Cod Angst - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Day 5-Keegan P. Russ

✲Prompt: Debris

✲Warnings: angst (its rlly angsty read at your own discretion yall), main chaarcter death, explosion, feelings of grief

✲a/n: yall i shed some tears as i wrote this my goodness but anyways enjoy this is my first time writing keegan and idk if this is too ooc for him but fuck it we ball

✲MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

There was smoke thickening the air and obscuring your vision. Your eyes dilated to get back into focus. The last thing you remember was a loud boom and you blacked out after. You squinted trying to look around trying to understand your surroundings as the dust started to settle. You don’t know who detonated an explosive but it was pretty easy to assume it wasn’t anyone from the team or any accompanying allies that came for assistance. You clambered from the rubble your body was rag-dolled into and steadied yourself, but stumbled once you realized there was a gash down the entirety of your outer thigh. Your adrenaline is through the roof for you to even feel it right now.

You limped through the rubble trying to see any familiar faces from your team or just any individual to know you weren’t alone. The sun was still bright and the heat was stifling. You needed to pace yourself or else you would be stranded with no one to help you if you passed out from heat exhaustion or dehydration. You decided to take a break and sat down on the closest pile of rubble by your feet. Suddenly a hand wrapped around your ankles and it startled you. The scream you let out was earsplitting, to say the least. 

“Kid you’re gonna kill me off with that scream alone.”

The raspy and strained voice you heard was too familiar for it to be a coincidence. You turned and dropped to your knees without any hesitation and were presented with the sight of Keegan with half of his body covered under a pile of wreckage leftover from the explosion. Your body went into immediate panic mode and started to push away the rubble piece by piece. Keegan reached out and tried to stop you, but you were too caught up in trying to help him out.

“Just hold on, I'll get you out and then I’ll patch you up in the meantime until evac comes and then we can properly get you taken care of!.” You began to speed up your movements and this time he clutched your wrist. His grip was so much softer than what you were used to and it pulled you out of your panicked frenzy.

“Doll I’m done for you just gotta leave me here. I’m bleeding out as we speak and even if I do survive this I’m paralyzed from the waist down. I’m not useful either way.” He gave you a soft smile and tears started to well in your eyes. “Keegan you can’t expect me to just leave you here!” You started to tremble from your sobs. You were at a loss as to what to do after hearing Keegan’s words. There was no way you could leave Keegan here he was your everything. He was the one who kept you grounded when missions got to be all too much for you. 

“Just keep me company until my last moments, doll, it’s all I ask for.” He grasped your hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. The sobs started to come out even harder as you finally came to accept that this was the end. You slid down onto your stomach and just stared at Keegan. You couldn’t bring yourself to even say anything. He craned his neck and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I love you, kid, don’t ever forget it, and don’t forget about me.” His hands were trembling more and his skin was getting paler and paler and the sun started to set. You wailed and let all the tears flow out as you watched his life gradually leave his body. You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep, you stared at the stars with your body curled up next to Keegan’s corpse just hoping that you could be taken away soon enough to meet with Keegan once again.

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

~~

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

Traitors among us

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.

Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.

If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?

---

Drip.

Drip..

Drip...

Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.

Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...

Drip...

Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.

You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.

The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...

Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.

Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.

"Please..." you shivered, miserably.

"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.

"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."

The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"

You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.

It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...

Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.

In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.

You weren't sure what you were doing here.

Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.

Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...

It must've been too much to ask.

It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.

That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.

You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.

It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.

You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.

But it's been a few hours since then...

Maybe even a few days...

It could even have been a week.

You weren't too sure.

Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.

As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."

Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.

He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...

"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.

"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."

He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.

When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" there was a rule in training, to let enemies that it was working, that their torture had taken its toll. You were always a rule breaker... this was no different apparently. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.

"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."

Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."

Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.

Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.

His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"

"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.

"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."

As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."

And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.

If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.

You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.

Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.

He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.

The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.

They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.

To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?

It was too late anyway.

They'd broken you days ago.

---

The truth had come out, two days later.

"Oh god..."

"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.

Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.

Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.

He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.

"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.

You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.

"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.

As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."

Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.

Part 2

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4 coming soon!

Hello! I was just wondering if you could write some angst!!

I was wondering if you could write a ghost x male reader where reader gets seriously injured to the point where it scares the shit out of ghost and ghost lectures him but ends up crying as he's lecturing the reader? 👀

a/n: hurt/comfort my love tags: canon typical violence, gore(??ppl get stabbed and someone gets their throat sliced open) no use of y/n, male reader, injured reader, prob occ ghost??? ghost cries, everyone cries. angst, hurt/comfort

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm/nbmlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You were a sniper. You weren’t supposed to get too close to the fight. All you had to do was hang back and try to offer support, but by the gods do you never listen.

The situation got tight, Gaz and Soap trapped in a room by enemy fire. Captain Price and Ghost were clearing out another building.

You being the oh so self-sacrificing bastard you are ran to help. You went the back way, so the enemies’ backs would face you, unaware of your approach.

You quickly and efficiently took them out, just as you were trained, but—you missed one. A heavy hitter, a fucking Juggernaut.

He didn’t bother reloading his gun, throwing it to the side before he started swinging. The first few swings caught you off guard, and he got you right in the nose, breaking it. This throws you off balance, which gives him the opportunity to throw you against the concrete wall.

You rolled to the side before he could kick your ribs in, quickly standing up on your feet, slightly dazed. You pull out your knife, the one you were gifted to Simon, as using a gun in close combat would be useless.

You circled each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Vaguely out of the corner of your eye, you can see Soap carry Gaz out of the building. You feel a slight relief that now they’re safe.

Your way of winning this fight was to take it nice and slow, bait him into moving so he wears out easier due to all that heavy gear.

You move forward like you’re going to swing, which causes him to charge forward. You sidestep. His armor barley grazes yours.

“Oh? Is That all you got?” You mock, tapping your foot like an impatient child. You’ve played this game before.

He huffed like a big bad wolf, “I’ll fucking kill you,” He growls out.

Charing at you again, he actually gets you. He grabs onto the side of your armor and pulls you on him, securing his arms around your body before throwing you onto the ground with him.

You can feel something crack as your head fits the floor, that doesn’t stop you from squirming and wriggling in his grasp. You use your knife, plunging it into the nearest flesh you can find.

It didn’t go far, but it did make him shout in pain. For just a moment, his grip loosens, you throw yourself out of his hold, trying to dash away to create distance.

He recovered quickly, grabbing onto your ankle. He forced you to trip. Landing face first, you couldn’t stop him from dragging you back to him. He gets on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees as he starts punching you again.

You black out, head and mouth bleeding. The man cackles, throwing you up against the wall with a cackle. He holds you up, forearm pressed against your through as your feet dangle helplessly in the air.

Your eyes shoot open at your sudden lack of air, you kick at him weakly. Shaking hands, reach for your knife, ripping it out of his thigh. You can’t use it before he rips the blade out of your head and stabs your stomach multiple times.

High off of adrenaline, you grab a smaller knife from your shoulder strap, one that was covered in a fast acting poison to render your opponents immobile. You did the knife under his helmet; the knife meeting his now exposed throat and you slice.

The man immediately drops you, leaving the knife in your stomach as he stumbles back, holding his neck. He slides down against the wall as his body gives up on him.

You raise a shaky hand to your walkie, “Captain-L.T. I need a medic asap. I can’t stay awake for much longer.” You can feel your eyelids get heavy.

“Stay awake, soldier. I’m on my way.” Simon’s gruff voice was the last thing you heard before your eyes seemed to shut for what may be the last time.

You float in and out of consciousness, eyes cracking over just barley as you feel familiar arms pick you up and run to the evac. On the helicopter, his gloved hands holding your face with such gentleness.

The last thing you remembered was being jabbed with one too many needles before passing out completely.

You felt like shit. Your head was pounding, and the rest of your body felt like it was on fire. You crack your eyes open, wincing at the blinding lights of the medical ward.

Your eyes scan the room. There isn’t anyone here. Aside from whoever is sleeping next to you. You turn your head slightly, recognizing the familiar build of the love of your life, Simon.

“Simon.” You try, voice dry and horse.

His head automatically shoots up at the call of his name. His eyes lock with yours. You can see the internal strife within them debating over what he wants to say.

“You’re an idiot.” The insult doesn’t make you wince, as it’s true.

“I know—.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You rush in blind, without a care in the world. You could’ve been killed, and you nearly were.” Simon takes your hand in his.

“I was only trying to help Si... I couldn’t do shit from the bird’s nest.” You interlock your fingers and squeeze his hand.

“What help are you if you ended up dead?” His shoulders drop. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you did.”

You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Simon... let me see you.” You nudged the edge of the mask with your free hand.

Simon slips off the mask, his eyes are bloodshot-a result of hours of crying. You cup his face with a shaky hand. “But I am here now, that is what matters, yeah?”

He leans into your palm, tears streaming down his cheeks. You sigh, pulling him towards you. Pressing your forehead against yours, he sighs against you.

“I’ll make sure to be safer next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

OML YOUR KEEGAN CONTENT HAS ME WEAK!!! pleeeease how would Keegan react if you were taken hostage/kidnapped 🙏🥹

Awww omg I love the prompt and it’s so angsty

IM LITERALLY LISTENING TO WHITE FERRARI HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME

Notes: not proofread, I kept this gn, so lmk if there’s accidental mentions of a specific genders, I don’t think there’s any mentions of it though

warnings: mentions of: blood, bloody noses, bruises, kidnapped/taken hostage, going missing, being tied up, being heavily wounded.

Summary: You were taken hostage when Keegan was on his deployment

AFTER THE STORM

Keegan would’ve never left that day, if he had known that you wouldn’t be there when he returned. He would’ve been by your side, nothing would’ve happened to you, maybe if he didn’t convince you to stay at home; resign from your job and relax, maybe then the day would be different. You would’ve been home when he was returning from his deployment.

Maybe if he had stayed home; did as you asked in the morning to be call in sick, even if Merrick would be upset, he could’ve stayed in bed; fallen asleep and have his arms wrapped around you tall morning.

Keegan made his work his top priorities, he left for work that day, he’d only be gone for a few days, just like every other day, this shouldn’t have happened.

You shouldn’t have been tied up to a chair, bloody and beaten all because the federation soldiers used you as bait. You should’ve been asleep on the couch; a movie playing when Keegan walked through the door that night he came home.

He walked in through the door and could see the the messed up pillows that had been tossed around the living room, the few drops of blood on the wood floor, the messed up bed, and you were nowhere to be found, he tried calling you, your phone was in the bedroom on the floor.

Keegan couldn’t think of anything else to do other than call merrick and ask for help to find you, you were the love of his life, he’d do anything to see you, alive and see that smile again.

The three weeks he spent looking for you with his team was crucial, he could barely get into bed at night but Merrick forced him to sleep, Logan could see the difference in Keegan’s mental health, physical health. The way dark circles appeared under his eyes, he drank more coffee than usual.

He couldn’t bare those three weeks anymore, without you he felt like he was nothing, he always said you had his heart.

And now you’d taken it with you while you were gone.

Nightmares began and he couldn’t fall asleep even if his body needed it, his mind couldn’t rest, not when you were away.

The blood drops on the floor of your guy’s home only made him feel worse, he couldn’t even clean it because it was the last trace of you other than your phone.

Maybe if he smelled your shirt he could feel better but he couldn’t enter that house without feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He didn’t protect you and that’s all he’s ever tried doing since you too have been together.

Finally when they did infiltrate the building he found you, Merrick following behind him, your head hung low as you your were bruised up and had a bloody nose, several wounds were visible; Keegan couldn’t even stomach what kind of wounds would be under your clothes.

All he could do was hope you’d hear him and smile, wake up, hug him again.

The two men quickly untied your hands from the chair and Keegan pulled the blindfold off of your face, the light alone was blinding, you opened your eyes only to close them again, before you recognized the same deep, and raspy voice you loved to fall asleep to.

“Y/n” his voice so soft, the same tone he used when he woke you up, “keegs?” Your voice was weak, your voice was strained from the shouting and screaming in pain you had been through.

“Yeah it’s me honey” he whispered and picked you up, he noticed the squint in your eyes when your tried looking up at him. He took you out the room and finally you could look at him without that bright white light behind him.

You could see his eyes were red from the nights he’d cried his heart out, all you could do was hug him back, as tightly as you could, and he did the same kissing your cheek gently, your head tucked into his shoulder, his grip was firm but he made sure not to hurt you, he could never forgive himself if he hurt you.

He felt healed, happy with the way you kissed him gently. It felt like the breeze after a storm.

childhood bully!Soap who became enamoured by you the first time you pushed you down, fascinated by the way your eyes well with tears, crying out and shoving him away when he reaches out to pinch your cheek

From that moment your tears are his and his alone. Pulls your hair, crushes the flowers you’re admiring, pushes you off the swings, anything he can do to provoke a reaction out of you, and if it doesn’t please him, all he has to do is squeeze your cheek until you wail

But if anyone else dared touched you? Dared to lay a hand on HIS cry baby? The first and only boy to ever pull your hair besides Johnny wound up with a broken wrist, and he never looked your way again

Forget about boyfriends when the two of you reach high school. The first time he ever stumbles upon one of the older boys kissing you in a secluded hall, the next time you see him his nose is broken and he avoids you like the plague

The first time YOU see Johnny kissing another girl, he locks eyes with you, and he is thrilled when he sees the tears spilling down your cheeks, but you never have to worry

none of these girls are HIS little cry baby

they could never be you

you were his

PLEASE DONT TAKE MY IDEA and please vote :) 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Y’all this criminal minds episode is making me want to write for Simon Riley. Like his entire family, a PREGNANT wife, two kids and two dogs , gets murdered (or kidnapped if I don’t wanna be too angsty) while he’s deployed. I don’t know if I want to do what criminal minds does where the fathers are alerted immediately….or! Not have ghost be alerted until his mission is complete and the absolutely loose his shit when he finds out that his higher ups hid this absolutely dire news about his family from him.

Of course you can’t forget that once he’s told about his families situation he’s sent back into that place, that time when his mother was murdered, his brother, his sister-in-law and nephew. If his family is killed most of the fic is going to be the after math, him completely leaving behind who Simon was and becoming less of a ghost and more of a Demon.

If his family is kidnapped the fic will be about how either he finds out weeks later and all hope seems lost, or how he “works with” the BAU (and it will be Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Spence, Derek, JJ and Garcia) to get his family back.

Ngl this’ll probably the next thing I post because I feel sooo connected to this, like I could write sooo well and detailed for this. But also so enthralled by this idea of having Ghost, an already tortured soul, be loved in such a way that he never thought would happen, just for him to get it taken, or almost, taken away from him forever. Yeah I have a looooot of ideas for this, it would probably be a medium sized fic too like maybe 3k-5k words long

Cruel destiny

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Tw: blood, character death

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Pain

That was all you felt.

It engulfed your body like the warmth of the sun on a cold day.

The blood seeping from your abdomen felt weirdly sticky on your hands, but it was the only thing that you kept you clear minded.

It dropped down on the snow as you made you way to the nearest tree for cover. You didn't care if the enemy soldiers could see the red trail you left, you just wanted to feel safe for a moment.

The adrenaline left your body as you dropped down on the floor behind the tree. Ears still ringing from the explosion that occurred minutes ago.

Only when you pressed one hand on the wound had you realising, that this could be your final moment.

A moment spend alone. A moment that you wanted to witness with your friends- your team- and most importantly with him.

Him. Soap. You wondered where he was. If he's alright and fighting off some asses with Ghost.

Memories from your first date came back up. Seeing him in his fancy tuxedo with a bouquet of flower -tulips, your favourites- in his hand and that sheepish but nervous smile on his lips. It was a lovely evening, a evening that went over too fast.

Being thrown into these thoughts, you didn't noticed the footsteps coming closer to you. They held a sort of urgency, desperation.

You saw familiar face appearing, tho it was hard to see through the blurry vision. But it was him.

Concern and panic swelled in his eyes. Hands moved to put pressure against the wound, which was bleeding even more because of the moving from earlier.

"C'mon bonnie, stay with me 'ya?" Oh you wanted to answer him, to tell him you'd never leave him, but that would be a lie. This is was end, and you both knew it.

You put your shaky hand on his and looked into his eyes. These beautiful blue eyes that had swept your world upside-down.

A smile formed on your dry lips.

"There you are. Keep those pretty eyes on me, would 'ya?" He then looked at you and saw it. He saw that you had accepted your fate. But how could he? Your were his everything. From the day you stepped a foot onto base. Hell, even the Lieutenant saw the bound you two had.

Panic rose as he felt your hand slip off of his. "No no no no please don't do this please" he cried, " not now, not ever. We were supposed to go through this alive, you remember? Don't break that promise..." his last words were interrupted by a sob that had formed in his throat.

You tried to look at him with all the love you had. He deserved to know what he meant to you. "I love you Jo-Johnny" you said weakly, already feeling the energy leave your body.

"I love you too, bonnie. So damn much." He pressed a desperate kiss on your lips, the tears mixing with thr taste of you.

As he pulled away, he felt your body going limp in his arms. This was his last straw, as he broke down into heavy sobs, cradling you into his chest.

"No...no please come back"

And as he sat there with your body, he realised how cruel destiny is. It may have given him you, but also took you away again.

He cried over every little argument you two had, wishing he would have told you that he loved you instead of continuing to fight.

But was too late now. Nothing could be changed.

And the little velvet box in the back of his pants, felt a lot heavier than before.

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This is my first try at writing a little story, so critique and improvements are strongly requested haha.

(English is not my first language so please excuse some grammar mistakes <33)

Have a lovely day :)

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Special suprise

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Another angst story :')

tw: cheating (?)

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You always thought that death would be the only thing that could separate your love. Oh how wrong you were.

This naive thinking got you into this position, which seemed to get worse by every second.

Was it something you said? Or done? Were it your parents that wished for grandchildren? Or maybe...no it couldn't be that. He couldn't have fallen out of love...right?

Even if he did, he would have told you. Like he did with everything.

Well whatever it was, it led to him doing the one thing you never thought he could do.

Breaking your heart.

Shattered it to pieces and stepped on it. At least it felt like that.

The way he kissed her was how he kissed you. Passionate and full of love.

His arms held her hips and pulled her  closer to him. Caressing the soft skin that was only covered by underwear.

And you? You were only standing in the doorway not knowing what to do. The takeaway that you held in your hands, was being crushed by your balled fists.

You watched as he broke the kiss to stare into her eyes.

Love. That's all you saw. Maybe even mixed with a bit of adoration.

That should be you. That had been you just some days ago.

How could everything escalate so quickly?

The numbness of your body was beginning to fade, as you realised that it wasn't you anymore that he desired.

It was her. And only her.

Tears began to form in your eyes and your throat closed. You unintentionally let go of the bag of takeaway, letting it fall to the ground.

This seemed to be the moment of realisation for him, that they were being watched. His eyes snapped to yours and panic filled them.

You just shook your head at him, feeling a tear roll down your flushed cheeks.

You saw him trying to push away the girls arms, but that didn't matter anymore. The damage had already been done.

Leaving the bedroom was one of the easiest but also most difficult things you had ever done.

It meant that you have to leave all the memories in there. Memories full of love and passion. Love makings that always filled your heart with happiness. It all would be gone as soon as you step a foot out of the house.

Hearing the frantic steps and shouts of your name, made you jog to the door. He sounded so sad and guilty, but you didn't care anymore. That's at least what you told yourself.

You hand was already on the door handle, when you were stopped by arms engulfing you into a hug.

"Baby please don't leave I'm sorry" his head hung low as he tried to make eye contact with you.

Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, you pried his arms off of you and smacked him across the face.

It felt good. He deserved it.

"Fuck you Simon" your voice was full of hatred.

You didn't let him register what happened as you opened the door to step outside.

The cold winter air hit you as you ran to your car. You stepped inside and turned it on, not wasting a second to hit the gas and drive away.

The anger you felt was replaced by sadness. Why? Why did he do it? Why today...

Your phone rang and you picked it up to read the message. It was a dangerous thing to do, for sure, but you couldn't care less at the moment.

You opened the chat to see that your Mom was the one that texted you.

,,Hello darling! I wish you a happy birthday. Have a nice day with Simon. Heard he had a special suprise for you ;).

Special suprise huh? Well it was indeed a suprise.

You threw the phone on the backseat and looked onto the dark and empty street, preparing for a new beginning.

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The idea sounded better in my head :')

Critique and tips for improvements are always welcome.

Anyway, i hope you have a nice day! <3

(English is not my first language so please excuse grammar mistakes <3)

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Dog tags

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It's currently 11:40 pm and my brain is still working lol.

This will be the last fic for today, but i hope that i'll be able to post again tomorrow or on tuesday :)

Tw: character death

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The day began quite normal.

It was Saturday, which meant that you didn't have work. You spent the day cleaning the house and buying groceries. It was the same routine that happened every Saturday. But this time there was an exception.

You loving husband was supposed to come home today. He's been gone for 3 months now and you two weren't able to phone each other, because of him being busy.

You hated to admit it but it was hard without him. The house felt empty. It was only you and your thoughts. His pillow has stopped smelling like him a month ago. You cried yourself to sleep every night, without someone telling you that everything would be ok.

John and you had fought a lot about his job. Him saying that you shouldn't be so dramatic about him having to leave. Moments like these made you realise that he's just a man. A man that sometimes -more often than you wished- loved his job more than anything else. Tho of course he would never say that out loud. His team was like a second family, so it wasn't hard for him to leave. But it was for you.

You had met his team before, in a pub to be more specific. John had asked you to meet them and you obviously couldn't say no to his puppy eyes.

You trusted his team to bring him back home. Alive. That had always worked, at least until now.

You were now standing in the kitchen preparing John's favourite meal. It was a receipt from his mother. A simple, yet delicious dish.

You stirred the bacon in the pan while listening to a song that was on the radio. The atmosphere was calming down your nerves, as you were excited to see your husband again.

While humming the song, you heard the door bell ringing. You turned off the stove and half sprinted towards the door.

You opened it with a smile, but you weren't greeted with John. No, his team was standing on the porch, faces formed into frowns.

Your smile faltered a bit, but you recovered quickly. "Hey nice to see you again! I didn't know we will have dinner guests over" you laughed slightly. Seeing them not returning the gesture made you nervous. And only then did you realise, that John wasn't there.

You looked around confused only to see something metallic laying in Gaz's hand. Dog tags.

"W-what...?"

Your weary smile fell. A shiver ran down your spine. No, that couldn't be his.

A feeling of hurt engulfed your body, and you could hear your heart beating in your ears.

It seemed that Gaz saw the change of demeanour, because he stepped forward and handed you the dog tags.

His hand took a hold of your shaky one as you examined the object.

Your eyes were glossy as you read the gravure. Captain John Price.

That was the moment your world fell apart. You let out a sob as your knees buckled, making you fall to the ground.

Gaz caught you and sank to the floor with you in his arms. He clinged onto you as if he was afraid to let go.

Your body went hysterical as you cried into his shoulder, clutching the dog tags. Your husbands dog tags.

"H-he promised! He fucking promised to come back" you cried out. Sadness mixing with anger directed at your husband for breaking his promise.

Soap and Ghost were still standing on the same spot, watching the scene unfold. Sadness was still a prominent feeling in their body.

They knew that Price wanted them to tell you that he died. To tell you that he loved you more than anything.

But that didn't make the situation easier as they felt your pain. Your usual bubbly personality was gone and grief took over.

Minutes went by with you still crying for your dead husband, while hugging the dear life out of Gaz.

Soap watched them with sympathy as something caught his eyes. It was the small but prominent bump of your stomach. His heart dropped when he realised that you were pregnant. You probably wanted to tell Price the good news after he came home.

Soap took a deep breath and starred up to the sky, wishing that it had been him dying instead of his Captain.

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Critique and tips for improvements are always welcome <3

I really have to stop posting angsty fics haha.

Have a nice day/ evening :)

(English isn't my first language so please excuse minor grammar mistakes <3)

Age gap

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So sorry for not updating earlier :(

This one isn't as good as I thought it would be but oh well.

Also if you have any ideas for future writings please dm me <3

Tw: little bit angst (fluff at the end)

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You always knew that the age gap John and you had would make your relationship harder.

That's what everyone told you. They thought that he was too old for you -which he wasn't in your eyes- and that his job could get you into danger.

You never cared about these talks. Ignored them and John did too. At least you thought he did.

Today it turned out you were wrong. The argument had started earlier this morning. What it was about? You didn't remember but you did know that one of the two of you would say something that'll hurt the other.

This time it was John who did it.

"Can't you stop being so childish for one fuckin' day?!" He yelled into you face, some spit splashing on your cheek.

The room went quiet.

You stared into his eyes with a shocked expression, not expecting him to say that.

You saw the moment when he realised what he had said. His gaze softened and he reach out for your hand.

"Darlin'..."

You took a step back and whispered "Childish?" A slight laugh escaped your lips as your tone rose. "Childish! I'm being childish?! You were the one that started the whole argument!"

Anger swelled up inside you making your blood boil. John saw the change in your demeanour and pulled you into a hug swiftly, holding your body close to him.

"No love I didn't mean it like that."

"No you did. Don't fucking lie John!" You sighed. "Maybe the others were right about me being to young for you. Maybe this whole relationship was a mistake"

He tensed at your words and pulled you even closer to him. "Don't say that! No mistakes were made and never will. I love you (Y/N). And only you." He spoke softly while staring into your eyes. "You're perfect to me and I don't care if you're younger or not. You're my everything."

Tears started to slide down your face at the words. Nodding softly, you pulled his face down and kissed him.

The kiss was full of passion and love even tho it only lasted some seconds.

"I'm sorry..."

He sighed lovingly "no need to apologise my love. I'm the one that nearly fucked up." He smiled slightly at.

You looked at the kitchen watch, seeing that it was already 11pm. "Shall we go to bed?" He nodded in reply.

10 minutes later you two were laying in bed, your head on his bare chest while your hand drew circles on it.

"I love you John, please don't forget that"

"I love you too darling. And I would never."

You stayed in that position until both of you fell asleep while being curled up into each others presence.

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Critique and tips for improvements are always welcome.

(English isn't my first language so please excuse grammar mistakes <3)

Have a nice day!!

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Useless

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Thinking about doing a part 2 for this. Let me know if you're interested :)

Tw: Angst

Part 2 is posted!!! (Link below)

https://www.tumblr.com/daddypriceugh/732913818599145473/useless-pt-2?source=share

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"Can't you be useful for one fucking time?"

"Wha-"

Your voice gets stuck in your throat because of that sentence. The tears that you were holding back now falling freely over your cheeks.

How did this argument escalate to this point? Could you have said something to stop it?

The feral look in his eyes scares you. It reminds you of a wild animal ready to attack his food.

He had never looked at you this way before. Well until now.

You think back to when it all started. You were standing in the living room decorating the Christmas tree while listening to music. There was a peaceful atmosphere in the room. Until Simon arrived.

You didn't see but heard him. Heavy footsteps walking into your direction. You turned around with a smile, ready to greet him but were taken aback by his furious face.

"What's wrong Si?"

A humourless laugh escapes him.

"What's wrong? You're asking me what's wrong? "

You were confused, not knowing what he wants to say with that.

"I come home after having a fucking long day, only to see that my flat looks like shit." He yelled at you.

"And what are you doing instead of cleaning it? Fucking decorating a tree!"

That was the moment your confusion fell and anger took over.

"Are you calling me lazy?!"

He shakes his head in disbelief and waves his hand to signal that he doesn't want to hear your talk.

"Ohh no don't you dare walk out of this now! What is your problem? You started this now fucking end it!"

And this brought you into the current situation.

How dare he say that your useless! You're doing a lot more everyday than him. Can't he see that you're doing your best?

You take you eyes off of him and start furiously wipe the tears away. Your body feels like it will explode soon by the anger your feeling.

"Fine. Since I'm so useless I will leave you alone for some time. I'm sure you won't mind."

You stride past him towards the flat door. The car keys are being smoothly snatched by your hand while the other unlocks the door.

This seems to bring Simon back to reality as you hear him walking up behind you calling your name. He sounds desperate tho you don't care about it. His words hurt you. A lot.

You open the door and slam it behind you probably slamming it into Simons face.

You step into the elevator and press on the button. After the doors close, you slid down the wall holding your head in your hands in frustration.

"What the fuck did just happen."

Trouble

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Alright, so this is a little something I wrote some time ago.

I hope y'all like it :) i'll start writing more stuff soon as I have more free time now!!

Tw: some curse words but all in one nothing major

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"He's definitely your son"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know it"

The air in the car was thick and tense as you and your husband drove to your son's school. Reason for it was the phone call you got 30 minutes ago, stating that he got himself into trouble with a classmate.

You knew that your son was a bit different when it came to emotions. He was just like his father, quiet and reserved, but more repulsive. You of course denied that he got that from you.

The car came to a stop and Simon turned off the engine, body turning towards you. He had a neutral look on his face but you knew him better than that. When you told him about the call, he took it in better than you did. He seemed fine with it and that made you mad.

"You okay?" He asked, hand reaching for your cheek. You let him put it there.

"To be honest, i don't know. I just don't know how to react." He hummed in response, seeming to  understand your troubles.

"That's alright" he whispered "neither do I but we will know how to handle it" His palm was smoothing over your cheek, trying to give you any comfort. You smile at that.

"Yeah. Let's go then"

You were now sitting in the headmaster's office, desperately trying to not rip his head of. "And therefore I think that your son has some kind of mental problem"

Your body tensed at this sentence, anger spread through your body. How dare he say something like that? Your son is perfectly fine!

"Mr. Miller I think your overstepping a line right now." Simon's voice interrupted your thoughts. "Our son literally helped a friend that got bullied by that football idiot, how in hell does that have to do something with mental health?"

"Well, Mr. Riley from what I know you weren't exactly a steady father figure he could rely himself on. Whether it be your job-caused absence or your own mental state, your son had to deal with his emotions alone."

That's it. Know he reached your limit.

"And how the fuck do exactly know that huh?! Did one of the other parents tell you that? Well guess what, my son grows up in a loving family on which he can definitely rely on! I do not and will not take and crirism and insult from a man that clearly doesn't even know who the actual problem in this situation is. And spoiler, it's not my son but that bully that you just seem to fucking ignore!"

Mr. Miller's eyes widened at your outburst, clearly not expecting you to say someone like that. You felt Simon's hand reaching for your own under the table, giving it a quick squeeze.

"And if you ever tell my husband that he's not in a perfect mental state, than prepare for the worst! And now if you excuse us, we would like to take our son home with us now."

With that you stood up from the chair and made your way towards the door to open it, Simon quick to follow you.

You were greeted by your son standing in the hallway awkwardly with a black eye. He smiled at you and immediately engulfed you in a hug.

You pressed him closer to you, showing him that you care. You part after a minute. Your husband wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you towards the exit, your son not far in front of you.

Simon tilted his head to you ear, whispering.

"You do know that we will probably have to change school after that conversation"

A small laugh escaped your lips.

"Yeah maybe. But let that be a problem for tomorrow okay?"

"Of course, my love"

You two shared a small kiss and continued to walk to your car.

You are a happy family and that's all that matters.

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Tips for improvements are welcome!!!

Please ignore grammar mistakes English isn't my first language ♧

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MMMMM SUCH DELICIOUS ANGST

TAKE IT OR LEAVE HIM ᡣ𐭩

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader

synopsis: Ghost forgets your birthday

tags: slight slight angst

Hectic doesn’t begin to describe Ghost’s schedule, yet you accepted him with open arms. He needs to cut your dinner short because he’s needed back at the base? You nod with a smile full of understanding. He forgets a few chores and groceries because he’s piled up with tasks? You kiss his forehead and tell him it’s fine, and you just work around it and rush during your office breaks to do those tasks on your own. You’re exhausted from being held back at the office because the client changed their mind during the finalization, but you come home to a pile of dirty dishes and no dinner? You say you understand, washing up and going to bed while feeling your stomach grumble and waking up to wash the previous night’s dishes just to lessen Ghost’s worries.

You had no problem bending backwards just to accommodate him. You entered the relationship knowing about his schedule, so… were you really in any position to complain? 

A few insignificant tasks and miniscule adjustments to your schedule were nothing; never once uttered a complaint because you understood. Why? Because Ghost always finds a way to make it up to you. Sending bouquets when you close a big deal, treating you to a fancy restaurant during your birthday (though he’s mostly never there to celebrate until the end), and gifting you branded things during your anniversaries… so, it was all okay….. ?

Yes, it’s fine if he never shows up for your dinner date because of work. 

Yes, it’s fine that you spend most nights alone. 

Yes, you can clean the house, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and cook for the both of you. 

It was all okay. You were okay with it. You accepted it. You understood. You can do it. You’re fine. It’s all worth it. It’s not worth any trouble. It’s fine—

You snap back and all thoughts stop rushing into your head. Your phone blares an alarm with the words, ‘DATE NIGHT’, flashing on the screen. Right, it’s your birthday and Ghost promised he’d finally make it this time. So, you wore the prettiest dress, applied the most gorgeous (and time-consuming) makeup, and put on the cutest heels (your feet are getting blisters) because you wanted to spend this night with the man you love most on your Earth… who wasn’t by your side right now, but it’s fine. 

The waiter approaches the table, asking you for what seems to be the 6th time that night if your company is coming because they’re about to close. Giving up, you offer an apologetic smile and gather your things. The walk out the restaurant was embarrassing to say the least. Harsh winter air greets your face, your legs and arms trembling as you try to seek warmth from the take-out bag. You didn’t bring a jacket because, well, you thought Ghost would be there with you, but it’s fine.

The apartment door clicks open and a dark hallway awaits you. ‘Ah, he’s not here yet,’ you think to yourself, a pang of disappointment piercing your heart that raised its hope for one night. With a wince and a pained gasp, your heels come undone. Muted footsteps along the wooden floorboards as you strip out your clothes and wash up. You resign the night with your lover nowhere to be found— once again, but it’s fine. 

Morning dawn cracks through your curtains with a familiar arm around your waist and familiar dip on the mattress. You blink your sleepiness away, taking in every detail of your Simon’s face in the morning. Like he has a third sense, he wakes and stares back at you. First smiles of the day are shared between you two but you expected more. Nothing too grand. Maybe an apology and a greeting? Yet the day goes by with receiving neither, but it’s fine. Maybe the next day’s the charm? 

Nothing.

Irritation towards your lover is a rare occurrence with your endless patience and never-ending understanding of his situation. You still held hopes that maybe he’d finally realize his slip-up, but what did you come home to? Dirty dishes. A pile of them. 

“Ah, sweetheart. You’re home,” he kisses your cheek and presses your waist close to him like usual. The scent of whiskey and cigar lingers on his clothes— a scent you usually adore but now only fuels your anger. “Si, what’s this?” you ask, trying to keep your frustration at bay as you point to the sink. “What? Oh, noticed ‘ya didn’t make dinner so I ate what’s ever left,” he answers cooly like there’s nothing wrong.

“... do you mean you ate my lunch for tomorrow?” 

“That yours? Sorry, baby. ‘Ya can jus’ make another one, and one for me.”

You pull away, slapping his face with tears rushing down your face. Ghost looks at you with shock and confusion which angers you further. How can he not realize why you’re mad?

“Woah, woah. What’s wrong, doll?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT. Oh, my fucking God, Simon. You’re really asking me that?” you run your fingers through your hair, screaming at his face and throwing your purse at him. “What’s wrong?? You tell me! I slave away at this goddamn house. I go to bed with my bones feeling like weights because I keep cleaning after your mess, but it’s fine! Because you were busy, I understood.”

Tension builds in the air as everything you’ve held back poured out of you. “I never complained because I told you I was fine with your schedule when we first started dating. I fucking bend my body backwards and did everything for you LIKE A MAID. And you have the audacity to ask me what’s wrong? You don’t even ask me how my day went. Asking me to cook for you like I’m just a housekeeper? YOU DON’T EVEN DO ANYTHING FOR ME.” You stomp over to his face, glaring with hatred as you spat out your next words. “Just a fucking reminder that I am your girlfriend. I am not here to clean up after you.”

“Did I ask you to?” he snaps back, returning the same vile stare. “You’re whining about working around the house like I asked you to. Let’s be clear that I never forced you to do these shits around the house.”

“You didn’t have to! You just kept piling up dishes and clothes, leaving a messy trail behind you because you know you expect me to do it for you!”

“And did those come for free? I buy you everything you want on anniversaries and birthdays. You act as if you come for cheap,” he scoffs.

"WELL, GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING FORGOT IT THIS YEAR,” you finally confess through sobs. Realization dawns upon your lover, evident on the way his face drops. He tries to approach you but you step back.

“I waited for you like a fool because you promised. I-.. I.. had to tell the waiter 5 times that you were coming because they were on the verge of throwing me out. Did you know how embarrassing it was for me? I… I know I shouldn’t have kept my hopes up but I wanted to believe in you, but.. I’m tired.”

Silence blankets you both as every emotion rushes through your heart. Your throat felt raw and your head was getting heavy from all the crying.

“I’m done, Ghost. I’m tired," you whisper. Those words were simple but Ghost knew what lies underneath. You weren't tired of what you did for him. You were tired of him.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: woah, angst again? Anyone surprised? This request has been sitting on my inbox for a while but I have enough free time to answer them, so here we are. I will make a König version if this gets attention. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ⚝!

×Runaway×

A/N: This is a/b/o that has no smut, but I recommend 18+ for this. Enjoy the first chap!

Warnings: Swearing, Feeling of Neglect, Not realized neglect, angst, pregnancy, mentions of smut but no smut, fluff in the end of this series lmao (reader is 20 alr? If you dont have a stable job and home wrap it before you tap it!)

Relationships: Alpha! Philip Graves x Omega! Reader, Shadow Company x Reader(mostly platonic but there are alphas so think yourself as barracks bunny?)

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You rubbed your forehead as you looked at the line of pregnancy tests with lines meaning positive, I mean who are you kidding? Getting railed almost every day without protection and you didn't think this would happen?? You quickly hid it underneath the bottom of the trash and planned to announce it later. Stepping out you were greeted by 3 SC soldiers. "Hey love, everything alright?" One of them asked, clearly sensing the nervous scent you gave off. "Yeah! Just feeling a little off, probably woke up on the wrong side of the bed." You nervously replied. "Alright, take care of yourself." Another piped up as they marched off to do whatever, you didn't care, bigger problems were at hand. You walked through the base, greeting soldiers, heading straight for your mate's office, Philip Graves. Finally arriving you went in and saw him with a frustrated look and three Alpha SC soldiers. "Good, honey lay on my desk. Me and some of the boys have to get a breather." You stayed still. "Actually I had something you migh-" Before you could finish his phone rang and he answered it, "Wait, hold that darlin' got some problems Shepherd wants solved." one of the Alpha soldiers gave you a quick look of suspicion but eventually ignored it as they exited to gear up. "Philip please just this once! You have been busy all week! I just need a few minutes of your damn time-" Your rant was cut short as an irritated scent came crashing at you. "Yes! Busy working so you can stay here and do nothing but be useless like damn omega you fucking are! You keep complaining when every single thing you could ever need provided but you still demand more!" He angrily slammed his hands. "Go back to your fucking room and don't come out until we are back! Ill get some of the men to give you food." He stated coldly. You tried to reason but ultimately (and practically) ran back to your room and ruined your nest, throwing pillows, blankets, whatever was in it or it was made of. Tears running down your face as your instincts screamed that you had angered your alpha. You calmed yourself down after remembering the life growing inside of you, rubbing your stomach you murmured an apology and laid down on your (ruined) bed to sleep.

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A/N: And that wraps up chap 1!! This is my first a/b/o fic so I am welcome to feedback!

Tags: comment if you want to get tagged in chap 2!

another life is ours

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female!reader

wc: 2,483

co-written with @ems_tpwk!!

You’re sent on an important mission. In the midst, it doesn’t go exactly according to plan.

The mostly quiet clink of Price’s mug of tea being placed on the wood table was one of the only sounds in the mostly quiet common room. He sat down next to his other squadmates, who were busy conversing in-between each other as they played a simple card game. Soap was donning a plain t-shirt with leggings, while Ghost wore a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. Price himself was wearing a semiformal white V-neck button-up, along with blue jeans. Ghost mumbled something about having shit cards, and Soap threw down one of his and chuckled as Ghost placed a hand on the bridge of his nose.

The door to the common room opens, and the three men seated at the table look up at the both of you. They watch as Gaz nods and greets everyone in the group as he walks to the table, you trailing right behind him, not so far behind. Gaz is wearing a comfortable blue sweater, with black sweatpants, and his famous blue cap. All around the board, everyone looks nice and comfortable in their casual clothes. You were wearing a black hoodie, along with similar sweatpants to Gaz. The both of you take a seat at the table, with you right beside him. Leaning onto him as he asks to be dealt into the game. You loved little domestic moments like this with your taskforce, as rare as they are, as comforting as they are. You hoped you'd get to see more domestic moments with your fiancee, thought. It was his hoodie you were wearing, after all, the smell enveloping you as you took deep breaths in.

You two decided not to hide the fact you were newly engaged, but not to tell it outright either. The compromise was wearing each other's rings, the small, golden band on your finger with an emerald gem on top sparkling on your right ring finger, along with a flat, thick version of yours on his own hand. It had been barely a month since he asked you to be a Garrick, and you were over the moon. You oh so gladly accepted. You two have been through thick and thin together, so why not make it forever?

Price, who knew all too well of the little mannerisms new couples, or old ones for that matter, always did. As he took long sips of his warm tea, he glanced at the two right next to each other. You were wearing Gaz’s hoodie, which was his long ago when he first joined the military but it quickly became too small as he started gaining muscle daily. Gaz didn't exactly like much physical contact for him, maybe a pat on the shoulder every once in a while was fine but full-on leaning, almost considered snuggling? That was unheard of, he knew something had to be up between the two.

“Gaz, Y/N.” He spoke quickly, making both of them wonder if they fucked something up. The two of you look over to your captain, who is wearing a smug smile as he places his mug back down.

“Why did the two of you,” He glanced in between you, making you squint in confusion. “...ask for time off, at the same time, for the same time?” Gaz’s eyes widen just a smidge, and glances over to you, who sighs softly as nods at him with a half smile. It was time to tell them the news anyway, even if they were getting the invitations later that month. Soap and Ghost glance over at you, curiosity filling their gazes, wondering if he was about to admit a deep dark secret of his.

“We’re getting married in a few weeks,” You added onto that, with a bigger grin this time. “And apparently, nobody here has enough patience to let us create an email… we haven't even sent out the invitations yet.” She smiled as she hugged her lover's arm tighter, watching as the other three’s eyes widened, Price giving a content chuckle and nod as he congratulated them. Soap and Ghost do the same with a smile on their faces, but then Ghost kicks his leg under the table. Soap scowls, mumbling some incoherent shit about betting against shit he knew he was going to lose. He dug into his pocket and fished out his wallet, throwing down two notes on the table as Ghost laughed and pocketed them both. Gaz noticed the transaction, and laughed himself hoarse, asking in between strained breaths if they really bet about him and you being together. Soap grumpily explained the bet, and even Price couldn't hold in his laughter. Neither could you, as your shoulder shook with silent chuckles.

A couple of days later, your captain had called for a briefing. He had said that he had received information that Konni was in London, that they had complete access to the train networks, and that Makarov planned to take over the tunnels and destroy them with civilians still inside. That leads you to where you are now, TF141 along with SFO’s, headed to the channel tunnel where your info said Makarov would be. Your task force had to split up into two groups; you, Gaz, and Price in one, along with a handful of SFOs. Ghost and Soap lead the other, with the remaining SFOs.

Trains run through the tunnels as Konni gets a hard grip on the network. You had multiple intense shootouts with Konni as they defended their plan as you attempt to pursue Makarov until he's marked as confirmed KIA. Minutes later, you and your group find an active bomb, which is close to detonating. You and Gaz end up stuck trying to disarm it, while Price and the SFOs defend off the Konni as you two desperately try to disarm the bomb. Price calls for reinforcements over the radio, your palms getting more sweaty as each second ticks by. Gaz asks for a couple of things needed to disarm it, like the manufacturing logo and the serial ID. You hurriedly repeat them back, looking over at your fiancee as his finger touches the very button needed to disarm the bomb, but he is rudely interrupted. The tablet gets knocked out of his hands. “Bloody hell—” He barely gets the sound out as he turns his head, and sees the very person you're trying to kill, Makarov.

Gaz raises his gun in defiance, but before he can make any decision on what to do next, his gun gets knocked out of his hands, and he takes a bullet in the shoulder. He hits the ground with a wince, watching as you get the same fate as him. You hiss at the pain radiating off of your shoulder, but you ignore it as you watch Konni surround him. “Y/N! Shit—” He curses out as he's dragged off the ground harshly, landing on his knees as he attempts to fight back, but it gets him a hard punch to the cheek. “Tie them up.” You hear Makarov’s degrading voice order, sending a nasty glare his way.

Your lover's hands are roughly yanked forward as he grits his teeth, whispering curses to the Konni doing this to them. He is now immobile as his hands are tied above his head, his feet being handcuffed and tied. His shoulder was bleeding tremendously, but he ignored the pain radiating off in waves through his body, it was the least of his worries. He keeps searching for you in the chaos until he finds his love tied up on the ground in front of him. Price was dragged right next to you, with the same fate. He growls curses at their attackers and does his best to escape, but that leaves him with a blow to the head from the butt end of a gun, his head falling limp to the side. You call out his name, but there isn't a response. That sends a shock of worry and fear down your spine, eyes widening as you realize the SFOs have all been killed.

A warehouse door opens, revealing Ghost and Soap, along with the rest of the SFOs, who have gotten to the scene too late. They're immediately surrounded by hostiles, unable to break through the wall and get to the three of you. At this point, the only thing on Gaz’s mind is that his fiancee is bruised up, bleeding, and tied up in front of him. You were about to speak, but Gaz beat you to it. “Let her go, you fucking bastards!” He curses out, as you spit insults at the men, never staying still for them. Makarov slightly side-eyed you as you spat curses at him and his men, but the annoyance dribbled away as he noticed a glimmering gold, emerald gem ring on your right hand.

“Well, well… look what we have here.” He chuckles as he approaches you, crouching down as he rips the rings off your finger. You go to protest, but you realize it wouldn't get you literally anywhere. He orders his men to do something in Russian and they all nod, checking Price and Gaz for a ring as well. One of them calls out, claiming he found a similar one on Gaz. He pulled it off of his finger as he gave it to Makarov. You grit your teeth as your head hangs low. Makarov lets out a low chuckle as he takes the ring, a malicious grin on his face.

A chuckle vibrates low in his throat before speaking, “The one-four-one…back at it again, huh?” He smirks. “Shadowing your failures with the aspect of love? Чертовы тупицы.” He looks back down at his hand, the two rings shimmering in the dull light, then back at the three tied-up members on the cold concrete.

“Убей его.” One of the men quickly raises their gun to Gaz’s head and your eyes widen in fear, and your pupils dilate as well. “DON'T!” You scream out and try to free yourself of your restraints, but it’s no use as Makarov points his gun at you, keeping you still. Tears beam at your eyelids as you realize this isn't something quick and easy you can get out of. This is the end for either You, Gaz, or both of you.

You blink rapidly in an attempt to get rid of the tears, but it only makes them worse. You look into your lover's eyes, yours saying much more than words could ever speak. He returns the expression by staring into yours. His eyes have a mix of sorrow, and a very apologetic look. One loud ringing shot in the air, one shot was all it took for your fiance, the love of your life, your soulmate, to fall limp on his side, blood pooling near his head.

Your eyes widen big, more than you thought possible as you inhale a giant shaky breath before letting out the loudest ear piercing scream known to mankind. You dont have a chance to do anything else except stare at his lifeless body before you barely hear Makarov order something in Russian to the men. If you weren't stuck staring at his dead body, you would have seen Ghost and Soap starting to push through the men surrounding them.

Two of his men come up to you and grab you by your underarms. “NO! DON'T TOUCH ME!” you try to fight against your restraints as your eyes don't leave Gaz. You scream out for him to no avail. Ghost and Soap barely catch a glimpse of you before going to disarm the still ticking bomb, the British Police covering for them as they do so. You keep screaming till your throat is raw as tears flow freely down your face, not being able to hold them back anymore as they drag you away from your dead fiance.

They finish disarming the bomb as you're no longer able to be seen. “Bombs disarmed.” Ghost speaks to Soap who is now staring at their dead squadmate. To make matters worse, you were nowhere to be found, and Price was still tied and passed out, along with you and Gaz’s emerald engagement rings tossed next to his lifeless cold body on the hard concrete.

You wake up in a dazed panic, your entire body slightly throbbing in pain. Your eyes widen to take in your surroundings. You remember very few things, trying to disarm a bomb, it all going to shit. You remember one very clear image, your fiance on his side, seemingly passed out, but that unfortunately was pushed to the back of your mind as you try to lift your hands, finding them tied to a chair and unable to move. You try your feet, only to find the same outcome. You curse to yourself, looking down at your clothes to see they were changed. It was a flimsy shirt that barely covered you fully, along with poorly bandadged shoulder from where you were shot. At least they did that much. Shit, what did they do to you? 

You sigh as you realize that they probably marked you as KIA. There was no way of contacting your task force even if you tried. There was no way of figuring out time, or what's going to happen to you now.

Minutes later after lots of thinking, you hear that grating Russian accent. You glance up to see the same person who you were targeted to kill. Makarov. You snarl as he comes closer, trying to raise a hand in defense when you seemingly forget your hands are still bound behind you. 

“Ah, can’t do that can you? I need you to answer my questions, and who knows, you might even escape.” His voice has a sickeningly smooth edge to it, knowing very well that he has the upper hand over this siuation, and even your entire task force. You waited till he stood directly in front of you, taking the chance to spit on his vest.

He scowled as you did so, staring at the spot on his vest where you spat. He pulled a hard punch on the side of your jaw, making your head cock in the direction of his fist.

“You will answer my questions whether you like it or not, truthfully, and no hesitation.” He rubbed the knuckles on his fist, glaring at you with a hatred you could only mirror in your own eyes. He puts a sadistic smirk on his face, “Now…let's get started shall we?”

thank you all for reading!!

part 1 / part 2