#sstormyskyess

[sstormyskyess]

he won't get out of my head. don't know what to do but he's there [inspired by this post:]

[sstormyskyess-ex]

"are we family, robot?"

[sstormyskyess]

Hello lovely moot! Can I send a request? Need some more Gaz content please, there’s not enough as we well know. How about something steamy, stolen kisses and an intimate moment when the rest of the team are busy elsewhere. Gotta keep it quiet so no one catches you in the act and blows the secret. Happy with your choice of reader gender identity but top Gaz please 🖤🖤🖤

Undercover

author's note: hi beloved moot and fellow gaz lover!! i will always write gaz content til the day i die, i will populate the gaz x reader tag myself if i have to 💜 thank you for the request!! [and apologies for the wait, finals season is kicking my ass 🥱]

cw: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unsafe sex [wrap it before you tap it!]

word count: 2100+

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / Fem!Reader

Gaz had been getting on your nerves for the past hour now. He must be pent up from the last mission; there would be no other reason for him to be practically begging for your attention when he had plenty of other things to focus on. Mainly, the mission brief that was currently being held. The one that would be dictating the strategies you would be employing for the next mission.

But instead of taking in that crucial information, Gaz was squeezing and kneading at the meat of your thighs under the table. You shoot him yet another glare but his eyes remain forward, albeit unfocused. Your face was warming up exponentially, despite the cold winter air drifting in through the door.

“Soap, Ghost. This is need to know, follow me.” Price nodded to the door and all three of them left the room, leaving just you and Gaz in the makeshift meeting room that had been fashioned in the safehouse. Your gaze snaps to Gaz, a frown on your face. “What is wrong with you?!” You whisper-yell, your face heated up all the way down to your shirt collar.

He puts his hands up defensively, a cocky smile playing at his features. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.” You groan, rolling your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face to calm yourself down enough to not strangle him half to death on the spot. “Were you paying attention to the brief at all?” You groan, exasperated by his antics.

Any further protests you were planning on raising were swiftly cut short by Gaz’s lips on yours, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You latch your hand to his shoulder, gripping tight and trying to push him off, your frustration fighting to keep your desires under control. He only deepens the kiss, leaning over you and pushing you back against the table. Ultimately, the heat between your legs won out, your body letting him lay you on the old wooden table, covered in important documents that most certainly weren’t meant to be tampered with or damaged in any way.

You let out a little whine into his mouth as his hands started to palm at your chest through your clothes, the soft plush of your breasts squishing under his touch. His hands slip into your sweater, pushing your bra upwards to get better access to your warm skin and perked up nipples. It doesn’t take long for him to lean down and shove his head under the hem of your shirt and wrap his soft lips around one of your hardened buds.

You gasp, grabbing onto his head through the thick fabric making up your sweater. “Gaz, they’re right outside!” You squeak, wiggling in his grasp. He just continues his cruel machinations, pulling you closer even though he was already practically laying on top of you. “I guess we better stay quiet then, yeah?” His voice is muffled by both your skin and the cover of your sweater over his head.

He holds your hips tight to stop your squirming before his fingers start to unbuckle your belt and slip the hem of your cargo pants down. They get shucked off, falling to the ground in a heap, leaving you in only your sweater and your underwear. Your legs instinctively try to close to stave off the cold air against your dampened panties, but Gaz catches them before they can.

He licks his lips at the sight of the wet spot your pussy had created on the soft fabric covering it up, a near ravenous glint in his eyes. He had to force himself to calm down, though; he didn’t have time to bury his face between your legs until your legs were shaking. That would have to wait for later. But he needed you, now.

You let him pull your panties to the side and glide his fingers along your slit, a shiver going down your spine at the feeling. “God, you’re soaked, love.” He smiles to himself, slipping one of his fingers inside, another fitting in beside the first quickly. You bite down on your bottom lip, barely able to suppress the needy moan that bubbles up at the way his digits wormed their way into your tight heat.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out, your hips twitching upwards in response with a sharp inhale. “Fuck—!” You slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your eyes darting to the door for fear of the other three returning and seeing you in this position. Gaz would have none of that, he decided before he grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your eyes back toward him. “Eyes on me, darling, c’mon.”

Your breath hitches at the hungry look he gives you. You look him over through the fog slowly clouding your brain, taking note of the straining of his pants trying to hold his aching cock back. You’re brought back to reality when his fingers press against that spot that only he can reach, your back arching off the table. The spongy flesh melds around his middle and ring finger, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through you. You whine, wiggling under his touch. “Gaz, just hurry up!”

Gaz simply smirks, finally undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his pants down with his free hand, the outline of his bulge visible behind the fabric of his boxer briefs. You gasp when he pulls you toward the edge of the table, your core pressing up against his clothed cock. He grips your hips tightly, grinding into you and putting delightful friction on your clit through your underwear.

He takes a little while longer to work you open, his fingers spreading your walls open. You clench around them, a tiny whimper leaving your pursed lips. “Gaz, c’mon..!”

“You think you’re ready for me?” He taunts, his smug face making a wave of frustration roll through you. “Yes, I’m ready! Hurry, please!” You whine at him. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. “Alright, alright.”

He lets go of your hip to fish his cock out of his underwear, stiff and leaking at the tip. You bite your lip at the sight, watching him intently as he pumps himself a few times and milks a few more drops of his pre-cum out. Your eyes dart between that delicious sight and his face, feeling your cheeks warm.

You hardly notice his fingers sliding out of you and the head of his cock lining up with your pussy, gliding through your folds. Before you know it, he’s pressing into you, stretching you open. It rips a moan from your lips, a moan that’s just a little too loud.

He jerks up to put his palm over your mouth and continues pushing himself inside. The rest of the moans you let out are muffled by his hand, and he chuckles imagining how loud you would be if he let you sing for him out loud. Maybe later tonight. “You know how much I love your voice, but you have to stay quiet, sweetheart.”

You shoot a glare at him, your eyes shouting at him, ‘If you didn’t want to get caught, why did we do this in the first place,’ but your wordless complaints are stifled when he starts moving his hips. Your back arches at the pace he sets off the jump; it’s obvious he was done playing around now, something about being enveloped in your wet cunt fully awakening his desires.

You cry out behind his hand, putting your own hand over his in an attempt to subdue your own voice more than it already was. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix over and over, the pressure in the pit of your stomach building up with each thrust. He leans over you, hands firmly planted on the table, hitting a different angle than before. A better angle.

Kyle grazes across your sweet spot, your entire body jumping in response. You practically scream his name into the palm of his hand, your eyes rolling back. “Fuuuck…” He groans at the way you tighten around him, his hips stuttering before continuing his quick pace. You whine, hips canting upwards to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes widen when he removes his hand while you were mid-moan, your own hand slapping over your mouth to replace his. He doesn’t let it stay there for long, though; he takes your wrist and pulls it away from your face, leaning down to put his lips on yours in a heated kiss. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth to dance with your own, covering up your lewd noises.

The table legs scrape along the floor with every one of his thrusts. You claw at his back through his shirt, tugging on it. “Gaz—” You have to bite your lip to stop your words from devolving into a moan, before continuing, “S-Slow down, they’re gonna hear us—!” You squeak when all he responds with is a particularly rough thrust.

“D-Don’t care if they hear, fuck—need to feel you cum on my cock, c’mon, do it,” He mutters and starts pulling you into his thrusts, groaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as you neared your climax.

He takes a moment to lean back and look over your body, a slight sheen of sweat gracing your skin and your eyes glassy. You feel his cock twitch inside you and your hips jerk; you stifle your whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, desperate to finally cum.

“Christ, love,” He pants, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—” He bites into his fist, groaning into it. His hand shakes as he drags it to your clit, rubbing quick little circles into your sensitive nub. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and muffle the string of moans that leaves you as your orgasm finally hits.

Gaz braces his hands on the table’s surface, nearly collapsing under the overwhelming feeling of the walls of your tight cunt fluttering as you cum. It only takes a couple more pumps of his cock for him to finish, his cum sending a pleasantly warm feeling through your body and eliciting a moan from you, not caring about the volume anymore.

Your breath shudders as you try to regain your bearings, your mind a bit fuzzy. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, You suck in a quick breath when he pulls out, your cunt oversensitive from his relentless onslaught he laid into it. He smiles and leans down to kiss you sweetly, his hands caressing your sides.

You sit up after a few moments, noticing that Gaz had pulled your panties back in place. You grimace and sigh when you feel him leaking out of you, which is bound to get the seat of your pants wet. You hoped at least you’d be able to escape somewhere to change soon.

“Are you satisfied now?” You grumble, sliding off the table and attempting to hide the way your legs were shaking. He just chuckles, kissing you on the cheek with a smile on his lips. “I am. At least until later tonight.” He plants another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you, love.”

You roll your eyes and playfully push him away, smoothing down your sweater and pulling your cargo pants back up, but not before Gaz grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes. He laughs when you squeak and swat his hand away, your cheeks puffed as you frown. “Stop that! And put your dick away, they're bound to come back in here any minute now.”

He does as you ask and tucks his softening cock away, zipping up his trousers. “Looking forward to later tonight, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky little grin.

Soap leans against the wall next to the door to their makeshift briefing room, chuckling quietly to himself. Ghost and Price were less than amused, but they could at least acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. They left for five minutes and you and Gaz managed to get into each other’s pants within that short span of time.

“Remind me why we aren’t going back inside?” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. Price shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in seeing my sergeants shagging like dogs in heat, Simon.”

Soap hides a louder laugh behind his fist, taking a second to compose himself. “Come on, L.T., no need to ruin their fun.” He barely held back the overpowering urge to reach over a few inches and jiggle the door handle just to spook the two of you. Just barely. Ghost rolls his eyes. “Should’ve picked a better time to have their fun, then.” He huffs.

“It’ll be fine. I can tell them off later.” Price chuckles at Ghost’s drawn out, dramatic sigh and patiently waits for the sound of squealing table legs to quiet down.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sstormyskyess]

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

currently writing for: simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick, john price, alejandro vargas

🍇 [fluff]

☔️ [angst]

💜 [nsfw/18+]

🔮 [request]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲: CLOSED

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 "𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭" 𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲

[☔️] Medical Evac - Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

[🔮] Glory Days - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

[🔮] [💜] Winding Down - Simon "Ghost" Riley x FTM!Reader

[💜] Bad Attitude - Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

[💜] A Tender Surprise - Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader x John Price

Robot!Ghost [1] [2 - GPD's Ghost Challenge]

𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 "𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩" 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡

[💜] High Tension - John "Soap" MacTavish x Fem!Reader

[🍇] [☔️] Night Terrors - John "Soap" MacTavish x GN!Reader

Single Dad!Soap [1 - 🍇] [2 - 🍇] [3 - 🍇+☔️]

GPD's Soap It Up Challenge 2024 [💜] A Productive Outlet - John "Soap" Mactavish x M!Reader [🍇] [☔️] To Live Another Day - John "Soap" Mactavish x GN!Reader

𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞 "𝐠𝐚𝐳" 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

[🍇] [☔️] Icy Hands - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

[🔮] [💜] Undercover - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem!Reader

[💜] Holiday Movies - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

[💜] A New Dynamic - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x M!Reader

𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞

[🍇] Your Biggest Fan - John Price x GN!Reader

[💜] A Tender Surprise - John Price x GN!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

[🍇] [☔️] Decompressing - John Price x GN!Reader

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬

[NONE - TBA]

𝐓𝐅-𝟏𝟒𝟏

[🍇] Spooky Season - TF 141 x GN!Reader

[💜] Pillow Talk - TF 141 x GN!Reader

[🍇] Tender Love and Care - TF 141 x GN!Reader

[🍇] [☔️] Self-Doubts - TF 141 x GN!Reader

[💜] Party Favors - TF 141 x GN!Reader

[🍇] Pub Nights - TF 141 x GN!Reader

𝐓𝐅-𝟏𝟒𝟏 + 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬

[🍇] Still Woozy - TF 141 + Alejandro Vargas x GN!Reader

𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐩𝐠𝐚𝐳

[🍇] General Headcanons - John "Soap" Mactavish x GN!Reader x Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

[4 + 26] [🍇] [☔️] Family Matters - John "Soap" Mactavish x GN!Reader [16] [🍇] Family Affairs - TF 141 x GN!Reader [24] [🍇] Slippery Surface - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

last updated: 1/19/24

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

[sstormyskyess]

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sstormyskyess]

Medical Evac

author's note: i'm not sure i'm the best at writing whumps [i love hurt/comfort so i may write a part two to this but we'll just have to see]

cw: whump, mentions of blood, injury

word count: 1600+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader "Nails"

If only every operation could just go smoothly. Unfortunately, in the world of TF-141, the dirtiest work was the norm. With the dirtiest work comes the nastiest repercussions when things go horribly wrong, after all. "Ghost, I need you to open your eyes for me. Please,” You plead with the hulking man laying in your arms. Your voice is muted as you choke back a sob, your eyes shut tight. The sound of Ghost’s pained groans is both disheartening and promising at the same time; at the very least, he's still breathing.

The corner you had dragged the both of you into was dark, dusty, and dicey, similar to the situation you found yourselves in. The room you're in was surrounded by enemy forces: the ones who reduced the almighty Ghost to a half-dead heap on the filthy concrete floor smeared with layers of blood, old and new. Your eyes moved frantically between Ghost, to the door of the hovel you’d created, and to the barred window on the other side of the room. Evac was supposed to be only a few minutes out and it had been almost fifteen minutes since you called for it. What could possibly be delaying them?

Ghost had stopped squirming in pain at this point. His breathing is slow, labored. It's almost impossible to tell if his eyes are open or not, and the pitch black eye paint certainly doesn’t help. “Ghost?” You shake him a bit. No response. “Ghost?” Your voice begs him for a sound, a twitch, anything to show you that he was still alive. “Please, you can’t leave me— I can’t lose you now.” You whimper quietly as you hunch over to press your forehead against the hard plastic plate of Ghost’s mask. All you can hear was the crackling flames and heavy boot steps just outside the room.

A heavy hand meets the back of your head, causing you to flinch up and look at Ghost. His eyes were finally open again. It was only just a fraction and it seems so forced that it hurt, but they were open. The hand holding your head so gently was tense. His grip tightens and loosens in time with his strained breathing. The tears in your eyes finally fall and drop down onto Ghost’s mask, prompting him to squeeze the back of your head just a bit harder. “It’ll—” Your voice breaks as you speak, feeling choked by the smoke and your own tears. “It’ll only be a little longer, Ghost, just— please, please,” You nuzzle deeper into his hold. “Just stay alive…”

Your shaky hand shot up to your transceiver and your desperate voice blurts out quickly, “What’s the status on evac?! We need to go— now!” Ghost’s hand grips even tighter, trying his best to ground you. Smoke had started to seep under the door. The footfalls outside had seemingly begun to grow louder, louder…

Until, finally, you see the heli approaching your location. You look down at Ghost for a second. Reluctantly, you set him down, carefully, as though he was made of porcelain. You scramble over to the barred window and scan for the best vantage point to… there.

Your foot comes up and slams into a rusted part of the bars and breaks them open, along with some of the bones in your foot. But that wasn’t important right now. A sudden burst of adrenaline courses through your veins from the mind-numbing pain you just inflicted upon yourself and you suddenly find yourself dragging Ghost along the floor and over your shoulder and jumping through the window to the grassy ground around the building. You wince when you felt him take a couple impacts on the way out. You adjust him the best you could, not wanting to make things worse. The last thing you needed was for things to be even worse than they already are.

You haven’t been able to breathe properly for the past six hours. Your mind has been entirely preoccupied with thoughts of Ghost. He hadn’t stirred once since you made it back to the small temporary base TF-141 had settled into for the past few weeks. Even though pain has been radiating up your ankle to the rest of your leg, you haven’t let anyone near to assess the damage. You haven’t even let Price, Soap or Gaz approach you. Whenever anyone would close in on you, your chest tightened. It was as if a boa constrictor has wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing as tight as it could. You just couldn’t stop yourself from snapping at the medics and your colleagues. You knew deep down you’d regret it later, but that was far from the front of your mind.

Really, this whole situation was your fault. It was the most simple mistake, one that even a rookie wouldn’t make. You caught your foot on one piece of debris and Ghost had to help you up. Then, next thing you knew, he had been riddled with bullet holes and he was bleeding everywhere, and he was dying, he was dying—

“Nails…” Ghost’s voice was rough, the sound of it grating on your mind. You can’t bear to keep hearing it playing over and over in your head. It's painful. It hurt to hear him like that. “Nails.” You silently beg for it to stop. His voice was like sandpaper, digging into your skin down to your heart, into your lungs. You couldn’t breathe—

“Nails!” Ghost’s insistent voice finally breaches past your spiraling mind and you jump to attention. You hadn’t realized you were crying again, hunched over and sobbing into your lap, the tears falling down upon your still dirtied cargo pants. You meet eyes with Ghost. You stare at each other for a couple more seconds until he coughs and winces in pain. Apparently, shouting like that really did a number on the back of his throat, parched after the many hours of not drinking.

Words continue to go unexchanged for a few more seconds that seem to drag on for hours. Before you choke out, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. You hunch back over, unable to look Ghost in the eyes. All you could keep seeing was the pain in his gaze under his mask and eye paint. Ghost’s firm hand lands on your head, caressing you with his now ungloved hand. You lean into him quietly. “I almost got you killed…” Your body trembles, your voice broken and breathless.

Ghost’s hand tenses. “Stop that.” He grumbles through gritted teeth. He hates this self-flagellation you were subjecting yourself to. You didn’t deserve that pain, that sole responsibility you tended to leverage upon yourself. You're too good for that. “Look at me.” His voice is gruff and gravelly as he vies for your attention, watching you despair in front of him. Your eyes are finally pulled up to Ghost’s; they're red and saturated with tears, your eyelashes catching the droplets.

“I’m alright.” Ghost’s voice is hoarse as he did his best to comfort you. He grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, bringing you closer to the present and further out of your mind. “Ghost, I— You almost died. I don’t want to lose you…” Your voice is weak. You look at Ghost almost as though he isn’t real. You feel as though maybe this is all just a dream: a hopeful dream where Ghost was still alive, a dream where you’d actually succeeded in keeping him alive. Maybe he's dead and gone, and you’ll wake up just to see that you failed. “I can’t lose you.” The tears start to return. “Are you… are you gone?” You whisper.

Ghost’s cold, icy heart has been cracking ever since he met you. It's been getting harder and harder for him to tell himself he doesn’t care, and that you're just a coworker, maybe even a nuisance with how persistent you are in trying to make friends with him. No matter what he did, you're always there for him, ready to help and ready to care for him if ever he needs it. Even if you knew that the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. Ghost sighs. “I’m here. I’m not dead.” He moves his hand up your arm and squeezes your shoulder. “You’re not gonna lose me, Nails.”

You sit there quietly for a few minutes, only the sounds of Ghost’s heart monitor and your labored breathing occupying the room. You sigh and look up from your lap. “I should get the nurse.” You force out, still trying to choke down the tears welling up. You grip the armrest of the bed and stand carefully, but you don’t get far before your knees buckle and you fall to the floor with a cry of pain.

Ghost is up and at attention immediately, grabbing hold of your arm. “What’s the issue, Nails?” You whimper and try to force yourself up again. “My—” You clench your teeth, your brow scrunching up. “My foot. It’s broken, I think…” You mutter, waiting for his admonishment. Ghost squints at you. “Why haven’t you gotten it treated, sergeant?” His voice is firm, masking the genuine worry hiding beneath it. He watches as fresh tears start rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t— I-I was worried about you…” You whimper.

“Bloody git…” Ghost groans both in pain and in frustration. You sniffle and get yourself sat in the chair again. “I-I have to get the nurse. I’m sorry.” You wipe your face with your sleeve. Forcing yourself up again, you keep your eyes off Ghost and squeezed shut. With shaky legs, you limp and stumble on your way to the door. Ghost sighs and settles back into his bed to shut his eyes after watching you leave.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sstormyskyess]

uhh thinking about robot!ghost

Your profession was a rare one in the British SAS. There was a stark lack of automaton soldiers, due to the stigmatization that surrounded the group, and a majority of the ones that made their way into the ranks knew how to manage their own circuits. But for the ones that didn’t, that’s where you come in.

As an advanced automaton mechanic, you’re highly proficient in the field of robotics. Your level of skill is appreciated by the few that require your expertise, as few and far between as they may be, which is exactly the reason you’re here in a quiet little cafe waiting for your newest assignment to arrive. You were able to do some personal research about them, having been allowed some of their documents to look over.

When Station Chief Kate Laswell had gotten in contact with you, you knew that it must be serious business. You’d met her a few years prior to now and your previous CO had sung your praises up and down, but you could’ve never expected that she would even remember you, let alone call you up and request your services.

So here you are, flipping through the limited pages of your new temporary team. As far as you could tell, none of them were automatons, unless one of them was the extremely rare life-like ones that looked almost scarily similar to humans. The strangest file was the one with no picture at all. The name on the file was ‘Simon Riley,’ and his nickname was ‘Ghost.’ Kind of scary, you think.

Before you have any more time to dwell on it, the bell on the door rings and Laswell walks in. She scans the room for you and smiles once she meets your eyes. She waves as she approaches and you peek behind her to see four men, all of which you recognize from the files aside from one: the one who wore a black balaclava that covered the majority of his face excluding his eyes. Ghost, you assume.

You stand up and meet them halfway, putting on your standard business smile while she introduces you, giving your name and rank. The man you recognize as Captain Price steps forward and shakes your hand firmly with a charming smile accentuated by his mustache and beard. He goes down the line introducing the rest of his squad and once he gets to Ghost, he lets the taller man step forward.

One of his gloved hands pulls back the sleeve on his left arm, presenting the inside of his wrist to you. You’re able to see through the decals on his arm the serial number imprinted on the surface of his wrist. You recognize the number immediately, rendered speechless for only a moment as you realize just how rare his model is. You’ve never met someone like him before and to be face to face with one of the most rare specimens on the planet as you knew it had you starstruck.

You’re quickly able to snap out of it so you don’t make yourself seem like a weirdo to people you just met and pull your hands away from where they were inspecting the engraved number. Ghost stays there, looking you up and down with a scrutinizing stare. “You ever worked with my model before?” His gruff voice takes you by surprise.

“Uh, no, actually. Mostly just standard models,” You explain, fiddling with the small bag of tools attached to your hip. “It’ll be interesting to work with you, lieutenant.”

And interesting it was.

You didn’t need to fix him up often; he was decent at getting out of scuffles unharmed and when he did get hit, his casing was strong enough to ward off most artillery aimed his way. Generally, you were performing simple check-ups after being out on the field, checking for damages and scuffing out minor scrapes.

The first time you had to get intensive with your repairs was a few months into your partnership with TF-141. He’d taken a bullet to the abdomen, just barely missing one of his core processors. He came back to your office barely functioning, the LEDs that constituted his eyes dim and flickering. It was a whole night ordeal fixing him, taking apart metal plates and working with deft fingers to take out malfunctioning parts and put in specially made replacements. By the time he was fully up and running, you’d been awake for seven hours straight with no breaks. You checked him over one last time and had passed out leaning on your workbench before he booted back up.

He wakes you up with a shake to your shoulders and you groan as you sit up, feeling the muscles in your neck and shoulders tensed up. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance up at him, about to ask him what was wrong, but you’re cut off by the way his eyes peer down at you. You left his face plate on out of respect for his privacy, but now you were face to face with the naked circuits behind the sheet of metal previously covering them up.

But the reason it catches you off guard is the way they’re made up. Instead of the standard flat circuit board look an automaton’s true face had, Ghost’s face is much more… human. It’s almost organic, and if one didn’t know any better, they might assume he was just a human in a robot costume. And yet, his LED eyes still peer at you, a clear sign of his inorganic nature.

“Y’forgot to put my tag back in,” he says plainly, his voice echoing out from where his mouth would be.

Right. His tag. How did you forget that? It’s one of the most important things an automaton needs: something that keeps their identity straight when compared to other automatons. Looks like you made a great impression for your first time working on his body so intimately.

You clear your throat, looking away from his face and sliding your chair over to all your tools. You sift through everything cluttering the space and eventually find his tag, standing up to put it back in place in the junction between his neck and shoulder. All the while, his eyes were locked on you, making you squirm. Why did he always have to stare at you when you were working on him? It was starting to frustrate you, but you couldn’t focus on that when his bare face was threatening to distract you. God, you wanted to inspect him further.

He leaves when you finally get the tag back into its slot, granting you a quick ‘bye,’ before closing the door behind him. Well, if you weren’t already enamored by his one-of-a-kind model, you were certainly enamored by something else, now. Great.

idk where this one came from i just like sci-fi things i guess?

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[sstormyskyess]

a little sneak peek from my mafia price x detective reader fic (i love writing characters that are just. so tired so i'm happy to tap into that for detective reader. the poor soul.)

The words on your whiteboard are blurring together the longer you stare at them. You should really sleep, but you can’t. Not when you’re so, so close to a revelation, the long-awaited ‘aha!’ moment that’s been hiding in the recesses of your mind for months.

It must be going on a year at this point. A year's worth of turmoil as you’ve tracked down your new target and old friend, John Price. The man manages to be so elusive and still hides in plain sight at the same time. It feels as though the whole world is playing an elaborate joke on you—that, or he was avoiding you specifically. It seems like everyone knows where to find him aside from you at any and all times, and when you go searching, he’s gone like he was never there. The thought grates on your mind while you stare at all the notes and pictures pinned up to the whiteboard in front of you, taunting you.

With a deep sigh, you turn away and practically collapse onto your leather desk chair. Your hand reaches for your coffee mug, one which has been refilled three times. Maybe four? You can’t remember and you don’t care to. All you can bother to remember in your brief moment of distance between you and your work is your time with John.

You can only wonder what could have possibly gone wrong. He was one of the most disciplined men you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting—straight and narrow in every respect, always wanting to protect the weak and weary. And then, all of a sudden, he’s gone completely off the radar for years. Then, the next you hear of him is when you’re called into the state police station and his name is on the files you’re given, wanted for multiple acts of gang violence ever since he disappeared.

And that brings you to now, sulking in your office, guzzling down liters of coffee trying to keep yourself from burning out before you’re able to find the answer to all your questions.

this first part is gonna be angsty y'all 😈