#lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff#but I also just want to post it and get it out there#fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them#im bad at multiple drafts#my writing#dp x dc#dp x dc au#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#batman#i live to make everybody dramatic#but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic#lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade#and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so#he doesn't need to change for nobody#nor feels inclined to#also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable#jazz: let's unpack that#clockwork: we never do#jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING#wish i could#that is cash money right there#shoutout to 11thsense
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Snow being angry sejanus’ dick is bigger than his then being shut up by getting his back blown out lol
fem!reader for one line & anal sex woo!
he's poutier than usual. snappier than usual. more standoffish than usual. at first, you chalked it up to coriolanus being coriolanus. he could get like this sometimes, it wasn't anything to cause any concern.
but then a day became two which became four and you really just can't stand it anymore, so you're poking him in the side and forcing him to tell you what's wrong.
his claims of "nothing" go in one ear and out the other, solely because you know it's something. coriolanus snow doesn't let 'nothing' bother him. it takes a few more pokes, some empty threats, and even then his admission slips out practically on accident.
"go bother sejanus and his big dick instead." he's turning away from you as he says it, voice dripping with copious amounts of green dyed jealousy. although it shouldn't, it makes you laugh a little.
mostly because you know exactly what he's talking about, something you'd said to sejanus in the heat of the moment. taking coriolanus from the back, urging sejanus to fill up your mouth, and you know how big sejanus is, but every time you see him is like the first time.
"god, sej, you're so big," you'd told him, practically drooling at just the sight. coriolanus' thrusts had faltered at the time, but he resumed quick enough for you to not consider it. not until now.
"oh, coryo," you coo, twirling a ringlet of blond around your pointer finger. "i didn't mean it like that. swear." he doesn't say anything, clearly unconvinced. so you do what you can.
wrapping your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him on the couch and resting your chin on his shoulder. "you know i love your dick too. but sejanus' is different." you kiss the side of his neck. "you just have to feel it one day."
and it's a miracle that you both coax coriolanus into trying it, laying him back while sejanus prepped his tight hole and you held his hand, splattering soothing kisses along the skin of his chest and shoulders. "doing so good, coryo," you told him from time to time, even sliding your hand down and giving his cock a few tugs to help him relax more.
and when sejanus slips in, you watch coriolanus' face. first, stoic, obviously a little nervous. then the discomfort, a pinch between his eyebrows, a minute frown on his pretty pink lips before they part in an inaudible gasp. you keep your hand circling his tip, trying to distract one feeling with the other, while sejanus does the same by running his thumb back and forth on the skin of sejanus' hip.
then comes your favorite part, when the burning and discomfort becomes worth it. when sejanus starts rocking his hips back and forth in steady thrusts and the pleasure kicks in.
coriolanus actually says "oh", inciting a giggle from you and a chuckle from sejanus.
"yeah? 's good right, coryo?" you ask, ghosting your nails up the skin of his cock. he nods, licking his lips and letting his head fall further back, the crown of his blond tresses rubbing against the mattress.
"it's so good. don't stop. please." he's the most desperate he's ever been, voice borderline whiny and shamelessly breathy. it makes you dig the heel of your foot into your cunt, trying to get any possible friction. sejanus notices, but he doesn't help, instead focused on coriolanus' pleasure and you selflessly decide to do the same.
sejanus' brown eyes flick over coriolanus' body, taking it all in, before they sink back down to where his cock is moving through the inexperienced ring of coriolanus' asshole. he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he groans deep.
when he speaks, it's through that position.
"i won't stop, coryo." coriolanus' nickname sounds prettier than usual from sejanus' lips like this. he continues speaking before you can dwell on it.
"just tell me one thing: is it as big as she says it is?" you know he knows the answer to that, you're sure all three of you do. but he wants to make coriolanus admit it.
you look to him for the answer. it comes simple and curt from pretty pink lips.
"yes."
#coryosworld!#sejsworld!#coriolanus snow x sejanus plinth#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow smut#sejanus plinth smut#celeste writes thg
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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night
I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.
(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)
Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.
Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours
Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.
Word Count: 1085
TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader
Ghost
Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play
Doesn't believe him.
You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?
There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range
He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.
"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."
Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."
"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."
He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.
From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.
Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.
He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.
Soap
Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.
"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.
"Already wanting to see me strip?"
You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.
Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.
You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was
"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?
"My What?"
"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"
"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."
If looks could kill, he'd be dead.
That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.
Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.
You know a lot.
Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.
Gaz
He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?
This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.
When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.
"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."
"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.
"Any pain when you walk on it?"
"Possibly....yes."
"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."
It was just a sprain
Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.
Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.
Wouldn't have it any other way.
Price
Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed
Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.
He knows how soap and gaz the boys are
Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.
"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."
The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"
"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."
Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.
You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.
He agrees with you.
The rookie looks over at Price.
"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."
Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.
Roach
This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge
Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet
Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.
Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off
You don't let him
"You're limping, sit down."
He just waves it off, "'m good."
"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."
Does not stay.
You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.
You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.
"I'll rest right here."
"Good."
Stubborn but still okay with medical help
Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.
"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"
"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."
"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"
"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"
"..."
"Gary???"
You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.
#ghost x male reader#mw2 x male reader#simon ghost riley#cod mw2#mw2#ghost#captain price#john soap mactavish#simon riley#captain price x male reader#soap x male reader#ghost x m!reader#soap x m!reader#captain price x m!reader#gary roach sanderson#mw2 roach#roach x male reader#roach x m!reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick x male reader#gaz x male reader#gaz mw2#gaz x m!reader#cod x male reader#x male reader#x male y/n#x m! reader#simon riley x male reader#john price x male reader#ash's writings
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Hii<3 I really love your poly 141 hcs and I come here like every 5 minutes lol
How do you think each of the boys would try to impress reader and make the others jealous?
getting through the requests so slowly ☠ but thank you sm baby <33 hope you enjoy! 🤍 rushed/ooc
this is just the jealous part, i feel like i've already written how they try to impress you <33 but feel free to request :)
poly 141 x reader: jealousy
price exercises his leadership, never in a harmful way. but he's the captain for a reason. if he catches ghost/gaz/soap trying to come close to you he's already ordering them on another task on the pretense of preparing for the mission. this man is ruthless, he pratically dares them to come close. locks you away in his office, has you sitting pretty on his chair with his bucket hat on you. already scenting you, unbeknownst to you. but you smell covered in his cologne
ghost shows off his strength, working out extra long whenever you're around. he's internally laughing when he sees your eyes staring at him and he'll offer you the chance to touch them. looking at the rest of the 141 with a smug look. he exploits his advantage, getting any and every opportunity he can to get you to touch him which only serves to infuriates the others and boost his ego. gets any chance to rub his musk on you so the others know especially you were around him
gaz will simply spoil you, his method is different. he's buying you gifts and pretty things, showing you with love. and absolutely cocky when he sees you wearing the jewellery he's bought you, smirking at the rest of the team because you had his gift on you. walks around with his chest puffed out because his gifts are touching your skin, adorning your body. offers to help you place them on but secretly just wants to touch your skin and nuzzle you close.
soap will try anything to get you to laugh, especially when you're around the others. and then he's looking at the rest of the men with a cocky look knowing they could never get you to laugh just as hard as he can. bundling you in big bear hugs which results in ghost twitching his eye and price and gaz holding back by a string not to fight him. squeezes you extra close in pure pettiness
but as hot as jealousy can be, it's not something the boys enjoy at all
thankfully it doesn't happen most times but on the occasional times, it's intense
it has them double guessing and a lot of insecurities stem from it, it has them lashing at the other team members first and then on you
gaz and soap need to be comforted with physical touch, that you still love them, no favourites
gaz will wrap his arms tight around you, his face buries in the crown of your head while he's rocking you both softly
johnny is the type of snuggle deep into your chest, his arms attached to your waist. he's so unwilling to let you go, like a clingy baby <3
they both don't speak any words, their love flows through their actions.
ghost and price need to be reassured first, especially if you're much younger than them. it has them double guessing the whole thing
ghost has a bad tendency to become closed off and he won't want to even speak to you. but he's only human and he's weak, he'll spill to you what's bothering him
price almost feels guilty acting this way, especially because he doesn't mean to be so jealous. it just happens and he feels so terrible, unable to look at you in the eye
but it takes some time for your words to reach their hearts and finally when they relax and loosen up, it's hard to pry either one off from you.
and then a group hug with all four, each man muttering how the other needs to learn how to share which almost results in another fight but you intervene
and they calm down, going back to hug you again
the night ends depending on you, cuddles or sex ;)
#asks#simon riley#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#john price#ghost x reader#kyle gaz garrick#cod 141#141 x reader#task force 141
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heyyy! i love ur writingg sm I recently discovered ur blog - (I also love ur biooooo!), I had this idea and I thought I would share it w you!
imagine reader is simon’s wife/fiancé and a medic, and like an old married couple, reader tells Simon off in front of the rest of the 141 and he’s like lost for words 😭😭 that’s all, I just wanna hear your thoughts hahah! much love 💕
aww thanks so much anon! you're very sweet :3 hopefully this was what you wanted! sometimes i get requests and just run with it...lol enjoy!
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
"You seriously should not have done that, Ghost. What were you thinking out there?" You shouted as you walked into the shared kitchenette. You were following Ghost and trying to keep up with his large strides, but you were not even close to catching up.
"I was being careful, Y/N, but even if I wasn't, that's what I signed up for when I took this job." He slammed his handgun on the table and started ripping off his vest and gear in an inpatient manner. You were too distracted to notice that the rest of the troop was also in the kitchen, eating quietly as you entertained them with your bickering.
"Look, I'm just trying to make sure you know you don't have to-" You paused, "risk your life all the time." You were making a cup of coffee as Ghost caged you in from behind, pressing his chest against your back and kissed the side of you neck carefully, slowly. All you heard was the clearing of throats, most likely coming from Soap, and the heartbeat steadily thumping from Ghost's chest.
"Don't worry about me so much, Miss Medic." He started walking away as you slammed your mug down on the counter, "Well, you can't just tell me to not worry about you! For goodness' sake, I would've killed myself if you'd died." Tears were starting to brim at your waterline, and they would've poured if Captain Price hadn't abruptly stood up, "Simon, a word?"
Ghost rolled his eyes, reluctantly following Price like a little kid getting in trouble. All you saw was the two of them walk into Price's office and the door shutting behind them.
You turned back around to mix sugar into your now-cold coffee. "Don't worry about it too much, miss." Soap said as you sniffled, "As brilliant as the man is, he doesn't think he's worthy of being looked after."
Soap got up from his seat, folding the newspaper he was reading, and walked over to you. Putting his hand on your shoulder, " 'Ts not his fault though." He patted a few times before sliding the newspaper underneath your coffee mug, letting the spilled coffee soak through the material.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
"Simon, you have to remember why that woman does what she does. It's not 'cause she needs you to be unwounded for insurance reasons, it's not like she needs you alive to stay hired. That woman loves you," Price said, pointing at the door signaling he meant you, the said woman standing in the kitchen.
Ghost sat down in a chair, leaning his elbow on an armrest and leaning his head on his hand.
He sighed aggressively, "I know." He rubbed his face with a gloved hand before he repeated, "I know, Price."
"Well then, do something 'bout it!"
Ghost looked Price in the eyes for a good minute before nodding slightly and standing up from his seat and opening the door to the kitchen. Price sneaked out from behind him, leaving the kitchen after whispering, "There's some paperwork that's calling me." Simon smirked knowing good and well that every paper he'd need was in the room they were just in, but quietly watched as Price walked off into a different room entirely.
You sat at the table, with your cup of coffee and blank eyes staring into space. Ghost stared back at you, hoping some satellite would signal to your brain that he was sorry, that he really did love how you needed him, but staring alone wasn't going to get through to you; he was going to have to speak.
He sat down in the chair across from you, the metal screeching at his size, his knees slightly bumping the table and making your coffee ripple.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. You finally looked up at him, resting your head in your palm. He loved the way your cheek looked smushed against your hand, the way your eyes looked at him when you wanted to say something but didn't know exactly what.
"It's okay. I was probably being a bit overprotective. Over someone that doesn't really need it." You said, gently placing your foot on top of his giant boot underneath the table.
He smiled at the action and started slowly bouncing his foot up and down, moving yours on top of his. "Who said I don't need it? I get into trouble all the time, you know that."
Chuckling at the thought, you said, "You're reckless," underneath your breath. He noticed, however, "So bloody reckless," he repeated as he stood up from his seat and circled the table around to you.
Ghost towered over you, and as you stood up, he still was over a foot taller than you. His chest was at your eye level, and he loved the way your chin upturned in order to look at him properly. Sometimes he'd pick up your jaw for you and hold it in place with his giant hand.
"You forgive me?" He said, leaning down to your face.
"Of course." You stepped a little closer, slightly teasing him by pushing your body against his.
His finger met your jaw, tracing the soft outline of it, while staring dead at your mouth, "Good." Ghost started to lean into you even more and put his lips on yours until the door opened, "WAHOOO THEY MADE UP! GAZ GET IN HERE NOW." Soap exclaimed at the sight of you and Ghost in close proximity, the way you should be. You heard Gaz running down the hallway, his dog tags rattling against each other before he slid on his toes into the room. He slammed a hand on Soap's chest, "See, I told you they'd be fine. They're practically already married anyways; nothing could break the old geezers."
#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#modern warfare#simon riley#circe69scribbles
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Tell us more about your little homestucks?
ok.. ill only go over my descendent ocs because they're the ones ive been posting about recently, i have too many homestuck ocs to cover lol..
mayosi pyrope is the first descendent oc i made back when there was a brief trend on twitter to make, fan descendants of the trolls. i think i was inspired by ko's descendent acarid, and terezi being one of my favorite trolls i ended up making a bootleg pyrope. (and i draw them together all the time bc they rot my brain)
they're a radical transmasc weeaboo skater "vigilante" who grew up being raised by humans in a very normal average household where they got basically anything they wanted with no issues. their interests include; dishing out justice, watching animes, playing videogames, and doing sick tricks on their board. they wield a katana that resembles terezi's dragon cane.. they're my simplest designed character, and though they look a lot like terezi with a skirt and long hair their design was heavily influenced by dirk because i imagined that dirk has influenced some kind of anime character that mayosi obsesses over and has based their look on..
they aren't at all interested in, being a lawyer or anything like that and would like to take care of bad guys samurai batman style in their ideal world.. unfortunately the loving gently parenting of their human family didn't toughen them up enough so they're mostly a baby who doesn't do well when faced with conflict. mayosi's easily bossed around by anyone who firmly tells them to do something because they're too scared to step up and stand up for themself and others, they have a lot of shame for not being as strong and cool as terezi or red glare. real wet blanket.
uuuh like terezi, they weren't always blind. they were lured in by their ex best friend now super complex hate not boyfriend acarid and he poured acid into their eyes, ruining their vision and giving them crazy chem burn scars.. i think around this time they were also given their super rad pointy shades so they can look more like their hero, but it was a major blow to their confidence since not only are they a weak coward they're now a weak coward who can't see. they eventually learn to navigate the world via sound waves, its not as effective as terezi's sniff and taste vision but mayosi isnt as interested as smelling and licking everything in their presence.
example of what i think it's like for them here..
theyyy are convinced by acarid to join him in his perfect sburb sesh, where they eventually grow a pair and cut off his arm and gouge his eyes before being shot in the brain and killed dead without ever waking on their moon. (sad) mayosi's feelings about acarid, who essentially abuses and manipulates them constantly, are very complicated because they feel an obligation to take on the brunt of his crazy in order to protect everyone but also because they cling to the nostalgic memories they have of him and are hoping he'll one day go back to that.
kokesi megido is based on kokeshi dolls, i think she sees ghosts and is really scared of them so she's super skittish and is always finding ways to shoo them away.. she probably knows how to speak japanese ig, i dont have a lot to say about her unfortunately.. i like how her design turned out though.
grimir maryam and romato vantas are brothers adopted into a rich human family, they're both spoiled brats and are constantly bickering with each other when they aren't pretending the other exists. grimir is mute and likes to garden (sooo original, i know) and romato speaks a lot and is a hopeless romantic writer. shrug.
i don't have as much to talk about. for any of my descendents other than mayosi because i have a really hard time developing ocs when i dont have people to bounce ideas off of. i mean most of mayosi was formed around acarid's existence and from ko's influence, otherwise they also wouldn't be developed . sorry .
#oc#ask#homestuck#fantroll#im not very good at working on ocs#i mostly just design them and pput them on a shelf
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bloodsport – IV
prologue | one | two | three | next
characters: vladimir makarov
summary: your first time back in the field is a whirlwind of emotions, especially after being forced to rely on yet another enemy. new information is revealed, and you realize that a drastic action may be the only way to fix this mess.
genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)
warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, poorly written spec-ops, allusions to trauma and stress, reader has a bit of a breakdown, graves lol
word count: 6k
note: giving a quick PSA here— please be mindful about what y'all write. i know this fic is about a very controversial and problematic character, but i try to be mindful about how i portray him and his actions. don't romanticize things that should not be romanticized, and be respectful to people. COD as a whole is problematic, but that doesn't mean we need to be a shitty community. support real victims, don't spread hate. easy peasy.
also, yes, i changed my formatting. the little text is too hard to read without my glasses, so... yeah. hope it's not ugly now :)
you spend the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying but failing to will yourself to fall asleep. soap texts you shortly before the sun comes up - a picture of himself and the rest of the team, posing for the camera. they're covered in dirt and ash, exhaustion apparent in their eyes, but the image is enough to make you crack a smile.
you give them a few hours, pulling yourself out of bed after sunrise and occupying yourself with mundane tasks around the house, before picking up the phone and calling price.
"hey, captain. sorry for calling so early." you chuckle, leaning against the arm of the couch.
"don't worry about it," price clears his throat, hoarse from fatigue, and you wonder for a second if he was asleep before you called. "was just finishing some paperwork. what d'you need?"
a low sigh escapes from you. "i know it's only been a day, but... can i come back? i really want to get back to work."
you can hear papers shuffling from his end. "i know you want to work, but we just can't take the risk—"
"there isn't going to be any risk," you assert, raising your voice slightly and interrupting him. you pause and wet your lips, speaking in a softer tone again. "please, captain, i know i can handle it. i just want to get back to normal already."
the line is quiet for a long moment, with price silently deliberating over your request. you shift nervously, gripping the phone tighter as you wait impatiently for a response.
finally, after you shift for the umpteenth time, he exhales deeply.
"i'll see if i can convince laswell, okay?" he concedes. you can hear his chair creaking as he leans back - you're assuming, at least. "pack your bags. i'll send a transport helicopter in an hour."
⋆⋆⋆
that's how you ended up at base again, with the team welcoming you back with open arms. laswell initially rejected the idea, stating the same concerns as before, but price managed to sway her after some discussion.
so, now you're in a meeting room, gathered around a table with lists, blueprints, names, pictures— any and all of the intel that the task force has gotten their hands on, scattered across the surface. you blink when price raps his knuckles against the tabletop, drawing your attention.
it's laswell who talks, shooting a glance around the table to address the group. "as you're all aware, shadow company has been a target of the konni group in recent times," she starts, sending you a cursory look, asking you for confirmation. you nod, and she continues. "not only have they been fighting the group head-on in al-mazrah, but there's been several incidents with undercover konni operatives in their ranks."
"good, let 'em fuckin' deal with it." soap remarks, earning noises of agreement from gaz, ghost, and yourself. price and laswell aren't as entertained by it.
"general shepherd, commander graves, and their men betrayed us." laswell pauses before letting out a heavy sigh. "i know none of you were happy about the ceasefire, and i know that you were furious when graves resurfaced. but, besides farah's forces, shadow company is our strongest ally."
"—and the only one capable of making any strong moves without risking an all-out war." price adds, shaking his head. everyone's displeased with the situation, that much is obvious.
"where are you goin' with this?" ghost asks. a tense silence fills the room for a long moment, making you shift awkwardly.
laswell motions towards the door on the far side of the room with her head. you cast your gaze in the same direction, watching as the door is pushed open.
as if on cue, the very man that should've been buried in flames in las almas walks into the room. the shadow himself. philip graves.
"oh, fuck off." soap growls at the man, looking ready to lunge at him from across the table. ghost steps forward and, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was reaching for his sidearm. gaz and price are eerily quiet while glaring daggers at him, and you immediately feel the blood rush to your ears as every nerve commands you to shoot him yourself.
"i know this isn't ideal," laswell attempts to placate all of you, though the cold stare she regards him with betrays her calm demeanor. "but, for now, we're allies. we have a bigger threat to worry about."
"yeah, those konni guys are, uh..." graves perks up, languidly sauntering up to the table. he purses his lips for a second, thinking, before clicking his tongue. "real troublesome. i've lost a lot of good men thanks to them."
"good." ghost mutters, straightening himself next to soap.
price cuts through the tension with a wave of his hand. "alright, none of us want this, but we've got no other options." he grumbles. "konni's moving towards urzikstan. if we want to stop 'em, then we need to cooperate."
you eye graves from your peripherals, recalling the information that makarov gave you a couple weeks ago. graves isn't in on shepherd's plan, but he's likely the only person who knows the general's whereabouts. you need to say something while you still can. how will he take the news, though? he's betrayed you before, he'll do it again if it benefits him.
"petra, you listening?" laswell's voice abruptly interrupts your thoughts. you divert your attention back to her and notice that everyone's focus is on you.
"i have something i need to say," you blurt out. you need to bring up the general before he potentially ropes graves in.
you receive a collection of interested stares, urging you to go on.
"when i was captured, i managed to get some information," you drop your gaze, narrowing your eyes at the documents laid out. "we're not just fighting konni and al-qatala. some of the forces occupying al-mazrah are under shepherd's command."
the silence that falls over the room is almost deafening. the group balks at you with shock and confusion written on their expressions, until graves huffs out a laugh.
"general shepherd's 'forces' are my men. i can assure you, petra, that none of my shadows are workin' with konni." he says with a lopsided smile, confident as ever.
you turn to face graves fully, grimacing. "i'm not talking about your shadows. shepherd has another group under his command."
"what group?" price asks.
"cia operatives. ex-soldiers, specifically." you turn back, eyes flitting between price and laswell. "he's sending men undercover. the unmarked mercenaries that we keep encountering? that's them."
laswell shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "where did you get this information?"
you freeze. your mouth opens to say makarov's name, but for some reason, you hesitate. with a deep inhale, you blink away the odd feeling and force the words past your lips.
"makarov. i'm not sure why, but he told me about it."
yet another unbearable tension befalls the group; you're getting close to ripping your hair out over it. as if reading your thoughts, gaz speaks up.
"you know about this?" he says, directed at graves. he's tight-lipped, glowering at him.
graves doesn't respond, letting the question hang in the air. he looks just as surprised as the rest of you - makarov was telling the truth, then. shadow company isn't in on the plan. shepherd has effectively betrayed his strongest ally, to your knowledge.
"i'm sure there's an explanation," graves utters, chuckling to himself. "war's a dirty business. there's good reason to send men undercover."
"he's got part of the special activities division in his pocket." laswell says.
"isn't that where you pulled alex from?" price hums, earning a nod in reply. it's a bad situation, to say the least.
you regain everyone's attention and continue. "i don't know the full plan, but makarov suspected that shepherd's doing this to put himself back on top. start a war, get himself marked as a hero, reap the rewards."
graves raises a brow at you, amusement written on his face. "and, we should trust the judgement of a terrorist?" he says while searching the room for support.
price keeps his gaze on you, though the distant look in his eye tells you that his mind is elsewhere. "i'd trust this one's judgement." he mutters, jaw clenching.
"well, there's no point in standin' around, is there?" graves seems to bounce back quickly, shrugging off the news. "we've got a job to do and a terrorist to catch. let's focus on that."
"i'll contact farah and see if alex knows anything about the men under shepherd's command." laswell says as you all break away from the table and start to file out of the room.
"keep us updated," price nods to her before turning to the rest of you. "wheels up in thirty. we'll debrief on the way."
you breathe out a relieved sigh once everyone breaks off, heading off to finish any last minute preparations before takeoff. you linger in the corridor, running a hand down your face and groaning into the palm of your hand. of course, you have no choice but to work with an enemy whilst relying on intel from yet another. at least you can be open with your team about this one.
shepherd and makarov are your targets. graves comes after. take down all three, and your headaches are gone. no more doubting yourself, no more questions, no more nights spent looking at lists of crimes that make you feel sick. you can resume your not-so-peaceful life with the rest of the task force and celebrate the world being a somewhat safer place.
your phone buzzes in your pocket, distracting you from your pondering and pulling you back to the present. you frown at the name on the caller id.
it's a single letter: 'v.'
after your conversation - if you can even call it that - with makarov last night, you saved his number. putting his name in your phone is basically shooting yourself in the foot, so you saved it under a name that gives you deniability in the event someone sees it.
you duck into an empty rec room nearby and accept the call, keeping an eye on the door as you lift the phone to your ear.
"you actually picked up the phone this time." makarov remarks upon you answering. your frown deepens, brows furrowing.
"if you don't have anything important to say, i'm hanging up."
he chuckles, far too casual for your liking. "i have an update. something that i'm sure you'll be interested in."
you shift, leaning against the back of one of the couches. "what is it?"
"in case you're planning to return to al-mazrah, just know that shepherd's men have been given strict orders to target and eliminate members of the one-four-one."
a chill creeps up the back of your spine. it's an unsurprising order, but you still rack your brain as to why he gave it. does shepherd somehow know that you know about his plans? it shouldn't be possible— until the meeting that finished just minutes ago, the only people privy to the knowledge were makarov and yourself.
of course, shepherd's allies are aware of it, but the only ally of his that you've contacted is graves. you doubt that he's talked to the general in the short amount of time since, which eliminates graves as a possibility just as quickly as you suspected him.
there has to be another source. someone feeding him information, keeping the one-four-one under watch.
"shepherd's got a mole in our group." you reply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "fucking hell. he knows that we're onto him."
"'we,' lieutenant?" he comments with an amused lilt in his tone.
"my team, asshole. he's got men undercover in your group and in my squad. he's watching all of his enemies."
makarov hums, voice dropping a little. "you have a keen eye, petra. have you asked the shadow about shepherd's whereabouts, yet?" he asks, brushing past your frustration.
"haven't had the chance," you mutter. "based on his reaction to the news, i doubt he'll give it away, though. we might have to get the location ourselves."
he exhales, audible through the phone. "it would be more convenient if you could convince him to tell you."
you roll your eyes. "yeah, of course it would. just don't expect any miracles. aren't you the one with all the mysterious ways of gathering information, anyway?" you grumble sarcastically and move away from the couch, starting to pace around the room while keeping your gaze on the door.
"i can get his location if necessary, but that would eliminate your usefulness in this operation, wouldn't it?"
he's right, and you hate him for it. "you still need me to kill him." you counter bluntly.
"i can do that, too. your team wants revenge for his betrayal. this is me being charitable - don't disappoint."
makarov ends the call before you have the chance to argue, leaving you to huff to yourself in the empty room. a moment later, a head pokes around the doorway, startling you and nearly making you drop your phone when you jump.
gaz is regarding you with a sly grin as he fully reveals himself and steps into the room. your palms immediately moisten with sweat as worry floods your mind - how much did he just hear?
"so, who you talkin' to?" gaz cocks his head to the side, teasing. he's relaxed, standing in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.
you pocket your phone and flash a calm smile. "that depends. you have any guesses?"
he chuckles, lifting one of his hands to playfully stroke at his chin as he thinks. "let's see... i know you weren't home for long, but—" his grin morphs into a lopsided smirk as he eyes you suspiciously. "y'got a boyfriend?"
dear god, no.
you resist the urge to gag at the thought and shake your head. "nope, it's just a... friend of mine."
gaz leans forward, an inquisitive 'ah' tumbling from his lips. "a friend, eh? they got a name?" he asks.
"he, uh... just goes by 'v.'"
"'v?' like the letter?"
you answer with an affirmative "mhm," patting gaz on the shoulder as you brush past him. "it's a nickname i gave him. don't worry about it."
gaz groans in exasperation as you stroll towards the door, trying to ignore the way your heart races. lying is a normal part of the job, but lying to your team? generally not recommended.
"most 'just friends' don't have exclusive nicknames, you know!" gaz calls out from behind as you round the corner and start down the hall, leaving him alone.
a sick part of you finds the sentiment - makarov, being anything more than an enemy - entertaining, but your better judgement steers you back on track. you've got a mission to prepare for, and the likelihood of something going wrong is as high as ever. you need to focus on the mission and getting graves to give up shepherd.
⋆⋆⋆
shadow company's gunship is a familiar sight as you climb aboard, slipping past the groups of shadows and finding your teammates gathered around what you can only describe as the command center. graves is standing close by, though the tension is palpable as you approach.
after the aircraft lifts off is when graves talks, addressing the soldiers lining the seats of the craft.
"alright, now i know we've had our problems in the past," he starts, briefly acknowledging your group before turning back to his men. "however, none of that matters right now. the one-four-one is our ally on this mission; treat 'em like your own. copy that, shadows?"
johnny snorts from next to you. "where have we heard this before?" he mumbles.
there's a resounding "yep-yep" from his men, accompanied by several nods and looks in your direction. graves pats one of the soldiers on the shoulder and looks to price.
"think you can lay out the rest, captain."
price starts down the middle row, his voice booming even over the sounds of people checking their weapons, gear, and anxiously shifting in their seats. he moves slowly, practically stalking down the length of the gunship.
"the mission is simple: konni and al-qatala have set up bases across the city. they're using gas, heavy artillery, and stolen weapons to protect themselves." price stops for a moment and lets his gaze drag over the soldiers staring back at him. "i don't think i need to remind you shadows of what konni's done to your brothers in arms. we're going to break off into strike teams - eight men - and destroy these bases. alpha team will take the nerve center in the heart of the city. you already know your assignments."
graves speaks again once price goes quiet. "the commanders are not likely going to be in any of these field bases. but, if they are, then each and every single one of you has execute authority." he announces. "first man to bag an HVT gets a reward." he adds with a smirk, earning light laughter from several of his men.
when the speeches conclude, you settle back in your seat.
alpha team includes yourself, price, graves, and five of the shadows that graves handpicked. ghost, soap, and gaz are leading the bravo team, charged with the largest and best-guarded of the field bases. the commanding chain within shadow company are leading the other groups tasked with the bases scattered around the city.
you fish your phone out of one of your vest pockets when it buzzes, reading the notification on the screen.
there's an agent in your group
11:06 am
not a shadow. special forces.
11:06 am
you frown, angling the screen back and quickly scanning the group. everyone seems to be engrossed in conversation, giving you a chance to respond.
do you have a name?
11:07 am
not yet. he's a rookie.
11:07 am
he's stationed at the base you're staying at
11:07 am
check the files. should have transferred recently.
11:08 am
thank you.
11:08 am
don't mention it.
11:09 am
you're quick to tuck your phone away again, jolting when gaz suddenly addresses you.
"texting your boyfriend, eh?" he laughs, catching everyone's attention.
soap snorts and turns to you. "since when did you start dating?"
you wave them off, sitting up again as all eyes fall on you - even ghost, who is usually horribly uninterested in gossip.
"what are you two, schoolchildren?" you ask, earning playful noises of offense. "he's just a friend. not even a close one."
you're getting yourself caught up in a lie. a shitty one, at that. all it's doing is making people more interested in who you're talking to. at this rate, you'll get caught by the end of the day.
"bullshit— no one in this job talks to a person this much if they're not special." gaz counters, pointing an accusatory finger at you.
price chuckles. "c'mon, gaz. come off it," he lightly scolds the sergeant before looking at you. "just make sure he treats you nice, yeah?" he adds, both teasing and sincere at the same time.
"he's not my— yeah, okay. i'll remember that." you concede, slumping back in your seat.
the topic is dropped not long after, leaving you to relax as people talk around you. after a couple minutes, you can feel your eyelids start to droop, reminding you of how restless last night was. the trip's going to take a while, you might as well get some sleep while you still can.
⋆⋆⋆
everything is so hot. the sun, the ground, your clothes, the air— you.
you don't have any protective gear on, your sidearm secured in your loose grip as you stumble through the ruins where a city once stood.
that's right, you think. the city was destroyed in all the fighting. reduced to nothing more than rubble. you remember when there used to be buildings here; half-toppled and abandoned, but they stood as evidence of life nonetheless.
you falter, landing on your knee and hissing as it hits the solid ground below you. your vision starts to blur as your eyes water, forcing you to rub at them with your free hand in a desperate attempt to clear them.
when you blink rapidly, trying to force back the disorientation and bleariness, you notice a figure directly ahead of you.
an ally. a friend. someone that can help.
you force yourself to your feet and stagger towards them, sucking in a hopeful breath when they start to rush to meet you. the harsh sun— fuck, it's so hot— makes you squint, preventing you from making out a face until they're already pulling you into their embrace, strong arms holding you close to their chest.
"it's okay." their voice— his voice, reassures you softly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head, cradling you impossibly closer. "i took care of it, my dear. you're safe now."
hot tears streak down your cheeks, dirty with sand, dust, and ash, as you wrap your arms around his middle. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a hiccup and a pathetic sob, so you resolve to burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your cries.
you're tired. exhausted, actually. for once in this career, you want to be selfish. you want to be the protected one. fighting, losing allies, killing— it never ends.
he shushes you, but even in your state, you can tell the action is unnatural. gentleness, empathy, tender care... it isn't who he is.
you manage to lift your head enough to look at him, eyes glassy with tears.
makarov stares back at you, his callous gaze betraying the way he holds you. it makes you pause, confused, as you slowly recall why you're even here.
you were fighting konni operatives. there was a missile— no, something bigger. something that decimated the city and would have taken you along with it, had you not ducked into a shelter at the very last second. when you emerged, shaken and dazed in the aftershock, you encountered al-qatala and konni mercenaries alike.
bodies scattered in the streets, men wheezing for air despite blood displacing the oxygen in their lungs and leaking from every orifice, some still trying to fight even as they collapse in heaps of pure agony, writhing on the ground alongside their brothers in arms.
you wince when his fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, his forefinger hooking under your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes after your gaze drifts away.
"their lives mean nothing," makarov whispers, barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage. "not compared to you. you're better, stronger, than them. you will serve me well. you will help me usher in a new age."
he runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, slightly chapped from the dry heat. on instinct, you part your lips, and he moves his hand to cup your face before leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.
it's wrong. this is wrong.
you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be doing this.
the kiss is a distraction, keeping you occupied as his other hand falls from its spot on your hip. you don't even notice the change until a gunshot rings out, and pain equally as burning as the kiss courses through your veins.
you can't even muster a proper cry as you pull back, one of your own hands flying to the epicenter of the pain, right in the middle of your stomach. your fingers brush against the spot, and you whimper when you lift them back up to your face. dark red stains your skin, dripping down your wrist.
"i just need to fix you first. under my guidance... you will be perfect, my dear." makarov mutters, catching you and holding you up when you crumple against him. he coos at you, sympathetic yet mocking, as he scoops you up in his arms, the world around you going dark.
⋆⋆⋆
you wake up with a start, shifting to the edge of your seat as you frantically rub at your eyes. there's an ache deep in the pit of your stomach, making you press your palm against the same spot as your dream.
this time, when you look down at your hand, you see nothing. a shaky sigh escapes from you at the sight - or, rather, the lack thereof.
"y'all right?" ghost asks, eyeing you from the seat across from you.
"yeah, yeah—" you respond, shaking off the lingering effects of the dream. "we almost there?"
price comes over, having been talking with graves some feet away, and pats your shoulder in acknowledgement. "about to touch down, actually. let's go."
you disembark alongside the rest of alpha team, taking up formation with price and graves, with the few shadow company operatives behind the three of you. reaching the building isn't a difficult task despite the many mercenaries standing between it and your team; as much as you hate to admit it, the shadows are skilled in the field, even with their misgivings.
the building is another high rise, like the one you infiltrated weeks ago, half-crumpled from the effects of the fighting in the city. price leads the group as you all enter it through a sizeable hole in the wall, clearing out the first floor with trained precision.
the group of shadows form a perimeter just outside as you investigate the interior with price and graves, finding it... empty?
"thought you said this was the nerve center," you mutter, turning to the men as they search around, equally as perplexed as you. "there's nothing here."
price shakes his head, standing up from where he was crouched over some rubble. "there was something here. they must've moved."
"they knew we were comin'." graves says with a frustrated huff. "probably just protecting it to keep up the charade. the real control center could be anywhere in the city."
the two start for the exit with you in tow. "could be outside of it for all we know. we need to contact the other squads." price replies before pausing at the threshold and angling his head upwards. you stop several feet back and send him a confused look, before a low rumbling echoes throughout the building, sending dust and small debris falling from the floors above.
the rumbling stops for a second, until a louder, harsher one follows. larger pieces of wreckage start to loosen and threaten to fall, small bits clattering against the ground.
"shit, the building's too unstable— it's gonna collapse—!" price shouts as a metal beam crashes into the ground less than twenty feet away from you.
while price and graves are able to duck out amidst the falling debris, you're forced to dive backwards after a piece of the floor above falls right into your path. you search for a way around it, but as the violent shaking increases and sends more collapsing down all around you, you realize that cover might be your only option.
you scan the room quickly and dive under a pile of slabs and beams, sturdy enough to not collapse under the weight of falling wreckage, but with just enough room for you to squeeze in underneath.
it's only seconds after you find cover that the thundering sounds of heavy rubble crashing down all around you fills your ears, forcing you to cover them with your hands as each crash makes you flinch.
the worst of the destruction is short-lived. a couple minutes pass by before you're willing to move, the occasional piece of the upper floors still collapsing around you every now and then. you let out a trembling breath once you emerge, pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.
the exit. you hastily search for it, but all hope drains from you when you find it and see that it's completely blocked by the wreckage.
"petra? can you hear me?" price's voice crackles through your radio.
you go to respond, coughing harshly due to all the dirt and dust floating in the air. "i hear you— i'm all right," you tear your eyes from the exit and look for another path. it's a big building, surely you can find something. "just stuck in here." you grumble into the radio.
"we're gonna try to find another way in, see if you can meet us somewhere." he says. you can hear graves barking orders at his men in the background. "be careful." price adds in a rushed tone.
you drop your hand from your radio and clutch your gun close as you carefully traverse the field of debris, mentally thanking whatever higher power that the building only partially collapsed on top of you, instead of crushing you completely.
every movement out the corner of your eyes makes you stop and aim your weapon at it; it's highly unlikely - but not impossible - that you're not alone. anyone could've snuck in after the collapse, or hidden themselves like you did. al-qatala, konni, shepherd's men— you have a lot of enemies and very few allies in the area.
you spin around at the sound of something shifting, but only see a few pieces of wood hitting the ground. you're getting too paranoid. you try to steel yourself, breathing deeply, before a smooth voice makes you choke on the air that gets caught in your throat.
"you are very unlucky, aren't you?"
you turn again, gun drawn and finger on the trigger, but stop short upon seeing a friendly...
well, you see makarov standing across the room. it's an enemy that doesn't seem all-too interested in killing you - for now, at least.
"how did you..." you trail off, lowering your weapon.
apparently understanding your question, he vaguely motions behind himself. "there's a breach." he says, glancing over the destruction as he approaches you.
you squint at him as he draws closer, briefly tightening your grip on your gun. he stops several feet away, though, so you allow yourself to relax just a bit, lowering your weapon.
"i figured you'd be staying far away from al-mazrah, it's an active war zone after all." you comment, earning a dismissive look.
"i don't mind getting my hands dirty," makarov utters with a lofty grin tugging at his lips. "besides, we need to talk."
you cock your head to the side, curious. "and, you couldn't call or text me about this? that's been working out so far." you chuckle softly.
he steps closer again, standing a little over an arm's length away. "i happened to be close by." he responds. "this is also something better discussed in person."
you nod, hesitantly slinging your gun over your shoulder to cross your arms over your chest.
"after our last exchange, i managed to gather more information from my... source." he punctuates the last word with a half-assed attempt at a conciliatory smile. "the mole planted within your group reported to shepherd recently; he's aware of our communication." he continues, before you interrupt him.
"wait, no one knows about this, not even my squad." you assert, taking another step closer to him. you're just under an arm's length away, now.
"there was an agent within the group assigned to your care when you were captured. one of the two men that accompanied us on the first day - he listened in on our conversation and delivered the details to the general." makarov speaks in a hushed tone, one you can just barely hear over rubble crumbling somewhere nearby. "the agent on your end tracked you after you reunited with your squad. something of yours was bugged, they heard us that night."
how could he... most of your belongings were clothes, which you know for certain weren't bugged. the only other item that traveled home with you is your cellphone—
"shit," you mumble, practically tearing your vest pocket open and grabbing your phone. there's nothing obviously wrong with it at first glance, but once you pop the case off and check inside, your suspicions are confirmed.
there's a small tracking device flashing red at you, mocking you, and you rip it out before tossing it on the ground and stomping on it.
"he's heard everything," you say, twisting your boot to scatter the broken pieces. "fuck, if this gets out— i can explain this to my team and make do with the judgement, but if shepherd tells any of his friends in their cushy government positions, i'm dead."
makarov shifts, looking past you, but you don't even notice the action thanks to the adrenaline reflooding your system. "that would be an issue," he mutters, reaching for the holster at his hip. "i suppose i could protect you."
you snort, dragging your gaze from your boot to his face. "i'm not joining your side, even for this."
a thin string of red light shines from the darkness behind you, aimed at the back of your skull. makarov follows it to its source, all but ignoring your rejection, as his fingers wrap around the handle of his desert eagle.
a loud gunshot rings out, echoing against the walls. you instinctively reach for your stomach, preparing yourself for the pain you felt in that dream, body tensing up as it flies into survival mode.
the pain never comes. a heavy thump makes you turn, however, watching as a soldier collapses to the ground. unmarked uniform. one of the general’s men.
"shepherd has not earned your blood. if anyone is going to kill you, it will be me." makarov lowers his gun and meets your muddled gaze. "i suggest you reconsider my offer, petra, and give me a call when you make up your mind."
you’re left in that state as he sidesteps and saunters past you, seemingly disappearing into the darkness himself. you’re sure there’s another exit that you missed, one he’s taking to avoid running into your squad.
his offer. joining him for protection.
you'll never follow makarov or his ideals, much less join him for such a selfish reason. if you can kill shepherd, then you can destroy any evidence and get yourself out of this mess. with graves' cooperation and your team to help, that possibility is well within your reach. the only crime you'll have to answer for is severely disappointing your teammates, but they'll understand.
except, there's no guarantee that graves will help, and the rules of engagement prevent you from taking effective action against shepherd. he may be on the run, but he's an american general - killing him could land the one-four-one in hot water with the government.
that'll only lead to more restrictions, more eyes on you, more questions— there's nothing you can do to stop it.
you need someone without limits. someone the government doesn't have their hands on.
you need makarov.
a series of heavy footsteps alert you to a new presence, snapping you out of your trance. you lift your head in time to see price, graves, and the shadows appear from around a large pile of debris in the same direction that makarov originally approached you from.
"petra!" price calls out, jogging ahead of the group and stopping just in front of you. "you broken?" he asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and dragging his gaze across your form, searching for any injuries.
"no, i'm fine. nothing major." you mumble, struggling to find your voice all of a sudden. "just, uh..." you lose it again, your tongue darting out to nervously wet your dry lips.
"something wrong?" he murmurs, quiet enough that graves and his men can't hear from their positions farther away.
you can feel every beat of your heart, rapidly thumping against your ribs to the point of making your chest ache. only price can give you approval to do something so risky, so stupid. he'll understand. he knows the job isn't perfect, but you do what you have to do—
"i have something to confess, captain."
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#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#mw2#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#makarov x reader#vladimir makarov x reader#cod makarov#vladimir makarov#sylph.writes
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What if the 141 Team had a y/n that LOVES spiders and has like 5 big ass spiders at home and everytime they see one ( even if it is the ugly ass scary ones) they will go like "omg! How cute!! I am going to keep it!" And gives them stupid names.
✎ i hate spiders with every fiber in my body irl like if they all went extinct i think all my mental illness would be cured but this is cute lol
✎ tags: uhh spiders?, young military reader, gender neutral reader, platonic, fluff, not proofread as usual
♡ you never make any outright mention of it, but they notice your not-so-common love pretty quick. it's not like they expect you to jump up onto a table and scream when you see a spider, but this isn't what they expected either.
♡ you're all at a safehouse, it's your first mission with them and they don't know you very well yet. kyle, price, and you are sitting at a table going over countless building plans while ghost and soap are fiddling with the armory currently set on a coffee table.
♡ kyle looks over at one of the empty chairs and is just like "oh, a spider" and starts rolling up a piece of paper to smack it with, but you've already got it scooped up in your hands. he watches you walk out of the front door, basically coddling it, holding it much closer to your face than most people would.
♡ it happens a couple more times on that mission (the safehouse is kind of old and grungy, just the usual) and everyone sort of takes notice then. soap mentions it while they're scraping the last of whatever is left out of their rations and you're in another room.
♡ "what's with the kid and spiders? why don't they just kill 'em?" he asks, and kyle shrugs, muttering that you just seem to like them. soap shakes his head and suppresses a soft shudder (he does not like them).
♡ later, you're all in a forest surrounding the building you're scoping out. it's all quiet and you're passing along hushed counts of people and potential entrance points through your mics when they hear you let out a soft gasp.
♡ price asks if you're alright and you whisper-yell through the mics "sorry, there's a huge spider here!" and kyle and soap raise their eyebrows at each other while price rolls his eyes. they think that's the end of it, and eventually price says it's time to go back to the safehouse.
♡ you're the first one back and they all walk in to see you at the table with a grungy tupperware box containing, lo and behold, a huge spider. you've poked holes in the top of the box to make sure it could breathe.
♡ soap is the first to speak. "ah, c'mon kid, what the hell is that thing doin' in here?" you give him a slight side-eye and keep cooing at it through the plastic. "i'm keeping it!" you proclaim. "i can do that, right?" you're looking at price with practically doe-eyes now.
♡ price tries to protest that you shouldn't, it could be an invasive species or something, but you shake your head and tell them what type of spider it is, that it's actually pretty common in most countries, you'll make sure it doesn't get out, that you've had a couple of these before in the past so you know how to take care of it.
♡ "you've had a couple? like as pets?" soap asks incredulously and you just nod without giving him a glance. he gives you a weird look before following ghost to dump his gear off next to his cot. ghost has already been giving you weird looks through the mask, but he doesn't say anything.
♡ price gives up pretty quick and saying no and just tells you to make sure it stays in the box and you nod and promise you will. kyle sits down with you, albeit across from you instead of next to you, and eyes it warily.
♡ "it won't bite! this one's nice. the ones i have at home will though," you joke, and kyle scoots his chair back a teensy bit. price laughs at him.
♡ they learn that you have five other spiders at home. you whip out your phone, eager to show them pictures when they express vague interest, and soap leaves the room entirely. ghost rolls his eyes at him but doesn't move to come see the pictures either. kyle just says "oh... nice!" and price nods along.
♡ they try to limit your collecting habit in the future, but it's hard for them to say no to you. you keep showing them you're ever-growing collection every time you guys see each other again, and kyle ends up knowing all your spiders by name (regardless of if he actually wanted to or not, he just doesn't want to be mean).
✎ hnghhn sorry i've been gone so long again lol i'm writing again tho i promise <3
#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod#mwii#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#soap#john price#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#platonic#fluff#tw spiders#— lilly writes! ♡
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i thought we'd manage with words left unspoken
hi hello felix x reader angst bc i feel like it and to balance out the fluff i'm also writing rn lol
uhhh gn!reader, angst like i said, depression / depressive episode, felix is an idiot but he's trying, hurt / comfort, soft ending dw
wc; 875
there's a strange kind of melancholy in the air around you. the sky is a weak shade of grey, almost as if it can't manage enough care to turn a true stormy grey.
it's ironic, you're not sure if the weather matches your mood or if your mood matches the weather. either way, it's not a pleasant combination.
you almost wished that the sky would just open, turn to an actual storm, anything but this odd limbo state. it was fitting, and you didn't want it to be.
you were in your own limbo, you didn't need the world to be in limbo with you, didn't want anyone else to be stuck in the same space of uncertainty you found yourself in.
and yet, as you sit by the window of your apartment, the sky is blank. you refocus on your reflection instead of the world outside, your expression as blank as the sky.
you try to remember the last time you'd felt anything really, anything besides this crushing apathy. and every memory leads back to him.
lee felix. your best friend, or who used to be at least. he'd stopped talking to you, apologized again and again because he hadn't just ghosted you, he told you that he needed space. you think you would've preferred him ghosting you.
you know that he doesn't want to hurt you, he never wanted to hurt you, and in a way, he hasn't. you can't feel hurt if you don't feel anything in the first place.
you'd always half-expected this to happen, he was the sun in human form, and you often wondered why he'd stuck around so long. after all, you might as well have been a black hole. but felix had balanced you out, he made things brighter, and you kept him grounded when he needed it.
you're not entirely sure how long you've been staring out the window, but there are clouds in the sky again. if the weather is reflecting your mood, you figure the clouds can only be memories. they drift across the sky, lingering just a bit too long, but there's nothing you can do to make them dissipate.
you only return to your body again instead of some place in the sky when you hear a knock on your apartment door. you ignore it, not wanting to see anyone, not wanting to remember what having someone there for you felt like.
but when you hear a key turning in the lock, any uncertainty solidifies into a solid mass of dread pressing down on your chest, crushing your lungs. you know full well that only one person besides you has a key to your apartment, and you curse yourself for not trying to get it back.
because if there was anyone you didn't want to see right now, it was the person currently opening the door. he looks almost as bad as you, and your throat tightens at the sight. you wish you didn't care, wish you could tell him to leave again, tell him that you didn't want to see him right now, no matter how much you needed to.
for a few long seconds you both look at each other across the apartment, the only light coming from the windows and the pale grey day.
"felix," it's all you can get out before tears threaten to fall, and you hide your face in your hands. you wish that it didn't matter so much to you, that he didn't matter so much to you.
a moment later you're being wrapped in a hug, and he's rubbing your back, mumbling countless "sorry"s into your hair. as soon as you feel his arms around you you let yourself break, feel yourself shatter in a way you'd been so close to since he left, but always managed to avoid with the knowledge that there'd be nobody to pick up the pieces.
you hope that he'll stay long enough to pick up the pieces.
when you can breathe again, you lift your head to meet his eyes. neither of you speak, afraid to break the fragile connection, afraid that if anything else breaks you may not be able to fix it.
leaning further into him, you try to figure out how to put everything into words.
"i missed you," is what you finally say, and hope that he knows you care, no matter how much you struggle to communicate.
he hugs you tighter, like he's scared you'll fade away if he lets go.
"i missed you too, i'm sorry y/n, i was an idiot."
you manage a small laugh, "yeah, you were."
"hey! you're not supposed to agree with me!"
"but it's true!"
he huffs, making you laugh again.
you hate yourself for a second, for how easily you welcomed felix back into your life, but it's not like you'd never done something stupid when feeling overwhelmed. and you both needed the other, you'd known that from the first time you'd met.
almost as if the universe was confirming something to you, the grey sky brightens into a bright blue, the melancholy clouds reorganizing into cottony white ones.
leaning further into felix, you smile slightly, hoping that this time the sun would stay.
#boyfiend writes#stray kids#skz#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#felix stray kids#stray kids felix#stray kids angst#skz angst#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#lee felix#lee felix x reader#lee felix x y/n#lee felix fluff
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Let's talk about Jor-El in My Adventures with Superman
(Season 1 finale spoilers below)
There's something smart that they've done with Jor-El and his AI ship ghost in My Adventures with Superman.
They make it really clear that he's trying his hardest to communicate to his son. The language barrier is irritating him as much as it is us, and even though he can understand English, he can't speak it. But they make it clear he's slowly using what little interactions to learn how.
When he first tried to show Clark as a child, he accidentally terrified him and the Kents with how he tried to get Kal-El into their communication space.
That didn't go well, and left his son to leave him alone and not have anything to do with him for about 10-15 years, so obviously he had to think of something else.
So when Clark came back to the ship again for answers, he got beamed down into the comms space instead since that would be less terrifying and cause less collateral.
Then, when they're where he can finally talk to his son, he learns he can't understand Kryptonian so he visually shows him some of what he was trying to say, as best as he could.
And more importantly, he hears English towards him for the first time (at least that we know of), so now he knows what language to build off of.
(and if he hears more after Clark gets the Kryptonian outfit and talks to Martha, he would learn the English word for filo, "son", but that's pure speculation on my part)
Now, we get to what we hear him say in the finale.
The very clear words of distinct English we hear him say (besides poison, which seems to be universal between the two languages apparently lol) according to captions, are the words "my son" and "live".
Now, seeing how we just discussed how he might have learned the words "my son", that highlights the question:
How did Jor-El learn the English word "live"?
He had to have learned it naturally through the AI network upon discovering English. But we don't know how, and honestly, it doesn't matter, but it makes sense that he learned at least that word. Because if he didn't know any other words, letting his son Kal-El know that all he wishes is for him is to stay alive, to stay safe,
That was all that mattered to him.
And strikingly, it was the only clear sentence Clark understood from him, and probably the last one he will for a while.
#my adventures with superman#maws#maws spoilers#jor el#kal el#my adventures with superman spoilers#kryptonian
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Prompt idea! You know how most dp×dc crossovers are either fused worlds or Danny ends up in Gotham by the Ghost zone. But given that Gotham literally got stuck in another dimension once or twice. I can't remember how many times it happened in the comics but it has happened. How about this Gotham ends up in the DP universe after something caused them to be dimensionally displaced.
The DP American government just curious on how this whole ass city dropped in freaking New Jersey randomly one day, have all the alphabet soup sweep the city including the GIW. Who find Jason/Red Hood just chilling waiting for news on how to fix this latest mess from Bruce, and get captured because of the pit water setting off their ghost sensors.
Some Gothamite cought the GIW dragging around Red Hood in a glowing green net going on about something called The Anti-Ecto Acts and how that they can't wait to dissect him to see how he ticks, While Hood visibly tries to escape but can't, on camera and puts it on the local internet.
Just imagine the chaos from that just the Batfam's Rampage alone would be breathtaking. Especially if they need to get the help of Team Phantom to find Jason again.
Everything about this is amazing. I love the batfam getting stuck in the dp universe but the whole city? Good soup.
Lol, Danny saves Hood early on but doesn't tell anyone and Hood doesn't have any coms on him to contacts his family, which may or may not be dismantling the us government as we speak. Jason is seeing first hand just how desperate, hurt and angry they are over his capture and is floored.
He tried calling Bruce's phone number and gave a heartfelt apology only for an old woman to laugh and tell him good job on that speech, it was beautiful. Please tell it to your dad tho. Then she hangs up. Jason sheepishly realized that someone else probably owned that number in this dimension.
Also I love the idea that some magic/tech/a combination or the two goes haywire and these two worlds literally fuse together.
Like, two Earths becoming one mega Earth. There's two China's, Two Russias, two Americas, ect. The chaos the could create 💚💚💚
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Sfw Headcanons of Dating Jack Skellington
This man is so sweet fr fr, he needs a hug 🖤
[WARNING: mentions of horror movies]
HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH, YAAAALL!!!!
🖤 boi where do i start lel
🦴 Mans is a big cuddler
🧡 like for real, hes so sweet
🦴 Lots of kisses from this big boi
🖤 Like, for real, hes the most affectionate thing out there
🦴 king of the pumpkin patch, AND romance
🧡 Will scare anyone who makes you sad or angry. And he won't scare you unless you tell him you're okay with it.
🦴 hes a huge flirt. Like, the BIGGEST flirt out there
🖤 make things for him, HE'LL LOVE IT
🦴 hell, he loves you
🧡 Jack makes the best Cider and Hot Cocoa
🦴 His favorite thing to do for a date, is getting caramel corn and going for a walk with you under all of the trees.
🖤 the sun shining through the orange, yellow, and red leaves makes for a beautiful atmosphere
🦴 yall play fetch with Zero too :3
🧡 Wear a skeleton costume :)
🦴 He will either, 1: find it funny, 2: be confused, or 3: be flustered
🖤 I have no idea why, but i headcanon that Jack can play the piano and cello. I have no idea why but it just fits imo
🦴 Sing with him :D
🧡 wait- you expect me to not headcanon a disney character to be musical??... you're insane LMFAO
🦴 Pumpkin bread with chocolate chips is one of Jack's favorite things, if you like baking, make this for him lol
🖤 If you don't live with him and in a seperate house he will walk you home every single time, doesn't matter if you live next door or not.
🦴 HE👏 WANTS👏 YOU👏 SAFE👏 AND👏 IN👏 ONE👏 PIECE👏
🧡 Speaking of which, he's pretty protective of you, but not to the point where its suffocating
🦴 So its basically canon that he knows how to sew right, thats straight up.
🖤 BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!!
🦴 he makes monster plushies with it AND NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE
🧡 Like c'mon now, how can you own a sewing machine and NOT make plushies?!?! Its UNHEARD of /j
🦴 Have autism? Or anything similar to it?? HE STIMS WITH YOU!!! (Its because he thinks its fun :3)
🦴 Annoy Jack with bone puns, his reactions are priceless 🤣
🖤 His pet names for you are, Dear, Darling, and Pumpkin
🧡 He likes horror movies, if they're too much for you to handle, thats okay. Jack can always settle for less scary movies.
🦴 His favorites are The Descent, the Saw movies, Trick r' Treat (He thinks Sam is adorable), Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (because of the nostalgia from the books), and the Fear Street movies
🖤 If you can't handle those scary movies he'll watch mellow ones with you. Like Hocus Pocus, Spooky Buddies, Halloween Is Grinch Night, etc.
🦴 He loves animals... spooky ones.
🧡 This boi wants a Bat, Frog, Tarantula, Snake, Black Cat, or maybe another ghost dog :)
🦴 As long as its not venomous
🖤 It'd be nice for Zero to have another playmate :D
🦴 okay so, while this talks about snuggling in bed and body anatomy, this isn't in a nsfw way so bear with me here lol
🧡 While yall are snugglin, you can flick his ribs to make them sound like a xylophone. You can totally play a song 🤣
🦴 Hes totally interested in your muscles, fat, and skin
🖤 like ???? How tf are you so squishy?!
🦴 He's not complainin though, he loves you how you are <3
🧡 He has cute lil monster outfits for you, Jack lets you pick out your clothes but he just has them for you just in case :)
🦴 Okay so... lets get one thing straight (unlike me LMFAO)
🖤 As a monster, Jack doesn't need to sleep, but he does.
🦴 But this means sometimes he doesn't sleep at all and just wanders around the house at 3 A.M.
🧡 and its actually lowkey scary when you run into him at those times
🦴 He just looks way scarier than usual without even trying. And oh my gosh.
🖤 There have been MULTIPLE times where Jack accidentally scared you half to death while you were looking for a snack 🤣
🦴 When all is said and done, Jack Skellington is a really sweet dude who means well. A very loving person :)))
Thanks for Reading,
HAPP SPOOP MONTH
#jack skellington x reader#jack skellington#spooky month#spoopy#spooptober#fictober#konata izumi kin writes
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HI QUEEN!!!! thoughts on the vision morgause showed to arthur and her motivations/was she lying/ should Arthur have killed uther?
AHHHHHH IVE BEEN WANTED TO BE ASKED THIS AND I DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT
alright so i think the first thing that needs to be considered is what her intentions were when she showed him the vision. i think the main consensus is that she wanted Arthur to kill Uther, and while i agree, i think Morgause deserves a few more layers than that. i genuinely think Morgause wanted the truth to be known.
imo, from what we've seen, Morgause is extremely similar to Morgana. in the early seasons, Morgana is justice with kindness. Morgause is justice without. Later, we watch Morgause slowly "corrupt" Morgana and watch her lose her kindness, turning her into the heartless villain she is by season five.
i think Morgause, while not out of the deep goodness of her heart, saw the injustice, and wanted it to be corrected. this manifested mostly in the form of Uther's death, but i do believe a small part of her just wanted the truth to be known :)
whether or not she was lying is something we will never truly know, but she could have been lying about two different things, and i want to attack them separately.
i 100% believe she wasn't lying about Uther using magic for Arthur's birth. i've wondered A LOT how the fuck she knew though, because sorry, who told her?? and merlin is the show it is, so it doesn't tell you these things, but there are enough breadcrumbs left behind so that we can assume she was a pupil of Nimueh's and learned of it from her.
but whether it was actually a vision of Ygraine? i really don't know. i'm not going to lie, the first time i saw the scene, it gave me all the wrong vibes. the ghost of Ygraine is able to meet her son for >5 minutes and one of the maybe two things she says to him is about how Uther used magic to birth Arthur and it killed her?? i don't know. it's strange.
but we also have to remember that we actually don't know anything about Ygraine! honestly, the fandom and fics tend to mention her x10 more than the actual show does. Arthur hardly speaks of her, as well as Uther, and we have to remember that this is the man who essentially killed his wife and is forced to live with that every goddamn day and is 100% romanticizing the woman she was—and then all Arthur has ever heard of her is this romanticized version from his father, and this is the dead mother he's never met. he's going to do some embellishing of her own.
so, for all we know, Ygraine was a terrible person. we really don't know. so i have no conclusive answer to whether or not Morgause was lying about it being a vision, and i think the show actually intended it that way. because that doesn't actually matter. what Ygraine said—that's the truth. the cold, honest truth. whether it actually came from his mother or from a false mimicry of her doesn't actually matter.
another thing i find really interesting is that while Morgause was obviously trying to provoke Arthur with this information and was clearly manipulating him, she really didn't take any extreme steps to ensure he killed Uther. this was also her first step to bring down Uther. it's almost like she tried to find the most moral option she could that dealt the fairest form of justice, and only when it failed was she forced to resort to more gruesome, hands-on approaches.
it also really doesn't seem like she has anything against Arthur in the beginning, which is so fascinating to me, but moving on lol.
now for the BIG one:
should Arthur have killed Uther in The Sins of the Father?
god, this one is hard, because you have to consider it from all angles.
from an objective, justice-based standpoint, you could say that Morgause was absolutely in the right in all of this, and that after learning this information, it was Arthur's duty to kill his father. his father killed his own wife due to his desperation for an heir, and then spent half a lifetime destroying an entire culture and group of people in an attempt to stem his guilt.
so, yes. Arthur should have killed his father, if we're viewing this from the eyes of pure justice.
but for Arthur's own conscious? from a political standpoint? absolutely the fuck not. it would have destroyed Arthur. even when Uther died season four, he was a wreck, so imagine if it has been Arthur. dear god.
and then imagine being an average citizen of Camelot, for whom Uther was probably an alright to not great king, but no one who deserves death, and learning that your beloved Prince Arthur committed patricide and his now king? jesus. that's not how you establish good subject-monarch relations.
and if enemy kingdoms heard about it? god, all the knights must be horribly divided, because most of them swore themselves to Camelot and its royalty, but who the hell do you stand with when your two royals tried to kill each other and one of them was successful? enemy kingdoms would attack, and with their armies as divided as they'd be, who knows how that'd go.
so overall, no. i genuinely believe Arthur shouldn't have killed his father. but that doesn't mean that Uther didn't deserve death.
anyways, i think that's all! this was a lot of fun, and tysm for the ask once again <3
#merlin meta#merthur#merlin#bbc merlin#bbcm#merlin thoughts#merlin discussion#morgause#the sins of the father#arthur pendragon
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Hello there gorgeous 😂
May I request Bad boy!Ghost in leather jacket on motorbike? Bonus : they’re going on a midnight date 🤗
Midnight Dining
A/N: Omg hey Bestie! I got you girl, don’t you worry about a thing! ;) We love us a leather clad Ghosty <3 Thank you so much for this! Also this was a lot longer than I expected lol sorry
Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley x F! Civilian Reader
Warnings: Hints of religion. Bad Boy/Good Girl. Cursing. Innuendos A little touching here and there in suggestive spots. A little Good-Girl-Next-Door Moment
Master List (Tag List at the bottom)
Oh God, how hard it was to resist a man such as Simon. He was such - you almost hated to say it - bad boy. But only God knew how irresistible a bad boy was when he was also a good man.
You were blessed to have him as your neighbor. Maybe not so much when your father's eyes never left his him every time he stared from the window or from the garage or from the mailbox.
You hadn't talked to him much, but you figured he was nice, right? He always let the neighborhood kids watch him work on his bike. It made your throat dry every time you watched him from your bedroom window. And let's just say he may have caught you a few times. The way you'd know if when he'd look towards your bedroom window, not quite looking at you, but he'd shoot you with a half smirk and wave a towel in your direction, pretending to swat an imaginary fly away.
"What's got you all flustered?" Your mother chuckled as she came in your room and stood beside you, smiling as she realized what - or who - you were looking at. "What's his name?"
"His name is Simon."
"He's cute. Have you talked to him?"
"A few times."
"A few times too many." You and your mother turn and see your father in the doorway, looking at the both you sternly with a folded newspaper.
Pouting slightly, your mother puts her hands over your shoulders as she talks back to her husband, "Oh hush, a harmless crush doesn't hurt." Your mother winked at you
"Yeah yeah you say that and our little girl is getting her heart broken by some thug." Your father pointed the newspaper at you and your mother.
"Daddy! Stop it! He's in the military!"
"Even worse!"
---
"Daddy, please let me get Simon, he can help you!"
Your father grumbled and mumbled and cursed under his breath as he stood up from the hood of the old car in the garage. He wiped his forehead and sighed deeply as he looked at you.
"Forget about me liking him, at least let him take a look at the car."
"Fine."
Squealing, you quickly walked over to Simon's house. You become more nervous with each step that you took as you approached his front door. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door firmly three times. Waiting made you anxious.
Then you heard noises from his garage and looked over, slowly walking over. Your eyes widened at the sight. You knew he had a motorcycle - you'd seen him ride it almost every day when he was back from the military.
You didn't know what he did in the military, but you didn't want to pry. You watched as he worked on the side of his bike, his back was towards you. His white tank top was nearly soaked in sweat, his shoulders glistened from his sweat. You looked down at your feet when he turns his head and sees you
He stands up and wipes his hands on a towel, "Y/N."
"H-Hey! Daddy needs some help with the car, if you're not busy, do you mind taking a look at it?" You blushed, fiddling with your fingers as you struggled to keep eye contact with him.
He shot you with a small smile and nodded, "Lead the way, missy."
He walked beside you back to your garage, speaking softly to you until you approached your father. It wasn't often you heard him speak. Most of the time when you heard him speak in public, his voice was dark and deep. When he spoke to you, it was soft and round around the edges - for your ears only. You looked at your father with almost pleading eyes, begging him to be nice.
"Y/N said you had car troubles, Sir."
"Yeah, mind taking a look at the engine?" Your father stepped to the side and allowed Simon to take a look at the engine. Both men were tense when interacting with each other, thus making you a little nervous. You let them work and went back inside.
After a while you come back out with a pitcher of lemonade and a few glasses. To your pleasant surprise, your father and Simon are not having a heated discussion.
"Either of you want some lemonade?"
Both men looked at you as you placed two glasses on a stool and poured them each a glass, handing each of them a glass. Your father thanked you, and your name rolled off of Simon's tongue after he thanked you.
"Oh, Simon, let me pay you for helping me today- Y/N, would you be a darling and get me my wallet."
Simon raised his hand in protest and shook his head, "No, it's alright. The lemonade will suffice."
"Are you crazy? Let me pay you."
After a few minutes of light arguing, Simon was amused and finally suggested, "How about this: You let me take Y/N out on a date. A dinner"
Your father cocked his head, a vein beginning to bulge on his forehead. He looked over at you, you were in the front yard, helping your mother with something, pretending not to listen, then back at Simon.
"I know what you think of me, Sir, but you can't always protect your daughter - let me protect her also."
With all honesty, your father was surprised to hear Simon say that. Simon was a little rough around the edges. He'd come home late at night, music blaring during the wee hours of the night. The stories echoing throughout town of Simon beating a man half to death for looking at him funny.
He didn't have to help your father with the car. He didn't have to fix the mailbox the other day when the neighbor's kid drove into it. He didn't have to bring flowers to his daughter on her birthday.
Reluctantly nodding, your father agreed, then looked at him sternly, "I want her back in one piece, Simon. Don't let your eyes ever leave her, so help me God. And I want her back by one."
Simon held out his hand, waiting for it to be shaken by your father. He shook it, then said, "Now go ask her."
Smiling, Simon walked over to you, nervousness hovering over him - which was unusual. He didn't actually think he'd actually get to ask you out. "Y/N?"
You looked up from the rose bushes and stood up, smiling gently up at him, "Hi, Simon. You and Daddy fix the car?"
"Yeah, she's all good now," He swallowed hard, looked away for a moment, then back down at you, then blurting out, "I'm going to pick you up at eight tonight."
Giggling, you held your hand over your mouth. Simon's cheeks blushing slightly.
"Oh? What for?"
"Dinner. We're taking the bike. Think you'll be ready by then?"
"I'll be ready by then."
---
Eight o'clock in the evening came just too quickly. Simon had showered and probably put too much cologne on. He checked his watch and quickly put his leather jacket on. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bouquet of flowers from his kitchen counter on his way out and walked over to your house. After ringing your door bell, he turned around, almost afraid to continue. He felt like a school boy. but you were so pretty - so kind, and soft, and caring.
He told you almost nothing of his military life, but he'll never forget the one time you told him, You have a good heart, Simon. A good and kind heart.
God, were you too good for him. He wished he'd never met you. He'd never think he could ever be in your presence, but here he was, about to take you on a date.
"Simon?"
He didn't hear the door open. The thoughts of you distracted him. He turned around to see you, dressed in a long red dress. His chest tightened at the sight of you.
"C'mon in, I just need to get my shoes."
He stepped inside your home, then handed you the flowers he'd gotten. You closed the door behind him and gladly took them, "Oh, Simon, these are so pretty! Thank you!"
"Here, let me take them. I'll put them in a vase, you get your shoes." Your mother took the flowers from you, leaving you, Simon, and your father. You took a moment to take in his appearance. It wasn't often that he wore his leather jacket - usually when he rode his bike. And he fixed his hair - or at least it looked a little neater.
"You look really nice, Simon."
Blushing slightly, he smiled gently at you, taking in your appearance. He always thought you were beautiful. Always dolled up - even to the grocery store - even when you didn't need to. He'd sometimes see you in your window as you got ready.
"You look beautiful, Y/N."
Your father cleared his throat, breaking your attention from Simon. You looked back up at Simon, "Let me get my shoes - be right back." You quickly left and smiled at your father.
Your gather looked at Simon, his cheeks and smile disappearing. Your father looked at Simon for a moment before speaking. Simon felt silly for doing this. But he wanted this to be nice. He wanted this to be special. He wanted tho make you happy.
"You see the world differently, Simon. We see the world differently."
Slightly confused at his remarks, he watched as your father rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing several military tattoos. Simon looked at your father with a new found respect.
"Won't let her out of my sight, Sir."
You came back with your mother following closely behind her, both of you giggling. Simon and your father looked at you. You stood beside him and looked up at him with a bright smile, "Ready?"
---
A smile was plastered on your face the whole motorcycle ride - there was so much adrenaline and excitement. Your favorite part was when right before you left, he gave you his leather jacket to wear while he drove to the diner. You can't remember ever going this fast. Once you'd arrived to the diner, Simon helped you off the bike.
About to take the jacket off, Simon stopped you, "Leave it on."
Blushing slightly, you smiled softly. Before going into the diner, you took a hold of his hand. He looked down at your hand holding his, bewildered at the action, but more so as to how your hands were so soft and small compared to his rough and large ones. He didn't want you to let go.
He opened up the door of the diner and let you walk inside first. Throughout the night, Simon couldn't take his eyes off of you. The two off you sat in a booth at the back of the diner. You sat on the inside and he sat beside you, his body turned so that if covered you - shielding you - from the outside world. You kept his jacket on you. It kept you warm. It kept you shielding. It smelled like him. You wished you could stay like this forever.
By the time you'd left the restaurant, it was nearly midnight, Simon's arm wrapped around your shoulders as you walked out. About halfway back to his motorcycle, you heard whistles and cat calling.
"Ooooh what's a pretty lady like you doing out here." How the group of three men ignored Simon, you not him knew. They flocked towards you, making Simon hold you close to his body. You felt scared and felt his chest tighten. You briefly looked up at him, seeing his jaw tense up. But before any of the men could reach you, he quickly moved you behind his body, "Y/N, go back inside."
"But Simon-"
"Y/N- Go back inside."
Swallowing hard, you somewhat did as you were told. You did walk back to the diner, but stayed outside, watching as Simon attempted to de-escalate the situation. You noticed a considerable change in Simon when one of the men attempted to punch him.
Avoiding the punch, a switch flipped in Simon's mind, enraging him. Simon punched the first man back down to the ground. Barely being able to fight against the other two men. You yelled for him to stop, but too afraid to step in.
Seeing red, Simon finally was able to knock all three men down, wiping his bleeding nose and mouth, watching them as they groaned on the ground. He spit out blood filled drool and looked over at the diner.
He felt proud that he protected you, but he also felt ashamed. He didn't want you to see him like this. He wanted to keep his work away from you - and this was a glimpse of the world that he didn't want you to see.
But the way that he saw you running up to him, tears in your eyes, pleading at him to come inside to be cleaned up? Oh God Almighty did he want to leave everything to make sure you'd never shed a tear ever again.
"Simon." Your voice was trembling. You tried so hard to keep yourself from crying. You'd taken him into one of the bathrooms and one of the waitresses gave you a first-aid kit to clean him up.
Simon watched as you struggled to clean his face from blood, feeling ashamed, feeling dirty.
"Y/N, please look at me."
"Why?"
"Why are you crying?"
"I don't want you to get hurt..." It was almost a whisper. He almost didn't hear it.
Simon took a hold of your hands and held them against his face, "No one can ever hurt me, Y/N. Not when you're with me."
Before you could react, he let go one of your hands and placed it behind your head, gently pushing you towards his face. He gently kissed your lips. For a soldier, his lips were surprisingly soft - and you'd never imagined that your first kiss with Simon would be in a diner bathroom after a fight with three men.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAG LIST
@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat
#cod#call of duty#call of duty mw#call of duty mwii#call of duty mw2#simon x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#fan fic#fan fiction#simon#riley#lieutenant simon riley#riley x reader#cod request#call of duty request#request
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Can I ask for the 141 gang (+ Alejandro) reacting to a y/n that will yell at people in german like an angry spanish mom when angry?
task force 141 + reader yelling in german
Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
Warnings: explicit language, potential mistranslations/bad german
A/N: i don't speak german and i don't have a spanish mom so these are pretty short umm enjoy?
simon "ghost" riley:
alright so ghost is definitely not the kind of guy who gets caught off guard very easily
so when something goes wrong in your mission and your german starts slipping through he's not necessarily surprised
he saw in your records that you were fluent in german but you never spoke it in front of them so he was definitely a little confused when you started yelling in a foreign language
that being said german is a very fun language to be angry in so good choice anon
now ghost himself doesn't really know any german but years of being in a multinational task force has taught him a few things
he can recognize a few of the more common insults
so when you're ranting about how the team member that messed up the mission is a piece of scheiße and an arschloch
he knows you're calling him a piece of shit and an asshole
usually he just lets you blow off steam and continue ranting
partially because he doesn't want to get involved and also because he doesn't really have a clue what you're saying
john "soap" mactavish:
alright so soap was completely taken aback when you pulled up suddenly speaking german
it had been a really long day and as much as you love soap he just kept pestering you and it kind of pushed you over the edge and then the german came soon after
now soap does pick up languages pretty easily so he can sort of get an idea of what you're saying
but it's all happening really fast and his german just isn't good enough for him to comprehend
so he just kinda stands there and listens to you yell at him
and no offense but he also has to fight the urge to smile because 1. you're pretty when you're angry and 2. he's never seen you speak german before and you do it with such an intensity and speed he's kinda in love with you
once he feels like you've blown off all your steam he'll give you a little "you all good now?" look and if the answer seems like a yes he'll move in for the hug
and of course you apologize because you really didn't mean anything you said but everything has just piled up and you needed to get it off you chest
and he just squeezes you tighter and tells you it's all okay and he understands
and ofc it actually is all okay but he definitely does not understand
kyle "gaz" garrick:
alright so gaz actually took german in school so he knows it pretty well
that being said he knows a very school curriculum-centric version of german
which means he knows a lot of random phrases and not very many colloquial/casual terms
so when someone messes up your shot and almost ruins the whole mission and you start going off in rapid fire german
you know gaz is here to partially understand you and offer support in the form of very broken german
he doesn't know very many insults but you called the soldier an arsch mit ohren (ass with ears) and ding ding ding
gaz knew what that one meant
(sort of he had to take a minute to process it and derive the implied meaning from it)
afterwards he asks you to reteach him german and it becomes a thing you two do together
john price:
alright so john obviously knew you could speak german he saw it in your records
and he also tested you on it when he first recruited you onto the task force
but what he didn't expect was for it to come out when you get angry
and he also didn't expect it to be so fast lol
you were dropping insults in german faster than the speed of light fr
he knows a fair bit of german just from his time in the army and even he was struggling to keep up with you
afterwards he gives you a pat on the back and complements you on your german
you're not sure if he fully understood what you were saying though because you definitely said some things that shouldn't warrant a complement
alejandro vargas:
alright so alejandro had absolutely no idea you could speak german so the first time it came out he was flabbergasted fr
it also took him a while to understand what language you were even speaking in to start with
you were ranting to him about your day
and alejandro knows that the best thing to do is to stay silent and just let you tire yourself out during these times
and since you had started out in english he had kinda stopped listening and was only doing it halfway
but then you randomly switched to german
and it took him a moment to even recognize that you switched to another language
english is alejandro's second language and now you speaking a whole nother language
i mean alejandro is smart but mans had no idea what you were saying
that being said he's really good at reading you so he just nods/hums whenever it seems like you want him to and it works out well
rodolfo "rudy" parra:
alright so you did mention to rudy that you knew german and he's been secretly learning it so he can surprise you with it
but one day you got really mad about this one thing and you started going off in rapid fire german
and then rudy realized that his daily duolingo lessons were nowhere close to getting him to your level
he was kinda in shock/kinda freaked out by your sudden german outburst
he knew your anger wasn't directed at him but german can be a very angry language and he was intimidated nonetheless
he lets you say your piece and then after (when he knows you're not angry anymore) he asks you to translate everything you just said
because at the end of the day rudy loves listening to you talk (even if it is in german) and he wants to be able to understand what you're saying
#bingoboingobongo.com#bingoboingobongo's christmas extravaganza#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost fluff#soap cod#soap x reader#soap fluff#gaz cod#gaz x reader#gaz fluff#john price cod#john price x reader#john price fluff#alejandro vargas fluff#alejandro vargas x reader#alejandro vargas cod#rodolfo parra cod#rodolfo parra fluff#rodolfo parra x reader#cod#modern warfare 2#call of duty#mw2
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As you may or may not have noticed, I am utterly, digustingly simping for Ghost-
So I wrote some absolutely not self indulgent sfw headcannons about him.
I take requests btw;)
Tags: CoD Ghost, Ghost x reader, gn!reader, Ghost headcannons, sfw, fluff w a pinch of angst
Warnings: Not proofread lol
Masterlist
Gif by @daniel-bruehl
• A thoroughly scarred man. Lots of tiny ones on his hands; hesitant to admit that those come from one too many knife games that he and his comrades used to do when freshly enlisted.
• Tends to brush his calloused thumbs across your face: Eyes, lips, cheekbones, he wants to emboss your features into his mind. Trust him, he won't forget no matter how far away he is.
• An emotional tank, that one, and just as penetrable. It takes him quite some time to grow comfortable with the topic of loved ones, be they family, friends or comrades. Even longer if you were to let him open up on his own; a little question here and there will help the screws come lose.
• Hesitant to teach you about fighting and guns (if you're not military already, that is). Ghost... Prefers you unaware of what happens out there. Unaware to the blood coating his hands, long dried and yet fresh all the same.
• Love is like fire to him. Keeps you warm, lights up even the darkest of nights, but will burn you if you're not careful. And sometimes, you can do everything right and still end up scarred.
• His 'no' is by far the biggest, most sturdy wall. Everyone in the 141 knows that, once his no comes, there's no chance convincing him otherwise. Ghost doesn't speak unless he's thought it through and stands by it. But you- the way you're searching for cracks in that wall to sneak through. You. The way your lips move, hand on his chest. The way you pout, bat your pretty little lashes at him. Fuck-
• Ghost is hesitant to admit you're his weakness. Strange to see the LT like so when he's used to clear cut commands and statements. You've got him at a checkmate. An impasse. Ghost knows how utterly powerless he is, worse even that you didn't even do anything to begin with - you didn't flirt with him, vie for him like others had in the past. No, he just fell for you entirely on his own. And now you've got him in your palm.
• His love is rough. It's tough, it's stubborn, but it's genuine and loyal. He just... His heart gives in at the thought of you suffering because of him, because of what he does, the reputation that preceeds him. And he knows. He knows he can't always be there to protect you from the world. He knows he's doomed when he looks at you and the pull of his heart stings as a part of him whispers to let you go and be with someone safer, someone who isn't him.
But the heart whispers back.
Perhaps that's where that cynical streak of his stems from.
#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#gender neutral reader#call of duty x you#ghost headcannons#ghost fluff
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