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AAAAHHHHH This is fantastic like it’s so beautiful chefs kiss ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/
imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?
Every time a “came back wrong” post about Soap is written, an angel gets its wings. God I love that deranged man.
The Years - Ghost x Reader
Ghost who met you well into your military career, an expert strategist and even better with guns, Price had added you to the team after a year of working on various missions with you.
You weren’t simple though. After joining the military to help pay for med school, you had found out that you were better at killing people than you were saving them. They’d offered to transfer you and just have you work as a medic, but you continued on and eventually found your place in the American special forces.
Price had seen your cunning, your tactical brilliance, and your speed in the field and claimed you for the 141. For the past four years you had worked with them, never not by their sides unless you were on leave.
It was in these time periods, away from you, that Ghost sat in his flat and did nothing but think of you. The way you keep your hair braided and the breath you take before firing your rifle. The fact you hate the color yellow and love Chinese takeout. Think about when a year into your time with them, right before Price had asked you to join, that your husband had cheated on you.
You had told him this story in the dark confines of a bar as Gaz, Soap, and Price had a vicious game of billiards. He hadn’t spoke the whole time, watching you with a focus not on your face but on the rage he had to keep in check
They had finished a mission early and were allowed to go on leave for the holidays, or until you were needed again. The car in your driveway had been the first sign. Upon opening the door, the moans trailing down the hallway and the clothes strewn on the floor told the story. You hadn’t bothered to go in crying, simply grabbed your handgun and kicked open the door. The bitch looked just like you.
“Did you kill ‘em?” was all Simon asked as you had trailed off, fist clenched around a heavily nursed glass of bourbon.
“No. I think back and I wish I had, but no. I could have got away with that back in Texas, but here, you brits don’t have justified murder.”
So you had joined the team, growing reckless in the field. It took a bullet to the thigh and a knife wound to the abdomen, along with four ripped stitches, for Ghost to wrestle you to the ground and demand. Demand for you to care enough about yourself to not die. To not leave him.
You came back from that final leave of absence stronger. Smiling even, as Gaz had pulled you into a hug so tight it made Ghost twitch thinking about the jagged wound in your stomach.
For those next years you had grown closer to your team, learning to rely on them and they you. Things become simple. But you aren’t simple. And so things get complicated when Soap mentions bringing in some girls after a particularly successful mission.
You tolerate the strippers for all of thirty minutes before you storm out, the sight of one of them eyeing Ghost like he’s not Simon Riley but instead a way to get an extra fat tip.
The boys are too drunk to notice him immediately follow, except Price, whole smiles to himself before turning back to the girl prettily sitting on his lap. It takes Ghost a few moments to catch up to you as you walk out of the barracks.
“Ghost leave me alone.” you shout before he can speak.
“Why did you leave?” he calls out after you, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him.
“Because I’m not in the mood to watch you all oogle women in four inch heels and minimal clothing all night.”
He curses below his breath.
“You’ve never ‘ad a problem until now. So what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”
You can feel the way he searches your face, mask doing little to conceal the desperation in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder tightens imperceptibly, every inch of his body wired to the way your expression shifts.
“Ghost.”
He chases the centimeter you back away from him, sensing the way you recoil from the honesty he’s asking of you.
“Tell me.”
You sigh.
“That girl wanted to fuck you.”
“She did.”
Your lip curls and you turn once again and stalk to your room, fully intending on slamming the door in his face. Except he doesn’t grant you that pleasure and shoves himself through after you.
“Ghost what the hell do you want from me?” you practically snarl at him.
“I didn’t want to fuck her.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“You do.”
This makes you pause, looking him up and down. Standing in your room, chest heaving from chasing after you and eyes practically blazing. He breaks the silence first, taking a step forward as his hands clenched at his sides.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what.” you ask, more confused than before.
“For not being good at this. Not…not good at any of this. I didn’t think it was worth trying to learn. I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” you cry, closing the distance between you two.
“You feel the same.”
He says it as a question, not a statement the way it should be. The way he intends it. He’s not brave enough to say that like he knows what’s right and wrong. Not after he’d spent years in love with you and hadn’t said a damn thing.
“I do.” you let the anger out in your response to hide the tears in your eyes.
Ghost pulls you into his arms. The tears fall. Your body trembles in his grip. He hushes against the hair of your scalp.
“I’m sorry, love.”
Your arms lift to wrap around him, burrowing your face into his chest and breathing him in to calm the shaking that racks your body. When you finally calm, he lifts you gently and places you softly on the bed. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable, but he soon has you curled into him as he strokes long lines down your back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers.
“Me too, Simon.”
Cw: depression
Soap comes home one day expecting his wife to greet him at the door with his favorite meal and a kiss on the cheek. He hadn’t been gone long, only a few weeks, and you knew when he was coming home.
The house is dark when he opens the door despite it being evening. It smells faintly of unwashed clothing. Shades drawn tightly over the windows, the residing plants wilted and dying. Not dead yet, he notes.
“Honey?”
Johnny hates the way his voice cracks slightly when he calls out to you.
Making his way through the house, he eventually reaches your room. He knows then, from the clothing all over the floor and the pile of books on the bed where you are. He knows from the forgotten glasses of water on the dresser and the empty wrappers of miniature candy where you’ve been. In your head.
He finds you in the bathroom, sleeping in the bathroom tub. You wake when he lifts you, silently leaning into him. Despite his exhaustion and his hunger, he strips you of your clothes and runs the water warm. Kisses upon your shoulders as you remain silent, dark imprints under your eyes showing your own fatigue. It’s only when he has you lathered in bubbles and running his hands through your hair to make sure it gets clean that he dares to ask what happened.
“It got bad again, Johnny.”
His hands don’t pause their work through your hair, simply moving down to massage the muscles in your neck.
“I got you now.”
The blatant favoritism toward Ghost vs Soap is crazy. Give my half bald man some loving PLEASE