#bravo 0-7 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babygirl-riley · 6 months

Note

Hi I love your stories so much. I have a ghost x reader request for where reader has a crush on ghost and gets so nervous around him like when he looks at her or talks to her and ghost knows she has a crush on her and likes making her nervous secretly like he'll keep eye contact with her like looking at her with his half lidded eyes while his talking or she talking and one night she tries to confess her feelings to ghost but she a nervous mess and ghost just shuts her up with a kiss and it turns into...yk yk. Hope this is acceptable 🙏.

Nerves

Ghost immediately realized that his newest Sargent gets nervous around him. The thing is he loves to see how long it will take for you to tell him your secret.

“If you want to play it like a game, well come on, come on, let’s play.”

A/N: LIIIISTEN this is such a cute concept. CAUSE Ghost would LOVE this shit. not my best work 😗😇

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst edition

Warnings: pure fluff, swearing, and alcohol consumption, soft!ghost, soft!simon

Ghost knew for months that you had some sort of feelings towards him. It wasn’t that you were flirtatious. It wasn’t the small touches. It wasn’t even stared. It was how your body would react when he would be anywhere then a mile from you.

At first when you both met, he thought it was because you were afraid of him. The typical wide eyes, the bottom lip being chewed, the staring but look away when he would look, and the fidgeting. So for a while he would stay away from you just so you could get use to everyone else before him.

It wasn’t him that approached you first, it was you. It was during a night where Soap and Gaz wanted to play some card game. Some other men and women joined including you. Ghost doesn’t do big groups so, he wandered outside smoking cigarettes, enjoying the warm breeze.

“Uh LT,” If it wasn’t for his impeccable hearing, he would have thought it was the wind. Ghost turned to see you, smiling but fidgeting. “Why aren’t hm…” Ghost thought she had an aneurysm from how quickly you stopped your sentence. Before he would say anything you chuckled. “Sorry I just get little nervous.”

Ghost gave you a questionable look. “It’s the mask.”

You chuckled. “Ya something like that.”

Ghost glared down at you, curiously. Then it hit him, he smirked underneath his mask. “It’s underneath yeah?”

Your eyes went wide, cheeks flushed and turning red. “I uh hm I have to go.”

After that Ghost went out of his way to make you turn red. He has never seen someone that has as much skill as you do get nervous. Over being around one person. One day 141 was waiting for the go to grab a messenger, he stood next to you. You fidget for a moment before relaxing a bit more.

That’s when he leaned in towards your ear. “Ya know under the mask is less scary to look at.”

You snapped your head up to meet his fake caramel eyes. Your face turning red immediately, your head snapped forward. “Uh that’s…”

“Bravo 0-7, grab the hawk.” Price said through the comms, making you jump.

Ghost chuckled and responded looking back down at you. “Let’s go kid.”

His favorite one was when you were working on a truck, you were underneath it fixing the oil line. He made sure you heard his boots as he walked around it. “Good in ‘ere?”

“Uh yeah.” You said as he heard clinging of metal. You laid on your back on the dolly.

He grabbed the end of it and pulled you out from underneath. Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning in red. Ghost smiled underneath the mask and leaned down a bit. “Even in oil kid you look pretty.”

You snapped your head up, barely hitting the end of the bumper. He even winced, felt bad for a moment before you chuckled. “Oh hell that looks ridiculous don’t it?”

You rubbed the top of your head until he reached out to grab your wrist. “Didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

Ghost felt your muscles freeze as you looked in his eyes. “I,” You paused then turned your heel. “Gotta fix this Lt.”

Or another time he was just staring at you. You were talking to civilians when you started to stumble over your words. Before clearing your throat and nodding turning your heel to head back to the building. “Stop staring.” You commented walking up the stairs.

“Can’t stop.” He mumbled smirking as you both got to the roof.

You glared at him, red flushing onto your cheeks. “I can’t focus when you do.”

Ghost got closer to you making you step back a step. Before stopping. “Only when you catch me doin it.”

You gasped before turning away, stumbled a bit. “Focus Ghost.”

It took you almost a year before you expressed how you felt about him. The team was celebrating the last success of a mission, everyone was in a hanger. Drinking. Laughter. Ghost would watch as your cheek started to go red from the alcohol running through you.

Ghost watched as you would easily talk to Soap and Gaz or basically anyone else but him. It made him second guess on how you truly felt. He knew how he felt, he adored you, liked being around you. As the night kept going you itched closer to Ghost.

The brave juice is what your sister would tell you. The “juice” made you braver when it came to your crushes. So when you finally reached Ghost, you stood right next to him barely touching his sweatshirt.

Ghost’s heart raced when he felt you barely touching him with your arm. “I like you.” You whispered swirling your bottle.

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. “I know,” You smiled before your cheeks got even more red. He turned to you fully making you go wide eyed and still smiling. “The way you get nervous love, it’s obvious.”

You roll your eyes. “I just don’t know how to flirt Ghost.”

He smirked leaning down. “We ‘ave time to teach you.”

You laughed, something he hasn’t heard coming from you. “Listen I don’t-I don’t think that would even be possible because I can’t even look at you before I go red and get embarrassed when I do. Well I try not to bu…”

Ghost blanked out, his heart skipped when you kept rambling on. He looked round to see everyone was doing their own thing then back at you. One swift motion he hooked his fingers beneath his mask, lift it to his nose, grabbed the side of your face.

Your eyes went wide as your mouth snapped shut. Nothing would have prepared you for the next part. Ghost’s lips connected with yours, it was a innocent, long kiss. It felt like it was right for him, something that should have been done months damn near years.

When he left your lips, you sighed and felt disappointed that the connection was gone. “Okay.” You whispered. “Loud and clear.”

Ghost chuckled pulling his mask back down and still having his hand on your cheek. Rubbing his thumb up and down your cheek bone. “No need to be nervous ‘round me love.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “Okay,” You whispered looking into his caramel brown eyes. “But you might have to remind me again.” You said smirking.

Ghost huffed in amusement. “Hm we may not have to teach ya.”

#simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader

440 notes · View notes

lethalchiralium · 1 month

Text

High Water | Happiness Series

a/n: okay guys, I have ONE MONTH left of school for the semester, THEN I WILL HAVE TIME FOR THIS I PROMISE. a lot has happened since I last updated, this was all written over a six month period and of course finished three weeks after my major breakup w my bestie of 7 years LOL ENJOY

a/n 2: and thank you always to @as-is-above-so-below for not killing me over taking forever to update and for letting me fall down her stairs and (separate incident) get a splinter from her floor LOL

warnings: military talk. TW: TORTURE

summary: Price has to make a difficult decision.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Night vision, gloved finger tensed on the trigger of his rifle. The back alley was secured, Soap kept two feet behind him at all times as Price unlocked the side door of the “abandoned” factory warehouse.

Four pairs of boots were muted against the cracked concrete, rifles pointed upwards and watching for any hostiles in their way. The mission was to collect intel and neutralize any threats - hopefully this would deliver them to the target. A man who was a ghost just like Simon Riley, but just… tied up in debts that span decades. Expendable men were set in the center of the warehouse, a table set up with chairs, chips and cards strewn about the wooden surface. Silence was a friend to the Russian men’s killers, but not to them. A small radio lowly played some sot of music, it was melancholy and heavy on the sax. Blues, Simon reflected, fitting.

One Russian - wearing a white shirt and black pants, a deep purple bruise on his fair face - pulled a chair from the table, setting down a laptop on a handful of worn cards.

“Boss has two targets with him, they’re to be sold by the end of the week.”

The man with a green jacket shrugged, as he sat down too; kicking his feet onto the table. “Not sure if there’s a big enough market for screaming babies, друг.”

“We’ll be getting a big payout if we get them to auction before their family finds out.”

Simon’s stomach clenched, he almost shot them both right there if it wasn’t for Gaz grabbing his arm and squeezing it. He couldn’t imagine it being you and the girls, it wouldn’t be anyway. Calm down. He focused on slinging his rifle silently over his shoulder, taking hold of the corner of sturdy boxes, wrapped up in plastic film. He hauled himself up, keeping his balance and grip focused on climbing up since the crate was the height of his shoulders. He placed his right foot on the top, pushing himself up before repeating the action with the next and final crate. It was routine the way he retrieved his rifle from his back, laying prone on the hefty crate with his finger parallel to the trigger and his eye in the scope. He was swift, it was second nature; his breath didn’t falter when Gaz settled on his torso beside him with his tact scope in his grasp.

“Bravo 0-7, do you have sight on the target?”

Ghost’s eye closed, the other focusing through the scope of his rifle.

“Affirmative.”

There was a loud screech of the door Gaz was watching, Ghost’s chest clenched with anticipation as he watched the intel walk in - wearing joggers and a long sleeve shirt, talking loudly on his phone in Russian.

“Soap, detain the target as soon as he is within range. Gaz, Ghost, drop ‘em as soon as Soap is clear.”

There wasn’t a beat of silence after that, as everyone launched into action. Johnny was quick to tackle the man, the other two dropped dead within milliseconds. His gloved hand seemed to cover the man’s whole jaw, fingertips pressed uncomfortably into the man’s skin. Ghost had dropped from his position in seconds and across the room in a few strides.

“Where is yer boss?”

Gaz slid a chair behind the man, Soap shoved him into it. Struggling hands were strapped to it, the man with dark blond hair and joggers spat out vicious words towards the skull balaclava. He barely caught Price snatching the open laptop from the table before he looked back to Soap and the hostage, the Sergeant dug his nails into the Russian’s face. The Lieutenant pulled a rag from his vest, watching them intently. The 141 was a well oiled machine, oiled with the saccharine taste of blood.

“Where the fuck is yer boss?”

“You’ll never find him-“ Ghost shoved the cloth into the man’s mouth before in a flash, his knife found its new home in the hostage’s knee. The screams muffled, he leaned closer. The words spoken were low, but enough to elicit a snarl from the hostage before another scream.

Price only gazed at Ghost for a moment before looking back at the laptop, checking through folders for measly information. Gaz was stood by the door, watching for any intruders - hand on his rifle, ignoring the muffled screams of the last threat alive in the room. But he wouldn’t be alive much longer with Ghost’s knives sticking out of his body like decorations. Don’t ask for mercy, my hounds won’t give you any, he remarked.

He looked down at the dashboard, seeing a browser left open. He clicked on it, seeing an encrypted chat log with the target and his right hand man - the man screaming for his life in the chair.

Don’t be late

The damn baby is losing it

If I have to hear another word from this girl I’m going to kill her

Price is a stoic man, one hardened by war - barely scared of anything; yet, Price wasn’t prepared when he scrolled up. His heart shot straight into his throat, eyes widened by a fraction, his hand gripping the table could’ve broken it in half. He blindly grabbed his phone, taking a picture of the screen before slamming the laptop closed. It was secured between his arm and chest in three seconds, tapping a number on the screen of his phone before he walked past Gaz and out of the room. The building was secured, he knew that - yet, he felt the fear that he may be watched. The secure line droned on for only a moment before there was an answer.

“John?”

“Laswell. What the fuck happened?”

There’s crying in the background, he could recognize Winnie’s voice anywhere. They’ve been gone for three days. Nothing was supposed to get to Simon’s second chance, John thought he was sure of it. No, he was sure of it. He cased the house himself, did all the work to make sure one of their strongest and toughest allies would stay and protect them. What the fuck happened?

There’s a breath. “König’s been shot. Someone took Mellie and Y/N.”

“And the other one?”

John’s stomach settled like concrete, weighing him down and making him sick.

“She’s okay. She’s with us at the hospital. We took her to the park like her mother asked and when we came back, the door was kicked in, König was unconscious and bleeding out, and Mellie and Y/N weren’t there.” There was a pause. “There was a fight down here. König killed seven of them before going down.”

Okay. At least they could ID the bodies, link them to the mob - or at least, former associates of the mob. Any lead he could get.

If he could run his hand through his beard, he would’ve. It was a comfort, especially now that he has never felt this stressed in his life. Simon cannot know. Simon will destroy everything we’ve worked for to save them.

“It has to do with the target.”

John’s eyebrows furrowed. “Their intel is here. I am holding their intel.”

“John, these men are Russian. They are escaped convicts in the mob, known associates of the target.” There’s a pause, a short yell from Winnie, and Laswell sighing. “König left one unconscious. Roach is interrogating him now on base.”

“How long ago were they attacked?”

“Yesterday.” Another pause, soft words from Laswell to who he assumed was Winnie. “Listen, I’m working on this, but I need you. We need Ghost to run the rest of the operation, and we can’t do that if you tell him about this.”

There’s shouting behind the door, screaming from the victim that Ghost was torturing. John looked down the empty corridor, knowing he has to go to keep his friend safe.

“Because if they came after the girls, that means they’re coming after him. And they need him alive.”

His hand could have snapped that laptop in half. “He needs them alive.”

“I know, John.”

There’s more shouting in Russian, a loud thud and more incessant screaming.

“Keep this on the down low. I only need you. Make sure Ghost knows how to proceed.”

“With caution and safety off.” John murmured, muscles clenching in his chest. This is not going to end well.

“Get back to Manchester immediately. I’ll call if we’ve found something.” The line goes dead, Captain Price slipped the phone into his pocket before taking a deep breath.

He opened the door back to the room, being submersed in the victim’s screaming as Ghost’s black blade dragged into the muscles of his leg. Price shut the door, standing tall with worry on his mind. Gaz nodded to him, hands out for the laptop - John shook his head.

“Lieutenant.”

The skull mask didn’t look away from his target, the one screaming Russian that he didn’t know anything, stop, you’re hurting me, go to fucking Hell- Soap took the man by his throat, forcing his head back before spitting some choice words at his face. Eyebrows furrowed, Price tried again.

“Mactavish, take over for the Lieutenant.”

The Scot nodded, hand ripping Ghost’s knife out of the man’s thigh - all that filled the room were screams. Ghost finally looked to Price, an enraged look in his eye as he stood and walked towards him.

“What the fuck-”

“I’ve been reassigned.” The Captain spoke with an even tone. Nothing is wrong. Believe me, Simon, believe me. “You will be running this operation until I get this assignment under control.”

It seemed that anger swelled throughout the Lieutenant like a poison, invading every space of the menacing man. “What the fuck did you get reassigned for?”

“Diplomat’s wife and daughter have been kidnapped.” The lie slid off of the tongue like butter, smooth as easy to go down for some people. For others… it’s unsettling. Price was a good liar, it came easy, but his lieutenant was always able to tell. Not always immediately, but he will know sooner or later. “I have to run this. Are you okay doing this assignment-“

Ghost patted his Captain’s shoulder. “Got it under control.”

Price smiled, strained. “Knew I could count on you.” He glanced to the man in the chair; blood poured down his face. He then looked back to his Lieutenant, his right hand man with as straight of face he could muster. “We need to hurry this up. Only 10 minutes remaining.”

“Rog.”

•••

The front door was covered in a tarp, the front porch light on and curtains drawn. John Price felt the cold sickle of Death slide down his spine as he could see blood splatter on a home he once considered sacred. Simon’s home, your home, was under red tape, unknown to anyone the military who wasn’t close to Ghost. Simon created a home from nothing for his child, then opened it for you, then his new little one - God, was John proud of him. Creating a life more than worth living, in a quaint house that should have never been found - even when it was hidden in plain sight. Even the most holy grounds have had blood shed upon them.

Kate knew he was walking up the steps, she always knew, so she opened the door enough for him to slip through. Instantly, he’s met with the remnants of the carnage of your entrance way. Bullet holes and stains of blood decorated the walls and floors, even when they had been mopped and wiped clean. Dents in the walls, the floor - John imagined the beast that was König wrestling some of those fucks to the ground, snapping their necks with the twitch of his wrist. He couldn’t imagine your screams, couldn’t think of little Mellie wailing in terror.

Did you scream? Did they drug you? Hurt you? Did they dare to touch the baby? God, Simon is going to burn the world.

He looked to Kate, there’s a hardened glint in her eye. He handed her the laptop, which hadn’t been scanned yet - it would take too much time, they both knew that. She took it without a word, turning back into the front room. John strode forwards, stepping over the baby gate that was recently put there. He assumed it was to keep Winnie out of the carnage that was the front entrance, he continued on to the living room where he could see Alex sitting on the couch. A little head peered over the side of the couch and as soon as her eyes saw John, she stood at full height with tears instantly pouring down her face.

“Unc’John!”

His heart felt bruised then, the beat of it aching with every stride he took to her. He instantly plucked her from the couch, holding her to his chest as she loudly cried. “Winnie, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“Where-Where’s Mummy and Mellie?”

John could only bear to mutter a soft, “We’re finding them, sweetheart.” He couldn’t bring himself to say that the bad guys got them, that her daddy couldn’t be the hero she knows she wants him to be because of John’s decision. He was quick to bring her to the kitchen - which seemed untouched compared to the adjacent entryway - and settled her on the countertop, right beside the sink. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet to the right, filling it with water before handing it to Winnie. The five year old took greedy sips, breathing through her nose as tears raced down her face. “Put the water down, love, you need to take some deep breaths.”

He took the glass back, only for her to reach for his hand - he took it, giving it a small squeeze. God, he can’t even remember the last time he had seen his niece cry, let alone sob. Had it been that long since she had gone without you?

“Are you hungry? Tired?” He set the glass on the counter, seeing her hiccup as she tried to catch her breath. He squeezed her hand again, all Winnie could do was let more tears fall down her face.

“Where’s Mummy?” She begged, John’s tongue felt dry. He hated lying to her, he hated not knowing anything, he hated seeing her bawl her eyes out. She didn’t witness anything, thank God, but going without you after not having to for years is terrifying to a little girl. “N’Daddy? Why-Why isn’t Daddy home?” Her hand squeezed back, much harder than she did before. “M’scared.”

“I know, Winnie.” His throat began to itch, he wanted to desperately tell her that everything would be alright - that today was just a bad dream she’ll wake up from tomorrow, that her parents will be here in the morning with her baby sister. He also wanted to scream at God and tell him that it was fucked forcing him into sacrificing Simon’s family for a stupid fucking lead, even if it did lead back to you and Mellie. He didn’t want to have the possibility of telling his niece that neither of her parents were coming home, instead of the off chance of one; he hated delivering condolences, but he wasn’t sure he could do it to a five year old girl who he has watched grow up. “I think we need to go sit down again.” A little nod and she was scooped up into his arms again, held tight as he walked back into the couch; Alex nowhere to be seen, which was fine with John. He took his normal seat at the end of the couch, resting little Winnie on his chest and pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to lay on her. He tucked it in around her stomach, making sure to cover her socked feet before gently petting her hair.

His eyes wandered to the TV, to the stupid blue dog show that she seemed to love - yet she held no interest right now. His eyes darted across the floor, seeing little firetrucks and airplanes and dolls scattered across the floor; then to the little mesh play pen that sat underneath the window, the blinds pulled up enough to where Mellie couldn’t reach, the strings tied up even higher. Soft toys and colorful blocks scattered inside of it, not to mention a few blankets and a pillow or two. Winnie’s been sleeping down here. She’s petrified.

His gaze moved to the ceiling, hand gently patting her head with a calm rhythm. He’d lay here all night, way past when his back would get sore, way past when his legs would cramp, just to give Winnie some sort of stability. He refused to think about the possibility that he may have to follow through with his promise of being her godfather - he just never imagined that it might possibly be just Winnie, not Winnie and Mellie. The thought stirred nausea in his stomach, more than any whiplash, concussion, or shitty helicopter ride could give him. He had already made the silent promise to find you and Mellie, but just for tonight, his whole goal was to make sure Winnie isn’t more scared out of her mind than she already is.

“Unc’John.”

He hummed at that, looking back down her. “Yes, sweetheart.”

Her little chin swiveled to rest on his chest to look up at him, her sweet brown eyes full of tears as she whispered, “I don’t wanna visit my Mummy at-at the cemetery like Mum G-Grace.”

I don’t want to visit my Mummy at the cemetery like Mum Grace.

The words that leave his mouth are soft, spoken like a twisted prayer. “This isn’t like your Mum Grace.” His eyebrows furrowed, petting her hair back with a gentle touch. “I swear it.”

The five year old’s lip quivered, “Promise?”

John doesn’t promise anything, he never makes a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. He never dared enter the realm of uncertainty, knowing he could fail and hurt someone he cared about. Hell, he rarely makes promises on equipment orders for his men. He doesn’t even promise his mother anything, not since he promised he wouldn’t go into the military and did it anyway. But as he watched his friend’s daughter, his niece and goddaughter, sob quietly on his chest, he felt he had no choice but to nod. “Promise.”

At that, Winnie’s head finally fell to rest on John’s chest, he watched her eyes close as it was evident she had only held out to hear his promise. She had stayed awake to see and hear someone she trusted and knew well, she waited to close her eyes until she knew he would find you, even if she didn’t directly ask him to.

John felt obligated to keep Simon’s family alive since he knew just how much the deaths of his mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew nearly killed him, how the death of Grace and embracing fatherhood almost drowned him, and just how much his daughters and wife saved him from saying “Fuck it.” and stepping into enemy fire. Not only that, he felt obligated to you - to find you and Mellie, bring you home, keep Winnie safe too. You had many years left with Simon, John could see it. You couldn’t possibly leave Simon now, not when he needs you the most.

John’s eyes blinked slowly, looking down to the dozing Winnie on his chest and holding her closer, reminiscent of when she was a small toddler sleeping on his chest when he babysat. Fatigue was catching up to him, the hours in the early morning were spent combing through data for the prisoner the 141 now in had in possession, and now - your kidnapping. Simon is a dear friend, John knew him too well to say otherwise. And he also knew that you, Winnie, and Mellie were his whole world - the monster Simon was, the one John had nurtured and cared for to create a weapon, was sitting dormant in the man’s ribcage because of the unconditional love he had received. John could never argue that Simon had “gone soft” because of it, Simon had weeping and infected wounds healed by the soft touch of his wife. The Captain’s previously abused and petrified weapon was now perfect, he was the epitome of the perfect soldier. But with the knowledge of his wife and child’s safety at risk, John knew what the military didn’t.

“Captain.”

There’s a reason your husband wasn’t alerted of your abduction. John Price knew the second he said that you and Melody were missing, Simon would rip his ribcage from his chest with the force of a thousand men to expose the monster underneath. The one you only hear about in movies, the one that is passed down through tongues to generations, the one you fear will come from the shadows to eat you alive. Simon Riley is what the Captain likes to call, the Monster Under Your Bed.

“Captain.”

He grunted a little, looking over his shoulder to a stoic Alex Keller. “She’s almost asleep, Alex-“

“We might have a location.”

taglist: @idkwtftitbh @blingblong55 @local-spidey @sanfransolomitatm @frazie99 @Awilan @cosmoscoffeee @khadeejarh @babygirl-riley @emi-flaces @marini03 @jeannieboys @koshehehe @tutuwuworld @froggy-anon @cxltblood @egdeverauxx @freyjasfenrir @lexi-zsy09 @Hosshihusshi @Isopaine @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @domaniquessidehoe2 @iaur @starsinyoureyes @graciereads @urfavoritepookie @ghost-with-a-teacup @moris666 @ghostwifeyy @ziggy0stardust @live-love-be-unique @magoopi @coririley @lunyyx @sterlizx

#lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #happiness series #happiness #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader

207 notes · View notes

shadow0-1 · 1 year

Text

Bravo 0-7

#call of duty #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #a quick thing cause I got bored #goop dot png #blender renders

2K notes · View notes

dtrghost · 11 months

Text

closeness and proximity part.3

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. Finally some fluff and emotional stuff between them so yaaayyy.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 2.6k

The drive back was quiet. Price drove back with Gaz and had Soap drive Ghost and Y/N. He sat in the backseat next to her, growing genuinely concerned for her mental wellbeing. The more she thought about it, about the sudden flood of emotions from a small moment in a dirty, humid bar, the more she remembered. The quicker she'd sent herself back into that room to relive those moments again, the ones she never told a soul about.

Simon had to pull her out once more in the duration of the car ride, talking with Soap and forcing her into the conversation to take her mind off of it by asking her weird, off topic questions that she answered. They got back to base and she attempted to split away from the group to her room, only to be yanked back with a serious look from her comrade.

They sat her down at the dinner table, and she suddenly felt small. She felt like she was being interrogated with the eyes of 4 staring at her intently, waiting for her to say something. Yet she didn't, she stayed quiet for 3 minutes, glancing around the room and sighing irritatedly.

"Well. Are you going to tell us or not." Ghost pressed, leaning forward in his chair next to her. She scoffed, chuckling out of anger, the sound running shivers up their spines.

"What the hell is this. You're not my fucking therapists, so quit trying to act like it." She spat, her eyes full of fire and rage.

"You listen here muppet. It's one thing for you to be angry and violent out on missions, but it's a whole other when you lash out at us." Her eyes narrowed at him, watching the flames of determination and vexation dancing, growing. She was lost in them for a moment, the others completely confused about the sudden moment they were sharing. Simon couldn't describe the urge to help her, to get her to open up to them.

Maybe he was just too curious, but what about the slip up in the bar?

love?

She had none, that he felt sure of. Sympathy maybe, a simple attempt to ground her, that's all it was.

He saw something as he read past her rage, it was small and fleeting, a light. A flicker of a candle, but this one wasn't out of anger, it was soft, gentle.

The phone rang, interrupting them as Price pulled out his phone.

"This is Price how copy?" He listened before his eyes landed on her, and just like that, the candlelight disappeared, blown out and left like it was a figment of his imagination. Now there was a void, a shell of human ready to serve and follow her orders. All of her anger dissipated as she rose from her seat. "Rog." He hung up and sighed, looking at her with a sorrowful look, one that she didn't register nor care for.

"You and Ghost have orders to be shipped out to a distribution hub in Amsterdam, you'll fly in a heli and drive the rest of the way. Your chopper will be here in 20 minutes."

"Affirm." She stormed out after that, pissed off by what had just occurred. She angrily threw her civilian mask off to the side and yanked on her work one, strapping on her vest and clipping her gear.

"This is Sunshine, Bravo 0-7 confirm channel." She spoke into her radio, adjusting her gear to her liking, making it tight and in hands reach.

"Bravo 0-7 confirmed." His voice echoed in her room, earning a sigh of irritation as she turned to look at him. He was geared up, making him look thicker than he already was with the extra padding. Instead of taking him she shoved past him, earning a 'tch' as he grabbed her arm, yanking her back to look at him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She was angry at him. Not at the team, not at headquarters, at him. Why after all these years he suddenly cared. After all the missions they went on together, all the looks she didn't understand or the fleeting moments where she felt something more than anger or a void nothingness. He could see her confusion, making him sigh and put a hand on his hip as a hand lifted to try and sooth her down.

"I'm just trying to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. So back off." He watched her stomp away.

"Bloody Americans." He muttered, falling into step with her. She remained silent the whole ride there, from when they landed, she was to carride. He watched her, watched as flickers of emotion passed through her gaze. 6 years of pent up feelings did something to people, he knew that better than anyone, and because of that he knew she was going to crack soon, and it was going to be his fault.

He would continue to push until one day she snapped, whether she'd cry or scream or throw a punch at him, he would be there, he had to be. He recalled the nights he'd spent with her in the last few years, where they barely talked but rather absorbed each other's presence as they cleaned their weapons or read through mission briefs. When they did talk it was meaningless, it served no benefit, no new information learned about each other, but it was comforting. He felt comfort in her coldness at the time, maybe because there was someone just as fucked up as he was.

She thought about it often too, the time they spent together on missions, how it ran smoother with him around. She didn't understand the sensations she'd get around him, the heat that burned in her chest, her face. How if she thought about him at night while he slept on the hard floor next to her, she'd press her legs together because of the heat that festered there too. She knew what desire was, she was aware of the need for pleasure, but she never indulged. What was the point if it were not with him? And in her mind she would never be with him, she wasn't good enough for that, she wasn't there, enough for something so intimate.

She knew that maybe she could live a more normal life if she had let him help her, but everything was so on and off. During the ride there she'd think, maybe she would let him help, that wouldn't be so bad. Then she'd snap out of it and be angry with herself for even allowing that thought to cross her mind. She watched a safe house appear from beyond the trees.

"We're stopping here for the night. Intel says the shipment doesn't come until tomorrow." Their driver informed them. They filed out of their cars and distributed themselves to their assigned rooms, and lo and behold, she was forced to share with Ghost. Simon watched her sigh deeply and nod, following her to their shared room.

"Go shower first." He commanded, and she obeyed without a word. She was too exhausted to fight with him. She'd spent the whole way there trying to figure out her shit before it began to affect her performance, and it killed her. She was far off the mark, easily irritated, snappy. She hoped it would wash off in the shower, and she took deep breaths while staring at herself in the mirror, hoping to turn it all off like she did before.

But she couldn't, she'd look and see anger, or a foreign feeling she didn't have a name for. Sadness? No, she had nothing to be sad about. So she huffed, exiting the bathroom to see Simon waiting patiently on his cot. She didn't spare him a glance and laid down on hers, staring up at the ceiling as he analyzed her for a moment, getting no reaction to his intense stare.

He left for his shower, and she listened to his clothes drop, letting her mind wander to what he looked like underneath them.

It was a better distraction than negativity, it made her feel something more enticing, until she was left sexually frustrated. She listened to him shower. The way the water would hit the floor in ripples, imagining how his skin shined and dripped, the coolness of the substance and how they hit his scars. Yeah, this was a better thought. She stayed there, in that moment, even after he walked out.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face, earning a glare from her.

"What're you thinkin' about now then?" He questioned, grunting as his big frame hit his bed. She didn't respond, and he didn't expect her to, likely because she was still mad at him.

"You in the shower." His head turned to her slowly, flabbergasted by what he was hearing. He listened to the melody of her voice as her shoulders shook. For the first time since they met, she laughed, truly. She found his reaction hilarious, how wide his eyes got in horror and... hope? She found that funny too, so funny she doubled over the side, cackling like a mad woman.

"Jesus fuckin' christ." Simon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before laughing himself. He couldn't help it, she just had one of those laughs that forced you to laugh too, the wheeze, the gasps for air as she hit her stomach and fell onto the floor.

"Sunshine, you're gonna die of a heart attack at this rate." He spoke to her, watching her wipe the tears forming in her eyes as she took a deep breath, sitting on her floor.

"I hate you, ya know." She confessed suddenly, surprising him as he looked at her curiously.

"You piss me off, you fucked me up. Don't understand anything anymore. Spent the whole day trying to put myself back together and it's just-" She mimicked an explosion, her hands dropping heavily onto her lap. He sat up, sitting down on the floor in front of her with his knee facing up to rest in his arm on.

"Well if you tell me about it, maybe I can put some things into perspective for you." He offered. He watched her mental battle, the conflict blazing through her skull. He could practically see them floating around her head like a thunderstorm.

"Oh fuckin' hell, just say it. You're thinking too much." She huffed, letting her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"I can't. I can't explain it. After I got out, I didn't understand much of anything, they tried to wipe me, break me in a way others couldn't by making me forget myself and replace it with what they wanted. But I was rescued before that could happen. I was thrown back in before I could fully recover, because I had a skill set others didn't."

"Things came back in fragments, pieces of my past came back to me, and I realized that maybe it was better that I didn't remember. That if I stayed a shell I wouldn't have anymore emotion burdens than I already did. But it was too late, and it all came back to me one night in shambles. From birth to that moment, everything. I couldn't handle it, so I turned it off, I reverted back to this technique I learned while I was kidnapped, and from then I could never turn it back on." He knew what she was referring to.

Autopilot, where your mind went blank and your body operated on it's own. You couldn't feel anything, you just did what you had to.

"Then I met you. And at first that was fine. You were just another soldier that I had to work with, and then we talked that one night, and talked some more the next. And feelings began to surface on their own. I don't know what it is, excitement maybe? All I knew was that I wanted to talk to you, I looked forward to it, I got these weird feelings in my gut whenever I did."

Was she confessing to a crush... on him? She didn't care. What she did or did not confess to wasn't a concern. He asked and he was receiving.

"And then you started caring, out of nowhere. Years went by and suddenly a few days ago, after I skinned someone alive and you found out some rough shit happened to me, you changed. It made me angry, because I hate feeling, especially things I can't understand."

He noticed that too, that he cared more.

"New information can change your approach, and you have to adapt and improvise." He explained vaguely. He saw something reaching out in her, even through this dump of emotion and information, he noticed the cry for help deep inside her. The part she buried underneath years of mistreatment and being used.

"Stop talking to me like a soldier." She snapped, earning a soft gaze from him that she hadn't received before. It made her chest feel weird, and he could tell by how she grabbed at the shirt covering it.

"You're pissing me off."

"No, I'm breaking you." They made eye contact. All the breath left her lungs in that moment, from his gentle tone and low volume to the look in his eyes that made her eyes water, it was too much. She couldn't take it. Her stomach lurched, and before another word could be uttered between them she scurried to the bathroom, emptying the contents in her abdomen into the toilet.

He was by her side in an instant, shushing her quietly and rubbing her back. His heart sank at the feeling of her shiver and the sound of her retching.

"I gotcha Y/N. Always have right?" She could feel her mind cracking, tears welling in her eyes from the pressure of the vomit and being an emotional wreck.

"I can't." She muttered weakly, sitting against the shower door, grimacing as the air entering her lungs burned with the raw feeling in her throat.

"You can. In all my years being by your side, there's nothing you can't do love, you and I both know that more than anyone." Her eyes met his, seeing his seriousness and true belief in his words. His hand came up and brushed away her tears before her mask absorbed it, the rough pad of his thumbs leaving sparks in the areas he touched. She didn't say anything at first, taking his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze of reassurance, more for herself than for him.

"After our mission. Please." He couldn't say no to a plead like that, so with a curt nod he agreed and held out his other hand to her. He watched her hand envelope his, finding the size difference amusing as his basically swallowed them in his grasp.

"Let's get some sleep yeah. You've done enough for today." She let him bring her to bed, his arm secured around her shoulders, feeling her hand on his waist. He sat next to her until she fell asleep before laying on his own cot. He looked at her for most of the night, making sure she didn't wake up, pondering about what she could be dreaming about as her eyelids flickered ever so often.

He followed her steady breaths to lull him to sleep, praying that tomorrow would go by without too much of a struggle so he could have another moment as intimate as the previous with her, even if it was small.

And that's part 3!! Finally some fluff and opening up, but I wouldn't get too comfortable with it just yet. I have some plans, not sure how I'll execute it but we're getting somewhere. Thank you so much for reading!!

495 notes · View notes

thexsilentxwordsmith · 9 months

Text

Simon Riley x Fem!reader - call sign 'Maverick'

Fandom: Call of Duty

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Captain John Price

Word count: 5.7 k

Summary: You and Ghost have always gotten through missions by keeping in constant radio contact when possible. On one fateful mission, he sends out the call but there is no reply. Only silence. As time goes on his greatest fear is realized and all that he knew is now turned on it's head. What happens when reality hits all at once? And what does it do to the once stoic man who is no stranger to death?

Warnings: Death, death of a lover, mentions of thoughts of suicide, grief, explicit language, heavy topics relating to death and loss.

MDNI

"How copy?”

The signal went out over comms the same as Ghost had done so many times before, calling out to you over the receiver to close the distance between you both, a literal lifeline directly to you, until he could be next to you again. Instead of being met with your bright, sparkling voice answering his call, there was nothing except the steady buzz of electricity in his ears and the complete radio silence that awaiting him at the other end of the line.

Again he held down the mic button, his clothed lips close to the mouthpiece of his headset as he sent out the call to you once more. Of course there were times when he had to send out the call for you more than once, but something about this specific time hung ominous in the air around him. The hair on his arms stood up as if he were cold, but that wasn’t possible given the climate he was in.

“Come in Maverick, I repeat, how copy?”

Again he released the button to wait for your answer and again there was nothing except the crushing silence to greet him. It felt strange as if he had slipped into a dream at some point and yet he could feel the weight of his rifle in his hand and the gear on his shoulders.

A third time the call went out and when still now answer came, desperation began to spread out through his chest cavity, coursing through his veins like an aggressive cancer to eat away at him. Why weren’t you answering him when he had just heard your voice not even 20 minutes ago? He heard you say it, Intel was secure and your half of the team was fixing to head out. He would see you in a few minutes when you joined him at the edge of the facilities property and then it was on to extraction. Now there was nothing. Why was there nothing?

Nothing.

You were no stranger to how anxious the man behind the mask could get when you both were on mission and to keep those fears at bay would always make certain to meet his call with your reply as quick as you could. So, where were you now when everything was supposed to be fine? His mind raced with an infinite amount of possibilities as the minutes ticked on in agonizing fashion until that familiar click was heard over his headset and he felt like he could breath easy once more.

Finally, he though to himself with a nervous laugh at how silly he was acting. Took her long enough. I know she’ll be apologizing for days with that one.

“Bravo 0-7, come in. This is Bravo 7-1. Maverick…uh she’s… she’s…”

It was Johnny’s voice that flooded through your headset, not yours, which caught Ghost completely off guard. Why the fuck was he answering for you and why did he sound so goddamn distraught and out of breath? That wasn’t the person he had been asking for and it angered him to think that he would take your headset away from you so you couldn’t reply.

“What the hell Johnny, where is she? Let me speak to her,” Ghost argued heated and on edge through the microphone. Silence again was all he got; why the fuck was there so much goddamn silence when his world was usually so chaotically loud? Somewhere deep in his bones Ghost already knew… he knew what was happening in real time over the radio, though his heart pleaded with his mind to not let him understand yet. Just leave him stuck in limbo until the last possible second to hold off the pain.

Even though he was a man of very few words himself, this type of quiet was killing him to endure. “What the fuck is going on. Answer me!” Ghost yelled desperately through the headset.

“Maverick went down…” he heard, followed by a break where static cut in and then “…is K.I.A. L.T., she’s gone.”

No, no, that didn’t sound right. He had just heard your voice and you had been fine, why was Johnny lying to him like this? Or was it some sort of cruel joke that he had decided to play at the last second as they neared the meeting point? The Scot was known to make a few silly digs at him over the years, but this was far from his sense of humor; the mission was over, there was nothing left that could go wrong. No, maybe Ghost had just misheard. Yes, that had to be it; he had misheard because of the signal drop.

“Repeat,” he demanded forcefully into the mic.

“L.T…” It was hard enough for Soap to say the words the first time, but being yelled at to repeat them was too intense for what had just happened.

“I said repeat goddammit or let me speak to her,” Ghost cut him off with a sharp and point explosion of anger. His hands that were usually incredibly steady began to tremble around his gun and the transmission box as he waited to hear Soap’s voice come through once again.

More static for a few seconds as Soap tried his hardest to gather himself enough to quickly explain what had happened as concisely as he could. The seasoned Sargent had just witnessed something horrific, the blood was still wet upon his chest, and it was a lot to have to comprehend in such a short amount of time, yet he knew it would be even worse for the one currently yelling in his ear. Everyone was still in the field, they needed to get back to safety first before more could be explained, but he couldn’t lie to the lieutenant, not when it came to you. He would be waiting for your return and it would never happen now.

“I understand… it all happened so fast. We weren’t as safe as we thought, got surrounded faster than we could react. Maverick was in the lead and got caught in the crossfire. She went down; we couldn’t save her.”

“What… wha-” Ghost said over and over again as the neurons misfiring in his brain would not let him make complete sentences.

“We will be headed to your location shortly, stay put till we arr-”

Fuck these lies, Ghost wouldn’t listen to another word come out of Soap’s mouth. Without another sound Ghost’s comm was instantly shut off, isolating him from the rest of his little world as his heartbeat slammed to a stop dead in his chest. He threw down his gun and ripped the headset off his ears, pulling the transmission box off his belt with such rage. Throwing everything to the ground beside him he got on his hands and knees and began to demolish that fucking ridiculous piece of equipment with his bare hands as if it’s destruction could somehow undo what he had just been forced to hear.

Please, he begged silently as his breathing quickened on the verge of a panic attack. Please don’t do this, not again. Don’t fucking leave me alone again.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be; you were supposed to reach extraction with the others of 141 and the both of you would head back to base together, a bottle of beer and a glass of whiskey at the local bar with your names on it waiting for you later after debrief. He was supposed to see your smiling face staring back at him during transport just as he had seen so many fucking times before and he was going to take your hand into his to give a squeeze, just to make sure you were really there beside him safe and sound like always.

And now that wasn’t going to happen? How? It was routine at this point how the end of a mission would go; he couldn’t count how many times the same had happened whether it was a success or not. So why was this time different? He simply could not understand.

Ghost’s calloused and cold fingers dug into his chest, trying to rip out the organ currently dying in its house, but they barely managed to scratch the surface of the tactical gear covering him. His head was getting fuzzy when he became conscious that his lungs felt far too empty. Wasn’t breathing supposed to be involuntary? He couldn’t recall as the air seemed to not penetrate deep enough into his lungs to get him that vital element he so desperately needed right now.

Gone. They said you were gone.

No, no, no, you couldn’t be gone. You were just here, living and breathing and laughing, and now suddenly your flame was snuffed out just like that? That didn’t make any logical sense to him, that something so precious could be here and then gone without a trace without the entire world taking notice of the absence. No, you were still out there, he could feel it as if any second you would appear before him. How could you just cease to exist in the blink of an eye?

Regret wormed its way to the surface now. So many things he had taken for granted even as he was grateful they were happening, thinking there would be more time later to truly revel in their importance to him. So many little moments shared just between you both that he did not treasure as hard as he should have because he did not know they would be his last with the one person that gave his life so much more meaning. How was he meant to reconcile that with himself, how much he took for granted? He needed more time to cherish. Please, he needed more time.

This wasn’t right, any of it. If anyone deserved to be killed it was him, not you. Never you. But that was the reality of life, wasn’t it? Not everything was fare and when it came to Simon Riley, it never would be. You had become the light in his dark, the pillar steadfast against his chaos, you respected and loved him through it all and did it with a grace he had never known. What right had death to take such a vibrant and brilliant human being?

Wet. Why am I wet?

His face was suddenly wet underneath his mask. When had he started crying? Heavy and engorged tears filled with all the rage and desolation he felt in that moment fell from the rims of his eyes, some burning his lips while others tumbled out of the eye holes in his mask towards the ground to salt the earth at his feet. That wasn’t right either. Crying was not something he did; he was supposed to be the emotionless monster that did what needed to be done, but this was too heavy a burden to hold off that explosion of misery threatening to end him right then and there. And the dam broke with such force it made his body writhe in pain.

He would have rather been stabbed, shot in the back, disemboweled or worse than to feel a part of his soul wither away and die in that split second it took Soap to tell him you weren’t going to be coming back. Shaking his head, he turned his vision upward towards the sky above.

“You can’t have her,” he whispered under his breath through gritted teeth and clenched fists to the air around him, speaking his desperate threat to unseen ears.

The man had not spoken to God since he was a small child, when he still clung to the hope that maybe a higher power could intervene and save him from his horrendous situation if only he asked hard enough. He had not thought about religion in years or the lies it purported, but right now he could not stop himself from calling upon the deity that he no longer believed in once more to threaten him over taking you.

“You can’t fucking have her,” he repeated louder this time as his fists balled themselves up even tighter until his nail cut into the flesh of his palms.

He would threaten the entire universe if he could undo what fate had already declared reality, he would fight every goddamn star in the sky to turn back the clock so that you would still be here and he could find a way to save you, but he knew there was no undoing this and that was the cruelest of it all.

“You can’t just fucking take her!!” he roared as the first of his fists made contact with the ground, kicking up the dirt and rocks and small pieces of organic debris. Over and over again he beat his anger into the turf until his knuckles were ripped to shreds and covered in a thick spattering of blood covered his hands. Still, he did not let up as the physical pain was nothing compared to the immense pain of his loss; he had to do something to take the edge off.

“GODDAMMIT!” he screamed at the top of his lungs with enough force to shake the foundations of the earth with the power of his anger.

Still in the field he wasn’t safe, but he didn’t care. If the enemy found him now and decided to end him, it would be a mercy to his defeated soul. His chaotic and hopeless mind was forced to race with images that made his stomach turn: you quickly bleeding out, tears swimming in your eyes as you wondered where he was with his name on your cracked lips, choking on your own blood as it filled your mouth, your body cold with a chill that would not leave until you closed your eyes. There was no knowing what happened in those precious moments he had not spoken to you, still the images played over and over in his mind’s eye until he had to clamp his mouth shut to stop himself from being sick as he wretched several times.

It was Ghost that had killed you, that had to be it. Something he did or didn’t do that directly led to your luck finally running out and leading you straight to your death. That had to be it, he had to be responsible otherwise why wouldn’t you be here while he was? Maybe if he simply left you alone even as his heart was drawn to yours, maybe you would have been spared such a cruel and unjust fate.

The mask around his face felt suffocating and blindly he ripped it off, unable to look at it as he threw it away. The persona that was Ghost had been a necessary evil for him during a time when he had nothing and his very creation had saved Simon in some sick and twisted way, but all that felt like such bullshit as his alter did nothing that could save you and right now it just disgusted him to even look at what was once a bandage on a gaping wound. There he sat in a crumpled heap no longer the stoic killer with an icy heart to match, but simply a broken and beaten Simon who had lost everything sacred to him yet again.

“I still need her,” he sobbed with eyes closed tight as his entire body shook violently. “Why did you take her from me? Why couldn’t I have this one thing?”

That night at the bar was supposed to be when he finally struck up enough courage to say those 3 stupid words that had been sitting at the back of his throat in one way or another since the day you both met and yet he had not had the strength to say until now. You had broken down his walls, the ones he never thought anyone would ever cross, and you did it all with immense patience and kindness. And he had finally realized that he could be vulnerable with you, that he wanted to be, to take that next step in your relationship that would hopefully lead to something even more wonderful.

There had been such secret desires that maybe one day you both would leave this life behind and perhaps there would be a small flat back in England with your names on it. A quiet life after so much death; a life with the possibility of maybe little one with blonde hair and your eyes if you both decided to go on that journey together, but now all of that was gone. That wishful dream was stolen from him before he ever had a chance to experience any of it and so only a dream it would remain.

There was nothing left for him anywhere now, not if you were gone. Everything that had ever mattered to him had slipped through his fingers no matter how desperately he clung to it, no matter how much his nails dug into it, and now you had been added to that long list of casualties. It was exhausting to have everything gentle and kind in his life ripped from him constantly and he could not take anymore. You were the last piece that tied him to this god-forsaken world.

How could he be forced to go on now?

The members of Taskforce 141 had congregated at the meeting point and yet stood back from their broken comrade, unsure what to do for the grief consuming him in that moment. Simon’s back faced them, but the way he was hunched upon the ground with his shoulders convulsing violently as the sounds of his wails penetrated through the air was too much. They needed to get him to come with them, they needed to get out of there before more harm could be done to their group, but what do you say to someone whose entire world just crumbled in an instant? None of them had seen Simon fall apart like this, where he did not care who saw him break, and watching such a strong, steadfast man fall apart so thoroughly shook them all to their cores.

Captain Price, guilt weighing on his head from allowing one of his own to be killed, heard someone clear their throat and he turned his head. Soap stared back at him silently, his eyes stern as if to say that he would go to him first and Price nodded his head in agreement. Taking the first steps forward, the Sargent did not know what he was going to do or say, but he knew that you would not want Simon left behind and he would do whatever it took to get him to come back with them.

Noise. Footsteps were approaching.

“L.T.,” Soap called out to him as to not startle the already vulnerable man falling apart upon the ground, his back turned away to conceal his face.

“Don’t,” Simon spat with rage, “Whatever the fuck you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it. Get to extraction and leave me be. This is over.”

Soap took a few more steps forward until he was just off his left shoulder, still enough distance between them as to not put more undue stress on Simon. “No,” he said firmly. The response was sort and to the point, but conveyed enough. Reaching towards him, he rested a hand on Simon’s shoulder, but immediately he wrenched it away.

“Don’t you dare. I said go, get out of here,” more fury, more rage behind Simon’s words. “Take the others and get back to base. I am not leaving.”

Soap had already watched one comrade fall before his very eyes, held them as they took their last breaths, he wasn’t about to leave this fucking wasteland without anyone else. There had been enough gut-wrenching death for a lifetime and no matter what Ghost would be getting on the heli with the rest of them; whatever the Sargent needed to do to help him get there, he would.

“We aren’t going without you,” Soap said gently. “We aren’t leaving anyone behind.”

That was goddamn lie and it wounded Simon even more to hear it. How the hell could he say that when the group would be permanently one short forever? “You’re leaving her,” he yelled in Soap’s face as he finally face him, his eye black streaming down his cheeks. The misery was plastered across his face and it made Soap shiver to see it. “She is out there and will never be coming back, so don’t stand there and say shit like that. I am not going back, not without her.”

Soap cleared his throat, holding back the tears welling in his eyes; they don’t prepare you for this part in all that fucking training. “Sir, listen, we have her,” he stated with a quiver in his voice. “We’re gonna bring her back, so we really need to go, now.”

They had taken your body with them, that was good. You deserved a proper burial, not to be left on some war-torn battlefield as a casualty to be picked up later or worse. Still, even with the news that you would be brought back with them, Simon still didn’t move from his spot. He had already died right there even if his body was still moving and he did not want to go.

“I deserve to be left here,” he said with such sadness in his tone as he turned his face away in shame. “I deserve to rot right here in this fucking spot. Why the hell am I here and she isn’t? No, I should die here to set it right.”

Soap knelt down beside his friend, getting down to his level to meet him where he was in his grief. “You and I both know that she would never want that.”

Fuck Simon wanted to scream at Soap to shut his fucking mouth, that he did not know you as intimately as that, but that wouldn’t have been true at all. Everyone knew the type of person you were; there was no hiding your caring and big-hearted nature. He was hurt because Simon knew Soap was completely right. If you could have spoken to him in that moment he knew exactly what you would have said: to please stay safe, get back to base, that he had to be okay for your sake. You would beg and plead with him to go on and leave you, that it would be fine, and to do anything less would be a disservice to your memory. That’s what you did; no matter the circumstances, your only concern was to think of him.

He knew he needed to go, but he couldn’t; his body felt like lead and it would not let him get up. So many times he had begged for death, thought about taking it in his own hands, and just as all those times right now it overwhelmed him with the feeling again. Whatever it was that he had done to deserve all this hell, he should be punished for it as another innocent life had been caught in his disaster once more.

“I can’t do it,” Simon breathed out the laboured words. “I can’t do this alone. If I go, she’ll really be dead and I can’t fucking do that.”

“You won’t,” the familiar voice of his Captain said behind him suddenly. “We’re here with you Simon. All of us.”

His brothers in arms rallied around him in support as Price and Soap each took one of Simon’s muscular arms and helped him to his feet. To be shown so much care felt wrong in that moment, as Simon felt he did not deserve an ounce of it.

“Look at me Lieutenant,” Price said and Simon did as instructed. “I know this is hard, but I need your help to get her back to base. I don’t want to leave her behind, so I will need everyone with me on this and that includes you. If we get ambushed again, we will need all the firepower we can get. Can you do that soldier? Can you provide support while we carry her back with us?”

Price knew it was the dutiful soldier in Simon’s nature to follow the orders he gave him and that would be the only way to get him out of here alive. So he did what needed to be done so to ensure that no one else had to die today, not under his leadership.

Simon nodded in agreement and Soap handed him back his gun which he took tentatively into his hands. The feeling of the hard steel in his strong grip helped to ground him enough that he could feel his body again to move.

It took every ounce of his strength to maneuver his legs one after the other, to head back to a life where you would no longer be. As long as he stayed there in the field, he could convince himself that nothing was real, but the minute he got on that plane back to base there would be no more delusions he could concoct to hide away from the truth. So he shut his mind off and allowed his body to move on autopilot, following closely beside Soap until they were finally at extraction and on the plane back.

He took his seat, not looking anywhere as they finished loading everything and took off. The tears had dried and crusted to his cheeks for the moment as he sat silently dissociating on the ride back and yet the black hole in the center of his chest continued to grow exponentially as he stared blankly at his hands. Those hands that had held you close, that had known the feeling of your skin beneath them, now they had nothing to hold so lovingly anymore within them.

It wasn’t until they respectfully pulled that amorphous bag out of the heli with your body inside that he lost it all over again. For almost a split second he had forgotten that it was there with them and seeing it real before him threw him right back into reality. Where was his goddamn cold heart when he needed it most? Right now, he felt every single solitary raw bit of sorrow and it was all too much after holding back for so fucking long. But that was a part of the magic you always seemed to possess, wasn’t it? You brought a man back from the dead and that meant this was how it had to be; he would have to feel it all.

They laid your body in a private room in the infirmary where Simon could sit with you while they made preparations for what came next. Price himself made absolutely sure that no one would disturb Simon until he was ready, threatening harsh punishments if anyone went against his order to leave this room and the man sitting inside it alone as long as need be. This was his time and he would have it for as long as he needed, screw everything else. That was the least the Captain could do.

Simon’s body felt cold and numb as a second cigarette sat lodged between his first two fingers, occasionally being brought to his lips in long, drawn out pulls as he stared at the door to the infirmary. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do it, actually go in, and he hoped that the nicotine would dull the ache in his chest enough that he could step through those doors and make it to you.

As he entered that room designated for you, it felt like entering a crypt with how ungodly quiet and still it was. Your body was placed upon a gurney against one wall towards the back of the room, only a sheet concealing you from the rest of the world until they could lock you away in that wooden box. A chair was placed near just for him and it took him half an hour of pacing around the room before he was able to sit in it without his rapid breathing leaving him on the verge of another panic attack.

It was too painful to pull the covering down to reveal your face; he couldn’t bring himself to look into it and see nothing of the lively woman you used to be. He knew how hard it was to look on someone you cared about after they were gone, how they looked unnatural like a doll staged as a human. But your hand was close underneath the sheet and the need to feel your touch just one last time overtook him to where he ended up reaching for it.

Simon slowly took your hand from out under the sheet and into his own: it was cold and clammy and foreign. There was no pulse, no movement whatsoever along the surface, and it disturbed him to his core to feel and yet he still held on tightly. He kept holding his breath as he waited for you to give his hand a loving squeeze and each second that passed where you didn’t just sent him further into despair.

What should he say? Should he say anything? It really didn’t matter did it, since you weren’t even here to hear it? But he couldn’t just sit there beside you, someone who had held his battered and bruised heart with loving hands, not caring if it bled all over you, and just not speak all that was weighing on him. So, he started at the beginning of all that grief.

“I’m sorry,” he said aloud finally to the crushing silence not just in the room, but inside of himself as well. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you; I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He laced his large fingers in the empty spaces between your own, entwining them completely even as yours hung limply against his palm. Your hand looked so tiny in his, so fragile against his scared knuckles still covered in red from what he had done to them. As he stared down at your slender fingers all he could think about is what they wouldn’t do anymore. Those gentle fingertips would never trace the lines of his scars with such care, as if each one deserved to be loved; they would never again caress his cheek before you kissed him, letting him know he was safe in your embrace; he’d never feel them against his chest as you held him while you both slept, his back against your chest as you clung to him tight to make him feel safe after another nightmare.

And that was just one singular thing on you that he would miss. So many pieces of you held so many memories and cherished sensations that he had not realized until the moment how hard to would be to no longer experience them again. How cruel is it that you never know the true magnitude another life has on your own until it is no longer there? Now he would have to remember the impact you had on his life longer than he would get to enjoy it.

“I wish I would have taken you from all this sooner,” he whispered to your body as his thumb stroked the back of your hand tenderly. “Maybe if I would have you would still be here. So much I should have fucking said, so much more I should have done, but I let the fear get me and it ruined everything. I could have stopped this just by giving you the life you deserved, the one I knew you waited patiently to have with me one day.”

Simon swallowed back down the bile rising from his stomach. His whole life had been tainted with death in some way and he had began to think that maybe you would be spared from it if only he took things slow, that it would keep the grim reaper at bay for longer and give you both more time. Yet here you were; fate still took you anyway and he had not gotten to live the life he truly wanted with you. That only left him with overwhelming regret.

“You changed everything for me, you know that?” the words were choked out through the welling of emotion caught in his throat. “I was a goddamn corpse before you came along and for the first time in a long, long time I began to feel alive again. I know it took some time for me to warm up to ya, but that was only because I couldn’t believe a person as fucking wonderful as you was even real. You were the reason I was still hanging on and fuck…I hope you knew how much it meant to me to have you. You were probably the closet thing to a miracle that I’ll ever get and I am going to miss you until the day I die.”

His body shook uncontrollably with grief, shoulders hunched forward as he held on to your hand for dear life. “There will never be another like you, luv. No one could ever make all the shit I went through seem even remotely worth it because in the end it led me to meeting you. What the hell did I do to deserve the chance to be cared for by someone so fucking amazing? I don’t know, but damn am I grateful to even have had this much time with you.”

Taking your hand up to his mouth, he placed it to his lips. It didn’t even belong to you anymore and yet it was all of you that he had left now. “I love you,” his lips imprinted those special words upon your skin. “Wherever you are, I hope you hear me say it cause I know it’s been a long time coming. I love you and I always will.”

He gave your hand another long kiss before he silently tucked your arm back under the sheet that separated life from death and hurried from the room without turning back again; you may have been the one that died, but he was the ghost who was now haunted by what could have been.

And Simon did not know in that moment if he could continue to live with that.

#cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simin ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod

231 notes · View notes

yumethefrostypanda · 1 year

Text

Lieutenant Ghost 💀

#aaa #simon ghost riley #simon riley #lieutenant #ghost #bravo 0-7 #call of duty #modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #mwii #foaming/passingout/disman #the way he looks down/avoiding eyecontact it looks like imo #also my bad #let me not forget #colonel alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas #thought not to spam his tag since this is a ghost related post #but seeing him in that .gif #he deserves mad respect

3K notes · View notes

darth-mortem · 3 months

Text

This is a first chapter of my COD fic "At the Crossroads of the Worlds" translated bu @g8se.

Task force "141" was sent to clean up a secret laboratory, the research of which was financed by states recognized as sponsors of terrorism. The soldiers broke into a bunker located in the Caucasus Mountains on the Russian-Georgian border. At first, everything went according to plan, but after the fighters split up, Ghost came across a strange room, the door of which locked automatically the moment he was inside. Without knowing it, Simon Riley had set off an experiment that had been brewing here for years, and now he would have to be very strong to finally return home.

Chapter 1 of 6. 2084 words.

Past character death, angst, action, secret lab, experiment, parallel worlds

August 15, 2030. Georgian-Russian border. Caucasus Mountains. Coordinates classified. Experiment status: Prepared for the first stage. Research No. 16/3. Reality LW-414/2030. Attempt to transport into reality LW414/2016.

Captain Simon "Ghost" Riley walked slowly down the corridor, illuminated by the bright, cold light of built-in lamps on the walls and ceiling. He held his assault rifle at the ready and listened to the conversations of other members of Task Force 141 through the earpiece of his radio. The unit had split up ten minutes ago, and its members were now inspecting all levels of the bunker, each carrying out their assigned tasks. Some engaged in clearing operations, facing armed guards head-on, while others searched for information and civilian personnel in this classified scientific facility funded by the budgets of several countries - sponsors of terrorism, including Russia, Iran, Palestine, and several others.

Ghost inspected this level of the bunker alone. The commander of Task Force 141, Major Price, had ordered the soldiers to form groups of two or three, but Simon didn’t follow this order. He hadn't followed them for seven years since that fateful day, when a bullet from the Russian terrorist Makarov's pistol took the life of Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

For Ghost, John wasn't just a partner or a fellow soldier; he was the one who saw beyond the terrifying skull mask and recognized a human in him. He made Simon feel alive again. John reminded him of how to be happy, laugh, and love. He was Ghost's personal ray of sunshine, and when he was gone, the light went out forever.

Riley couldn't come to terms with it and continue to live a full life. He kept his distance from everyone and didn't even try to socialize with the new members of the unit. People came and went, and Simon didn't even bother to remember their faces. At some point, he considered leaving the army altogether, but then he realized that he didn't know how to do anything else, so he stayed. The only person Simon occasionally spoke to outside of missions was Price. He knew that Simon felt guilty for John's death, which is why he turned a blind eye to Ghost's insubordination, especially considering that he was still the most effective member of Task Force 141.

The doors to his right of swung open, and his reflexes kicked in before his brain. The man in a white lab coat received a devastating blow to the face with the butt of the rifle and fell like a felled tree. Captain Riley dragged him into the room he had emerged from and quickly secured him to a pipe using plastic ties.

“Bravo 0-7, took another one,” Ghost reported over the radio. “Checking the last rooms on the sixth level.”

“Copy, Bravo 0-7,” he heard Price's response. “Try to find out what they were up to. We're almost done clearing the fifth level and heading down to you. Copy?”

“Crystal clear,” Ghost frowned, and the corners of his lips under the mask drooped. “Bravo 0-7, out.”

He didn't need assistance. Riley could handle it on his own and escort the captives. But he never argued with Price during missions. Ghost might not follow his orders, but for other soldiers, the authority of the major had to remain unquestionable.

After surveying the room, Ghost went out and headed towards the last set of doors at the end of the corridor. Behind them, was a desolated room in absolute chaos. Chairs were scattered on the floor, papers strewn about, monitors partially turned off, only a few displaying some unintelligible numbers and symbols that constantly changed each other. There could be something useful here, but before sitting at the computer and attempting to extract information, Ghost moved towards another set of doors in the far corner of the room. These were massive air-tight doors with a complex opening mechanism. Opposite them stood a table with several monitors, and looking at them, Simon understood that one of them seemingly transmitted views from several cameras installed in the room behind the mysterious doors. Why this was necessary, the captain did not understand, as the small room behind the doors was absolutely empty. Its walls were covered in some silvery material, thick wires protruding in places. Also, Riley noticed several panels with small screens and numerous LED indicators.

“Bravo 0-7,” Ghost spoke, examining the locking mechanism of the air-tight doors on the room's interior monitor, “it seems I've found something.”

“What exactly, Bravo 0-7?” Price asked.

“Don't know yet,” Riley replied. “Trying to figure it out.”

“Be careful,” the major said. “Bravo 6, out.”

Simon glanced at the other monitors. Two code designations immediately caught his eye: LW414/2030 and LW414/2016. A progress bar flickered between them, showing ninety-eight percent, followed by calculations of adjustments in meters and, for some reason, in hours. Simon couldn't comprehend what it was exactly because everything was encrypted. He tried to look at the papers, but it was even worse, so without further delay, Riley approached the air-tight doors and pulled the lever of the opening mechanism.

As soon as he entered the small square room, Simon smelled the electrified air. An orange light started flashing above the door, and instead of the voices of the soldiers he heard a buzzing noise of interference in his earpiece. Some contour that ran around the entire perimeter of the room opened after the doors were unlocked and now lit up in red. A mechanical female voice from a speaker hidden somewhere in the wall began to repeat something persistently in a language Ghost did not know, and then the doors automatically closed, and the lever of the mechanism moved into the "locked" position. The contour closed, its colour changed from red to green, and the voice from the speaker said something else, after which it started a countdown.

“Fucking hell,” Riley cursed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and rushing towards the doors. “Bravo 0-7 calling Bravo 6! Bravo 6, can you hear me?”

There was no response. There wasn't even interference, just dead silence. Ghost grabbed the lever, tried to turn it, but all in vain, despite the fact that the captain was a very physically strong person.

The electrifying sensation intensified. The air distinctly smelled of ozone, and sparks began to run along the walls following complex and tangled contours. Riley retreated to the centre of the room, gritting his teeth. The room was too small to blast the doors, and they were so massive that it might not work anyway. The countdown continued, electrical discharges intensified, and then Ghost saw how the laces of his boots lifted into the air. The same happened with other elements of his gear – at first with smaller items, but gradually even heavier objects, like his assault rifle, which the lieutenant grabbed by the strap and pulled towards himself.

“Bravo 6,” Ghost tried once more without any hope, “John, can you hear me? Respond!”

The captain felt his feet lifting off the floor, where lines of contours were also glowing. Numbers and symbols appeared on the screens of the panels, all indicators lit up green, and then the accumulated static turned into a powerful electrical arc that pierced Ghost's body, sending him into oblivion.

Consciousness returned to him slowly but surely. Riley felt the cold wind piercing through his clothes and gear. Somewhere nearby, he could hear rumbling, and these sounds seemed familiar, but Ghost couldn't recall what exactly could be the source.

Captain Riley could only open his eyes on the third attempt. Above him was the overcast sky shrouded in led clouds. He lay on the ground, arms outstretched, listening to the rumbling of... the helicopter rotor!

Simon didn't understand what was happening. He remembered being trapped in a small room deep underground in the bunker. He remembered something strange happening to him, a jolt of wildly powerful electricity, and... he found himself here. And now, as he slightly raised himself and looked around, Ghost realized where exactly this "here" was. The landscape around him was familiar – it was what the members of Task Force 141 saw when they landed and headed towards the entrance to the bunker. Perhaps, Major Price or someone from the team managed to open those doors from the outside. They found Ghost in the blackout and brought him to the surface. So, the helicopter he hears is their evacuation transport.

Having reasoned this way, Ghost stood up, hoisted his assault rifle, and headed towards the sound. Of course, it was strange to be left alone here, but perhaps the soldiers were occupied with captives, and someone went for supplies. Captain Riley, however, felt better, and overall quite normal for someone who got electrocuted. The radio was still silent, but Simon had already climbed a small hill, saw the helicopter, and people around. Captain Riley was about to shout that he was okay when suddenly he realized that these people were not members of Task Force 141. Moreover, it seemed they were enemies. They surrounded two soldiers, one of whom seemed to be seriously injured. The other was supporting him on his shoulders and wouldn't have time to grab his weapon when one of the men – presumably the leader – pulled out his pistol and pointed it at his chest.

Simon didn't know what was happening, but he saw a patch with the British flag on the sleeve of the man the other was aiming at. Without thinking for another second, Captain Riley swung his assault rifle off his shoulder, released the safety, and, chambering a round, fired a short burst into the air, drawing attention to himself.

They started to shoot at Ghost, so he ran, ducking and returning fire, and when the distance closed, he pulled out and threw several metal knives one after another, reducing the number of enemies. The soldier with the British flag carefully laid his comrade on the ground and remained by his side, also starting to return fire. Now Ghost could see his balaclava with a skull print and the bald head of the enemy leader, who, realizing that something had gone awry, was trying to retreat to the helicopter.

"Hey, you!" Ghost found himself next to the guy in the balaclava and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Kill the pilot! Come on, let's go!"

He nodded and ran around the helicopter. Captain Riley stayed with the wounded soldier and quickly replaced the magazine in his rifle. Meanwhile, the bald man turned around, raising his pistol again, and Ghost froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Shepherd?" he finally exclaimed. "It can't be!"

After Johnny’s death, Price himself killed the traitor of a general with his own hands, yet here he was, staring at Ghost with a cold gaze and aiming a pistol at him.

A gunshot echoed. The bullet hit Simon in the chest, but it didn't get through the armoured plate. Captain Riley, purely on reflexes, returned fire. A burst from his assault rifle tore through Shepard's body, and he fell. Another soldier in a balaclava was already running toward Riley, wielding his weapon.

"Shepard is a traitor!" he shouted. "I just received a message from the captain!"

"We need to get out of here," Ghost got up, rubbing his chest. "Let's carry your friend into the heli. Provide him with first aid. I'll take the pilot's seat. Just tell me where to fly."

Two soldiers, both hiding their faces behind skull masks, picked up the third one and brought him into the helicopter. The situation was strange, even wild, but Simon strangely felt neither suspicion nor doubt towards his new companion. On the contrary, this man seemed eerily familiar and inspired absolute trust in Simon. And it appeared that the guy in the balaclava felt the same way about Riley. He didn't ask who his unexpected rescuer was or where he came from, haven’t even asked for Ghost's name. However, Ghost didn't waste time on etiquette either. After receiving the coordinates for the flight, Riley focused on piloting the helicopter, glancing at the dashboard. Somewhere there, they would meet a captain, likely the leader of these two soldiers. Most likely, he could clarify the situation and provide Ghost with information about what happened to TF 141 and where to find them.

“We’re almost there,” Ghost reported, having replaced his dead radio with the one that belonged to the pilot of this helicopter. “How's your friend?”

“Solid,” came the response. “Our guys are already waiting, so land here!”

“Roger that,” Riley replied briefly and started to land, glancing at the two soldiers who were waving at the helicopter.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #parallel universe #09 ghost #gary roach sanderson #shepherd cod #fix it fic #simon riley #fanfiction #work in progress

76 notes · View notes

sherashalala · 9 months

Text

“Bravo 0-7 this is Bravo 0-6, give me a sitrep.”

“Bravo 0-7 what’s your status?”

“Ghost, do you copy?”

“Solid.” Ghost grunts out an answer, yet his voice has long since been left raw. He leaves it low, leaves it strong and solid with no signs of what happened here.

“Almost gave me a heart attack,” Price says lightheartedly, and Ghost knows not to blame him for it. Knows that this situation is not a moment for laughter or anything of the sort. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. “Give me a sitrep.” His Captain tells him.

“Mission accomplished.” Is all Ghost could manage to say. He’s out of breath,

“Fuckin’ sweet.” Price says. “Exfil in five. Get you and Soap out of there. Don’t want any more hostels on your tails”

He’s trying. He’s trying. Ghost makes sure that he doesn’t slip off his shoulders, makes sure that he keeps the man’s torso right on top of his back with his weight on the entirety of his back. He is leaned forward, making sure the weight is evenly spread so he could trek faster. The sooner he is out of there, the sooner he could put his attention to it. To Soap.

Ghost has stopped talking. Stopped calling for his Sergeant’s attention because he knows that it’d fall on unhearing ears. He doesn’t think. Not when the consequences of thinking could just as easily lead him towards spiraling. Ghost can’t have that right now. He can’t afford it.

Still, he misses the noise. Yearns desperately for even the slightest bit of it. A sound. Anything. Please.

He hisses when his foot hits a slope, and he slips. It twists his ankle at an awful angle but Ghost has walked off worse. Still, the weight on his shoulders is heavy and it makes it hurt worse. But he won’t let him go. Won’t ever even think of it.

Ghost swallows something in his throat, but it stays lodged.

“Soap.” he begs. “Johnny,” he calls. “Wake up, you bastard.” He growls under his breath, but it breaks. “Please.”

There’s no answer from behind him. Not even a twitch or a flinch.

“We never talked about it.” Ghost says. “You never had a lass at home, didya? Or a lad. Never had the chance to tell me about it.” He talks. Johnny always had that effect. Ghost had been a lot more talkative since he’d come into his life. Ghost knew, though. He knew that he had a chance, more than a chance with him. “I’d try harder if– when you wake up.” Ghost begs.

He is still heavy on Simon’s shoulders, and still limp.

Ghost makes sure that Soap is still on his shoulders when he reaches for his communication device, opening up the channel between him and Price. “Bravo 0-7 to Bravo 0-6,” Ghost opens. “Requesting medical on exfil.”

“You hurt?”

Ghost doesn’t answer.

“Ghost. Who is hurt.”

“I couldn’t do anything, Price.” Ghost tells him. “He–” Ghost swallows, and he’s not sure if the dampness of his mask is because of his sweat or because of something else.

The acceptance is hitting him far sooner than he’d wanted it. “He died alone.”

#serashalala writes #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley whump #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #tw mcd

153 notes · View notes

shadowbratt · 4 months

Text

BRAVO 0-7

#simon ghost riley #ghost #taskforce141 #task force 141 #cod mw22 #modern warfare #modern warfare ii #cod #samuel roukin #call of duty #modern warfare 3 #cod modern warfare #mw2

139 notes · View notes

babygirl-riley · 6 months

Text

There Was You Pt.1

You and Ghost have been working together for over a year now. Slowly becoming closer than co workers to friends.

“You wouldn’t wonder why you’re here. They don’t deserve you.”

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it bitches), fluff, angst, blood and violance, unestablished relationship, complicated relationship, alcohol, and swearing

A/N: Alright we all know the tik tok that quotes the “There was you, there was during you, and there was after you.” So I made a three part series of that audio. Here is the first one. 😈🤭

Pt II

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

You knew Ghost, at first you couldn’t lie you hated him. He was a hard ass that couldn’t have anything be good. Always grumbling when you and Soap would fun banter. Always keep you in line (which you didn’t mind cause he was your lieutenant after all) Just hated that fact that he couldn’t have an ounce of fun.

It took months for him to slowly be closer to everyone. Including you. You noticed when the team would hang out he would sit next to you. Laugh at your jokes. You even noticed the glances. So when he was alone smoking a cigarette of course you walked over.

You both talked for hours as the night was turning to day. Taking turns smoking his cigarettes. You both shared stories about things that they enjoyed doing outside of the military. “One day I would love to just go somewhere where no one is there.” Ghost said exhaling the smoke out of his lungs.

You nodded. “Especially the mountains.”

Ghost nodded in agreement as he looked down at you. You weren’t staring at him back but knew he was looking. Your heart fluttering a bit, as you shuffled beneath his stare. “Nervous?” He mumbled, making your eyes go to him.

You knew the eyes immediately, men gave them to you occasionally. You smirked rolling your eyes. You knowing that you enjoy the sight he gives to you. “Never.”

Explosion went off next to you as a grenade was thrown. You went flying to the side as your ears rang. It wasn’t expected, the enemy was not suppose to know about them being here. You felt a firm grip as you were dragged across the field and behind a wall.

“This is Bravo 0-7! We have been ambushed over!” Ghost yelled, looking down at you, your eyes glazed, in a daze. You squeezed your eyes and looked at him with shock in your eyes. “Ya fine! Stay down!”

You just stared as you looked around trying to get up. You felt his hand push you down as he grabbed his rifle and shot back at the enemy. You groaned as you grabbed your pushing his hand off before you felt it again. His eyes giving your the order. You didn’t noticed the blood spot growing on your side, shrapnel for sure. It didn’t burn until you gasped and leaned back.

Ghost was shooting and kept doing so. He had to get you out, he needed to assess the situation, the wound. He needed to make sure you were okay. Never had his emotion come out during a mission, fear. Fear was the one that came out as he glanced at you making sure you were alive.

After Soap and Gaz came to the aid and got back to the base. You went to the med tent to make sure everything was fine. Which it was, just a deep wound, once you were patched up Ghost came into the tent. “What the hell were you thinking?” He said rudely in fact.

“What do you mean,” You snapped back as the nurse looked back and forth before nodding and leaving. “I did my job!”

“Ya job,” He laughed. “No that was recklessness kid.”

You scoffed. “I had to make sure that you wouldn’t get the hit. I got it far enough.”

“What if you didn’t?” He asked his eyes stern but something behind them.

“Then I would be gone,” You simply put, rolling your eyes. “They need you more than they need me.”

Ghost shook his head walking up to you, making you tense. The last couple of months both of you have been closer. He smiles more, you even made him laugh which now Soap made it to a competition to see who can make him laugh the hardest. He would have lingering eyes. Ghost would even give light touches that no one would notice but you. Something was happening between the both of you but you didn’t know if was fear or cause he is your superior.

Ghost knew the same as well, Price even mentioned to him that he found his favorite in the group. He was more attentive when you were in the field. When you would walk in he would perk up. Ghost may not come to terms with it but Price will mention it to him to do so.

“I need you,” he whispered slowly bringing his gloved hand up to grip your chin with his fingers. “They may not but I do.”

You sat there silent, it was a private area in the tent. The curtain covering but this…this was never what you would thought of with Ghost. Him touching you like this and you loved it. He felt the way you leaned into his fingers. Fluttering your eyes. Ghost’s heart was beating so fucking hard he thought he would have a cardiac arrest.

“Don’t fuckin’ do it again,” He said straightening up and walking out. “That’s an order.”

Two months later you found yourself with the team at a bar. Celebrations were in order for Price’s birthday. Everyone dressed nicely, out of military gear. Almost everybody was there but you however when you did arrived, it shocked the team. Excerpt for Laswell of course, since she gave you the damn thing. You wore a black dress that made your curves known, small heels and your hair down.

Soap whispered to himself. “Bloody jesus.”

Which made the men follow his eyes, when Ghost landed on you. His heart skipped, you were like a dark angel. Killer in the field and beautiful in the bar. He didn’t realize how long he was staring until Price whispered to him. “The longer you stare the more noticeable it becomes Simon.”

Which straighten him up a bit as you came to the booth. “Too much?” You whispered under your breath.

Laswell laughed as she turned to her wife. Who actually chose the dress. “Oh no hun, I think it is perfect.”

Her wife came out of the booth before grabbing your wrist. “We kind of match babes.” As she took you to the bar.

Soap looked at Laswell. “You got ‘er that?”

Laswell smirked. “Technically my wife did, she is single. She needs a man to keep her warm.”

Price chuckled and nodded. Ghost glared at Price from the side of his eye as he watched you with Laswell’s wife. Which was like that all night, you would drink little cocktails and dance with her wife. He would watch your hips sway as you bounced with the music. You would come back and sit next to him.

God how the air became intoxicating, his colouge plaguing your nose. Everyone was laughing and having fun, sharing stories of the past. You tried to listen you really did! But it was tense between the two of you, in a good way. He was amazing looking too. Tight black shirt, showing his muscles a bit, his tattoo arm that you just noticed he had. Veiny. God you imagined how it would look between your…

“Come on Lass,” Soap said standing next to you. “One dance with me?”

Gaz chuckled shaking his head. Price huffed a laugh. “6ft Scott.” You smirked taking his hand to the floor.

Never has jealousy course through Ghost before as he watched both of you dance. God he wanted it to be him. His heart screaming for him to go and his mind screaming the other. Gaz got up and getting another drink. Laswell taking her wife to dance with her. “Simon you both are basically eye fuckin’.” Price said nonchalantly

Ghost sighed. “It’s against the rules.”

“Not tonight.” Price mumbled smirking as Ghost snapped his head. “Tonight is celebrating go and celebrate just don’t bring it back. Don’t need love drama in the field.”

Couple hours meant couple of drinks. You walked to bar since it as a small walk, Laswell offered to take you home but you shook your head. “I’ll be fine Kate.” You smiled until you felt a large shadow over you.

“‘M close,” Ghost said looking at you then Laswell. Laswell’s wife smirked and grabbed Kate. “I’ll take her home.”

Laswell and her wife exchanged glances and nodded. You looked at him before shaking your head. “It’s fine I can handle my own.”

“Thats what ‘m nervous about.” He said looking down at you.

Both of you shared stares, it was a soft stare. You didn’t notice how beautiful his eyes really were. The dark and light brown mixing in well. You nodded and started to walk down the street. There was a comfortable silence between the both of you. You would lean close to him, the alcohol buzzing through both of your veins.

God how his veins were burning, his skin prickling. Your small touch on his skin made him want to feel more of you. Just to hold your frame. Inhale your scent. You were beautiful your hair glowing in the street lights. Your smile just brightening his mood.

You were right though, It didn’t take long. When you reached the townhome you smiled and looked up at him. “Here it is,” You said shyly, shy. Something that was never coming from you. You were always confident. Right now. The opposite. He nodded not moving as you both stared, you didn’t realize that he was leaned down. His breath leaving his mask as your lips were so close. “I need you to kiss me Ghost.”

That is what happened, you both fumbled through your apartment ripping clothes off. Moans leaving your lips. The tension now breaking, as his hips rolled into yours. Your bodies dancing together, intertwining into one. You moaned as your body started to go into euphoria state. “Ghost!” You yelled.

Ghost shook his head, his mask only one on and up to his nose. “No,” He grunted as he sped up, chasing his own high. “Simon. Simon is my name.”

Both of you collapsed that night, he held onto you as your sweaty bodies clinged together. “You don’t have to,” You said slowly. “I know this is going to be a one night thing,” He looked at the top of your head. Inhaling deeply. “But can you stay?”

Simon inhaled deeply, Ghost waiting for the time to change seats. The emotions are raw, the sex, the sex wasn’t sex. He knew immediately once his lips touched yours. He kissed your head and nodded. “I would love to.”

The sex didn’t stop, Ghost broke that promise with Price. He actually told him that nothing happened that night and Price believed him. You and him decided that it would be sex, him making sure it seemed like there was no emotion. You agreed doing the same, there was nothing there, to the act at least.

Until one night you both were having sex, when you were on your second orgasm it slipped. It broke. The wall couldn’t hold with him anymore. “I love you,” He grunted slamming into you again. You gasped, you cunt clenching from his words. You shook your head. He can’t. He can’t say this. “I fuck-I can’t,” He mumbled before you felt his cum painting your walls. You both laid there for a moment, shock was in your veins. Simon noticed what he said. Frozen, before snapping up and not looking at you. “I gotta go.”

You frowned as you watched him your heart fluttering. You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. It could break the both do you. But you couldn’t deny it anymore. He was yours, even if both of you couldn’t admit it. You started to see the soft side of Simon that no one could see, it was quickly hidden back if he caught you noticing. Something that never would have came to you. He is everything you wanted. He was your person.

“I love you too.” You said before he grabbed your bedroom handle. At first you thought he would leave. “Please stay.”

Simon turned to you, his eyes searching yours. You could tell he was terrified and he saw that you were too. Simon thought the same thing, he didn’t want to ruin something that he wanted so bad. Your friendship especially but he can’t hide it anymore, not with you. “Okay.”

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon

241 notes · View notes

reds-skull · 5 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PART 1]

Don't ask me why I wrote chapter two literally a day after the first, it's a mix of the nice comments I got and the fact I'm enjoying myself more than I expected, haha.

Ghost crashes into his desk chair, throwing two folders on the table. One was the Sergeant’s report, which he had to go through and approve before forwarding to Price, and the other…

The other was Soap’s personal file. He technically didn’t have clearance for it anymore, but Price left it on his desk next to the report, and Ghost figured he won’t notice if it disappeared for a couple hours.

Besides… he was supposed to read it before the mission. He just didn’t care in the past.

Ghost opens the file, and immediately gets greeted by a picture of Soap. He’s younger and seemed to be holding back a smile for the photo.

John “Soap” MacTavish. Somehow, Ghost can’t see how this fiery Sergeant shares a name with the captain.

The rest of the file is pretty standard. Born in Scotland (In a town Ghost never heard of), age 27, enlisted at 16. It gets more interesting when he reaches the Revenant section.

Or, whatever he can see from it. His Reaping, his first death, is completely blacked out. His powers list the explosion immunity and creation, but another line is censored. Ghost feels cheated of information - the amount of red tape around Soap would be concerning, if it didn’t make him that more intrigued.

He flips through his previous missions fairly quickly, not expecting much of it to be uncensored. Lad was SAS before dying, the reports are practically a solid block of black ink.

Ghost continues to the medical reports, fully intending to skip those as well, and he keeps flipping, and flipping, and flipping…

An icy hand grabs at his throat. Frowning, he slowly flips back.

The frozen feeling persists when he starts reading. 4 years ago, mission in Austria. Exposure to thermite explosion, 3 fingers missing and loss of motor function to his left leg. 11 months ago, C4 accident, right ear, eye, and majority of throat missing. 2 years ago, grenade explosion, massive damage to liver and stomach.

Combing through all records, Ghost took a moment to realize no medical procedure was noted. Which means Soap didn’t receive any.

He shut the folder.

Something different from the freezing horror he initially felt started rising within him. It was rage.

The personal folder gets thrown aside, and Ghost focuses on the mission report. Right. Perhaps this will shed more light on what Soap is capable of, because honestly right now he can’t bare thinking about how much damage the Sergeant suffered through any longer.

The report is well-written, as any soldier of Soap’s rank would be. Ghost enjoys seeing just how competent Soap was, clearing rooms at neck breaking speed. What catches his eyes is the reason the explosion at the warehouse happened.

He never did get an answer to that…

As it turns out, Soap did get spotted. But according to the report, it wasn’t a hostile that activated the explosive. No, Soap himself did that. The reason given is “estimated risk to Bravo 0-7”.

…Soap thought he was in danger?

Ghost racks his brain trying to understand why. Did he think Ghost didn’t clear the third floor yet? Did he think… they were going to alert backup?

And he decides to… blow himself up.

He hastily signs the document and grabs both folders. So much information, missing, blacked out, red tape stopping him from understanding. Ghost has long learned that he won’t, can’t understand everything, orders from higher up not to be questioned. But it has never bothered him more.

Never left this feeling of missing out.

When Ghost reaches Price’s office, the light is on and a lingering smell of cigars wafts even through the closed door. Shit. He’ll have to explain how the amount of folders he took suddenly multiplied.

“Weird how that happens, doesn't it Ghost?” Price shouts from beyond the door.

Bloody hell his stupid mind reading powers can be a real pain in the-

“You better not finish that thought Lieutenant!”

Sighing, Ghost finally opens the door. “I thought you’re on break, Captain”, he places the folders on his desk.

Price glares at the two folders before he looks back at him, eyebrow raised, “clearly”.

Ghost glares back. Not like he has anything to say to his defence.

Price breaks the tension with a little huff, “You know you could’ve just asked for the file, right? I could tell the Sergeant left an impression on you.” he laughs.

Not needing the Captain to mock him further, he bites back “report’s signed, permission to be dismissed?”

Price smirks and dismisses him. Ghost doesn’t miss the thought that leaked from him, “told you, you two would get along.”

He walks away before Price could read his own.

Smoking becomes less intimidating after you die once. Honestly, if it comes to the point he dies from lung cancer, he’ll be happy.

He’ll take that little comfort either way. Watching the smoke dissipate to the night sky, a handful of stars shining through. Little droplets of rain drizzle on the tin roof above him. It’s almost peaceful.

Almost. If only he couldn’t hear Gaz complaining from the floor above him.

“Look, he’s doing it again.” the recruit next to him makes a questioning sound, “Ghost, he’s bloody brooding. I swear, he’s been like this even since that mission with the revenant, what’s his name…”

The recruit mumbles something, “right! MacTavish. I’ll pay a good amount to know what happened with him… you think-”

Ghost slams a fist at the tin roof, “I can fuckin’ hear ya Garrick!”.

“Good! Tell me what happened there!”

He throws the cigarette and stomps it. Can’t get a moment of silence around here…

Gaz still tries to interrogate him while Ghost walks back to his room. He would talk to him when he feels like it, kindly suggest to never bring up that mission again.

Ghost doesn’t need more things to remind him of the Sergeant.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever was as bad as these rookies. Watching one trip on thin air, taking down 3 others poor sods trying to complete a run, he rather believe he wasn’t.

He approaches the 4 idiots, who are now literally shaking while craning their neck to look at their lieutenant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!”.

The rookies finally pull their heads out of their arse and scramble up. While they try to get back on track, he shouts, “five more laps for you four! Get a move on!”.

The ones that finished the training murmur behind him something that sounds like a long list of expletives, maybe about wishing his mother got an abortion or the likes.

Ghost couldn’t care less. But, for the sake of discipline, he throws a scowl at the group, shutting them instantly.

It’s on days like these, where Gaz is away on mission, and Price buried under mountains of paperwork, that Ghost’s thoughts wander back to that mission six months ago. To a certain Scottish Sergeant, to daft jokes and a weird shared understanding. Fingers flickering with flames, blue eyes shining with them.

Useless thoughts. All they do is leave a bitter trail behind them.

On days like these, he can’t help but crave bitterness.

The recruits finally finish their run, and Ghost dismisses them before they can cause more trouble, effectively declaring it “not his problem”. He should be more grateful of Garrick, he’s much better at handling the FNGs.

As he makes his way to the showers, one Private stops him. He looks familiar, but Ghost doesn’t bother learning any of their names.

“Captain Price orders you to his office.” the Private almost sneers at him. Ghost nods and walks away.

Once, a long time ago, he might’ve put the Private in his place, perhaps when he cared more. Now he knows better. His powers speak loud and clear. If he wished, he could wipe the entire base off the face of this godforsaken earth. It might be because of this fact, most soldiers abhor him.

They can’t help hating what they don’t understand.

Three well practiced knocks and a “come in!”, Ghost stands in front of the Captain. Price looks surprisingly chipper for the amount of files on his desk. That makes one of them.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Captain?”

Price flashes a warm smile (one he would call fatherly if the connotation didn’t want to make him want to puke) “I’m considering adding a new member to the 141”.

His first reaction is ‘fuck no’, and Price’s face sours at that. But Ghost is willing to entertain the Captain, so he asks, “you got any candidates?”.

Price motions to the dozen or so files on his desk, “take a look”.

Ghost raises an eyebrow before sitting down and taking one at random. Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… “Breathing underwater? Really.” Ghost shuts the folder and glances at Price, “I’ll take him when we go on a bust against ultranationalists from Atlantis”.

“Not everyone is as deadly as you, Simon” Price sighs, “go on, check the others.”

Several files later Ghost is left wondering how many practically useless revenants are out there. He’s sure just thinking this is considered some sort of blasphemy among Reapers, but as he wasn’t struck down by an eldritch being yet, it’s safe to say he’s free to continue looking down at them.

He knows deep down it’s not their powers that bother him. Hell, Garrick’s Gravity manipulation isn’t that lethal, but the Sergeant knows how to effectively use it to his advantage.

Ghost simply can’t see himself working with any of them. He understands they’re in desperate need for more taskforce members, no matter how strong its three revenants are, but if they’re about to add a forth, he better be useful.

Scouring the table, Ghost realizes he went through all folders already. Price picks up on that.

“None of them up to your standard?”

Ghost crosses his arms, “not in the slightest”.

He spots a personal file on a cabinet on Price’s left, “what’s with that one?” he nods towards it.

Price turns his head, “ah, he’s currently on a long term assignment. Higher ups aren’t gonna let that one transfer so easily.”

Ghost’s interest was piqued, and he leaned to grab it. Price didn’t stop him, but he had a weird glint in his eyes. Ghost gets the feeling this outcome wasn’t unplanned.

He opens the folder and a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back. He looks up at Price.

The captain tilts his head, “well? In terms of strength, no one gets close to MacTavish. I’d dare say you and him could be evenly matched-”

“I’ll take him.”

Price falters, “what?”

“I’ll accept a new member if it was Soap.” Ghost states, leaving no room for argument. A bubbling feeling of excitement washes through him, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The mountains of questions Soap left behind him come back to the forefront of his mind.

And he feels… hopeful.

Price shakes the surprise off his features, and he looks tiredly at the file, “...I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll do my best to get him.” He takes out a well deserved cigar, “I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you Captain”, the words don’t encapsulate just how grateful Ghost is.

“Now scram, I have about 50 calls to make.” Price waves his hand and picks up the phone. Ghost makes his exit before the Captain changes his mind.

Garrick returns from his assignment the following morning. The reason Ghost knows that is he watches the door to mess being slammed open while he tries to drink his morning tea.

“GHOST!” Gaz shouts, swiveling his head side to side, searching for him. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could actually go invisible like some rumors suggest.

But alas, he finds him quickly enough, and rushes to his table, uncaring of the several heads following his actions.

“Garrick” Ghost greets him, “how was the missio-”.

“We’re getting a new 141 member?!” Gaz cut him off, the excitement in his voice palpable, and he visibly starts floating a few inches off ground. Ghost tries to be annoyed with him, but he always found Gaz’s more energetic approach to life endearing.

“Nothing’s final yet, settle down.”

“But you know who it is, right?” Gaz sits in the chair in front of him, “c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

Ghost considers lying and saying he has no clue either, but he figures he might as well rip the band-aid now.

“It’s Sergeant MacTavish.” he tries to sound bored.

By the mischievous look on Garrick, he knows he failed miserably, “ohoho Ghost… Did you suggest your mysterious Sergeant to Price?” he grins like the menace he is, “seems like you won’t be able to hide what happened on ‘The Mission’ for much longer-”

Ghost slams his mug on the table, “nothing to hide, Sergeant.”

But Gaz is already 3 steps ahead in his brain, “I’ve heard he can create explosions, you think he could shoot up like a rocket? Could work well with my powers…”

Ghost stands up and groans, “he’s not a bloody spaceship Gaz, fuckin’ hell…”

He has a feeling Garrick and MacTavish will get along just fine.

The following days are… weird. Ghost never waited in anticipation for something as impatiently as he does right now. The clock seems to tick at a snail’s pace, and he finds his focus impaired. Thank his Reaper he’s not on a mission right about now…

Price is practically living in his office, constantly making calls and going through document after document. From what he understands, Soap is highly sought after for his explosion immunity, the best defuser there is.

Ghost is bitterly reminded of the huge pile of medical records in his personal file. That taste he rather not chase.

As for Gaz… His excitement grows by the day. It reminds Ghost that while the Sergeant is very friendly and always finds someone to talk to, he’s also one of the very few revenants on base.

He wonders if it feels as alienating as it does for him from time to time.

It’s not for 2 weeks later that he and Gaz are summoned to Price’s office. The place reeks of cigar smoke, and Price himself looks like he’s in need of at least 24 hours of sleep. But a triumphant attitude emanates from him in waves, and Ghost knows before he even opens his mouth what he’s about to say.

“It wasn’t easy, and I had to use every connection I had up there, but I got great news for you lads.”

Gaz smiles brightly, and turns his head to look at Ghost.

“I can finally say Sergeant Soap MacTavish is officially a member of the 141”.

Garrick cheers and floats high enough that Ghost has to drag him down before he slams his head against the ceiling, and sees the Captain’s expression shift.

“But…” Ghost starts for him. Of course this wouldn’t be this simple, nothing ever is.

Price exhales loudly, “Soap still has a couple of unfinished missions he will need to attend before he can join us fully.”

Gaz finally picks up on the mood shift, ‘...he will still be with us on base though, right?”

“Yes”, the Captain scratches under his iconic hat, and not for the first time Ghost wonders if it’s glued on with the way it refuses to fall off, “he will train with us, so take those few weeks as an opportunity to learn to work together. He’s quite powerful, and I think you will find… creative ways to work together.” with that last sentence, he glances at Ghost. Curious.

“When will the Sergeant arrive?” Ghost asks.

Price takes a quick look at the calendar, “3 days, early morning.”

That sends Garrick on a marathon of questions to Price, and Ghost retreats to into his mind.

3 days… 3 days and he will see those flames dance again. That Scottish lilt and crooked smile.

Ghost feels his mouth stretch in a hesitant smile, as if the muscles almost forgot the movement, and notices Price mirroring it.

Perhaps he could give a chance to hope.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! I appreciate it a lot <3

141 notes · View notes