Captain John Price just being sexy and athletic as fuck as he jumps off a building while dodging bullets.
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Peter Solarz

pixel skylines
todays bird
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almost home

Discoholic đȘ©

Kaledo Art

Origami Around
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă

romaâ

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Today's Document

shark vs the universe
dirt enthusiast
styofa doing anything
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola

seen from Canada
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seen from Germany
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seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from TĂŒrkiye
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@ghvst-ing
Captain John Price just being sexy and athletic as fuck as he jumps off a building while dodging bullets.
SNEAK PEAK FOR MY FIC â Piece Me Me Back Together.
materialist if anyoneâs interested
John Mactavish is the type of guy to send you an Instagram reel while you're at work saying "one won't hurt!". When you open the notification, it's a reel of a baby girl kicking her little feet out, babbling with the gummiest smile on her chubby face.Â
He hated feeling like this â vulnerable.
It made him feel weak, like he was a little kid again at the mercy of the bastard he called a father. The emotions that he buried deep within him years ago bubbling to the surface as he tried to contain them.
His eyes closed instinctively as a bit of soapy water rolled down his face, shoulders hunched, and meaty legs bent at the knees whilst he sat in the bathtub stiffly.
An apologetic âsorryâ tumbled from your pursed lips, hands running through his short hair as you massaged your scented shampoo into his scalp. You were sat on the edge of the tub, clothed as you helped him get clean, scrubbing the grime, blood, and sweat that lingered on him post-mission.
âTâs fine,â he mumbled back, lids fluttering half-open to gaze at you from the corner of his eye.
He was tired.
Exhaustion clung onto him, weighing him down, his bones heavy, and every little move caused an ache in his joints.
In this moment, Simon was exposed to you fully. Both literally, and figuratively. His heavily guarded trust heart was handed over to your delicate fingers. And in a time of weakness, he hoped that you wouldnât dare to break it.
A long sigh escaped his lips. All the air is pushed out of his lungs as you lean in, placing a gentle kiss to temple. He relished in the softness of your lips against his damp skin before you pulled back, returning to the task at hand.
The shallow water he sat in was growing cold, yet it was the least of his concerns as your touch was warm enough to combat the chilliness, a tingling feeling running down his spine.
âI missed you,â you said, breaking the somewhat comfortable silence that fell over you both.
From his peripheral, he could see the small smile that tugged at your lips, brows just slightly pinched in concentration.
If he was some other man; a man not so scarred, delt with the cruelest cards, one that hadnât seen, gone through the things he had, heâd return the gesture.
But he wasnât that man. He would never be that man.
Not in this lifetime, at least.
Simon swallowed thickly, his lips pulled into a soft frown as his eyes shifted to the wall.
No response came from him, and that was okay. It was to be expected. You were used to the man he was. The wary, scared, conditioned man he was.
So it came as a surprise when his thin lips parted, forming the words that came out just barely audible, quiet, and in the softest tone one could receive from him.
â..Missed you, too.â
If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your âon repeatâ playlist is.
Elliot Knight
Hacks s3 ep 8
The weak, yet steady beeping of the heart monitor fills your heart with hope, one dulled out over your time spent grieving.
You look like a right mess. Your hairâs disheveled, the whites of your eyes reddish. Dark eye-bags adorn your face, too, cheeks stained with trails of dried tears.
The sharp smell of antiseptic, and chlorine burns your nose. A migraine prods at the back of your brain, and you feel the pounding of your head behind your eyelids.
Light, rhythmic taps of your shoe against the tiles fill the hospital room, and your knee bounces in tandem, unable to keep still.
CAPTAIN PRICE IN THE CALL OF DUTY: WARZONE MOBILE TRAILER
Simon is a light sleeper.
So itâs no surprise he wakes to even the smallest of noises, the quietest disturbances that wouldnât bother most.
The soft creak of the door is what rouses him from his slumber this night, and as his eyes blink open tentatively, adjusting to the darkness within his bedroom, he could just barely notice the silhouette of his little girl.
He lifts his head from the pillow with slightly squinted eyes, watching as she makes her way towards his bed. Her feet padded softly against the floorboards, a stuffy you got her when she was just a newborn held tightly in her arms.
âWhatâs wrong, sweetâeart?â
i am absolutely feral
That's one hell of a profile.
Canon-confirmed
The shake in his hands is almost imperceptible, but still there as he holds his phone in his large, calloused fingers.
After years of active service, countless years of handling a sniper rifle, youâd think heâd be completely still at all times. And he is, but the emotions bottling inside him prevents it.
He hits the record button on the camera app the second his seven year old steps onto the stage, dressed up in a costume for the character she was playing as.
He feels proud.
Watching her as she so confidently says her part aloud, shifting into her role easily with an elated smile tugging at her lips once she notices his presence in one of the many seats before her.
Simon, being the tank of a man that he is, stands out amongst the crowd, surrounded by the parentsâ of the other kids that came to witness the performance.
All goes well, and as the play comes to an end, and the parentsâ cheer while the children on stage take a bow, he stops the recording. It pauses when he zooms in on your little girl, his lips quirking up in a rugged smile underneath the black surgical mask he wore.
His gaze drops, fingers tapping away at the screen as he closes the app, opening another, and finding your contact at the top of the list of the limited people he had saved.
He barely manages to send the messages before his daughter runs up to him from the stage, along with the other kids that rushed to their own parents, and clung onto his thigh, staring up at him expectingly with a face that resembled yours closely.
Attachment sent
Look at our little girl love Sent 16:48
He stuffs his phone into his pocket, brown eyes crinkling in the corners before he lifts her up into his arms, and she squeals in happiness.
It was for moments like these that he continued fighting.
Wish you were still here we both miss you Sent 16:49
Piece Me Back Together; materialist
Summary; Ghost rid himself of his past years ago, left behind his life and identity as Simon Riley in the past, buried deep within the confidential marked files of his dossier.
However, when a person from his past he thought was long gone reappears, he finds peace with what occurred alongside her. All while helping her regain all she lost during her torture.
Or
Captured for years, tortured and stripped from your sense of self, your rescued by Simon Ghost Riley. The man, you later remember, who was supposed to be six feet under, alongside your traitorous CO.
Paring; Simon âGhostâ Riley x Fem!Reader
Warnings; You/your pronouns. Angst. Torture. Blood. Medical/Military inaccuracies. Swearing. 09â Ghost backstory. Slowburn. Trauma. (More will be added as the fic progresses)
Updates will unfortunately be random, with no set schedule.
Another warning; I am no professional writer. Please donât expect this to be a literature masterpiece, Iâm just doing this for fun.
Chapters;
Chapter one â The ever-awaited rescue
Chapter two â tba
not proofread
Itâs the blinding, morning sun that pours past the curtains, and into the bedroom that wakes him from his slumber.
The duvet was thrown off to the side during the night when it got too warm, a gentle pressure on his chest as it rose and fell with every intake of breath he took through his nose.
It was peaceful, quiet; no unpleasant thoughts swarming his brain. No sound of distant gunfire, or shouting he could make out within the comfort of his apartment, the four walls he called home.
Itâs late at night when your phone rings.
You swipe it from the bedside table with a sluggish hand as your bleary eyes blinked open, and you cringed from the light emitting from your screen. Your fingers scrambled to accept the call, pressing the speaker option as soon as you did.
âHey, love.â
The familiar sound of your partners voice hits your ears, and you immediately perk up, snapped out of your sleep induced haze.
He waits patiently for your reply, knowing the late hour over in England, finding himself on the other side of globe. He hears the rustling of the sheets as you briskly sat up on the bed. âSimon..!â
Itâs not real.
Paring; Simon âGhostâ Riley x Reader
Warnings; Nightmares. Blood. Mentions of torture. Death. 09â Ghostâs backstory.
The scene Simon is met with was not one he hadnât witnessed a milion times before, yet it didnât stop the way his blood ran cold.
Itâs grotesque, chilling, revolting; something that could make even grown men hurl. Something he, personally, had grown desensitized from due to his job, the things heâd seen, the things heâd done.
Heâs frozen in place as only a spectator, finding himself within the walls of his childhood home, the place he despised, a place he wished to never return to.