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Final fantasy: XV. 'I came for you' with Noctis

a/n: sorry for the late post. Its difficult to manage time especially if you are a Senior High school student(ugh) but I can and will do it even if it makes me very haggard.

The certain part in the story about the food it came from my teacher since she allowed me and my classmates to eat in her class because it helps you concentrate in listening lessons well that was at the 1st semester anyways TnT.

Wellllll on to the story, hope you like it.

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You are not your usual self today. Your mind wanders somewhere in your own little world. Maybe you just can't get up because well feelings tend to do that, rendering you to be at a resting position, staring at the ceiling most of the day. Being a highschool student has ups or downs especially if your a student who is a friend or lover of Noctis Lucis Caelum.

You remembered when you bumped Noctis before, accidentally, at the school. Well your not friends instantly with him because its hard to believe that out of all people he bacame close with you. Still to this day you are quite shocked how both are you are close to each other.

While remembering the events that occurred in the past, a sudden knock came on your front door.

You walked towards the door and wondered

'Who is that at the front door' you thought as you opened the door.

"Hey (Y/n)" Noctis said as he entered through the door. "Heard that a certain spectacles said that you are not feeling well"

"Oh yeah, I think Ignis senses are tickling ehehehe" you giggled.

"I came for you" Noctis said

"With some (fav. food and. drink), I heard that  the food feeds the heart and the soul" Noctis continued putting the utems at the table.

"Awwww thank you Noctis , I'm touched by your gesture" you sincerely said to him.

He just scratches his hair with his now blushing face and asked "Let's eat shall we,(Y/n)?"

"Certainly" you replied as you start to eating in  content with him, chowing your favorite food and drinking. It made your day worthwhile.

Ahhhhh I love this 🥹😭

141 + Nikolai Reactions to Soap Coming Back/Being Alive

Words: 2.8k Warnings: Mentions of depression, alcoholism/self destructive behaviour Ships: Ghost/Soap, (implied) NikPrice A/N: i swear this was only supposed to be around 600 words but my brain wouldn't stop until i wrote all of this. up next: los vaqueros reaction.

- Price / words: 683

Soap’s death had been sudden. Unexpected. He was so young– the youngest, but he was one of the best. Only a Sergeant, but he could have gone as far as becoming something of a Captain in a few years time if he kept his head screwed on. All that promise and potential, taken away by one single bullet– no. Not the bullet– the man wielding the gun. Price doesn’t remember the last time he had slept more than 4 hours in the night since they spread Soap’s ashes. There was too much to do. There were other lives to save– other lives that were yet to be lost. Mourning for the man would have to come later. Later. Later. Later. There was only so many times that Price could push his needs to the back of his mind before it boiled over. So he took to cigars– cigarettes, if he was in desperate need. Alcohol became a common nightcap for him. Not enough to affect his performance as a Captain, but enough to garner worried looks from Ghost, Gaz, Nikolai and Kate. He couldn’t have them worrying about him– not now, not when they themselves were all reaching breaking points of their own. Ghost had withdrawn on himself to the point he was even worse off than when Price had first met him. He grunted and mumbled his words or avoided conversations entirely. He was still a beast on the battlefield and during missions, almost scarily so. His kills became more brutal, more messy. Dirty, Nikolai had called it once as he watched overhead as Ghost snuck up on a man and stabbed him 27 times. He had counted. 

And Gaz. Who had blamed himself. Price didn’t need to be a therapist to know that. What broke his heart the most was when he was escorting an exhausted Gaz back to his room when the sergeant muttered something under his breath. 

“Wazzat, Garrick?”

“... should’ve been me, sir.” Price didn’t have the words to respond to the statement. It shouldn’t have been Soap. Or Gaz. Or Ghost. It shouldn’t have been any of them. If anything, it should have been Price himself. If Soap hadn’t rushed in head first to save him, then Soap would still be here–

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Price would deny to his dying breath that he choked around his cigar when a familiar face entered his office. He had been run ragged and thin these past few weeks– chasing leads on Makarov and also juggling the emotions that hung in the air since Soap’s untimely demise. Or ‘apparent’ demise, considering said man had just walked into the room as if nothing had happened and Price hadn’t watched his head successfully catch a bullet while trying to save his life. 

“... surprise…?” Soap said awkwardly as he shut the door quietly behind him, scratching the side of his head as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like still being alive. Price could have snorted at the absurdity of it. Instead, he rose to his feet and ignored the screeching of the chair behind him. He stared at Soap as he rounded his desk, striding towards the not-so-dead-Sergeant.

“Fuck my old boots, I’m going crazy.” he breathed. Jogging the last few steps, he envelops the scot in a hug. One arm wraps around Soap’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. The body beneath the palms of his hands is warm, thrumming with a steady and strong heartbeat. 

“John.” he whispered and arms wrapped around him in return, squeezing some of his jagged pieces back into place. The time to explain how or why would come later. For now, he was comforted by the fact that Soap was still living and breathing. He was still here. He had unknowingly given Price a second chance– one that the dear Captain would not squander.

“Preferred it when ye called me sunshine, sir.”

“Don’t push your fucking luck, Sergeant.” If Price’s grip on the other man tightened, neither said a word.

- Gaz / words: 565

Gaz has been running laps every single day since Soap died. He had been training, pushing himself as hard and as far as he could go. He wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t quick enough to help when his team needed him most. He wasn’t quick enough to help Soap when he stared at Death in the face and watched as he pulled the trigger. He should have been faster– he convinced himself that he had to be faster. For Ghost. For Price. He wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Soap. He still thinks about the day they lost the scotsman. Remembers the blood pooling around his head like a sickening halo. He uses it as an incentive. As a reminder for what he lost that day– for what he still has left to lose.

Another lap came to an end in the form of him wheezing and almost stumbling to the finish line. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. He had pushed himself again today and he felt the telltale signs of nausea curl in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t beaten last week’s record yet. He makes a move for one more lap, but a voice stops him. Usually it was Price who stopped him before he pushed himself too far and ended up in medical. The Captain would appear seemingly out of nowhere, cigar in one hand and Gaz’s shoulder in the other.

‘That’s enough for today, Sergeant.’ He would say, and silence any words of complaint or refusal from Gaz before they were even spoken, ‘That’s an order, Kyle.’

“Whoa there, not the best idea to push yerself so hard. You’ll make yerself sick ya daft tit.” 

Either Price had adopted a Scottish accent in some deranged form of honouring their lost Sergeant, or Gaz had begun hallucinating from overexerting himself. It was likely the latter. He didn’t want to think of Price hiding a mohawk underneath his hat. A hand meets his shoulder and his own slaps over the top of it on instinct. Looking up, he squints as his eyes adjust to the sunlight– begin to focus on familiar features in front of him. Grinning familiar features. 

“Oh, you’re a bloody bastard.” He said, still regaining his breath from his laps. He knows that he hasn’t gone crazy– not yet, anyhow. He knows that the hand on his shoulder is real– that the man in front of him isn’t a figment of his imagination. His other hand claps Soap’s shoulder, gripping hard as he struggles to keep himself together. “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?”

If Soap heard the crack in his voice, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“I’ve been told. I only came back ‘cause you owed me twenty quid.”

“Last time I checked it was only fifteen.” Gaz raised an eyebrow, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face as they both fell into a similar routine as if Soap had never left. 

“Interest fee.” Soap quipped back, clapping Gaz on the back and bringing him into a tight hug. 

“Welcome back, Soap.” They fell into silence, the embrace lasting a little longer than usual.

“... I’m not giving you your twenty quid, by the way. If anything, you owe me twenty quid for the emotional damage.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

- Ghost / words: 1215

Ghost had withdrawn in himself after Soap’s death– or, more specifically, after the funeral and spreading of his ashes. He hated it. Hated watching as the breeze carried Soap away, spreading him across the Scottish countryside. It… it had been too final, for him. An end. The end of Johnny. That’s what it had felt like. The end. And he couldn’t fucking take it. 

Price had given Johnny’s dog tags to Ghost a week or so after everything. It was likely an excuse to talk to the Mancunian– to try and coax him out of his room. It had worked, albeit slightly, as it was an effective reminder to Ghost of who he still had left. Cutting Price and Gaz off wasn’t the way to go– and most definitely what Soap wouldn’t have wanted for him. 

It had been around 2 months, 11 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since Soap had died. The days had somehow blurred together but dragged in such a way that Ghost was still aware of the time passing in the back of his mind in some tortuous slew. It was a rare day that he had not only left his room, but the base entirely. His therapy sessions had gone from monthly to weekly to even bi-weekly sometimes. Price had forced them on him after the funeral. Ghost only went to get the old man off of his back. The sessions were generally an hour long, maybe a little over if he accidentally overshared. Most of the time he only sat and listened to the psychiatrist talk about different ways to deal with thoughts of depression and other ways to deal with bereavement. It was all a load of shite. Don’t get him wrong, his psychiatrist was a wonderful person– very passionate about their job but Ghost had been so overwhelmed by his grief some days that going to his appointments was just a waste of time, resources and money. Today’s session ended like the rest, a curt and professional goodbye and the arrangement of another session at the same time the following week. Ghost wondered just how many more sessions he could attend before Price stopped forcing him to go. The last time he didn’t, Price had wrangled him into Nikolai’s helicopter and had the Russian personally escort him to and from his appointment. How Soap would have howled with laughter if he had ever bore witness to it.

Price and Gaz were talking. That was the first thing that Ghost noticed when he walked past the common room. Whilst that wasn’t uncommon in the slightest, what was suspicious was that there was a third voice amongst them– one that Ghost was yet to forget. Likely it was his mind playing tricks on him again, filling the void that Soap had left in an attempt to save himself from the pain but still managing to gouge more wounds into his heart. Despite the apprehension, he was already opening the door before his brain could even comprehend it. 

“Hey, Lt.” Soap said, turning around to face Ghost when he entered and smiling like he wasn’t supposed to be dead and his body spread across some cliff in some backend of scotland. From the way Price and Gaz were looking directly at the sergeant, it was clear that he was no figment of anyone’s imagination.

“Ghost? Ghost!” For the second time in the space of around 12.5 seconds, Ghost’s body was already walking before his brain caught up. He was walking back to his quarters, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. A few seconds later, desperate knocking filled the room. 

“Ghost, lemme explain!” How dare he? How dare Soap come back like this and treat it like none of the 141 had mourned his loss. 

“Simon… Si, please.” 

The mancunian leant against the closed door, struggling to even out his breathing. Silence fell, only broken by the occasional shaky exhale from Simon’s lips. It stretched on for several minutes, maybe even longer– 

“... Did’ja hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France?” What the fuck was Johnny talking abou– “Da-brie was everywhere.”

Simon almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation and the stupidity of the joke. Looks like the time Johnny had spent being dead gave him time to brush up on his jokes. 

“As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe me budding career as a tour guide wasn’t the right choice.” Damn him. Damn Johnny for coming back like nothing happened and standing outside Simon’s door telling him goddamn puns. Simon still remained silent, not wanting to give Johnny the satisfaction of making him laugh. 

“Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.” Alright, Ghost would admit that had wormed a soft snort of amusement. Johnny grew silent for a few seconds and it didn’t take too much brain power to imagine the shit eating grin forming on the sergeant’s face, undoubtedly hearing Simon’s mirth. 

“I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden…” Awful. Absolutely awful– Simon had taught him well.

“Do you know the phrase ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted. I can do this all day, Lt.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Simon sighed to himself as he stood up and opened the door that currently separated the two soldiers. There was a loud curse and a thump as Johnny fell backwards and into the now open doorway. He must have been leaning on the door and didn’t expect the sudden opening. Serves him right. 

“Hi, Simon.” the scot breathed, staring up at Ghost like he had hung the moon. 

“Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?” Simon found himself saying as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be dead. “Everywhere.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up in disdain and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and still making no move to get up from his place on the floor. 

“Terrible.”

“And yours were any better?” Simon knelt by the fallen sergeant, head tilted to the side as he regarded him, drinking in the visible parts of his face. The shorter man moved to sit up, hands hesitating just before they touched Simon as if afraid of his reaction.

“They got you t’open the door, didn’t they?” Damnit. Simon held out his hand, palm facing up. Johnny took it as it was and placed his own over the top, intertwining their fingers. 

“Gonna take a lot more than jokes to fix this, Johnny.” 

“I know, Lt. Got a lot to make up for but lemme make a start. Permission to kiss you, sir?” The fact he asked where before he would simply act was enough to melt Simon’s heart– just a little bit. 

“Permission granted, Sergeant.” Forgiveness would be a low thing– but feeling Johnny’s warm and soft lips on his own was definitely a step in the right direction.

- Nikolai / words: 332

The first thing Nikolai does when he finds out Soap is alive is punch him. Not hard enough to break anything or bruise too severely, but hard enough that Soap will be reminded of it for a few days afterwards. 

“That is for making everyone think that you were dead.” It’s still fresh in his mind. Watching as Price fell apart at the seams after they spread Soap’s ‘ashes’, as the guilt ate him up from the inside out. As the ‘what if’s plagued his mind, ruined what little sleep he already didn’t get in the night– and stole his happiness, for a time. Nikolai can remember the week where Price smoked so many cigars that the Captain woke up with a tight chest, wheezing like a man starved of oxygen and clutching onto Nikolai’s shoulder as he gasped and spluttered– only to repeat the process the following day. 

‘I can stop when I need to.’ Price had said to Nikolai, brushing off any concern that the russian had voiced about the almost permanent smoke cloud that formed in Price’s office. 

Nikolai was not stupid– soldiers were lost all of the time in war. But not all soldiers left lasting impressions like Soap had to his Captain and teammates. He had touched the hearts of many with his shining personality and enthusiasm, Nikolai himself included. He had been fond of the Scotsman, even a partner in crime once during a prank that involved several bags of glitter and the helicopter fan blades. 

The scowl on his face morphs into something softer as he watched Soap try and massage the pain away with his hands. He brings Soap into a hug, pressing his forehead against Soap’s newly scarred temple.

“And this is for coming back to us. We all missed you, солнышко (Sunshine).” Despite the gentle words, his grip tightens until it is almost bruising. “Don’t do that again or I will kill you myself.” Soap doesn’t doubt that even for a second. 

So....I did a thing

I just couldn't help myself. I might do versions for Makarov and Yuri in the future....

Original image:

Okay, I rarely ever write platonic fics, but I just came up with this, and had to write it. So yeah, I really hope you all enjoy. Ghost is more of a brotherly/fatherly type figure in this fic, so yeah, sorry if you aren’t into that. This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be, and I still want to add more. So umm, I’m gonna cut it off where I have it, and if anyone wants a part 2, I’ll make it…either that, or I might just make a part 2 cause I feel like it. So yeah. Enjoy 🖤🖤

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x platonic!Reader

Training with the Ghost

Warnings: language, inappropriate talk, violence, age gap between reader and Ghost (don’t know if this even matters, cause it’s a platonic relationship, but yeah)

-Some of this is unedited-

Being a woman in the military was hard. It was sometimes unfair, the men around you were sometimes condescending, and looked down on you for simply being a woman. It was the hardest thing you had ever done. Your time in training had never been easy. You always had to work harder than everyone else to prove yourself, since you were the only woman in your squad. Your staff sergeant was a dick, and always had been since the day he laid eyes on you. Your lieutenant was different however.

He was the most known man around base, though no one you knew seemed to even know his first name. He was either referred to as Lieutenant Riley, or as he seemed to prefer, Ghost. You had never spoken to the man, but you held a heavy respect for him regardless, both for the way he commanded his platoon of trainees, and how he carried himself. He didn’t take shit from anyone, you had seen that first hand when a young man from a different squad had stepped out of line towards Ghost.

Ghost had been overseeing the hand to hand combat training one day, keeping a sharp eye on each recruit, as he silently judged everyone’s performance. One of the recruits had gotten a little too confident when he won his spar, so Ghost had felt the need to point out his mistakes, and correct them. Of course, the recruit didn’t take kindly to it, and had made a rather inappropriate and rude comment about needing to ‘show the lieutenant that perhaps he wasn’t the best on base anymore’, or something along those lines. Of course, being the ever observant man he was, Ghost had overheard him.

What had earned your respect for Ghost, was the fact that he didn’t get mad and scream at him, or throw his rank in the recruits face, like the staff sergeant from your platoon probably would have. He didn’t have too. Instead, he said, ‘Alright.”, took his jacket off, and walked onto the sparing mat. It didn’t take long, and the recruit was flat on his back, a few bruises littering his face and arms.

Unlike most of the women in the platoon (and most of the base), you weren’t actually attracted to the lieutenant. I mean, yeah, you definitely saw the appeal, with his looming height, deep voice, and the balaclava’s he always wore. You felt more of an admiration for Ghost than you did attraction though. You wanted him to see you as the strong willed, hard working woman you were. Someone he would be proud to be on the battlefield beside, and would trust not to fuck things up. Not someone he wanted in his bed, like majority of the woman on base. When the other women in the platoon would gather together and gossip, while watching Ghost eat, walk, shoot his rifle, or really even breathe, you kept to yourself. You thought it was sickening, hearing them talk about all the things they would do to him, and all the things they wanted him to do to them. If it was a woman in Ghost’s shoes, and all the men were huddled around, gawking at her, and openly trying to flirt with her every chance they got, the very women who were doing exactly that to their lieutenant, would say how gross the men were.

Unbeknownst to you, the first time Ghost had ever really noticed you, had been in the mess hall. He was sitting with Soap, and had barely pulled his balaclava up over his top lip, just enough he could drink a cup of tea without wetting the bottom of his balaclava. Of course, he heard the recruits from the table across from him, all women, begin to whisper and stare. It didn’t bother him, but it didn’t exactly excite him either. He didn’t give two shits what anyone thought, and he sure as hell didn’t care if some recruit wanted to fuck him or not. Soap didn’t say anything, but he heard it too, but he knew better than to bring it up to Ghost, who he knew would much rather be anywhere but the crowded mess hall anyways.

It wasn’t until one of the woman turned to you, asking a little too loudly, “L/n, what do you think? Average or above?”

Of course, she was referring to Ghost’s dick. It didn’t take a genius to understand that. You nearly choked on your coffee, giving her a wide look, as the women giggled at your reaction. “Excuse me?” you asked, sitting your mug down.

She rolled her eyes, giving you a smirk. “Come on, you’re not a preteen. You know what I mean.”

You gave her an incredulous look, wiping your mouth with a napkin before speaking. “I mean, does it matter? It’s not really my business how big anything is.” you answered back.

Ghost’s ears, along with Soap’s, perked up at your words. The woman scoffed, leaning forward towards you. “Seriously? Have you never wondered about it? I mean, seriously, look at the guy. You aren’t attracted to him at all?”

You sighed, poking around at your eggs with your fork. “I didn’t say he wasn’t attractive, I mean, I get the appeal, yeah. But like, it’s really not my job to sit and fantasize about my lieutenant, ya know? I just think it’s kind of gross.” you answered honestly.

Soap glanced at Ghost, raising his eyebrow. The woman continued her argument, saying, “Oh my god, you make it sound like it’s a crime to think about someone you think is hot. Like, what the hell, L/n?”

You rolled your eyes this time, sitting your fork back down, and looked at her. “I’m not saying it a crime or anything, or that you guys shouldn’t do it necessarily. I’m just giving my honest opinion, cause you asked.”

A different woman, a brunette you couldn’t stand since the day you met her, scoffed. “Oh shut up, L/n. Stop acting like a fucking Saint. You stare at him all the time when he’s doing demonstrations.”

You raised your eyebrows, laughing at just how ridiculous she sounded talking to you. By that time, the conversation had gained attention from people nearby, and you felt eyes on you, waiting for your answer. You didn’t know however, that one of those pairs of eyes belonged to the vary man who was being discussed. “Uhh, yeah, I study Lieutenant Riley during demonstrations, because he’s the best one at them. While your all sitting there creamin’ your pants, I’m actually trying to learn something from someone who has way more experience than me. I mean, shit, you guys don’t think it’s badass that out of every platoon, we’re the ones who have a member of 141 teaching us stuff? Like, that’s a fuckin’ honor, and all you can do is sit around and wonder how big the man’s dick is?” you asked, giving the two women who had decided to try and make you out to be an idiot, looks. “You know what, if the two of you stopped trying to eye fuck him so much, and actually learn from him, you might not be so low in the platoon. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me? I think it’s something to think about, though.” And with that, you grabbed your tray, and stood from your seat.

The two women gave you hateful glares as you walked away, and threw your trash into the closest bin. You laid your tray in the stack it went in, before leaving the mess hall, and heading to the gym. Soap had chuckled, nudging Ghost’s foot with his. “Shit, Lt. Looks like you actually have a real admirer.”

Ghost didn’t reply, only slid his balaclava back over his lips, before standing from his seat, and left the mess hall. A few days passed, and you were sparring with a guy from your squad. Of course, he put you on your ass, and of course, your staff sergeant hadn’t done anything to show you how to keep from being put on your ass by a man twice your size. When everyone else left, you sat down in the middle of the mat, running your hands through your messy hair, and trying your absolute best not to lose it. Nope, you would cry in the showers, alone, tonight. Not in the middle of the training gym, where anyone could walk in, and have yet another reason to tell you that you didn’t belong. You didn’t know someone else had stayed behind, until you heard Ghost drawl out behind you. “Get up.”

You jumped, turned and looked at him, before scrambling to your feet. “Lieutenant, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize, just pay attention.” he said, his tone low, but not as cold as you had heard it before.

You nodded, saying, “Yes, Sir.”, and stood up straight, looking at him expectantly.

He nodded once, before nudging his head at you. “Get in your ready position.”

You did as he said, putting your arms up in front of you, like you were getting ready to fight. You waited expectantly, wondering what Ghost was gonna do. Suddenly, he reached out with one hand, and shoved your shoulder, hard. Of course, you lost your footing, and he put you on your ass with one hand. You could’ve cried, really, you wanted too. If a fucking hole appeared in the floor underneath you, you wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into it, and just die. Ghost didn’t make any noises, or even give you a look of pity. He simply said, “Get back up.”

You pulled yourself up wordlessly, not meeting his eyes.

“Stop lockin’ your knees, you’re losin’ balance. Relax a little, don’ be so tense. Again.”

You got back into the position, this time relaxing your body more, like Ghost said. You waited, this time preparing yourself, as he reached out again, and shoved you. It moved you back, of course, but you didn’t lose your footing that time. Ghost gave you an approving nod, before he got into his own fighting stance. “Hit me.”

Your eyes widened, and you stuttered out, “Excuse me?”

You heard him sigh, and saw his dark eyes roll, as he spat back, “I didn’t stutter. Stop actin’ like I’m some celebrity, and fuckin’ hit me, Private.”

You swallowed hard, and went to hit him, only to wind right back up on your ass. You huffed as your back hit the mat, knocking the breath out of you a little. Once you caught your breath, you breathed out, “Permission to speak frankly, Sir?”

“Granted.”

“This is why I didn’t wanna hit you, Sir.” you said, sitting up.

You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle, but as quick as you thought you heard it, he was already saying, “Up, come on.”

You stood, looking up at him, and said, “Sir, I think we both know that you’re gonna put me on my ass every time.”

He nodded, agreeing with you. “Yeah, I will. I’m bigger, stronger, more experienced. Of course you’re gonna wind up on your ass, Private.”

You stared back at him, your mouth slack, before you asked, “Umm, so, what do I do, Lieutenant? To…not be put on my ass?”

You saw a flash of amusement cross his eyes, as he replied, “You’re predictable. You go for the most obvious attack. If you get into a fight with someone bigger than you and try to overpower them, or go for an obvious attack, you’re gonna lose. Every time. Use what you have, your weight, height. Stop relyin’ on your fists for everythin’.”

You nodded, letting him show you in more depth what he was saying. You were smaller than all of the men in the platoon, and especially your squad, so he showed you how to dodge, and use things other than your fists, to take down someone his size, or really, anyone that was bigger than you. By the time you had finished training with Ghost, it was time for dinner, and you were sweaty, sore, and tired. Of course, Ghost had barely broke a sweat, and looked like he was only stopping due to the fact you were about ready to collapse. “Alright, that’s all today. Meet me back in here tomorrow at 0700.”

“Umm, Sergeant Wilson has me on Latrine duty at 0700, Sir.” you said, wiping your brow with the back of your arm.

“Alright, 0400 then. Should give you plenty of time to get back and get it done.” he replied easily.

You gave him a tight lipped smile, before nodding. “Yes, Sir. Should I let Sergeant Wilson know?” you forced out, hoping he couldn’t hear the dread of getting up so early in your voice.

Ghost did, he heard it loud and clear. He didn’t acknowledge it though, and shook his head. “No, I’ll tell him. Get some rest, Private.”

You nodded, replying back, “Yes, Sir, Thank you.”

He nodded once, dismissing you, and you hurried out the training gym. You were honored that Ghost was even taking the time to train you, but 0400? Really? Sighing, you skipped dinner, going straight to the showers, before climbing on your bunk, and going to sleep. The next morning, you woke up dazed, before cursing, and grabbed your watch. 0349 am. “Shit!” you whispered, hurriedly jumping up, and throwing on your clothes. You made your bed the quickest you ever had, before running out the barracks. It took fifteen minutes to get to the training gym walking, but you sprinted through the base, only slowing when you saw a superior, which wasn’t very often, since it was five minutes till four in the morning. You practically burst into the training gym, heaving for breath, as you saw Ghost looking down at his watch, not looking up, as you dragged yourself towards him. “Two minutes late, L/n.” he chastised, finally looking down at you.

You nodded, knowing better than to try and make an excuse. “I apologize, Lieutenant. It won’t happen again, Sir.”

“Better not. Catch your breath, an go ahead and stretch, we won’t be stoppin’ till 0600.” he said, taking off his jacket, and tossing it in the floor by the mat.

You nodded, placing your hands on the top of your head, and took deep breaths in your nose, and released them out your mouth. You did as he said, and began to stretch as you caught your breath, not wanting to pull a muscle half way through training, and make him regret offering to train you in the first place.

“Did you sprint here?” Ghost asked, and it looked like he may have had an eyebrow raised, from the way his balaclava bunched up by his right eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir.” you said, putting your hands down, as your breathing had slowed almost back to normal.

“What time did you leave the barracks?”

“Umm, five minutes till, I believe, Sir.”

You heard Ghost barely chuckle, shaking his head, before he went back to the stoic man you were used too. “Alright, get in your stance. I showed you what to do yesterday, now I want you to actually do it.”

You nodded, getting down and ready, as Ghost did the same. The whole time you were sparring with him, you could tell he was holding back. He was letting you get hits in, but even then, you never could pin him, or tap him out. He seemed to be pushing you to keep going, testing your stamina, to see how far you could go before faltering. Ghost wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was impressed. You had sprinted to the gym, with less than five minutes to make it there, and were only two minutes late. You had to have been hauling ass, which meant you felt bad about being late, and didn’t want to keep him waiting. Any other time, he would’ve said fuck it. If the recruit couldn’t even be on time, why waste his time? But he saw something in you, a fire that reminded him of himself when he was younger. You wanted to be great, and you seemed willing to put in the extra effort to get there. Hell, you had sprinted a literal mile to the gym, knowing you were gonna be late.

Ghost pushed you to your limit, only giving you a minute or two between spars to catch your breath, before he was on you again. You had bruises covering your arms from blocking, your legs ached from pushing yourself forward against him, but the one thing that wasn’t bruised was your knuckles. Ghost had noticed you were holding back, and stopped you, grabbing one of your hands, and inspecting your perfectly plain knuckles. “I want these bruised when you leave, you hear me? Stop pullin’ your punches. You don’t think I can take a punch from you?” he accused, trying to get under your skin, and bring that fire out that he knew you had.

“Yes, Sir, I think you can.” you answered, still as polite as ever.

Ghost kept pushing, shoving your hand down from his, and got into your face a little. “These other recruits don’t give a shit about you. Sergeant Wilson doesn’t give a shit about you. To him, you’re just waitin’ to be another statistic. Is that what your are, L/n? Another recruit who thought they could make it?”

“No, Sir.” you replied, his words getting to you a little. It was only because you knew he was right. Wilson didn’t think you could make it, and the men in your squad just thought of you as an easy win.

Ghost’s eyes bore into yours, as he gritted out, “Stop pullin’ your punches then. You give it your all, or none. Otherwise, you’ll just continue being the weak lil’ girl, who doesn’t belong in their eyes. Prove ‘em, wrong.” he ordered, backing up, and getting back into his fighting stance. “Go.”

This time, you gave Ghost your all. Your didn’t pull your punches, jabs, kicks, or anything. You let him have it all, and you felt him fight back a little harder too. You were no where near his level of expertise, but the fact he had actually broken a bit of sweat by the time 0600 rolled around, filled you with pride. You had made Ghost sweat, in a spar. Hell yeah. Before the two of you left, Ghost had told you that he had informed Wilson that you would be meeting with him at 0400 every other day, for training. Yes, that included Sunday’s. If Ghost was gonna train you, he was really going to train you, and he was sure to tell you that the next time you were late for training, you would regret ever catching his eye in the first place.

You knew he wasn’t bluffing. Just because you were a woman didn’t mean he would go easy on you in the slightest. Really though, you didn’t want him to go easy on you. You wanted the full training experience with Ghost, no matter how bruised up you ended up, or how sore your limbs were. He was a dangerous man, and he knew what he was doing on and off the battlefield. You wanted to be just like him, if not greater.

So, for the next few weeks, you met every other day with Ghost, being sure to arrive to the gym before 0400, and were ready to begin training on the dot. You had gotten good over the few weeks you had trained with him, and eventually, the both of you were pouring sweat by the time 0600 rolled around. You had learned how Ghost fought, being able to anticipate what he was going to throw at you. You still hadn’t managed to pin him, or much less tap him. But still, you were giving him a run for his money, which in a way was refreshing to Ghost. He looked forward to the training, feeling better throughout the day, after the two of you had a session. He was proud of you, a feeling he hadn’t really felt in a long time towards anyone other than his teammates.

You arrived one morning before Ghost, deciding to go ahead and get your stretching done, and maybe do a pre-workout on the treadmill. You had jogged half a mile when the gym doors opened, and you heard Ghost enter. What you hadn’t expected, was to see Sergeant MacTavish beside him. The Scotsman looked miserable, his mohawk disheveled, like he had been forced out of bed before he had wanted to be. He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you pursed your lips to keep from giggling in amusement. “Fuck, Lt. You owe me, ya know?” he mumbled, stopping to stand by Ghost, as he dropped his hand, giving you a smile as his gaze fell on you. “So this is your prodigy then?” he asked, giving you a one over.

“Private L/n, Sergeant. It’s nice to meet you.” you said, with a small smile.

“Call me Soap, L/n. I don’t do the titles and shite.” he replied back, chuckling. “So, you’re gettin’ too good for Lt. to handle?” he asked teasingly.

You blushed at his words, giving Ghost a look, refusing to answer. Ghost rolled his eyes, saying, “She’s gotten used to me, not too good. You’re gonna spar with Johnny today, while I observe. Give me a chance to study what you need to work on, and you’ll get some experience sparring someone you won’t be able to predict as well.” he informed you.

You nodded, “Yes, Sir. Ready when you are Soap.” you said, stepping back, so he could take his place on the mat.

He rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, and took his place on the opposite side of the mat. You both got ready, and Ghost told you to go. At first, it took everything in you not to let Soap overpower you. He didn’t fight the same way Ghost did, which threw you off. He also didn’t hold back like Ghost, giving you his all. He managed to get you pinned to the mat, both his hands holding your arms flat beside your head, and you gritted your teeth as you heard Ghost begin counting down, about to call it.

Though this was a very…demoralizing position, Ghost had really pushed Soap to pin you down like that at some point, to see if you could get out of it. A lot of the men in your squad liked pinning you like that, since it was a show of power, and just degraded you even more when they did. Ghost had never pinned you like that during your sessions with him, mostly because he himself didn’t want to put you in that type of position. Soap didn’t mind though, not if it was something that would help you in dealing with the childish and immature boys in your squad.

Ghost had however, explained to you in detail how to get out of the position. You took a deep breath, planting your feet firmly against the mat, before bucking your hips up as hard as you could. Though Soap was bigger than you, and physically stronger, your hips jarred against him, and sent him forward. Ghost had of course forgot to tell him that he had told you what to do to break that hold, so the next thing Soap new, his face was in the mat. His hands instinctively left your wrists and went to mat, and you immediately moved your hands away, and ‘hugged the tree’ aka, Soap, like Ghost had told you. You pressed your face tightly into Soap’s chest, so he didn’t sit up, and just slide his arm between his body and your throat. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, as you quickly pushed yourself with your feet, and shimmied your way higher up his body. Soap grunted, and pushed himself up on his arms, unable to stop you from hooking your arm under his, since he was still recovering from face planting into the mat.

Using your opposite side from the arm you had pinned, you pushed up, pivoting your body weight into his, and rolled him onto his back. Once you had him on his back, you took a mount position, keeping your hips away from Soaps, so it made it harder to buck you off. He reached up with his arm, and praying that it actually worked, you wrapped both arms around it, using your momentum on top of him to pull his arm out to the side with your body. Your ankles immediately locked around his other arm, as you thrusted your hips upwards, extending his arm back the best you could. You could feel him pulling you up off the mat a little, as he fought to get his arm free from your hold, but you arched your back, practically hugging his arm, and digging your fingers into his skin, determined not to let go. Your thighs burned, as you felt Soap trying to get his other arm free from your legs, and if he did, you knew you we’re screwed. All he would have to do is manage to get his hands together, and he would roll you up, where he could stand. You’d be slammed into the mat, and it would hurt like a bitch.

You grunted, tightening your grip with your legs on his other arm, your ankles locking in an iron grip, as you extended his arm outwards more. Finally, you heard Soap’s hand smack the mat, before you let go. You untangled your limbs from him, breathing heavy, as you felt Soap sit up, his own breaths heavy, as the two of you had fought like hell to either pin or submit each other. It hit you all at once that you had pinned Soap MacTavish. He was older than you buy a good few years, was bigger, and was even a member of Task Force 141. Holy shit, I made a member of 141 tap.

“Shite.” you heard Soap curse, before he chuckled. “Well, guess you deserved that tap. That was a pretty dirty pin, huh, Lass?”

You laughed a little, going limp on the mat, as you replied back, “Yeah, it was.”

“Sorry, wanted to see if you could get out of it. You did good. Ghost didn’t tell me he’d told you what to do. Was expectin’ I’d need ta show ya.” Soap said, shooting a glare at Ghost, who stared at you with an impressed look.

You laughed, closing your eyes, as tku reveled in the victory. Ghost walked up a moment later, extending his hand to you, which you took, and let him pull you up. Soap had took his shirt off, which had been sticking to him with sweat, and wiped his face off. Ghost gave you a nod, saying, “You did good. Watch your footin’ though, that’s how he got you on your back.”

You nodded, accepting a bottle of water and a towel from Soap. “Yes, Sir. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Ghost nodded once more, before dismissing you for the day, after telling you he would see you tomorrow in squad training. You bid him and Soap bye, leaving the gym, and Soap took a seat on the mat after you left. He took another large sip of water, propping his arms up on his knees, as he looked up at Ghost. “Ya know, I didn’t hold back. She’s a hell of lass, Lt.”

“I know. She’s gotten better since we first started. Couldn’t even get out of a chokehold the first week.” Ghost said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Soap smiled, giving Ghost a look. “You care about her, don’t ya?” he asked gently, knowing feelings were a sensitive thing for Ghost. The man didn’t reply, and that told Soap all he needed to know. He stood, giving Ghost a proud look. “She looks up to ya, Lt. S’alright to admit you see somethin’ in her, no matter what that somethin’ is.”

“I know, Johnny.” he replied, not saying anything else after.

Soap nodded, leaving the gym, and leaving Ghost alone with his thoughts.

Taglist: @nickangel13 @katcaron @madamemelancholysstuff @kiroshang @pasta-m1lk @bythe-water-fountain @averyyreads @audacity9 @booty-shaker-90000 @diasnohibng @wintersnnowie @peachymonsters @pookie90 @warrior-of-justice

Guilt | John Soap MacTavish x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi, I was hoping you could do some angsty “You deserve someone better” “I don’t want anyone better” Soap x Gn!reader? Thank you in advance!

summary: homecoming isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be when there’s far too much weighing on your shoulders.

tws: death, swearing 

Soap watched with great concern as the mountain troops finally returned, a little worse for wear and harshly run down, their movements sluggish and reluctant, yawns more frequent than anything else; some stopped for cigarettes, perching wherever they could just to try and ease the stinging ache at the bottom of their feet. Usually, those bastards were like schoolboys; baggy trousers, kicking about a ball as they chased one another towards base. Mud all over their shoes as they pulled one another’s hair and paraded themselves around with gleeful playfulness. They weren’t like that today. Soap could see it in their eyes and the way they walked that they weren’t their usual playful, jovial selves. The last of the bunch, his best friend, was the final troop to get out.

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26 years from Pride Revolution 1994: Police arrests Queer Filipino Protesters

While not as wildly known as Stonewall, Pride Revolution 1994 or Stonewall Manila is the first ever Pride March in Asia and the Philippines. It happened in June 26, 1994, exactly 26 years from now.

On this historic date, Queer Filipinos decided it was high time to protest against the many injustices against the Filipinos. While of course, the forefront advocacies of the Filipinos are present like Marriage and Gender Equality. More timely issues are also included in the protest of these queer Filipinos are #FreeMassTesting, #JunkTerrorBill, and #NoToJeepneyPhaseOut. It had been a peaceful protests, with social distancing practices… Until the police arrived, that is. 

On this same day when Queer Filipinos recall an important step taken by those who fought for equality before us, the police captured over 20 Filipinos in the Pride Protest saying that they have allegedly violated quarantine protocols but when asked to state which violations, the police could not answer. They also took their car keys and hijacked the protesters’ vehicles. They are saying a protester attacked the police by spraying something on one of their faces but the video footage of the whole event shows otherwise. (Links provided in reblog as tumblr messes up post visibility when they include links)

This has been a stark contrast to high-profile individuals who are on the same side as the current administration who violated quarantine protocols. The police did not come knocking on their doorsteps and were even provided leeway by the administration, calling their actions “A honest mistake”, “not a party but a mañanita” and “tempering the rigor of the law with compassion”. (These include a covid-positve senator who went strolling in a hospital, not because he was sick, but because he insisted on being there for his pregnant wife; the deputy OOWA Administrator who stole pictures of private companies providing PPEs and said it was from the Philippine Government and also gathered over 300 Filipinos for an event and the chief of police who had a birthday party amidst the quarantine.)

The Philippine Executive Branch keep amassing debt that has now 8.6 Trillion Pesos (172B USD) but continue to say we lack the funds to perform mass testing. Instead of aiding the medical sector, the executive branch opted for a militaristic approach that has not only harmed but also took the lives of Filipinos. The lack of competence of the executive has led to the rise of dissenters. Instead of heading the calls of the Filipinos to focus and help the medical sector (in its iconic #SolusyongMedikalHindiAksyongMilitar which translates to Medical Solutions Not Militant Actions) red-tagging of dissenters as “terrorist” had become the norm.

To further grasp the control of the Filipinos, the Terror Bill was concocted by the Philippine Legislative, a bill that allowed the Police and the Executive branch to arrest people “under suspicion of being a terrorist” which frankly, allows the police more power with red-tagging peaceful dissenters as dangerous terrorists.

To make matters worse, they have started the Jeepney Phaseout amidst the pandemic and the rampant laying off of workers. Now, Filipino Jeepney drivers are forced out of work amidst the pandemic. In relation, the Filipinos who favored Jeepneys, as they are a cheaper alternative to other public transports, are now forced to walk home instead because of the current public transport system cannot support the number of Filipino workers.

(Photo courtesy of Rappler)

They are not letting us speak. No where in the quarantine law (Bayanihan to Heal as One) does it state that protests are banned.

Save the voices of the Filipinos. Do not let them change the narrative. Hold the government accountable for their lapses. Dissent is not terrorism. Dissent is duty. And Pride is a Protests. #FreePride20

What the past couple days have felt like

people that tag 141 but leave out gaz or worse, include könig instead......🚩🚩🚩

A message to the writers of the fandom from Javi 💜

Gurlll I don't even check my inbox anymore because all of it is scams to the point it gets genuinely so annoying. The fact people, bots, ai, whatever is using the War in Palestine as a way to scam people is absolutely disgusting like...bitch we know damn well your name isn't Salwa, you do not live in Gaza, and you do not have kids. If it is people doing this then...stop?? Theres actually people who need donations and pretending to be one of them is so pathetic and wrong. Also stop flooding my inbox im broke as hell, as in the hell you'll be going to for doing thissss ❤️😝

If this gets by anywhere somehow and you would like to donate there are genuine Gofundme pages you can donate to, do not fall for these