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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick || Call of Duty

Big thanks to @tapioca-milktea1978 for commissioning me to paint Gaz!

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Ghost Rider!AU

Do take in consideration John as the caretaker/cowboy ghost rider showing Ghost the ropes

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get your damn dog, Ghost 💥🐶🧼

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pov: you interrupted his slumber party with spider-man

based on this

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Get in loser we’re going uhhh killing

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I just think johnny could convince simon to wear a kilt

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- you are so sweet, i want to eat you

[oc] dorothea

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this is genuinely my favorite ghost i’ve ever sketched i come back and just look at him every once in a while like :)

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oh the gates are really baldering.

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Kitty meow meow cat meow meow wow

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When he hits you with the ❤️

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I just think johnny could convince simon to wear a kilt

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SOAP MACTAVISH 🧼 IN “COUNTDOWN” | MODERN WARFARE II

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Simon Riley is the type to shove someone off with a, “Nah, mate, I’m married,” when they’re passing around nudes.

Nevermind that he hasn’t popped the question, it’s just easier to spread that around than to explain that you’re the only woman he wants, ever, for all of time.

It’s “Ahh, I would, but the missus…” every time they’re going out for drinks and he just wants to go home to you.

I mean, you’re practically married already, considering he refused to let you pay any bills once you moved in with him. Gave you some shit about how he’s paying the same whether you’re there or not, and if he dies he wants you to have a little money saved. (Nevermind that you’re the beneficiary in his will.) Best you can do is groceries every now and then, which he sometimes catches you carrying in yourself, and gruffs about “Embarrassing him to the neighbors.”

You’ve been waiting for the ring for so long, you’re starting to suspect there’s something holding him back besides a fear of commitment. It’s only confirmed when you finally meet his coworkers, and every one of them asks how long you’ve been married, with a good bit of interest.

Man’s really giving you all the marriage perks without the ring. What the fuck?

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the fact that there are white people going "omg they're just like us" about people in south, south east, south west asia and africa and south america like it's some huge revelation that we're all human is so fucking dismal to me. what do you mean you never considered the personhood of the people who don't look like you or don't have your culture? why do you think that you're unique in your suffering? why do you think you deserve praise for realizing that we're all human?

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I'm just imagining the absolute mayhem that would ensue if you promised a kiss to whichever 141 guy wins their mock FIFA tournament.

"I'll kiss the winner if it means you guys'll just shut the fuck up already n' play!"

The way Gaz and Soap would immediately fight over a controller. Ghost would white knuckle his grip and narrow his eyes at the TV. Price would scoff and walk out because, while he can play decently well, he's used to the older versions of FIFA. Also, if he really wanted a kiss from you he'd rather get it without an audience and all the fanfare.

Of course Ghost kicked everyone's ass, although Gaz certainly gave him a run for his money. With how intense he'd gotten throughout the game, you thought he'd want his prize immediately. Instead he just mutters something hungrily in your ear before he leaves the rec room.

You've fucked up big time.

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Angsty thot on the the ghost x reader x soap blurb;

I've been thinking about the what if Soap did actually reciprocate Ghost's advances? For a moment, he forgets reader. Finally, FINALLY, Soap thinks... until the bliss dies down and he remembers reader and guilt sets in. Ghost's only all too happy to show off to reader. Being affectionate with Johhny, leaving whatever marks were left visible, staking a claim that he won.

Reader, of course, is dismayed and feels betrayed. But how much can she really feel? It fucking sucks, it does, that Ghost doesn't care what she thinks or feels and she wasn't in a committed relationship with Soap. So if they were to pursue a relationship, what can she really do about it?

HOW I AM AFTER READING THIS anon i wanna crawl into your mind and poke around your brain because how could you (ext)

johnny knows he hasn’t been honest with himself lately. that, in the face of ghost’s desires—because nothing less could describe the fire in his lieutenant’s eyes; it’s all so heated and leashed. hungry. aching—he denies himself and pretends he cannot see what is crystal clear.

he pretends that every brushing touch was an accident, that every heavy look was a trick of the light. that the way simon calls his name—johnny, with the ‘y’ dripping from his mouth like honey—was all circumstantial.

friendly. platonic, truly.

but it’s becoming more frequent. more passionate. more territorial.

of course, it was all a matter of when, really, was johnny going to fall. and the answer, apparently, is right now.

his shirt is torn off his body, fatigues falling beside two pairs of boots. warm lips, fever-hot, are on his skin, tracing scalding trails that has him trembling. he feels jittery, bones rattling within his flesh. he feels untethered, floaty. nirvana pinched between his fingers.

then, he falls, body thudding against the mattress. the metal of his bed posts creaks, a gunshot in the silence, and johnny freezes. his mind catching up to his heart.

this isn’t—

simon towers over him, his scarred chest heaving in his ragged breaths. the mask is off, discarded to the floor, and johnny, he—

well.

he sees the man that his soul sings to—cheeks flushed, bright cherries, and eyes dark with yearning. simon looks at him like johnny’s all that matters in the world; like all that he’s fighting to live for is johnny.

johnny feels this bloating in the back of his throat, something in his heart swelling until all he tastes is his breaths. his lips wobble, teeth chattering. they stop at ghost’s tender touch, his callused hand cupping johnny’s cheek.

simon's thumb swipes at the skin just underneath his eyes. his lips, crooked, tug up in a smile. “y’r much too gorgeous, johnny.”

johnny doesn’t know what happened next, only that he was stuffed with a burn that scorches from within and engulfed whole; devoured every way possible until simon's marks—from teeth and just his overall brute strength—took. his throat aches, scratchy, and his skin throbs with the memory of their love-making.

he, well, he wept. he tucked his head on the crook of simon's neck, breathing him in, unable to explain the euphoria simmering in the pit of his stomach.

simon loves him. he desired him every way possible so who wouldn't—

who wouldn't lose themselves?

(johnny thinks of you and the memories blur; what had been fiery passion morphs into something ugly. into something cruel.)

there was something different in ghost's gait—that's the first thing you noticed upon walking into the mess hall. he was more relaxed, more open in a way you have never seen from him before. he even met your eyes as you walk towards their little huddled group, the first time in a while, and you are unable to look away because there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place.

it still spoke of danger, of a walled barrier that he firmly put between you two, but it was undiscernible.

still poised, though, for the hunt.

kyle greets you first, kind and gentle, but before you could reply to him, johnny's tugging you away. a protest builds on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip past your chapped lips, but you freeze, feet stumbling as the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"bonnie–"

"oh," you say, a whispered gasp, your eyes unable to drag from the bruises on johnny's neck. not made with unkind intensions, if the teeth mars were any indication.

briefly, you wondered if johnny's met someone else to satiate his desires. if, in your absence, he sought to snuff the burning need from someone else. you've been away for three months, after all, chasing a lead in shanghai and tracking them all the way to tianjin. it must have been too long for johnny too.

(you wonder why your heart twinges at the idea of johnny finding comfort in someone else that isn't you.)

but the thought is doused by an ice-cold realization.

"it's– you know that i–"

"oi, 'tavish," ghost's voice rings from behind you.

you tip your head back just enough to see him, to see with your eyes what must he must have done, but he's back to ignoring you again.

it seemed like now that you've noticed what it was that had him elated, ghost no longer wanted to interact with you. not a word nor a touch. not even a glance.

johnny bites his bottom lip, shoulders hunching into himself.

"i'm sor–"

"i have to go," you say, your voice even sounds foreign to your own ears. "i have to, uhm, to report."

you shuffle away from between them, your palm rising to press onto your chest as though that could truly stop the splintering of your heart. as though your heart was truly wounded and that the pressure could stop the bleeding.

but it aches. dear god, everything aches.

ANON THIS HURT ME SO BAD AND I COULDNT HELP MYSELF FROM RAMBLING IM SORRY!! god im wailing so much like i literally was bug eyed staring at ur ask bc OW??? (btw reader is gn in this ghoap x reader angst)