tray. They are perhaps the most misshapen, lopsided effort yet, but when you see the smile on Price’s face when he bites into one fresh out of the oven you decide they’re the best all the same.
As you stand around the kitchen waiting for the last batch to finish, your grandfather chatters away about all the neighborhood gossip you’ve missed out on lately. You gasp in outrage at all the appropriate moments, and even Price chimes in with a smart remark or two that send you all into fits of laughter.
You thought it would be jarring, seeing him in your childhood home like this, but it fits. In a way you can’t explain, Price belongs here.
You only hope he feels it, too.
As the evening grows older everyone migrates from around the kitchen counter to the sitting room, where Nat King Cole sings Christmastime into the air through the old record player your grandfather has had for decades. The tree lights up the room, plastic branches gleaming with multi-coloured lights and an eclectic assortment of ornaments. On sunken couch cushions your old man regales Price with wild tales from your youth. You’d be embarrassed if they didn’t look so happy. Content, even. Price hasn’t been this relaxed in a long, long time now. You try to memorize how it looks on him.
It’s well into the night when your grandfather announces he’s off to bed. There’s a twinkle in his eye when he tells you to behave, both you and Price stuttering out awkward reassurances that only make him laugh.
“Thank you,” Price says into the quiet when just the two of you are left.
The lights from the tree shine in his eyes as he looks at you with something treacherously close to love. You hope it’s love.
“What for?”
“Everything. I haven’t had a Christmas like this…” he smiles in that self-deprecating way that breaks your heart. “Well, it’s been a long time.”
You reach out to squeeze his hand. “I couldn’t let you be alone. Not on Christmas.”
Not ever. Not if you can help it.
He squeezes your hand back, then slowly pulls you to your feet. His sleigh bells jingle softly as he walks backwards and leads you into a clumsy dance. ‘The Christmas Song’ croons in the background. The dance ends up an unpracticed sway, your arms wrapped around each other and your head tucked into his chest. You stay like that even after the song ends and the scratchy sound of empty vinyl takes over.
“Happy Christmas, John,” you kiss the words into the fabric of his jumper.
“Happy Christmas, love.”
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reading recs
received an anon the other day that requested fic recs of all ratings, here's a big list of some of my favorites! definitely not exhaustive, definitely forgot people, and i am so sorry in advance for that. please mind the tags on these fics.
SNAFU by @adnauseum11
I've posted about SNAFU before. This is one of my comfort series. Excellent characterization of a retired John Price, navigating a relationship with one of his oldest friends.
Heavy Weighs the Crown by @sentientcave
Newer series, very yummy so far. I love Charlie's characterization of the 141 in this universe, and their writing is delectable.
Rugby AU by @sentientcave
Another banger from Charlie. Reader Ripper is also yummy. Something to snack on. To quote: "I don't know anything about Rugby tbh this is just vibes and thots. Something somethin elaborate rituals."
Nobody by @391780
My gateway fic into Nikto. Without giving anything away, every chapter sends me into a short spiral. The most recent chapters have done heinous (affectionate) things to my brain.
Ursa Major by @the-californicationist
Have you ever been to Alaska? Ever wanted to visit? Honestly, read this fic and let Cali transport you there. Her ability to set the scene and bring it to life is un-fucking-matched. Doc (Reader) is a smart, confident reader-insert that feels like a real person.
Binders and Boyfriends by @pfhwrittes
Trans 141 and Trans Reader supremacy. Another comfort series from the wonderful Parker. Everything listed here is wonderful, but I have a major soft spot for P's Gaz-centric works.
Housemate!Gaz by @pfhwrittes
First, in this house, we hate Reader's roommate. Second, we are Widget fans. Third, could you fucking imagine opening the door and your new roommate was Kyle motherfucking Garrick? I'd faint.
Call of The Jurassic by @stuffireadandenjoy
Another newer series that put me on the edge of my seat. When I first saw that Tats was giving us my favorite fellas and putting them in Jurassic Park, ooooooh, I knew we were going to be spoiled rotten.
Wrong Number Right Day by @stuffireadandenjoy
"Kyle gets a wrong number text but decides to be a little generous that day." Reader's living the dream. Text Kyle Garrick and get cash money for rent? Very excited for more of this.
Price of Pegging by @gemmahale
Pegging and John Price. I could stop there, but I won't. Gemma nails the depiction of a submissive Captain Price. She also captures the dynamic of a couple trying something new extremely well, that gave me some fluffy feelings.
All of Gemma’s WIPs by @gemmahale
I've had the absolute privilege to read some previews of Gemma's work and the WORK and the DETAIL and the CHARACTERS are chef's kiss. Delicious. It's so difficult to pick just one. I love the Feywilds. Useful Girl. Call of the Wild. Do yourself a favor and spend some time in the tags.
Offer Me His Hunger by @kaadaaan
Something about a 141-er and a single mom that's gonna do it for me every time. In Offer Me His Hunger, it's Johnny, and Reader has no idea what she's in for. Jesus Christ, Kadan writes one of my favorite Johnnys, and really nails that obsessive and calculating streak.
The Space in Between by @391780
You will laugh, you will cry, you will love and hate mafia boss!John Price. Reader crosses paths with John and the 141, and gets caught in their wake. Early writes some of the best Reader characters of all time, and this one's no different. This story will get under your skin so fast, in the best way.
The Arrangement by @391780
Speaking of Early, this is THE gateway drug to her work, in my humble opinion. One of the first COD fics I ever read and converted me into being a Price girlie. Sugar Daddy Price x a cute, smart, and fucking funny Reader. Also one of my favorite characterizations of Simon of all time.
Club 141 by @greatstormcat
BDSM and the 141 make a Sy very happy. Reader starts off with a fake ass dom and is quickly properly introduced to BDSM culture with the fellas. Really solid group dynamics. Make sure you read that Price x Ghost post for a good fucking time.
Lamb to the Slaughter by @ohbo-ohno
Probably one of my favorite Ghoap fics of all time. The way my jaw was on the floor for the majority of this should've sent me to the emergency room. It's brutal, it's horrifying, and fuck me running, I loved it, start to finish.
The Pit by @peachesofteal
First, the nightmare of getting into an accident in the winter. Second, having Ghost and Soap find you. Oh boy, The Pit is peak Ghoap manipulation. When I got to the end, I just sat in silence. Stunned. It was amazing.
Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied by tippytulip (if you're on here, pls lmk!)
Another early COD fic for me. A thrill ride with a whip-smart Reader AND it's set in the Midwest. Those are two ways into my heart. The relationship between Reader and Price isn't an easy one, and he gives her a dozen and a half reasons to dislike him. Another ride of a fic, with great action scenes and group dynamics.
Trapper, Keeper by @tinypandacakes
A König fic that makes me screech no less than ten times per chapter. Panda writes a fucking scary König and it blows my mind. So much of it is subtle and manipulative, with few outright (so far, it's ongoing!) examples. I get a knot in my stomach every time I read and I LOVE IT.
DOG by Danceofthesevenveils
Another König fic that features a pathetic loser König, who is also one of the scariest motherfuckers I've ever read. The use of text messages underscores the creepy vibes, and a great vehicle for the Reader x König dynamic early on.
Desire Paths by @ceilidho
Manipulative best friend Johnny, you are iconic to me. Ceilidh writes some of the best nasty Johnny fic out there, but Desire Paths has my heart. Another ending that had me gasping.
Take Me Home, Country Road by @ceilidho
Cowboy Price, take me awayyyyyy. A fantastic Western AU focused on a Reader with a secret and a Sheriff Price that'll make you sit up straighter. Ceilidh captures John's voice so clearly, I can hear it when I read. That porch scene is seared into my brain in the best way.
Tender is the Flesh by @crashtestbunny
Do you like scary Simon? Do you like feeling unsettling and turned on? *slams table* Do I have the fic for you! Connie's butcher!Simon makes my blood run both hot and cold. "Oh she’s a stunner." lives in my head rent free. Also the apron tie bit.
Pornstar!AU by @shotmrmiller
Warning, if you don't smoke, you might start after reading Toni's porn AU. I love this depiction of Ghost, his control and his care. AND there's a threesome bit with Ghost x Reader x Price. It's what dreams are made of.
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DESTRESSER
Keegan P. Russ x Female reader
cw; sex, creampie, pretty vanilla sex for now, fuck friends trope, some slight keegan x ghost there LMAO IM NOT SORRY, this is poorly written cause I feel terrible, overstimluation, not beta read cause im gonna vomit someone call the ER pls
author's note: snippet to an upcoming fic if i ever get to fucking finish it with this damn flu. Fic is called "White Noise" I HATE THIS SNIPPET SO BAD BRO.
It had been a long day of nothing but extreme pressure and too much movement, he worked well under severe pressure but it gets so repetitive. He needed a destresser and fast, you. You lay soundly on the bed with headphone covering your ears as you scroll through your phone, he knew you well more than anyone hence knowing you’d been wanted to have sex with him for a while.
This whole thing between you two wasn't a relationship, you were friends? Doing friend things but he swore you said you guys were a couple. Couple or not, he didn't mind infact he had a thing for you, you were a pretty little thing , mouthy but also quiet. He loved the sass, pulling himself out of the thought of you and getting his hands on the real thing.
His geared head laying on the plush of your eyes as you looked down at him and smiled, Keegan was laying on your thighs with his shirt off and only his head mask and pants with an unbuttoned belt. “Hi Keegan '' taking your headphones off and sitting them aside on the nightstand.
“Hi” he purred as he kept his head between your thighs, he felt safer when he was around you and only you. “Stressed out?” he let out a mhm and you smiled lifting your thighs up and away from his head as he sat up and looked at you, his glaze feeling like a snow storm as a smirk tugged at the corner of your glossed lips. “You should have just said that from the beginning”
“Care to tell me about your day? The visit through the forced ceremony ``''Of course dear” He leaned up against the headboard looking through the mask he wore on his face as his stormy azure colored eyes.
Your eyes are so pretty” you breathe out and you see his eyes flutter as you smile and place yourself on his lap as he wraps his arms around your body, the intimate moment being a moment of silence as he keeps you close with no words. “It was chaotic..” he starts off as he takes his shirt off you as he loved the way it clung to the body and how pulling it off your scent clung to the fabric, the strong smell of sweetness held him in a trance.
Throwing the shirt to the side as he stared at your bra covered chest “And then, it was me, Ghost, Soap, Price and I believe Gaz was there..” trailing in and out as he was more focused on wrapping his around your plush body and unclipping the bra, pulling it off slowly as he held eye contact with you as you swallowed hard as he could hear it, running his fingers up and down your shoulders, holding one of your bras in his hand and kneading and squeezing it.
Watching him fond your chest as he shifted under you and feeling the solid of something against your ass as you immediately registered it was hard cock against the plumpness of your ass. “Tons of something and people being loud there, girls were booing at Ghost for some reason and wanted more Soap. If only they knew” Keegan chuckled as he ran his finger down your atlas to your nipple, moving his finger over right onto the nipple as he pinched it between his rough morphed hands, all the cuts and grooves could be felt as he pinched your nipple, drawing an longing moan from your saliva covered lips.
“A girl threw a soda bottle at my head when I was forced to talk so that was fun” you scowled about that, like what the fuck? What are you throwing shit for, dumb bitch. Keegan filled the air with his laughing as he brought kisses down to your collarbone and held you closer to him by the hips.
“I’m alright through now, chill out name” he teasingly pulls you off his lap as he unzips his pants as you push your panties to the side as positions shift as you get into his spot on all fours as he holds a death grip to your thighs, as he runs his cock over your soaked folds listening to the sweet sounds that came out of it.
“A-And fuck then, we listened to boring speech about politics and a bunch of boring shit.” he rolled his eyes as he pushed into you and you hissed from the feeling, his cock sliding into you with ease as he was shieled inside you quicker than normal. He leaned his head back at the way you clutch and pulse against his cock.
Your insides were soft like a pillow for his cock to fuck into, he was pretty much tired of soiling Ghost’s pillows with his cum and him yelling at the others for it.
“Which of you are fucking my pillows?” Ghost says as the others look at him as if he’s lost his mind “Are sure it’s not you Ghost?” Soap smiled mischievously at his silly remark “ha ha Soap, but if it was me. I wouldn’t be asking you guys” the two males going back and forth when in reality it was me the entire time. Ghost was an interesting person and he rarely slept so it only felt fair?
“Mmm, Keegan move please” your head is laid against the pillow while your back is arched and your ass is up in the air while his cock rests into you and he holds on the headboard. Before thrusting into you , drawing out a shaky moan out of your lips “Price also treated us to a Night of Beer but when we got there, we had to pay for our drinks. He continued thrusting his cock into your pussy as he kept a steady pace as his hips slapped against your ass, his balls heavy and sticky from hitting your clit.
“I had this whiskey mix, it was pretty good. I liked the burn, it reminded me of you” the warm feeling in your body washing over you as he said that, this whole thing between you two wasn't a relationship but you treated it as if it was one. The way he fucked into you had you thinking this more than some “quick sex” each way he’d drag his hips and plunge right back into you, the feeling was words that you couldn’t even describe or be put into a comprehensive sentence.
“Shit…” he yelled out as he held onto you as you buried your face into the pillows to muffle any loud sounds as you couldn’t as he hit your cervix and you could see the light as you screamed out and Keegan looked down at you, tears running down your cheeks as you hadn’t realized you were squirt. Dragging his cock out of you as he let the rest splash everywhere as he slapped against your clit to help you overcome the orgasm as it only pushed you into another quick orgasm.
Coughing and cursing into the pillow as your hole clenched around nothing until he was fucking into your cunt again, only focused on his own pleasure as he grunted and tried to keep talking “I drunk a ton of whiskey, like a fuck ton. Some of the other members checked on me to see if I was alright but really I was ready to come back to you.”
You couldn't anything, no sentences, no sounds or anything as you felt a whole sound bomb had been dropped on you, you did hear the loud ass noises of him holding the bed frame as it still hit against the wall as he fucked into you faster. “I sometimes feel like I’m wasting your time being here” he grunted out as he moaned and kept fucking you. Lifting your head up as you cried out from the feeling of him cumming inside you “I l-love having you here” as your head hits the pillows again.
He smiles and rubs your back “Thanks Doll, let me help you get cleaned up”.
#i hate this snippet so bad#im gonna rewrite it#someone hold me to my words bro#keegan x ghost x reader#keegan p russ smut#keegan x reader#keegan p russ#call of duty ghosts#cod x you#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare ii#call of duty fanfic#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#call of duty#x female reader smut#x female reader#ihavethefuckingflu#someonehelpme#pleasereadthis
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Heyyy I just stumbled across your page recently and can I just say I am impressed, also I saw your beta reader thing and I completely get that cause editing can be a pain in the ass lol.
Could I request John Price with a reader who has a prosthetic leg and is also a part of the 141 task force, and the others don’t know he is missing a leg until one day when it’s revealed to them at like a bar or something and John is laughing at the others reactions? Sorry if that’s so vague but I didn’t see anything for John and I was like ykw Price deserves some love lol
omg hi I read some of your fics and didn’t expect you at all. hi ily and your writing LMAO
Losing a Leg at a Bar
Pairing: John Price x Male Reader
Summary: The team finds out you lost your leg in a mission while you and Price laugh at their reactions at a local bar.
Warnings: Typical Mission violence, fluff and funny moments, sexual intentions near the end.
Word count: 710
You had always worked by Price’s side, you two had been together through thick and thin. Yet you still were able to love in the darkest time.
Price still loved you even after you lost one of your legs in a devastating mission, losing more than what you could ever imagine. You were sneaking up with your duo to a building to raid, but landmines were littered everywhere, no one knew, the field was set to blow. On that day you stood too close to your teammate, losing your leg from the knee down and the life of your best friend. You weren’t in the best mental place after it, but Price helped you overcome this obstacle, with the time you both spent together only let the two of you fall in love with each other more, and you recovered in no time, standing by Price’s side as he stood by yours proudly, thankful you weren’t lost that day.
Now here you are with the new family the people call Task Force 141, a team like no other. Today was a day to kick off those boots and relax for some great time, it has been a while and Soap decided to treat the team to a night at a great bar he knew of. Course you wouldn’t turn down anything free, despite Price’s protests of wanting to relax at base longer with you, you convinced him enough to have a few drinks or more with you.
The glasses clinked together in a cheer with everyone around the table, soft smiles all around as shots of whiskey were downed in a single go. Laughter filling the air, even Ghost cracked a few smiles with his lifted mask. Price’s arm was around your waist as the team talked about some moments that happened around base, such as Soap slipping multiple times down a slippery hallway filled with his screaming and curses.
“Your turn to get the next round love..” Price smiled, patting your thigh as you nodded. You shifted off the seat to stand, stretching with a hum, it felt amazing. “WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR OTHER LEG?” Soap’s surprised yell almost silenced the bar. He had hit Ghost on accident who spat out his whiskey all over Gaz who cursed profanities in anger and amazement. Price laughed loudly in his seat. You turned around in confusion, watching the once calm table become a mess in seconds. “Seems like you forgot something” Price grinned, still giggling at the other’s reactions. You looked down and laughed, “Right.”
You had taken off your prosthetic leg since wearing it for so long was super uncomfortable, but you haven’t remembered to slide it back on, how could you remember anyways? You couldn’t even feel it. Soap was still spewing questions about it, asking how it happened and how long since it happened while Ghost was still trying to get some air in his lungs after that, Gaz just sat there wiping off the whiskey on him before he turned his full attention on you as you were putting the prosthetic back on. “Let the man relax before answering your questions, Soap.”
“I’ll explain after the next round!” You laughed, waving Soap off, who still couldn’t believe it as you walked away to get some more shots. When you came back of course, you were bombarded with questions. You sat down beside Price, who immediately snaked his hand around your waist protectively.
You explained the story of how you lost your leg to the team, each one listening with interest, Soap didn’t even wait to ask you questions once you finished your story, you spoke with ease, cracking a few jokes on the way.
After Soap left you alone to go bother Ghost and Gaz, you leaned against Price with a content sigh, “That felt good..” Price smiled at you, placing a soft kiss on your head, “I bet it was.. I love you, with two legs or one.” Price laughed as you slapped his shoulder. “It would be a lie if I didn’t say I love you, but right now I don’t think you deserve one after that.”
“Love!”
“Nope. Earn it back big guy”
“How about tonight in my room?”
“Sounds like a plan..”
#fanfic#fanfiction#male reader#modern warefare 2#captain price x male reader#john price#captain price x reader#john price x male reader
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one of my fav things to read/write is a f!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley, where the reader is almost exactly like ghost. I'm talking full black mask, (maybe legally dead) few words, silent, callsign generally spooky like Reaper or Phantom, and I was wondering if you would wanna do that?
Usually I have reader as a childhood friend or adopted sibling of Roach, which is why roach is so comfortable around ghost. He's just used to it. If it's pure fluff or platonic that's completely fine, and if you don't wanna do that it's also fine!! I just thought I might as well shoot my shot :)
Your an amazing writer, have an awesome day <3
seeing double
cw: canon-typical violence, breif (pun intended) mention of ghost having skeleton boxers (nothing like explicit though i dont even know if this needs to be mentioned tbh but better safe than sorry), ghost gets shot womp womp, angst w/ a happy ending, so many military inaccuracies, barely proofread :P
pairing: platonic!simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader, gary 'roach' sanderson & reader
characters: simon 'ghost' riley, gary 'roach' sanderson (price, gaz and soap mentioned v briefly!)
authors note: omg you are so sweet thank you so much!! sorry this took so long i've been so busy with things, i hope you don't mind that i got a bit silly with this one and basically wrote a fic in jot notes 😭 (ALSO ROACH MENTION!! I LOVE MY BBYG THANK YOU ANON <3)
when you first met ghost he genuinely thought this was a joke. the balaclava, the whole death motif, your callsign being phantom which is literally synonymous with ghost, even your attitude was so eerily similar to him. it was like looking in a mirror
it didn't help when he tilted his head you mirrored your actions
i think he wouldn't gravitate immediately to you, it's not that he didn't like you he just felt a bit odd with how similar you two were, in all honesty he was probably slightly unnerved by you
soap and gaz definitely crack jokes about you being the second coming of ghost or something dumb like that
whenever anyone is referring to you and ghost and phantom it was always "the ghosts" or "ghost and girl ghost" which pissed you OFF
roach cant count all the times you have ranted to him about how everyone treats ghost like he came up with your whole aesthetic and you copied him when you have been doing this for YEARS before you even met ghost!
"and everyone acts like he invented skeletons and being legally dead! how self centered do you have to be to act like you invented skeleton iconography?! THEYRE SKELETONS. THATS LIKE BASIC HUMAN ANATOMY. and its always men taking the credit- god its so stupid! i did shit this first and how do i know that he isn't copying me huh?? did we ever think of that?? and ghost is such a basic ass fucking name like really. ghost? bet the only reason he wears that mask is to cover up his casper sized forehead."
roach knows that you're annoyed and you probably aren't trying to be super mean- maybe you don't even think ghosts forehead is casper sized! but hey, he isn't trying to argue while you look like you're about to rip someone's head off
instead he opts for calmly signing words of comfort lest you tear ghosts head off (with a few minor corrections)
"yes roach i know phantoms are pretty much the same as ghosts but that's not the point. you're basically my brother. you have to be on my side. that's how it works."
its good you and roach get along with each other. however, since you are just so similar with someone whos name starts with s and ends with imon "ghost" riley he becomes friends with roach quite easily and rants to him too
"she thinks shes so fookin crea'ive but you know wha? she isnt. bet ive been in SAS longer than her. wheres 'er skull tattoo at?? cause i got a whole sleeve done almost a decade ago! she isnt the first to come up wi' this. see, i get youre friends wi' 'er but truth is she di'nt come up wi' all o' this 'erself and she isn't half as dedicated as me. i even got skeleton boxers! she got those??- wait no dont answer tha' i dont wan' tha' image in my head."
for the first month or two whenever you see each other its clear you two do not get along.
roach tried to crack a joke but if anything it just made you hate ghost more
"hey, phantom. what's got two legs and bleeds?"
"half a dog." you and ghost respond in unison
the rest of the day you dont even acknowledge each other. price makes a joke about how "you both are acting like you killed someone" which you mutter a small "oh im going to that's for sure" under your breath
safe to say you had a long rant to roach about how now not only is he stealing your whole persona, he's taking your jokes now too
you think roach would be torn between choosing sides but no this man loves every second of it. its so petty- so stupid he just needs to see how long you two idiots will keep butting heads
you mention how you were planning on getting a red mask? he's going up to ghost being like "hey, ghost did i ever tell you red is totally your colour? you know what actually? you should get a red mask!"
you both walk into the next briefing with your new masks and you couldn't be more pissed
to make matters worse you both are teamed up for the next mission. something about stopping a major arms dealer but ghost is the one getting his hands dirty. all you need to do is get into security, guide him through the complex enough for him to grab intel and leave
its simple. you've done it a billion times before, same with ghost. the first half goes fine. you both get in, he grabs the intel and is ready to head out, both of you speaking only when necessary.
minor issue- actually major issue, getting out wasn't as smooth. somehow ghost ended up shot right as he's notifying you that he's almost out. you hear the gunshot ring out, a grunt and scuffling.
"phantom to ghost. how copy."
your voice rings out, an eerie silence following after
"ghost. how copy."
you repeat again, this time earning a response
"m' alive. shot in the leg. bullet went clean through, makin a torniquet as we speak" he grunts back. you have never been happier to hear his stupid manchester accent
"keep it that way."
if past you knew those four words directed at ghost would come out of your mouth, you're pretty sure you would've stolen a tank and driven it off a cliff immediately with ghost in it too probably
but now is not the time hotwiring a tank and locating a cliff would take too long anyways, you guide him out, occasionally telling him some stupid fun fact to make sure he's still there or just to keep him alert
"did you know that jellyfish have one hole for their mouth and asshole?"
"these get more concerning the more you tell me."
"most koalas have chlamydia."
"alrigh', 'nuff of that. fun facts are s'pposed to be fun, you know that right?"
"learning is fun."
this earns a chuckle from him which he quickly covers up with a cough
he makes it out alive, busted up that's for sure but alive nonetheless
you hook his arm over your shoulder, talking about everything and anything to keep him conscious. he's going to listen anyways so might as well make the most of it
"you're not as bad as i thought you'd be, 'specially for a copy cat."
he says after you tell him yet another bizarre animal fact
"i got a red mask first by the way"
"piss off. this is why i don't compliment you" he rolls his eyes, for once not out of annoyance
"i wear it better anyways."
"sure, sure. believe what you want, but just know that i'm the cooler one."
"you also are shit at making tourniquets"
"so you finally admit that i'm cooler." no amount of eyerolling or snappy comebacks can hide your grin at this point. you silently thank your past self for choosing to wear a mask all the time
"you're quite bold for someone who got shot in the leg"
once you two get back, practically everyone is surprised how all the deadly glares and colorful insults muttered under heavy sighs between you two have now been replaced with playful banter and empty threats with no murderous intent behind them
price heard you laughing with ghost followed up with you telling ghost "they will never find your body" which did scare the shit out of him but it made ghost laugh so hard he nearly pissed himself
price made sure to check that ghost was in fact alive for the next few days, just to make sure you were joking
when asked about it both of you just shrug and reply "trauma bonding."
roach, although disappointed with the absence of drama is glad to see two of the most special people in his life getting along bros just sad he cant be an instigator anymore
and as soon as ghost comes back from leave, he's got double the scary dog privileges he originally had
#bug's first angst thingy who cheered#angst can be fun sometimes!!#but regular silliness will resume soon <3#anon im so sorry if u didnt want it to be angst lmk and i will write up smthn diff!!#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon “ghost” riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#x reader#ghost cod#gary “roach” sanderson#gary roach sanderson#ALSO SELECTIVELY MUTE ROACH MY BELOVED#roach cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#cod mwii#task force 141#tf 141#every time i type tf 141 my brain automatically goes to tf2 bc jerma brainrot#call of duty headcanons#tbh cant even call these headcanons anymore this is just a fic w/ lazy formatting#call of duty fic#angst with a happy ending#angst#john soap mactavish
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Gauloiseblue's Bookmarks
A/N: Since there's no bookmark system like they had in AO3, I decide to make one on this site. Will update the list from time to time.
COD
Price
[The True Me] by @i-am-hungry-24-7
Useless by @syoddeye
Lazy Saturday Mornings by @clementine-thedestroyer
Price and Beauty Mark by @ohmygraves
Growing older with john price. by @obsessivelullabies
Growing older with john price; smut. by @obsessivelullabies
Ex-husband price, but the “ex” lays on significantly blurred lines now. by @captainfern
Ex Husband!Price by @moongreenlight (A/N: you have NO idea what this fic had done to me)
The boys all collectively realize that you are the captain’s favourite by @dante-mightdie
Gaz
lavender skies by @yeyinde (A/N: Gaz girlie, please read this I'm begging-)
I may love Kyle, but I can totally admit when he acts like a total weirdo (he doesn’t, he’s perfect). by @theycalledhimastar
König
Ex-Lover Konig with runaway reader by @diejager
Dog Hybrid König by @comfortless
Hades!Konig and Persephone!reader by @comfortless
Aroura Borealis by @clementine-thedestroyer
Soap
Rugby player soap fucks you after a win by @vanderilnde
Pushy ass cbf!johnny and benefit pay by @shotmrmiller
Valentine Days with Soap by @killerpancakeburger
Poly/HC
Fancy (Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader) by @swordsandholly
141 80’s Arcade AU by @clementine-thedestroyer
TF141 and "can I try your drink?" By @syoddeye (A/N: don't @ me)
The Arcana
Asra's Love by @bahrtofane
Teen Asra and puppy love headcanons by @smoke-and-silver
Trip adventures with Asra by @smoke-and-silver
Random/Miscellaneous
A/N: I put all of the Ghost Band stuff here bc I'm not officially into the fandom, but they're so irresistible to read hnggg
THEN // if (then) FINAL PART (Ghoap Comic)
Roach's puppy eyes
Ghoap food pt. 1 👍👍
Capt Price having a cheeky wank (audio)
Barry Sloane thirst trap (maybe)
Bare chested Barry-
Barry ugly ass poems (i'm horny)
The band Ghost wildin'
Ghost band shenanigan: part 1
The Ghouls + Rut Season (HC)
Swiss meets red velvet
‘you’ve got to press it on you.’ (Ghost Band HC)
Nameless Ghoul NSFW headcanons
Swiss relationship and NSFW headcanons
.... yeah
not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]
- Lyudmilla Ignatenko, the wife of deceased firefighter Vasily Ignatenko, Voices from Chernobyl, by Svetlana Alexeivich (transl. Keith Gessen)
#bookmark#call of duty#the arcana#tell me if any of the link doesn't work#i'll try to fix it#i might add my fave web weaves later on. idk
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